Trail of Tears Chapter 8, a naruto fanfic

The storm died as quickly as it blew in. As the rain stopped and the wind settled, some of the Inuzuka women and their ninken scrounged up enough wood to burn, although it was still damp enough that it billowed black after Uchiha Gojio managed to light the bonfire. Tobirama and Boshi came limping in (Tobirama's entire left leg was saturated red with blood, Boshi supported herself with her ninken since her right ankle was swollen three times the size it should be, even with the supportive leather wrappings she had used), and gratefully accepted the tins of ramen that Mito had prepared for everyone from Natsumi's stash. The twenty-seven children had been especially hungry; the raiders had forced them to travel for so long and so fast, they hadn't stopped to feed them more than once a day. Madara had no idea how Natsumi managed to stuff that many tins into several storage scrolls, but it was better than the ninken scrounging up a deer that someone might feel like dismantling by hand.

"You're right," Mito told Natsumi, "there is something off about the curry flavor. I'll talk to Meji about it."

"Got rid of them?" Hashirama asked Tobirama as he poked around Tobirama's leg. A Sarutobi child had wormed her way into Hashirama's lap, elbowing all potential rivals (the Senju children) out of her way, and she barely shifted so Hashirama could have enough room to move.

Tobirama winced as Hashirama found the laceration that separated the quad muscles. "Boars," he said carefully, "require very little incentive to eat human flesh."

"That's why I feel perfectly fine with bacon," Hashirama replied as he cleaned the laceration one-handed before healing it. "They eat us, we eat them, we're tasty to each other. It's all part of the big circle of life."

"What are we doing about them?" Tobirama indicated the nine trussed-up South Sea raiders, who were kept away from the heat of the smoky bonfire, and not given any ramen. Five others had been killed in the battle. They left the bodies to rot on the beaches. Although by now, the storm and tidal surge had probably dragged the bodies out to sea. Good riddance to bad rubbish, Madara thought.

"Well," began Bashira, hands on her hips, "we were going to send them back to wherever they came from to tell their fellow raiders that the Elemental Nations are hands-off, once and for all, because none of us liked the idea of their kin coming to find them if they failed to show up. However, someone might've made that a bit difficult, on account of how the raiders currently have no ship."

As one, everyone looked at Natsumi, including Tobirama. She frowned in mid-slurp. "What did I do?"

"You squashed their ship," Bashira said, hands still on her hips. "With a whale."

Natsumi sucked in her mouthful of noodles. "Oh yeah. So I got a little caught up in the moment." She shrugged. "Big deal. We'll figure something out. I've got a pelican summon who can deliver them across the sea, alive or in pieces. Makes no difference to me."

Madara raised his gaze to Hashirama, who was too busy tending to his brother to take notice. Mito did, and her eyes were wary of Madara's. "Should we consider what message the other clans might want to add?"

"We'll wait until Shinzou-san and your brother return." Hashirama looked at Natsumi. "How far away are they?"

"About twenty kilometers. Everyone survived – well, the South Sea people didn't – but they're camping for the night." Natsumi rubbed her chin, and then reached over and patted Madara's knee. "Your brother… he's not well."

He fought down the urge to crush Natsumi's hand, and not just because she had the audacity to invade his personal space and touch him without permission. Let a person heal your injuries once, and they take it as blanket permission to get all touchy-feely. He should've let Hashirama heal him instead – at least Hashirama was fully clothed whenever he got all touchy-feely with Madara's personal space. "Is he injured?"

"Poisoned. But still alive… for now. His kidneys have lost function at this point."

Madara felt a chill race up and down his spine. He knew there was a possibility that any of them could've died while fighting to rescue their children. That everyone, so far, had managed to survive was probably a miracle. "I see," he murmured, trying not to let grief or anger take root in his heart. "Can you heal poison?"

"I might be able to heal the damage caused by poison, but without an antidote for the poison, it's just going to keep on damaging the body faster than I can heal. And I don't recognize the odor of this poison. It's probably from across the sea."

