In the eleven years since Tobirama reanimated him, Jiro has made lots of memories with his silver-haired brother.
Those were the memories that he showed to Izuna.
"I TOLD YOU TO DUNK THAT UNGRATEFUL BRAT IN THIS RIVER, TOBI."
"Anija," Tobirama sighed, wiping a hand across his brows. "That wouldn't make him hate me any less. I fear that indulging your suggestion will only distance Izuna further from me."
"He tried to assassinate you!" Jiro growled in sheer frustration, wading his way through the water to tug his masochistic baby brother down. "He tried to slay you in the middle of a battle—where he was supposed to guard your back."
"He has no obligation to guard me," Tobirama hummed, shoulders relaxing under the ministration of the cold hands. "The Clan Head is the one who supposed to protect everyone, not the other way around."
Jiro rolled his eyes, pressing a bit too harsh on the knot near Tobirama's shoulder blades, earning a blissful hiss from the supposed younger brother. "If they have any sense of loyalty to their leader, they should know to guard your back while you faced the foes in front," the corpse grumbled, skimming his hand gently over the bruises on Tobirama's ribs, internally ranting about selfless idiotic baby brother who put others' well-being before his own.
The little brat was too exhausted to heal his own injuries yet still have time to worry about Izuna's injuries.
Even after Izuna tried to assassinate him.
Logic did not exist in Tobirama's head whenever Izuna was concerned.
At some point of their routine after-battle check-up and ministration, Tobirama has leant his back to Jiro's front, shoulders started to relax, ruby eyes closed trustingly when the supposed elder brother between the two reached out for the shampoo on the rock next to them.
It was peaceful silence before Tobirama broke it with yet another plea.
"You know, he would have been different and happier if only you agreed to meet him, Anija-sama—"
"Don't you Anija-sama me, you masochistic brat," Jiro snapped, dumping the bucket of water over Tobirama's head. "If I meet him now, he wouldn't even spare a glance in your direction," he hissed, gritting his teeth as he threaded his slippery hands through the wet silver hair. "You know that he will treat you even worse than now if he thinks that he has me back. He would treat you like you did not exist—like how one would treat a ghost."
"I'm fine with that," Tobirama murmured, bowing his head as Jiro's fingers made their way through his hair, ruby eyes completely hidden under his drenched hair. "As long as our otoutou is happy, I'm fine being a ghost by his side."
"Brat, last time I checked, I'm the dead one."
"I will trade my life for yours. I would do it anytime, if I could, Anija. For the sake of Izuna's happiness. I would exchange my life to give you back to him," Tobirama countered, turning around so that he could meet Jiro's frustrated gaze. "He loves you. He hates me. You're the source of his comfort, even after decades since your death," Tobirama swallowed, voice raw and shaky as he added; "I'm his fear," he placed a pale hand over the corpse's mouth when Jiro opened it to speak. "I could see it in his eyes, Anija. He feared me. I tried to heal him, and he thought that I was going to kill him—"
Tobirama's hands slipped down to fist on his naked thighs under the calm water.
"Yet you still heal that ungrateful brat," Jiro sneered, reaching out for the washcloth and soap on the nearby rock. "He tried to kill you, and did you teach that brat any lesson?" he huffed, aggressively scrubbing the tensed back underneath his palms. "Noooo. Tobirama-sama, THE Uchiha Demon, the feared Clan Head of the Uchiha, loves his baby brother way too much that he let the ungrateful brat gets away unscathed after committing an assassination attempt on his own life. He even healed the brat from his injuries—"
"I couldn't bear the thought of him in pain, Anija," Tobirama quirked the tiniest of a smile, staring at his glowing hands sadly.
"Wounds like that would not kill a shinobi like us, Tobi," Jiro growled. "You spoiled Izuna way too much."
Tobirama huffed a quiet laugh. "It is my duty as his elder brother to spoil him."
Jiro threw his arms in the air before he angrily dunked Tobirama's head into the water. By the time Tobirama has resurfaced with shampoo suds still trailing down his hair to his shoulder, Jiro was already out of the river and was fumbling for Tobirama's weapon supplies on the rock to retrieve his much-needed paper bombs.
