Once again, the three brothers found themselves burying a family member. Instead of a brother, however, they watched as the casket carrying their father's charred corpse was submerged.
Itama wiped the moisture out of his eyes. His eyes were trained on the casket next to his father, the one containing the remains of Tamotsu. Itama's mentor.
Did that make him horribly unfilial?
Probably. But he could not find himself to care.
"A shinobi should not show his emotions," Tobirama chastised.
He probably said it because that is what their father would have said had he seen them. Out of all of them Tobirama had looked up to their father the most, wishing to emulate him.
Now the man laid dead, a victim of a conflict he himself had pushed them into.
"Stop trying to act cool, Tobi," Itama muttered instead, stepping away, opting to go training with his tanto. A final gift from his late teacher.
—-
"Lord Hashirama!" voices called, interrupting their morning meal with an incessant knocking.
"What is it!?" his brother yelled, leaping to his feet and rushing to their entrance. Almost sixteen, he had already begun his growth spurt and crossed their dwelling in large strides that Itama struggled to match.
"Hideki," Tobirama greeted his fellow sensor.
"There are envoys at our northern-western border," the man said.
The three brothers shared a glance.
"A party of Akimichi, from the capital," he stated. "Along with their vassals."
"Very well. Stay and inform the elders that we have gone to meet them," Hashirama ordered, before they took off.
— — —
"Thirty four unknown signatures, all shinobi." Tobirama informed them. "Going by their strong Yang chakra reserves, I suspect at least twenty five of them are Akimichi.
"Itama," Hashirama barked out, uncharacteristically serious. "When we get there… Remember to be mindful of your thoughts."
"Avoid thinking of clan secrets and your missions in the war," Tobirama clarified.
The pre-teen furrowed his eyebrows in brief confusion, before nodding.
"I will," he assured them.
— — —
Itama had never seen an Akimichi, nor had he ever met any of their vassals either. He was more familiar with their products, like the medical ingredients from the Nara and herbs from the Yamanaka.
The Akimichi supplied the capital with much of its food supplies. They owned vast tracts of fertile land and employed fiercely protected secret farming techniques to produce effective fertilizers.
The noble clan kept close ties to the daimyo of their country, intermarried repeatedly and offered their strongest shinobi for his protection. Since their techniques were not coveted bloodlines, the same the doujutsu were, they did not have the same qualms as the other noble shinobi clans did.
Only the Sarutobi clan, led by Sarutobi Sasuke, could be said to have a closer relationship with the ruling family. But beyond their martial strength they owned no lands - not being noble - and were not independently wealthy.
— — —
Hashirama chuckled at the sight that met them. Itama hummed in amusement, but kept himself at guard nonetheless.
Their visitors had made themselves comfortable. Blankets had been placed across the clearing, the people occupying them shielded from the sun by ornately decorated giant umbrellas driven into the grass clearing. A large tent had been erected on the far side, surrounded by dozens of smaller ones.
The Akimichi certainly lived up to their reputations as incredibly, incredibly large people. Not just in terms of rotundness but in height and reach. If their fists could not reach you, the large polearms they had put down besides them certainly would.
Bowls of food had been laid out. Bowls of udon and soba, soups, sukiyaki, curry, an entire roast pig with an apple in its mouth… a delectable spread that the Senju clan might serve for something like a wedding feast. Not for a mission.
Interspersed among the large brunette and red-haired Akimichi were others, smaller figures: one group dark-haired, the other blonde and orange-haired.
The brothers landed in the clearing, the Senju sentries forming up around them.
"Lord Senju," a blonde and turquoise-eyed man greeted with a shallow bow, appearing in front of them and addressing Hashirama. He wore a dark blue kimono with the Yamanaka kamon on it. "Lord Sadao has been expecting you. Please join him in the tent."
The sentries shifted, bristling at the audacity.
"Great!" Hashirama exclaimed. "Let's talk", he said, marching forward past the Yamanaka and heading to the tent. Tobirama gestured for the sentries to stay put before following, and Itama walked behind them both.
They passed the large Akimichi figures, who ignored them in favor of eating and playing their hanafuda card-games, though the occasional Nara and Yamanaka tracked them with their eyes, one group nonchalant, the other keen.
A young, bald teenager sat in a lotus position in front of the tent, eyes closed in meditation. While he wore the robes of a fire temple monk - and was counting prayer beads in his right hand - a cloth with the sign for fire 火 had been wrapped around his waist, signifying his membership of the twelve guardians: the personal bodyguards of the daimyo and his family.
"Chukaku," a deep voice called from inside the tent. "Let them in."
The teen opened his eyes and rose to his feet. He reached out and drew the entrance to the tent open, allowing the three of them to enter.