Which meant that his brother might very well be dead by the morning. As Madara raised his gaze upward, he barely made out the shape of the moon with his poor vision. Pain stabbed at his temples, but he ignored such with long-practiced ease. If nothing else, he prayed that his brother would survive long enough to see that his children were safe and sound.

oOoOoOo

When Shinzou and the others arrived at the makeshift camp, it was just after dawn and most people were still asleep. The new arrivals rode in on massive summoned wolves that made no sound as they stepped across the pebbled beach, and the flotsam and jetsam that yesterday's storm had pushed ashore. Shinzou's wolf was scarred, half of one ear had been torn away long ago, and it watched everyone with the eerie, quiet cunning of a predator sizing up its food. Izuna rode behind Shinzou, with one arm loosely wrapped around her waist and the other draped over her shoulder. Izuna's forehead nestled into the crook of her neck. The poncho, just before his forehead, was drenched in blood.

"He's alive, but barely," Shinzou told Madara as he quickly approached. Given the danger the wolf exuded, Madara made sure to telegraph each move and not suddenly, at that. "He wants to see his children." Madara carefully pulled Izuna off the wolf. His brother was taller and leaner than him, but in this moment, as Izuna smelled sickly sweet and his skin felt sticky-clammy, Izuna seemed so small and fragile.

Well, at least I'll have a chance to say good bye? Madara thought bitterly to himself as he carefully carried Izuna to where the children had been more-or-less snuggled in a warm, furry pile of ninken. Apparently, dogs were a great source of comfort for traumatized children, and the Inuzuka women had willingly allowed their battle-hardened ninken to double as therapy animals. I need to keep things together. Losing control and being passionate on the battlefield was one thing; losing control in a situation where there was no immediate danger was another. He was surrounded by Hashirama's kin and the children of other clans – children, Madara knew, who probably had very big mouths that would readily supply a treasure of details to their elders once returned to their respective clans – so he had to maintain a tight leash on his emotions.

"Brother?" Izuna turned his face towards Madara's chest, sniffing deeply as if he could catch Madara's scent.

"I'm here."

"Are they alive?"

"Alive and well." Madara crouched and set Izuna down, propping him up against some large pieces of driftwood. "I have to untangle them from the pile of other children." Before he could do so, Izuna snatched his wrist. His eyelids were caked shut from the foul-smelling ichor that slowly leaked beneath them.

"Wait – a moment, just between us."

Madara glared at the four adults – two Senju who had the early morning watch, Uzumaki Mito, and an Inuzuka woman – who were lounging in the area. They took the very blatant hint and stepped away. Then he lowered his head so it was close to Izuna's trembling lips. "You have your moment." It was probably the only moment left in Izuna's life.

"Take my eyes. When I die. Take them."

Madara used his free hand to cover Izuna's hand, still clamped around his other wrist. "I thank you for your gift. A little bit of you will live on in me." He wasn't going to waste time arguing on how he didn't need the eyes (he did, on account of the darkness encroaching the edges of his vision) or that Izuna would make a full recovery. In the twenty-three years he's walked with the Shinigami at his heels, Madara knew a dying man when he saw one.

"And teach my children." Izuna's grip tightened, even though his arm trembled. "My daughter… I don't want Hakuchou to be like her mother." His breath hitched, as if he fought back tears. "I don't want her to die because we always expect there to be a man to protect her. I want… I want her to be able to save her own life, because I'm not going to be there to keep it safe."

It was unprecedented to teach young girls how to fight. Their value had always been to grow up and produce offspring, to bear a new generation since the current one was likely to get killed off by enemies. And also because they weren't as strong as the male Uchiha. However, given the effective deadliness of the Inuzuka women, Madara was quickly realizing that there was no reason why the Uchiha women couldn't be every bit as deadly. The Uchiha were, after all, a superior clan. "I will."

Besides, if this village thing worked out the way that Hashirama dreamed it would, people wouldn't die on the battlefield as often, and therefore women would have a chance to be more than just broodmares. Izuna raised their clenched hands and pressed his forehead against them. "Thank you, brother," he whispered. "Perhaps my soul will find some solace, after all."