Bless Edo Tensei for giving him indestructible body. Blasting himself with paper bombs would not have been a satisfying stress-relief if he could not reform his body again.
Baby brothers were such a headache.
Even to the undead.
No.
Especially to the undead.
Izuna was confused.
He was confused and freaked out. He was aware that this was an illusion that Jiro created, but he did not understand why he couldn't break out of it. His Eternal Mangekyou should have been able to free him from this illusion, yet Izuna was still trapped. It was like his own sharingan refused to cooperate with him as if the accursed ruby eyes in his skull wanted him to remain in the illusion and witnessed everything.
As if watching his beloved Nii-chan assisting Tobirama to bath was not freaky enough.
Jiro was so obviously dead and reanimated—the black sclera of his eyes and the hairline cracks on his skin were proof enough—but his behaviour was the same as when he was alive. The way he assisted Tobirama bathing was the exact same as how Izuna used to assist Jiro after yet another battle that the elder has survived. All the love and fondness that were masked underneath irritated grumbles, playful dunking into the water and rough-housing were the exact same.
The only difference was that Tobirama was the one at the receiving end of Jiro's grumbling affection.
Izuna felt the jealousy rose up his chest.
But then, he watched the way Jiro's eyes softened as the elder shampooed Tobirama's hair and all that he felt was longing, remembering the days he would happily brave the cold water of the river to have those hands in his own hair.
Jiro treated Tobirama the exact same way he treated Izuna.
Why?
Izuna stepped closer to the pair, wanting to shake Jiro's shoulder and asked what the hell the elder was thinking acting so familiar with the half-bred bastard but—
"I will trade my life for yours. I would do it anytime, if I could, Anija. For the sake of Izuna's happiness. I would exchange my life to give you back to him."
Izuna halted at the edge of the river.
Suddenly it was too difficult to swallow. The sincere words felt like a fresh wound in his chest, the strange pain rung in his ears, turning the voices of his dead brothers to muted buzz around him as he stood there at the riverside—Tobirama's words were the only thing that he could hear.
"I will trade my life for yours."
"I would do it anytime, if I could, Anija."
"For the sake of Izuna's happiness."
"I would exchange my life to give you back to him."
Izuna clutched the fabric right atop his heart, the raw sincerity of those words sliced through his heart like a white-hot knife, leaving guilt and regret in its wake. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he could not find any lies in those words.
Tobirama was willing to give up his own life to bring Jiro back.
Because that would make Izuna happy.
Izuna was only able to see Jiro dunked Tobirama into the river before he was pulled away—the surrounding faded in hypnotic swirls as he was thrown to a new environment.
"I think Kagami is basically my nephew now."
Izuna stood in silence, briefly noting the tidy bedroom that could only belong to Tobirama before he frowned in more confusion at the bucket of blood by Jiro's side.
Tobirama huffed a quiet laugh, voice weak and raspy as he curled on Jiro's lap, one shaky pale hand clutched on the corpse's hand with clinging desperation. Izuna folded his knees next to Tobirama's curled up form, brows furrowed in wonder and confusion because he has never seen his half-brother looked so weak and hurt like this. He watched the beads of sweat on the pale forehead, noticed the trembles of Tobirama's body, heard the pained gasps that tore out of Tobirama's throat—all the little human things that he has never seen on the demon.
Izuna jerked away when Tobirama lurched from his curl on Jiro's lap, the silver-haired man passed through Izuna as he fumbled for the bucket, folding his body to half as dark blood spew out of his mouth into the wooden container.
"For you to suffer for the boy's sake…," Jiro murmured, rubbing his hand across Tobirama's hunched back. "You love him like he is your own, don't you?"
"He is the only one willing to openly love a demon," Tobirama rasped, body trembling like leaves being blown by the harsh autumn breeze. "I could not let the poor child be sacrificed after the kindness he showed me."