The ground was covered in tatami mats, Itama noticed, before their gaze was brought to the man in the center, Lord Sadao. Even sitting in seiza on a raised platform, writing on a scroll on a low desk, the man could look up and see the top of Itama's head.
Scanning the enclosed space, he saw three male Akimichi on the left side. On the right-hand side was a trio of youngsters: a female Nara, a male Yamanaka and a female Akimichi with long mane of red hair. Both Lord Sadao and the girl shared the same violet, egg-shaped markings on their cheeks; unlike the other Akimichi who had their own markings.
"Lord Sadao, what brings you and your entourage here," Hashirama greeted with a saccharine smile, spreading his arms. Itama forced himself to think on something other than his brother breaking protocol, focusing on his breathing inside.
The Akimichi paused, taking them in, before reaching into a pocket of his chest armor with a meaty hand. Then he took it out, brandishing an item.
The three Senju all fell to their knees at the sight of the Fire Daimyo's token, a palm-sized gleaming piece of gold shaped like a flame.
"I carry an edict from the daimyo. Will you receive it, Senju?" the man said, taking out a scroll.
"I, Senju Hashirama, humbly receive his highness' edict," Hashirama replied, bowing his head.
"The war of succession between Lord Ouchi XV's two sons has left the provinces of Nagato and Suo in utter destruction and produced tens of thousands of refugees. The conflict, no longer contained, has expanded into the lands of the Uchiha and the Amago clans, and risks destabilizing all of southern Fire."
Lord Sadao made a pause, eyeing them gravely over the scroll, before continuing.
"This state of affairs is unacceptable. The deaths of Lord Uchiha Tajima and General Senju Butsuma at each other's hands, while tragic, provides an opportunity for the two sides to de-escalate. With this in mind, I have sent my brother prince Takeo and brother-in-law Lord Sadao to begin negotiating a truce."
Itama subtly turned to his brothers from his bow, questioningly, for their reactions. Had they known their father had taken Uchiha Tajima with him in death? The Uchiha patriarch must have succumbed to wounds.
Hashirama shifted, giving him a warning look out of the corner of his eyes.
Chastised, Itama shifted back.
"Failure to comply in good faith with this edict by any one party, as judged by his highness' envoys, will be viewed as an act of treason against the throne itself. End of edict."
"Edict received," Hashirama accepted, raising his torso. His brothers followed. "Itama, return home and summon the elders."
Itama nodded, acquiescing his brother's command.
On his way home, he finally allowed his thoughts to consider what they had been told, remembering his late mentor's lessons.
The Senju and Uchiha were powerful forces on their own, but daimyo had many tools at his disposal to enforce his will. Legally speaking their clan lived only on their territory by his leave, they did not own the land itself. Before the current dynasty the Senju had been living elsewhere, still rivals of the Uchiha, but never nobility.
In terms of military strength, the daimyo kept the Akimichi and their vassals on his side through marriage. And Sarutobi Sasuke was widely known to be the strongest shinobi in the lands - certainly stronger than Butsumu and Tajima - though Itama was confident Hashirama had the potential to rival him one day as Hashirama was almost as strong as their father before he passed away, and years yet before he would reach his peak.
The daimyo could probably not act unilaterally against both Senju and Uchiha - not without weakening the country to such an extent that the other countries would invade - and if he removed one, he ran the risk of the other growing too strong.
At least not in normal times. With both Senju and Uchiha weakened, along with their allies, the daimyo could conceivably strike a blow against one or both of them without losing control of the situation and the military imbalance in the country. It would weaken the country, but perhaps not enough to make it not worth it. Not more than the Senju and Uchiha could weaken it themselves, at any rate, should the conflict continue.
It was because Itama's mentor possessed self-distance and perspective of the situation that he had cautioned Butsuma to not involve themselves, and later to not escalate the conflict so aggressively. The situation had not been so dire, they had other means to maneuver the clan into a stronger position - more food sources, more weapons, more supplies, more shinobi.
Tamotsu had once assigned him to study an old scroll from the clan records, the language archaic and difficult to read. Centuries prior, in a precursor to the Land of Fire, the Senju had also enjoyed noble status. The Senju and the Uchiha lived in peace, were plentiful and strong, and above all loyal to the daimyo that had created these favorable conditions.
When the daimyo died, his heir took power. Confident in the country's strength and eager to make a name for himself, the new lord had launched an attack on a neighboring country. However, the sheer overwhelming strength of the country's military might scared the other countries into banding together, uniting to drive them back.
Their enemies succeeded in pushing their forces back out of the annexed lands, making them lose all their gains. They then pushed deeper into the country before the war finally reached a stalemate. Just as enemies can unite against a greater threat, they can also disunite when victory looks imminent, in fear of one party growing too powerful from the spoils of the war.