Madara took several deep breaths to steady himself. Control. "Wait until you say goodbye to your children before you leave this earthly plane. I'll be right back."

Izuna easily released his grip on Madara. Madara was quick in digging through the piles of ninken and children to find a snoring Obito with his arms protectively wrapped around Hakuchou. Obito rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and Hakuchou whined wordlessly over being so abruptly woken up. Obito blinked once, and then half-squealed, half-screamed as Madara set them on the ground. "Father!"

Hakuchou echoed him. "Daddy! Daddy!"

While both children carefully threw their arms around Izuna, and Izuna's face relaxed into a warm smile as he cradled the toddlers close, there was an obvious hesitancy in the movement.

"Are you dying?" Obito asked breathlessly.

Izuna's smile melted away. "Yes."

"Were you hurt when you killed the bad men?"

The smile returned, this time with a vicious slant. "Yes. But they're all dead, especially the one who killed your mother. Listen, Obito, you're going to grow up and be a strong man, and you're always going to watch out and protect your clan, right?"

Obito nodded and looked very solemn. "Yes, Father. I will protect my sister and Uncle Madara."

Izuna's laugh was more of a coughing-up-blood, but Madara choose to ignore that as he seated himself on the ground, within reach of his brother, close enough to assist if needed, but distant enough to not hover. "I don't want you to protect your sister – I want you to help her learn how to protect herself. Obito, you're not always going to be around, just like I wasn't there for Mama. Haku-chan needs to learn how to be a strong fighter, like Inuzuka Natsumi-san."

Obito glanced towards Natsumi, who was trying to bully Tobirama into warming up some water so people could have ramen for breakfast. "Does Haku-chan have to go without a shirt?"

("We are surrounded by the fucking sea. Why do we have to eat ramen when there's fish and urchins and clams and octopus?"

"Why on earth would I want to eat slimy octopus when there's perfectly acceptable ramen right here?"

"Octopus isn't slimy, you cretin!")

Izuna laughed without coughing up blood this time, and ruffled Obito's hair with a sticky hand. "No, you'll need to make sure that she doesn't grow up to be a nudist. That's very important, Obito."

"All right, Father."

"Haku-chan…" Izuna pawed around until he found her head, and then angled it so he could plant a kiss against her forehead. "Be brave, be strong, be fierce. Remember, Mama was also a fighter, and we'll be watching you, together, she and I."

It was another twenty minutes before Izuna passed away. He tried to stay awake for most of those last precious moments, speaking softly to his children of anything that seemed to cross his mind – honor, clan, family, love, strength, botany, and even a half-minute rave on how tomatoes were one of the most underrated fruits and noodles would taste amazing if they were dressed in a thick, spiced tomato sauce, much better than that curry-flavored ramen. Eventually, Izuna drifted unconscious, arms still wrapped around his two children, who cuddled close to his chest, and thirty-two breaths later (Madara counted each one with his Sharingan, memorizing the last moments of his last living brother), he died.

It was, Madara realized with a breathless sense of awe, the most peaceful, most beautiful death he had ever seen. It was a strange blessing to see someone he loved just slip away, smiling and hopeful for the future. He had seen countless deaths in his twenty-six years of life – most of them were brutal and bloody, some vicious and prolonged, especially if due to infection or torture – but none so serene, even in those lucky or skilled enough to live to a ripe old age. He desperately hoped that his and Hashirama's dream for peace would give others the opportunity to such happiness and peace – not just in life, but also in death.

His brother, he thought as he rose to his feet, deserved this.

The South Sea raiders, on the other hand, did not deserve a peaceful death.

Madara directed some of his clansmen to prep Izuna's body. He wouldn't be doing any eye transfers here – the notion was utterly ridiculous with the current audience, he refused to ever be so vulnerable when surrounded by so many outsiders, and he had no intention of spilling any more clan secrets than what had already been given away, even if he planned on uniting his clan with others in a village – and approached Uzumaki Mito. "Are any of your storage scrolls large enough to hold a body?" he quietly asked.