Izuna watched in interest, wondering when exactly this fragment of memories happened. He didn't recall that any of the assassination attempts using poisons ever worked on Tobirama, thus seeing the silver-haired man like this—obviously suffering from a very potent poison—was a bizarre thing.
"What has become of my clan?" Jiro sighed, squeezing his pitch-black eyes shut. "To use a child without care…"
"Kagami would be a collateral damage if this attempt failed," Tobirama huffed, crawling back to curl on Jiro's lap. "I can sense poison. Kagami could not. The elders knew I would not reject any gifts from my children. If any of my kids gave me their poisoned candy, I would swallow it in a heartbeat."
Izuna's eyes widened.
He was not aware of this.
"You could have pretended to eat it," Jiro growled, brushing stray silver strands from the sweat-damped forehead. "You're a shinobi. Act like it."
"They're shinobi too," Tobirama countered. "Young and barely trained they were, but they were born as shinobi," he coughed, retching dark blood into the bucket, eyes squeezed shut in pain. "And they always have their eyes on me, anticipating my reactions to their gifts," when he opened his eyes again, the ruby orbs were exhausted and drained, yet the determined gleam still shone fierce. "I refuse to allow them the knowledge that they were used as an agent to assassinate me. I can handle some pain."
"Was that also the reason you risked yourself intercepting all the punishment that Izuna was supposed to receive?" Jiro mused, swiping a gentle finger at the corner of Tobirama's mouth.
Two pairs of ruby eyes widened upon hearing that.
"What?!" Izuna shouted, standing to loom over his brothers.
At the same time, Tobirama braced his body with shaky arms, voice was a pained rasp when he mouthed, "How did you—?"
"Being a reanimation means that my presence can easily blend in with the surrounding, dear otoutou," Jiro said with a grim voice. "You created this jutsu with half the intention of having perishable spies."
Tobirama lowered his gaze.
"I know the elders," Jiro spoke, voice cold like his dead body. "Izuna's continuous failures of assassinating you should warrant him a few 'accidents' to encourage him to not repeat the failure. I have been keeping an eye on both of you."
"That explains everything," Tobirama murmured, looking up to send a grateful smile in Jiro's direction. "Thank you, Anija."
"It's my duty," Jiro hummed, black inhuman eyes held Tobirama's glazed eyes in a stern gaze. "But you're more committed to it, it seems."
Tobirama crumpled on the floor in defeated resignation, weakened body trembled as his glazed ruby eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
"It's our duty as elder brothers to protect him," the silver-haired murmured, eyes fluttering shut. "You would do anything in your power to protect him too."
"I know," he quirked a smirk, gently poking the marked cheek, causing the closed ruby eyes to flutter open to shot him an annoyed gaze. "Even I do not have the patience of a saint like you. I would've dunked Izuna in a pond if he dared to speak to me as he speaks to you."
Izuna winced at the phantom chills of being hurled into a pond.
Jiro has no tolerance whatsoever to bratty rudeness. The elder didn't discriminate when it came to that. Every teenagers and child of Jiro's age already knew to watch their attitude while speaking to their parents or elder siblings whenever he was around, else they will find themselves to be hurled into the nearest body of water.
"Your love towards water is amusing, Anija," Tobirama mused, voice slipping weaker as his eyes fluttered shut again. "One would have thought that as a suiton nature, I would be the one who enjoyed water the most."
"Your love to Izuna is terrifying, otoutou," Jiro countered, running his fingers through Tobirama's silver hair. "One would have thought that as his brother from the same mother, I would be the one who has the kind of devotion you have to him."
"He is my only living brother," Tobirama hummed, voice slurred with pain and exhaustion. "My last brother," he murmured, burying his face to Jiro's lap.
Izuna leant closer to hear Tobirama's muffled words.
"Break me apart. Tear me to pieces. Kill me and set my body on fire—but do not touch my little brother."
The world spun before Izuna could even reach his hands towards Tobirama.
It was a full day later when Hashirama received a message from Jiro that Izuna was finally awake.
Awake, but would not be coming to work.