The daimyo committed seppuku in dishonor, having gambled and lost his father's mighty empire. The Senju had been driven from their lands, the lands later becoming part of a buffer state since lost to time. And while the new rump state was able to recover some land, eventually becoming something similar to the Land of Fire, the Senju had never recovered their noble titles.
Worse yet, as some of the clan had split off to become the Uzumaki clan in the Land of Whirlpools, they never recovered to that level of strength.
There were many lessons to be learned from that, Tamotsu had stressed, and Itama had nodded.
Butsuma, driven by both hate and fear, wanted the Senju to defeat the Uchiha at all costs. And now, with his death, he left the Senju exposed to the machinations and whims of other players.
When Itama returned to the outskirts, elders in-tow, he had to smirk at the sight. The tents were no longer there, in their stead a manse with five adjoining wooden structures had been grown out of the ground.
"Itama, why don't you show Lord Sadao's daughter, Lady Akiko, and her companions around?" Hashirama said with a genial smile, meeting him and the elders outside.
"They might enjoy the gorge," Tobirama suggested, pointedly.
Itama did not understand why they felt it necessary to send them away like annoying children, but he nodded anyway. He eyed the Akimichi girl he had seen earlier, placed between her attendants but taller and wider, and provided a polite smile.
"It would be an honor to show the daimyo's lady niece and her companions around."
The girl in question inclined her head, while the Yamanaka teen and Nara girl eyed him silently.
"The pleasure is ours. These are my friends, Nara Entai and Yamanaka Fumio," she introduced warmly, in a surprisingly melodic voice. The two in question stood a smidge straighter.
"I will also accompany you," the warrior monk, Chukaku, stated, rising out of his meditative state.
– – –
Itama took them along the periphery of their patrolled land, politely keeping a slow pace. Summer had drawn to a close and they were early in the autumn months, evidenced by the fall foliage.
The gorge formed one of the natural barriers to their settlement, and was quite far from their settlement. One need only follow the sound of the rapids to get to it.
A hundred meters below them the Naka river flowed angrily, having eroded through many tons of stone over the centuries. The thick tree foliage all the way down created the illusion of a cloth-of-gold carpet having been draped over the landscape. It left even the surly looking Yamanaka speechless, Itama noted with satisfaction.
"Perhaps we should make ourselves comfortable and enjoy the view," the Nara suggested, gesturing to a patch of ground. At Akiko's nod she unsealed a blanket and tea set, a somewhat frivolous use of expensive sealing paper and ink.
A single blood red leaf fell from a tree above them, twirling and riding through the air before coming to rest in Itama's outstretched hand.
"Crimson butterfly,
graces me with its presence,
leaves peace in its wake," the Senju said, breaking the silence, holding it out by its stem. Channeling his chakra, he animated the leaf to bat itself as if it were a butterfly.
Chukaku narrowed his eyes. The Nara smirked in amusement while the Yamanaka glared at Itama. He ignored them all though in favor of the noble lady, who, after a pause, accepted the leaf.
"Thank you for showing us the view," Akiko said after they had all made themselves comfortable on the cloth.
"My pleasure!" Itama replied with a bright smile. "Besides, it is his highness's view; it is by his magnanimity we are allowed to occupy this space. We are grateful."
Akiko paused, before nodding.
"Hn," the Nara made a sound.
"It is important to know one's place in the world, and to know it well," Fumio stated, his tone grating to Itama's ear. "If not, one might attempt to reach beyond it and lose what little one had already."
"... As you say," Itama returned, neutrally.
Entai prepared the five of them some tea, using fire natured chakra to boil water. Itama accepted a cup of green tea with a muttered word of gratitude.
"Would you like a daifuku?" Akiko offered Itama with a smile, having unsealed a tray containing three balls. One was red, another green and the third yellow.
Itama grabbed the yellow one and Akiko the red one.
It was known that an Akimichi would never poison their food. It was considered a great honor to be offered food directly by one.
His teeth went through the chewy exterior, entering into the crunchy flesh of a fruit Itama had never tasted before. It was sweet, a little tart and entirely too delicious.
Akiko giggled at his expression and the sound he made, hiding her face behind a fan.
"What is this delicious fruit?" Itama questioned, embarrassed at his ignorance but too curious to not reveal it.
"They call it a pineapple," the Akimichi supplied.
"Pineapple," he repeated.
Akiko gestured for him to take the remaining desert.
"Please, I insist," she said, when he politely tried to decline, despite his tastebuds screaming at him to throw it into his mouth. "Your reactions are amusing."
Itama felt the tip of his ears burn. He grabbed the green ball and experienced a taste that was yet again sweet an slightly acidic, but completely different in a way Itama struggled to describe.
"That one they call kiwi."
"It is delicious as well," Itama told her eagerly, "Though I like pineapple more.."