Mito's eyes flickered towards Izuna. "Are you hoping to preserve the body long enough to do a proper send off with the rest of your clan?"

Keeping the eyes preserved long enough to transfer them when it was safe to do so was actually his intention, but Mito's reasoning easily sidestepped clan secrets, so Madara silently nodded.

"I don't have anything currently, but I can have something ready in an hour if you're willing to wait." Mito's eyes then flickered to Hashirama, who had somehow managed to charm some of the Uchiha children into forming teams with some of the Senju children to gather a decent number of clams for breakfast. Natsumi's breakfast choice of ramen had been soundly vetoed by everyone else while Izuna had tried to explain the difference between sunflowers and daffodils to his daughter.

"Any plans for the raiders?" He indicated their prisoners with a tilt of his head. They were shivering and cold, silent, as weak as limp noodles from the seals that Mito had slapped on them last night.

Mito pressed her lips together. "My clan evidently did a lousy job in making sure they'd never come back." Although, to be fair to the Uzumaki clan, the South Sea raiders had avoided them completely when they raided the other clans, even though the Uzumaki were almost as close to the sea as the Sarutobi clan. "In this, I'll follow Hashirama's lead."

Madara briefly Hashirama with narrowed eyed as the man got an eyeful of octopus ink from one of the tidal pools.

Madara wandered over to Shinzou, who passively watched the distant ocean waves as she breastfed Koppun. He sat down on the boulder next to her and clasped his hands together as he resumed watching the paired Uchiha and Senju children (he…he wasn't going to think about the logistics of breastfeeding with pierced nipples. He just wasn't). He waited for her acknowledgement.

The problem with waiting on Shinzou to acknowledge anyone was that she was as patient as a stalking predator, waiting for the prey to be lulled into a sense of false security. When the infant had finished eating and Shinzou busied herself with burping, Madara decided that the best defense was a good offense, and made the first move.

"Have you been thinking of what sort of message to send back with the South Sea raiders that will keep them off our shores, once and for all?"

Shinzou snorted. "I planned on ripping out their throats with my bare hands and dumping the bodies on the South Seas' shorelines with my sister's pelican summon."

"Wouldn't it be better to leave at least one alive to drive home the message of how we're strong enough to defeat their god's chosen warriors?"

Shinzou pursed her lips in thought for a long moment, eyes narrowed. Then she shoved Koppun into Madara's arms. "Yeah, we probably should." She fluidly stood – gone was the gangly sway when she had been so very pregnant – and stalked towards the raiders. He hurried after her, trying not to drop a newly-born infant on its head, reasonably sure that running through battle with a sharp blade and not accidentally skewering himself on it had been unexpectedly excellent training when it came to running with newborns.

Shinzou stopped in front of the raiders, and then made a show of slowly walking the line of them, studying each individual with a predatory gleam in her eye. Nostrils flaring, she carefully reached over to grasp the chin of the oldest South Sea raider – a man whose hair and beard were silver with age, and face heavily lined with wrinkles – and forced his face upward to meet her eyes. "You lack the scent of fear. You're either very confident in yourself, or very foolish."

The man defiantly spat in her face.

Natsumi swiped the saliva away, and gave him a smile that would've raised the hair on the back of Madara's neck if he wasn't so damn tired and emotionally numb from Izuna's death. "Foolish, I think. But you don't realize that I know who your son is. I can smell the blood that runs through his veins, the same blood as yours."

Someone had left a ramen tin filled with water just out of reach of the thirsty raiders. Likely it was a vindictive Senju – or a vindictive Inuzuka. Shinzou rolled a knee-high rock closer to the elderly man, emptied the tin of its water, and then set it in on the rock. Shinzou ignored Hashirama's and Mito's approach as she reached into the line of raiders, pulled the youngest raider forward by his hair – a lanky late-aged teenager – and then forced the lad to kneel between her and the eldest with a bone-cracking kick to the back of the lad's knees. Her claws sunk deep into the lad's scalp; rivlets of blood dripped down his face. He thrashed against her grip and screamed obscenities as Shinzou in his native tongue.