Hashirama allowed it. Everyone needed time to grieve, even after a year too late. He has seen Jiro's memories the day he discovered the reanimated Uchiha. He knew the depth of Tobirama's love to his little brother—a love that was even deeper than Hashirama's own love to Madara—and for Izuna, who has been antagonising Tobirama throughout their years growing up together, the memories would be a heavy mental blow.
Moreover, now that Izuna thought that Tobirama was gone for good.
Hashirama felt his own lips twitched to a smirk.
"Hokage-sama?"
Hashirama instantly schooled his face to a solemn face, channelling his inner Tobirama to the cowering pre-teens in front of him.
"Children," he started, clasping his hands in front of him and stared at the students of his dear friend with a stern gaze. "Even though Kumo took one of our leaders, it is still wrong to sacrifice their ninja for your personal gain. All prisoner of war should be taken and handed to T&I department after capture," Hashirama levelled a look at the depressed Danzou, before shifting his gaze to the rest of the children. "What you did was wrong, but in the lights of the impact of our loss to you personally, I understood your reasoning," he gave a grim nod when the children's head snapped up to stare at him with hopeful bewilderement. "You will be suspended from active missions until further notice, and you're required to assist with the construction of Shinobi Academy without pay as your punishment. Did I make myself clear?"
There was a brief silence.
"Wait, that's it?" Utatane Koharu blurted out, jaw gaping in disbelief.
"Would you prefer the actual punishment of jail time and death sentence, then?" Hashirama tilted his head, contemplative.
The girl promptly closed her mouth and hunched her shoulders smaller. "No, sir," she shook her head slowly. "Thank you for your mercy, Hokage-sama."
"Good," Hashirama nodded like the mature adult he was not, before waving his dismissal to the children. "Report to your captain tomorrow to start your punishment. As for now, you are dismissed."
It took a few seconds for the team to scramble out of his office, although Hashirama knew that they were waiting just outside the door, piling over each other to eavesdrop in case he would make further comment about their failed attempt to reanimate their sensei back. Holding back a laughter, Hashirama activated the privacy seals of his office.
From her perch on the couch, Mito rolled her eyes but did not stop her deft work on the other half of his paperwork.
"Darling," she started.
"Yes, my love~?"
"You're one spiteful menace," the Uzumaki princess commented, placing her brush in its stand with graceful care as she shifted a bit to allow her childish fiancé to curl by her side. "Terrifying," she drawled dryly.
"I do not want to give them false hope," Hashirama whined, lips curled to a pout as he rested his head on Mito's lap. "Until we hear from Madara, I'm not leading them on with false hope."
"At this point, our suspicion has already been confirmed," Mito countered, running her delicate painted fingers through Hashirama's hair. "Jiro-san's unbroken Edo Tensei contract. Shimura's failed Edo Tensei. Madara's latest intel," she listed down, huffing delicately. "It all led to one conclusion."
Hashirama grinned.
"I think we both could agree that Izuna-kun deserves to suffer for a little bit longer."
Mito rolled her eyes. Her future husband was such a spiteful menace.
And she loves it.
Izuna was…shaken.
Twenty-eight years of age, yet his mind was still that of an immature child. He let the bitterness over Jiro's death to cloud his judgement, causing him to not see the gift the heavens sent to him when they took Jiro away. He had a perfectly alive brother whose love and devotion to him rooted so deep that even his real brother could not comprehend yet—
"Too late," Izuna whispered, choking out a laugh. "It's all too late."
The cold presence by his side hummed but said nothing.
Izuna kept his gaze on his lap, unable to lift his head up. If he glanced to his right, he would see the worn journal written by Tobirama's hands. If he looked straight ahead, he would meet the gaze of his reflection—the idea of meeting the gaze of his brother's ruby eyes in his own reflection made his chest ache with dull throbbing pain. If he glanced to his left, he would meet Jiro's gaze and he simply couldn't bear to meet the gaze of his reanimated brother—now knowing how much he has disappointed Jiro when he blatantly denied the privilege of having a living brother.
Izuna was too young when he became the last of his original siblings.
At the young age of five, he has only experienced loss thrice—and he was only old enough to remember the pain from only one death.
