A/N: Chapter 2! This is where you all actually figure out where this story is headed, aside from the millions of things I'm going to throw at you later on. Mwahahahahhaha~
I hope you enjoy this nice little chapter. I can't give a definite time or schedule for updating, especially with as much homework as I'm already getting in school, but the more reviews I get the more motivation I get. Feel free to tell me what you think, okay? Next chapter will be long, and I'm talking two, three times this size, so naturally it will take me longer.
Okay. Here we go.
"Are you listening, Hashirama?"
"Hashirama!"
He focused on the small, callused hand frantically waving in a blur of his vision until his eyes slowly focused and began following the contour of the young boys thin arm all the way up past his shoulder until finally reaching a gentle face he hadn't seen for many, many years.
"Are you alright? You've been spacing out for awhile."
Hashirama could have responded in many ways, however every single one of them died deep within his burning throat and the pounding in his head was now no match for the beating of his aching heart.
"He's fine, Itama." Tobirama assured coolly, however concern briefly betrayed his tone as it flickered in his expression. It was not unlike Hashirama to seem momentarily distracted and lost in thought, but seeing him speechless was a bit odd.
His eyes wandered to both faces in front of him as if relearning their young innocence, comparing it to the Tobirama he knew—technically—only yesterday. A genuine, yet pained smile pulled at the corners of his lips and he forced himself to speak up so they didn't start to worry and ask questions. "I'm fine, just a bit..lost in the past. "
"We can't change what happened and instead of sulking about it, we should focus on the future."
This was forty years in the past, but he was still the same Tobirama.
"I'm not sulking..just..thinking." Hashirama muttered softly, still trying to find his voice.
"Yeah, don't pick on him!"
"I'm not. At least he is thinking, unlike the adults."
"Well..they are thinking, aren't they?" Itama questioned, sitting at the edge of the cliff and swinging his legs absentmindedly.
"It doesn't look like it to me." Tobirama scoffed, crossing his arms.
"They think that fighting is the best way to peace, thats all!"
"That isn't the way to do this. If they really want to bring an end to this endless fighting, they need to sit down with one another and reach a truce."
"That's easy to say..but then who will take revenge for all the loved ones we've lost? They'd roll in their graves if we just let bygones be bygones!"
"Keep thinking like that..and we'll be burying you real soon." Tobirama declared roughly, his voice failing to concealing sadness.
It was silent then, all three of the brothers trying to hide their varying inner tormoil. Remorse and regret filled Itama's watery eyes, however Tobirama did not take back his words because he knew them to be the truth. Hashirama felt his own eyes burn as he remembered this conversation and the eventual death of Itama that followed.
"That way of thinking is exactly like the grown-ups. We're in this mess because shinobi keep seeking vengeance. What shinobi need to do is form some standard..some code of conduct..only then will all this senseless killing come to an end." Tobirama explained.
Vengeance was a never ending cycle of give and take, one that never brought you to the solution and only kept you stuck in your problems. The only solution Hashirama knew was peace and kindness, but even that had not vanquished deep rooted anguish. But if there was a way, he would find it.
"Someday..we'll form an alliance. We'll be at peace. And..somehow..we'll stop all the hate and vengeance from spreading. I promise." Hashirama insisted, his voice full of confidence despite the disturbance and confusion in himself.
He could never, not even if he lived to be an old, withering man, forget the way they lit up at these words. Their eyes were full of something wonderful, something so lively and pure that couldn't compete with simple awe and shock. He knew this to be hope.
"Is that really possible..?" Itama asked while Tobirama remained silently astounded by the notion of it all.
"Of course! Anything is possible..the adults just don't see it, that's all." Hashirama insisted.
"...It's a bold statement.." Tobirama began, but finally a small, rare expression of happiness spread on his lips, "but possible. We just have to watch out—"
"—for the Uchiha." he finished. "That's what you were going to say, right?"
"What, you don't agree?"
"They're the same as us..just.." he trailed off, thinking of something Madara once said. "..too proud to allow themselves to be vulnerable."
"And how do you know?" Tobirama questioned suspiciously.
"Oh, well..I was unwillingly sent from the future." he stated with a serious pout.