("Are we torturing them before we send them back?" Hashirama loudly whispered to Mito.

Mito's whisper was just as loud. "Women are hormonal after giving birth. Leave her alone."

"No, I'm pretty sure that Shinzou has always been this vindictive; let's not blame it on hormones," Hashirama replied. "Just for the record, I'm not exactly protesting the torture.")

The elderly man's expression hardened, and he lifted his chin. "We die with honor, bikkja."

Shinzou held his gaze for a long moment. "The only honorable death this day was his brother's," she indicated Madara with her head, "Your son will not be provided such." Then her head tilted downward, body tightening like a coiling spring, or a wolf readying itself for a strike. "Do you know what it's like to see your child's eyes as she dies, begging you to save her, and you can only watch helplessly because there's nothing you can do? I do. And it's a terrible feeling to live with for the rest of your life." Her hand blurred as she struck – the lad convulsed in her grip as she sunk her claws into his throat around the prominent jut of the larynx, and ripped it away. Blood gushed and spurted, coating the elderly man as he rose awkwardly to his knees and shouted, and splattered into the tin.

Madara watched with his Mangekyo Sharingan – Shinzou kept her grip on the teenager's hair, and her eyes trained on the elderly man as the lad both bled and choked to death. The elderly man's shouts turned into whimpers, and then trailed into a miserable silence. Shinzou tossed the body away once it bled out, and then lifted the blood-filled ramen tin to her lips. She took a long sip. "There will be no next time," she told the raider. "My kinswomen and I will catch your scent in the wind if you cross the seas towards us again. We will cross the ocean to meet you, we will destroy your ship as easily as my sister did yesterday with her whale, and we won't stop until we've reached your shores, and we will kill every woman – young and old, able-bodied and feeble – and rip the testicles off every man. And you can watch your people die off with no women to breed as easily as you watched your son die.

"This," she added with another sip, "I swear upon the spilled blood of my enemies." Then she smiled sweetly at Madara, and held the tin of blood out to him. "Would the Uchiha join me in this vow against the South Seas people?"

Madara felt Hashirama's and Mito's piercing gaze as he accepted the tin with one hand, since his other arm and hand was occupied in holding the infant. He didn't hesitate (although he forced his gag reflex back) as he made a show of taking a deep drink. The elderly man was horrified, seeing the Mangekyo so close – the glint of them over the rim of the crimson-filled cup probably didn't help. Madara summoned the Susanoo behind himself, allowing the mighty warrior to take only the most basic form. It dropped to its knees, and lowered its skull to study the raiders. "The Uchiha," Madara said as the baby cooed and clumsily reached for the tin, "will join you in this endeavor."

Shinzou took the tin away. "Koppun-chan is too young to partake in the blood of our enemies. Babies need to be at least a week old before we allow that."

Oh gods (except Jashin, he wasn't invited in Madara's plea to the Higher Powers That Be), he really hoped that Shinzou was just putting on a show for the raiders, and that the Inuzuka women didn't actually go around bloodletting their enemies and feeding the fluids to infants. That was just disturbing.

Natsumi draped herself across Susanoo's bony foot. "Are you sure I can't have one?" she pleaded as she hugged a toe.

oOoOoOo

After watching Natsumi whine about not getting her very own Susanoo – Shinzou sternly told her sister that their mother bred with the wrong man for that to ever be a possibility – Madara wandered off with Koppun to sit beside Tobirama, who was steadfastly boiling and peeling cooked clams for the children.

"You got a blood mustache," Tobirama said without looking up from his work. There were a few flatter rocks that had been set close to the bonfire. Thick layers of kelp rested on the flat rocks, cooking from the near-by heat. The combined scents of cooking kelp and clams, along with the flavor in his mouth, was enough to make his stomach roll in protest.

Madara wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and did his best not to shudder in front of Hashirama's little brother. The thick, metallic flavor in his mouth was disgusting, and he wanted to wretch, but couldn't do that until the South Sea raiders were out of sight. He had a certain image to uphold in front of their enemies, and even the Senju.

