A child patters after Tobirama, the squeak of small sandals soundless to all but him.
For as long as he can remember, this child has followed him everywhere. When he goes to bed, the child sits, cross-legged, at his feet.
The child never speaks, but the accusations in its eyes are enough. Sometimes, it wears Itama's face. Those days are the worst. Over the years, he has lost count of its many masks.
(Homura Kawamara Hiruzen Tsunade Koharu)
He keeps no secrets from his brother except this one — how can one claim to be sane and haunted at the same time?
He never marries.
Notes: This is rather darker than anything I'd expected to write. (I'm also getting better at keeping the word count close to 100.) Lastly, here's a shout-out to the "Random Person" anon who seems to enjoy fic set in the "founders" era. I hope you stick around for the longer fic that I'm still planning at the moment!