Jiro has more experience losing siblings. The fourth child from siblings of nine, he had watched his elder sisters and brothers died before their younger siblings could even be born, and when he became the eldest, he has to experience the death of his younger siblings too.
Izuna only understood Jiro's reasoning to cherish Tobirama like he cherished Izuna after he was awakened from his sharingan-induced coma. For someone who has lost so many, a half-brother was still a brother and a living brother was a privilege in their era of war.
Jiro considered Tobirama as a privilege. Something that—should he was alive—would be the thing that he coveted and cherished the most.
And Izuna ruthlessly threw the privilege away, took it for granted, abuse the love and devotion he received because he clung to the one that he has lost and has allowed himself to fall into their elders' political games.
"What should I do," the Clan Head whimpered to his palms, voice hitching to the note of hysteria. "What should I do, when everything is too late?" his fingers curled to dangerous claws, digging deep into the skin of his face. "It's too late. Everything is too late…," Izuna's voice pitched higher, dripping with delirium. "He is gone!"
A cold hand gently cupped his cheek, turning Izuna's face to the side to meet Jiro's gaze. Jiro gently patted his cheek, lips quirked to a flat smile as he offered a bloodied happuri to Izuna.
"You live with it, Izuna."
Izuna stared at the happuri with dazed eyes, remembering when he had thrown the faceplate into Tobirama's room with little to no care. His hands were shaky when he lowered them to take the offered happuri, but Jiro's cold grip on his wrist steadied his hands.
"Live with it and never forget."
Izuna traced the dried blood that smeared all over the metal, feeling the dents of the metal that surely has saved Tobirama's life—keeping him alive to love Izuna—and Izuna thought of the loving words he heard slipped from the demon's mouth. He thought of Tobirama's willingness to give up his own life for Izuna, the raw sincerity when the infamous demon vowed to never let any harm fall upon Izuna as long as he is still alive and—
Izuna cracked.
He laughed.
He laughed and laughed, ignoring the burn in his throat and the throbbing of his scorched hand as he clutched the metal faceplate with a deathly grip, his tears dripped on the dried blood, hoping so hard that he could reverse the time and wash the blood—Tobirama's pain—away.
The blood didn't wash away.
Kagami was in a bittersweet mood today.
It has been six months since he shouldered the duties of a clan head, and as much as it was a tedious exhausting job—he was happy. Since Tobirama's death, this was the first time that he was genuinely happy.
He knew how much his shishou—the man he dearly considered as his own father—loved children, and to have Tobirama Clan to be known as the clan for all orphaned children to make their own patchwork of a family has filled him with pride.
They were a mismatched family consisting of orphaned children—shinobi and civilian alike—from all over the nation. The twelve Uchiha children were the pioneers, but it didn't take long before they slowly increased in number. The appeal of a loving accepting family tempted orphaned children who were outcasted by their own kinsmen to join the clan. Such strong temptation they offered that by the sixth month, they already moved from the Uchiha Demon's residence in the town square to their own compound right next to the Senju's compound.
Team Demon jokingly called their clan as the clan of the amazing unwanted.
It was a joke, but it was the truth too. These children possessed a diverse set of skills and abilities, easily able to grow into amazing shinobi with sufficient training.
Yet, they were unwanted.
Unwanted half-bred children outcasted by their own kin. The teens who were being transferred from one unwilling distant relative to another. Children abandoned by their own parents. All of them left the cold circle of their blood family and ran into the warm embrace of the new clan, proudly wearing the name of the Uchiha Demon as their last name, sharing their unique talents to create the identity of the clan.
Kagami fleetingly wondered how his shishou would react to this knowledge—to know that these mismatched children wore his name with fierce pride and joy.
Kagami thought that Tobirama would be very pleased.
"Kagami-sama! Kagami-sama!"
Kagami shifted his head in the direction of the voices, lips curled out to a smile to let the children knew that he was aware of their presence and it didn't take long before they bounded over and crashed to his knees, small hands tugging on the edge of his flax jacket, voices shouting over each other.