"Nice summon," Tobirama added.

Madara gritted his teeth, and told himself that it would be inappropriate to throttle everyone who assumed that Susanoo was a summon. "It's not a summon. It's a gift."

"Sure, like how that black fire of Izuna's was a gift? Odd way to describe such a destructive power, and ugly as sin, to boot."

"Stronger than Natsumi's whale."

Tobirama paused in consideration, and then shrugged. "With a sword like that? Yeah, it probably is." He handed Madara a cup of clean water. Madara reluctantly accepted it, and then sniffed to check for any suspicious odors. It smelled like clams, but mostly because Tobirama had just finished shelling the cooked clams. "Really? If I wanted to poison you, I'd sneak some puffer fish into your food. The water's to wash the taste of blood out of your mouth."

Madara considered the likelihood of Tobirama poisoning him with Hashirama so close. The likelihood was quite high. He turned to Bashira, who carried another bucket of clams to Tobirama. "Considering how my brother's body is still warm, having died from poison, does this smell safe to you?"

Bashira sniffed, but out of disdain and not for any poison. "It's clean, you paranoid bastard. And there's no puffer fish anywhere in the clams."

All right, then. Madara swished and spit the water from his mouth several times, until the cup was empty. He still felt like vomiting and his stomach still swam in protest, but at least he didn't feel like scrubbing his tongue with the backside of a porcupine. Tobirama wordlessly handed him a ramen tin full of clam meats, topped with several thick sheets of cooked kelp. As Madara stared at it, Tobirama rolled his eyes. "Go share it with your niece and nephew." Tobirama's voice dropped into a whisper. "They should eat, even if they don't feel like it."

Tobirama was just as proud as Madara – Tobirama bent his neck only when Hashirama flat-out told him to, and reluctantly at that.

Madara, however, had better manners than Tobirama. "Thank you," he said pleasantly.

"I didn't do it because they're your niece and nephew," Tobirama said, not looking up from the clams he cleaned and prepped for boiling. "I did it because they're Izuna's children."

oOoOoOo

Madara had only seen pelicans from afar – he had always thought they were ugly birds and worthless hunters, especially when compared to falcons. Nonetheless, he was quite impressed with what Natsumi managed to summon. The pelicans' beaks were large enough for two grown men to be safely stuffed inside, even if they protested the entire time.

"We're letting you go back home," Natsumi told one such protester as she shoved him back into the pelican's mouth, but not before breaking the man's nose. "And even better – for you – we're not sending you back in funeral silks, which is more respect than you gave us when you raided our clans."

Once the raiders were tucked inside the beaks, the pelicans took flight across the ocean. It was just past breakfast, and the children had become comfortable enough with their rescuers to wander through the ranks of clans that they weren't originally allied with. One of the Senju girls had made a seaweed crown and had talked Obito into wearing it. Beside him, Hakuchou was also wearing her own seaweed crown, and somehow managed to look very regal despite the slimy limp seaweed plastering her hair.

I hope you can see this, Madara thought to his brother as Mito wordlessly handed him the promised scroll, after she had sealed the body within. "How much do I owe you?" he asked her.

"You owe me nothing. This is my thanks to you and your men for willingly assisting my Inuzuka kin in rescuing the children. The gods alone know there probably isn't enough money or favors in the world that can make up for putting up what you probably had to endure, what with Shinzou giving birth and Natsumi being herself." Madara studied Mito's hair; it was darker than the Hell Hounds, closer to auburn in color. Mito laughed – it sounded like chimes in the wind. "Their sire was my mother's older brother. Although we're two different clans, we've always been close."

And with that said, Mito drifted to stand beside Hashirama. They shared a smile together that hinted towards affection of heart and body. Although they didn't link fingers, Hashirama deliberately brushed his fingertips against the back of Mito's hand.

With a distant sense of horror, Madara realized that Hashirama could potentially be married to what amounted to a clan of beasts. He wasn't sure if he should be proud of his friend's strength and willpower, or terrified of what could become of his friend.