Both of his brothers' shoulders sagged, but while the older of the two had an extremely defeated look on his face, the youngest giggled softly. Apparently, neither of them believed him. Hashirama was about to try and explain everything that had led up to this turn of events, however stopped short as he realized that maybe it was best to keep it a secret. They probably wouldn't believe him, and if they did it would only scare them. They didn't need to hear about the horrors of his future when he would be making a better one, anyways.
Before either of them could call him out on saying such a weird thing, he stood up on small feet and walked over to his youngest little brother, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy to bring him into a hug. The warmth radiating off his skin was a grim reminder of the icy chill that overtook him as a corpse. Hashirama had to make sure he didn't act too emotional, but it was difficult to remain composed as he squeezed Itama like he was remnants begging to be pushed out from a scrunched up tube of toothpaste.
After a small, calming, and much needed breath he turned his head slightly in the direction of his other brother, a wider grin on his face as he gestured with his hands. "Come over here" he suggested softly when he didn't initially react. He seemed to be thinking and weighing in his options—to hug or not to hug—but finally Tobirama walked over with a bit of reluctance and awkwardly joined the embrace, wrapping an arm around each brother.
All three enjoyed the peaceful silence, not wanting to ruin it with words, but eventually Itama attempted to pull away because he was getting extremely squished between the two older, bigger boys. Hashirama wouldn't let him. "Hold on" he murmured softly, pulling him closer to enjoy the feel of warmth against warmth before slowly letting go and giving in to the discomfort of the other two. He could feel Tobirama's questioning, curious gaze, but he was more likely to ponder over it on his own instead of asking upfront about it.
"We should go home, you know father hates it when we're out too long." Tobirama suggested, lowering his arms back to his side. Hashirama, however, shook his head in blatant and unquestionable disagreement
"I'm actually gonna go train..words of peace don't really mean much without the power to back it up."
"..are you sure that's a good idea? Father wanted us home by—"
"Just tell him I'm training and it'll be fine"
Tobirama gave Hashirama a cautious look before eventually nodding in agreement. "Let's go, Itama."
The moment they disappeared from view his own feet instantly began to carry him in a familiar direction, albeit one he hadn't walked in years, and he greedily took in the sights from this child-like perspective he hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy in quite some time. Everything was taller, brighter, and more lively, both because he was shorter and because the busy life of the village hadn't taken over yet. Hashirama savored every tree that no longer existed, pressing his palm against moist bark and green leaves as he traveled along the unidentified path shared by many creatures. This, he mused, was something he could appreciate much more now then he ever did. The earth was a miraculous thing; he believed it was no coincidence that he developed his mokuton. It was something he felt a connection to, every touch of soil or prickle of vine and thorn was full of beauty. It was peace.
The sounds of rushing water filled his ears, and as he parted through the thinning trees a familiar sight appeared before him. Chilled water splashed against the scattered, sharp rocks, causing ripples to push their way to the edges of the river and cascade against the lush grass. He approached the bank almost cautiously, as if one misstep would destroy the beautiful image, and didn't stop until his toes were nearly touching the water.
His eyes wandered down, searching for something, and when they found it he nearly fell in shock. There he was, his reflection staring back at him from the depths of the water, and he was a boy. He expected it, of course, but seeing it was another thing entirely. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was one of sickness due to the knowledge that this was inherently wrong. It was almost as if living twice, except now he was burdened with the knowledge of his future. His heart squeezed tightly in his chest as he realized what that old women—Who was she? How did she know such kind of jutsu?—had caused. He would have to live through all of this again. Was there a catch? Was her intentions good or bad? He wanted, truly needed, to think they were good. She was giving him an opportunity to change the future... but was that a power he had the right to control?
He knew what came next would be the hardest years of his life. One brother was dead, another was soon to follow. The few moments of happiness by this very river would not come to a complete end, but the ones where his best friend joined him would. They would fight countless, tiring times, and he would slowly lose Madara to hatred.
Things eventually got better, as they always did, but he didn't want to relive this portion of his life just as it had been last time. Despite the joy he had felt when seeing Itama's face for the first time in forty years, it had also pained him to know that he would have to watch his death a second time. It would nearly break his heart. Death was the hardest thing for Hashirama to watch, even harder than betrayal.
He could change it—he had already figured out ways to divert the future—but should he?