"Me first!"
"No! Me! I'm older!"
"Then you need to let the youngest go first!"
Kagami laughed a genuine amused laughter, bending down to their level.
"Children," he said, clearing his throat. "One by one, starting from my right," he decided, his voice carried the authority of the head of the family, yet the smile softened his tone. He wriggled his right hand, grinning when his wrist was caught by one of the children.
"Me first, then!" the girl giggled, bringing Kagami's hand up to her braided hair. "I braid it myself! Using the ribbon that Mito-sama gave!"
Kagami let his hand brushed over her braid, lips curling to a wider grin when he felt the effort she has put into the neat braid. He toyed with the silk ribbon, before moving his hand to pat her cheeks, feeling the heat of her flush against his fingertips.
"I'm sure you look stunning, Hikari-chan," he murmured, smiling when she grasped his hand to kiss his knuckles before his hand was transferred to another child.
Kagami's hand touched cool flat surface. Curious, he flared his chakra to wrap around the object, attempting to determine what is it.
"Is this a picture frame?" he asked, letting his fingers ran along the wooden edges before retreating to the cool surface of the glass.
"Yes!" the boy giggled, taking the frame from Kagami's hand. "It's the first day of the academy. I want shishou to be here with us!"
Kagami swallowed a heavy lump in his throat.
The academy was originally Tobirama's idea and after his passing, Hashirama and Mito have taken the lead of the project, prioritising it only next to the village's defence. Halfway through, Izuna has taken over the project while Hashirama was distracted by international relations and Mito was busy with the medical development in Konoha. The Uchiha Clan Head oversaw the project with fierce determination no one expected would ever come from him, considering from whom the idea of the academy was originated from.
Now, a year and a half later, Konoha's Shinobi Academy opened its door to their children.
It was a happy day for all of them, but—
Kagami wished that Tobirama was here to celebrate it too.
Izuna managed to slip past Hashirama's unforgiving clutch just moments before the Hokage was supposed to give his speech to officiate the opening of the academy.
Menace. Hashirama and Jiro were a horrifying menace when combined together.
Mito was the evil demon that whispered encouragements to those two.
Izuna was more self-aware of the Clan Heads' opinion on him now, thus Hashirama's idea to have him to give a speech in Tobirama's stead was a horrible idea all over. Majority of the Clan Heads were not fond of Izuna but deeply respected and adored Tobirama, thus to have Izuna taking over for his half-brother would only increase their dislike of him.
Hence, why Izuna decided to ran the hell away the moment Hashirama was distracted.
Izuna vaguely felt the intensity of Hashirama's betrayed glare upon his back once the Hokage was pushed up to the podium by his fiancée. The chilling glare had Izuna to hasten his steps, weaving his way around the crowd with the hope that Hashirama cared enough about his public image to not attempt capturing Izuna using mokuton. It would be such an embarassing sight.
Izuna was too focused on evading Hashirama's gaze that he didn't realise where he was going.
He bumped onto someone, and suddenly he rather has Hashirama's betrayed glare locked on him.
The flare of chakra that wrapped around him was cold and terrifying.
"Kagami-kun," Izuna greeted, voice soft and shaky with nervousness.
"Izuna-san," Kagami greeted with a curt nod.
Kagami terrified him. Sage, why is this kid so scary?
Though, before any of them could say anything else, they both sensed powerful chakra that hasn't been sensed in Konoha since the past year approaching the area. All shinobi capable of sensing the chakra instantly looked up, a mixed reaction of surprise and exasperation broke through their expressions when the tiny dot on the sky crashed down onto the academy's roof, sending broken wood everywhere.
"HASHIRAMA!"
Hashirama didn't even bother to look surprised.
"Hello to you too, Madara," instead, the Hokage deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from each word. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. Ah? My wedding? No worries. We postponed it until your return. By the way, nice glasses—and by nice, I mean, could you please get rid of it before the ugly thing burns my eyes? Thank you," Hashirama ended his words with a dangerous smile, lifting his hand to point at the broken roof underneath his baby brother's feet. "And you're going to fix that."