I'll be all alone.

Natsumi stumbled over to Madara. She was slowly recovering her grace as the uncontrollable twitches decreased, but still had the occasional muscle spasm that threw her off balance. "Are you suuuuuuuure I can't have my very own Susanoo?" she asked as she draped herself over Madara's shoulder, pressing her ridiculous breasts into his arm. "I'll let you sign a whale contract! And I'll even let you sign my goose contract! They're vicious little bastards. You'd appreciate a bad-tempered goose."

Madara didn't want to have anything more to do with bad-tempered geese than he wanted anything from Inuzuka Natsumi. "This is not something I could willfully give you, even if I wanted to."

Being alone, he decided as Tobirama had to pry Natsumi off of him and drag her away, was sometimes underrated.

oOoOoOo

The Uzumaki took the Sarutobi children with them. They didn't have far to travel – twenty-five kilometers – before reaching the Sarutobi village. Since the Nara would be waiting there to take the Akimichi clan children, the Inuzuka women packed up their children, their ninken, a great deal of kelp to be seasoned and cured (via the Akimichi clan's secret recipe – Shinzou had no problem somehow talking the edlest Akimichi into spilling the secret), and the Akimichi children, and followed after the Uzumaki.

This left the Senju and the Uchiha standing awkwardly side-by-side with just their own children.

"I knew I should've asked Bashira to borrow her horses," Hashirama said as he hoisted one small Senju child to perch on his shoulders. He pouted, largely because he hadn't been able to convince Bashira that she should share her summon contract with him.

"It seems oddly quiet without the women here," Tobirama replied. Most of the Inuzuka women had been quiet – Natsumi made enough noise for her six companions and older sister. And yes, without Natsumi's background chatter, it did seem strange to be able to hear the sweeping waves and the calls of the seagulls.

Seeing as how they had gotten along so well and that they had the same path to travel for a hundred kilometers before they needed to part ways, Hashirama and Madara decided that they would continue sticking together. Despite Tobirama's grumblings, and because they had to travel at a more leisurely pace with the young children on tow, it was a good opportunity to continue working on their village. Besides, they had expensive armor to fetch before it was nabbed by some ambitious passerbys.

"Next spring?" Hashirama asked Madara, his expression glowing with hope.

"Next spring," Madara agreed. The sunshine bright smile he received from his friend didn't make up for the loss of lives they had suffered during the peace treaties, but it went far in lifting Madara's grieving spirit. "Provided you can actually find a place where we can stick a village."

"Oh. I've already got that covered. I'm going to bet my clan's wealth against Nara's territory, and we'll see who actually has true luck with blackjack."

Madara glanced at Tobirama, just to be sure that he heard correctly. From the pinched look on Tobirama's face, yes, he had indeed heard Hashirama correctly. "Really?" he asked, his voice dry. "Wouldn't the odds be more in your favor if you played poker?"

"That's only for if we can't find a new deck of cards. I can still win, even if my opponent marked the cards."

May the Sage of Six Paths forefend them all – their future plans of peace and prosperity rested on Hashirama's luck at drawing a decent hand of cards. May the gods help us all if Hashirama ever has children or grandchildren who follow in his footsteps.

oOoOoOo

The Uzumaki took the Sarutobi children with them. They didn't have far to travel – twenty-five kilometers – before reaching the Sarutobi village. Since the Nara would be waiting there to take the Akimichi clan children, the Inuzuka women packed up their children, their ninken, a great deal of kelp to be seasoned and cured (via the Akimichi clan's secret recipe – Shinzou had no problem somehow bullying the eldest Akimichi into spilling the secret), and the Akimichi children, and followed after the Uzumaki.

This left the Senju and the Uchiha standing awkwardly side-by-side with just their own children.

"Next spring?" Hashirama asked Madara, his expression glowing with hope.

"Oh. I've already got that covered. I'm going to bet my clan's wealth against Nara's territory, and we'll see who actually has true luck with blackjack."

"That's only for if we can't find a new deck of cards. I can still win, even if my opponent marked the cards."