As he pondered this question, his gaze lost focus on the water until he no longer saw himself looking back at his reflection but a face of agony and a burning, never-ending hatred. His skin was paler, haunted by years of anguish, and a crazed look morphed into a mixture of awe and disbelief. Exhausted red eyes transformed to a weak grey as a small, accepting grimace crossed his lips. It was painful to remember the way Madara looked shortly before his death, so vulnerable, yet satisfied, as if he was sick of living and just wanted it all to end.
He never wanted to see such torment again, but if it was for Konoha he would experience it a thousand times. This time, however, preventing it would not harm his village.
A sudden realization left a comfortable, lighter aura around him with an air of certainty; even though his existence in this world was indecent, immorality was not excused. He would do whatever in his power to make this reality a happier one.
Finally reassured, he crouched down and lowered himself on the soft blades of grass, relaxing as he stretched both legs out and dipped his feet into the cold water.
'This time I'll figure out a way to save my friend, my brother, and my village.'
Time passed by quickly as he lost himself in thoughts and admired the simple view, but eventually each minute bled into an hour as nightfall approached the darkening sky and he realized just how exhausted he was. And, hours later, he rose to his feet and headed towards the dirt roads, deciding to take the shorter route instead of the scenic. He expected them to be deserted as usual, yet halfway through a happy couple and their two small children came into his view. It was as if the war didn't even exist. Maybe to them, it didn't.
Tobirama eyed the nearly empty board with fevered, sullen determination, ignoring the taunting of his brother.
I'd do better against Hashirama at this rate.. Tobirama thought, selecting a pawn as his next victim.
"You sure you don't wanna forfeit, Tobiiiii?" A smaller hand moved his bishop.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in barely suppressed annoyance. "I'm sure, Itama."
"Oh yeah? Well prove it!"
"Prove what? You're not making any sense." This time, it was his last lance.
"Which means I've successfully caught you in my trap." His fingers toyed with a rook.
"What trap?" he questioned incredulously.
"This one!" Itama nearly shouted, placing his piece in the exact spot that left Tobirama's king completely surrounded.
The older senju stared at the shogi board in surprise, playing through the game in his mind to try and find his error. How did get sucked into a trap? He had been sure to triple check every move, analyzing all of his opponent's meaningful responses, and even as he replayed each set of moves he could find nothing he had, logistically speaking, done wrong.
"Itama.." he huffed, a glint of realization shining in his eyes. His little brother was lacking in nearly every aspect of a ninja, save for one. "You performed a genjutsu on me, tricking me into believing that an illegal move on your part was fair, didn't you?"
"..Oops." he stated with a shrug. "Maybe.."
"At least you were smart enough to break it nearly instantly, otherwise I would have noticed." he complimented, crossing his arm. "However, that means you cheated. And that is unacceptable."
"The end justifies the means, doesn't it?" he retorted, neatly stacking every tile before placing the piles in the far corner of the board..
"Not always, Itama."
Both brothers looked up at the mildly soft tone in surprise, unsure of what to say.
The silence was as dead as their mother.
Butsuma was naturally stoic and calm with an unrelenting sternness, however these words held meaning and love. He did not mean to say that the war wasn't justified; to him, it was quite obviously the only way. But for a moment, he allowed tenderness to seep into his usually hard expression. He did not want his sons to die, he merely accepted it with honor and dignity.
"Even the purest of intentions can lack proper justification. Whether or not you are doing what is right..that is up to fate. "
Tobirama remained quiet not because of how easily angered his father often became, but because for once he—more or less—agreed. Fate..destiny.. these terms were subjective. However, he believed certain things were doomed to happen based on the choices of others and predicting the future outcome was the best way to make your decisions. Good intention or no, if you were doing something life deemed to be wrong, you would find out in the end.
It was neither he or Itama that contradicted these words, neither in mind or body, but the soft scratching of wood against floor and the gentle click of metal. It was the light footsteps that spoke the truth and the developed mind within the little boy that held proof. It was the small, confident smile as he stood nearly chest to chest with his father as if forty years hadn't passed, despite the terrifying height difference that forced him to look high up. Hashirama was young and significantly weaker in body, but in mind he was stronger than ever because of one thing: his nearly tangible purpose.
"It's up to each person to justify their actions, not to fate. Fate only determines whether you've done the right thing. But fate's mind can also be changed, don't you think?"