Madara looked down at the broken roof, forehead scrunched up to a frown. "But Hashiii—," the previously missing Senju whined, curling his lips to a pout. "You can fix it with mokuton in seconds!"
"A fellow Aniki told me to stop spoiling my baby brother."
Izuna held back a snort. Jiro was a bad influence on all big brothers around him. Thank fuck the circle that knew of his existence was small.
"Haaaassshhhiiiii!"
"Fix that after this ceremony ends."
Madara grumbled something under his breath but sulkily nodded as he straightened up, taking off the giant round glasses off his face. By this point, the whole crowd has taken a good look on him, and every single mind in the area was thinking the same thing.
What the fuck has Madara been up to in this whole year and a half he went out of reach?
Madara's once long wild mane has been hacked off to mere inches from his scalp—the short spiky hair gave him a strangely youthful look while the stupid thick-rimmed round glasses gave him a goofy air. There was a hint of dyes in his hair as underneath the sunlight, Madara's hair carried a hue of reddish brown in it.
And his eyes were slate grey instead of onyx black.
"Brother-in-law," Mito chimed, leaping gracefully towards Madara.
"Ane-ue," Madara greeted with a curt nod, tensing a bit when she reached her hand towards him.
Mito huffed and pushed on. Her touches seemed casual and familiar, but any shinobi worth their salt knew that Mito was actually checking Madara for injuries.
"You look healthy," Mito finally decided, quirking a tiny smile. "Take off those contacts. Knowing you, you have been wearing them non-stop more than the recommended period."
"It's only one day extra….," Madara grumbled but didn't resist when Mito's glowing hand reached out to his eyes to take out the lens for him.
"Your eyes are very dry," the Uzumaki princess frowned, letting her glowing palms rested over Madara's open eyes for a few more seconds. "Get some eye drop later."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Izuna cocked an eyebrow. Madara was oddly happy and chirpy. Heck, he seemed hyper, in a sense.
It was weird enough that Izuna briefly noted on the slight horrified shiver from the Yamanaka Clan Head.
Hashirama chuckled, looking up from the podium to lock his gaze with his younger brother. "So?"
Madara grinned, teeth flashing in a feral triumph as he jerked his chin in the direction of the main road, pointing to something right behind the gathering crowd.
"Mission success," the Senju Clan Heir announced, pride dripping from each syllable.
Izuna heard it before he saw it.
"Impossible," Kagami murmured, voice shaky as he pushed past Izuna in the direction that Madara has pointed out. "No way," he whispered, voice only loud enough to allow the confused people to give way to him.
Then, Kagami screamed.
"Shishou!
Izuna turned around faster than possible—but the children were faster than him. Like a trigger, Kagami's scream unleashed the children as they too started losing control, squirming their way from their bewildered guardians and parents as they chased after Kagami, screaming the exact same word in between their tears and laughter.
Izuna only able to get a glimpse of the dearly missed silver hair gleaming underneath the sunlight. He only has enough time to make out the skinny, frail frame that was sandwiched tight between a gigantic black panther and a snow leopard—both summons were flanking the man, supporting his weight with their strong frame.
Izuna only had enough time to see the faintest smile on Tobirama's pale face.
"I'm home," Tobirama's voice rang through the silent area, sounding the exact same as a year ago, like he had never gone and—
—the stampede of children lost their mind.
Izuna was trampled.
A/N :
1. Jiro is the type of elder sibling who would spoil you but also would discipline you to become perfect angels. Tobi is the elder sibling who will spoil you without any boundaries or rules.
2. New Madara looked like a brunette Obito minus the scar but plus detective Conan's glasses.
3. Izuna was a pancake by the time the stampede of children get their hands on Tobi.
4. Madara's summon in this story is T'challa, er, I mean, a black panther.
Supposedly, epilogue would be coming right up. But then, my muse told me that Izuna needs to suffer more and I should not omit Kagami's previously slipping sanity because that would be fun to write so next chapter ain't the epilogue as planned.
I swear all of my writing always went longer than planned.