"The fruit is specially imported for her ladyship, all the way from the Land of Moon," Fumio snottily informed, suggesting that he did not think Itama someone worth wasting the desert on.
Itama's eyes widened at that, hurrying to bow his head at the girl. The Land of Moon was an ocean away, south of the continent the Elemental Countries occupied. It must have cost a fortune to ship it in to serve fresh.
The crimson-haired girl waved him off.
"It just occurred to me that I have yet to offer my condolences," Akiko said, changing the subject. "My condolences for your father's passing."
"Thank you, my lady," Itama replied, careful. "Sadly he was only one of many casualties."
"Indeed," Fumio piped up, forcing Itama to look at him. "Lord Uchiha Tajima, the Ouchi brothers Norihiro and Masahiro, Hagoromo Tsuneo, Hagoromo…"
Itama slowly broke eye contact, looking away and bringing the funeral to the forefront of his mind.
The Yamanaka halted his speech.
He focused on another funeral he had seen.
A ceremony in a grand temple of black marble, the center of a faith that stretched across an entire continent. Bells tolled, summoning noblemen, priests, chained scholars, and men of wealth - all of them brought together to mourn the passing of their king. All but one, a young silver-haired man who mourned his father and the relationship they never got to have.
"Lord Amago lost his father as well," Fumio said, leaning back on his hands idly. "Though I must confess his assassination was certainly…"
"What?"
"Well, isn't it awfully convenient," the Yamanaka smirked. "The one person holding his power back gets murdered, followed by a son who in his rage throws everything he has got onto the enemy."
"...What are you implying?" Itama glowered.
"Oh, nothing," Fumio said, pupil-less eyes narrowed at Itama.
Itama narrowed his eyes back.
"Say, are you any good with that sword of yours," the Yamanaka said with a nod. "Would you care for a spar?"
Itama, annoyed, could not agree fast enough.
"Wait, hold on," the Nara interrupted, hands up. "My lady, won't you intervene?"
Akiko eyed both of the males before averting her gaze sideways.
"Chukaku will referee."
The monk did not look particularly happy at being volunteered to supervise a spar while on guard duty, but it was only for a moment. Then he was back in his perfectly zen solemn face.
The sparring rules were simple: fight until one of them yielded, was incapacitated or if Chukaku determined it was over.
They took their places facing each other. Their referee threw a rock into the air, and the moment it hit the ground the two exploded into movement.
Itama came down with his sword, his blade parried by a kunai held in the Yamanaka's right hand. The left came up to grasp at Itama's face, forcing him to disengage.
The blonde teen followed, left hand entering rat while swiping with his right. The Senju parried and dodged, initially easily but then the swipes of the kunai kept getting closer.
He attempted to feint, but the Yamanaka read him and he took a glancing blow against his armored tricep.
He attempted a double feint, but the Yamanaka saw through that too, resulting in a kick to the chest that sent him sprawling on the ground. He barely managed to roll out of it in time to avoid the follow up, throwing a kunai back to gain some distance.
It's as if I'm fighting an Uchiha…
Itama's eyes widened in realization, eyeing the one hand the Yamanaka had been keeping in a one-handed rat/ram seal. He flushed his chakra as best as he could.
Is it a sensing technique? Itama wondered, mind reeling. Or is he able to read my mind?
The lull in the fighting lasted for two seconds, before the Yamanaka came at him again. Channeling chakra into his feet, Itama rushed forward as well, using his sword to keep the older male at a distance.
One strike, two strikes, and then the Senju dragged his foot in a circle, through a pile of leaves. Then he kicked, sending the mass of them up in the air.
The leaves broke the Yamanaka's direct line of sight, forcing him to rely only on his sensing, no doubt. But Itama had already drawn his chakra in, and the chakra he had infused into the leaves created a haze.
One Itama appeared from the front but was quickly dispersed with a kunai, revealing itself to be a simple bunshin.
No, to the side! Fumop thought, turning and raising his hands in preparation for a technique towards a stronger chakra signature. A second Itama was flying through the air, sword raised. But just as Fumio was about to release his chakra, the henge construct fell apart, revealing only a single leaf curving through the air.
Behind!
Twisting his head, he caught the Senju boy's silhouette out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around, tried to turn his torso and hands fast enough to aim his jutsu.
But the gleaming tip of Itama's sword was too close already and was coming in too fast. Even had he been able to attack the boy's mind, his body's momentum would carry the sharp blade forward.
Mittys iksa, the Yamanaka caught. Then there was an explosion of yellow chakra and a thousand-armed chakra construct surrounded them. The two combatants were separated, Itama's sword firmly grasped in two of the hands.
"The match is over," the monk stated without inflection, at the center of Kannon.
Itama tried to move his body, but found it frozen - restrained. With herculean effort, he was able to move his head, allowing him to see the shadowy tendril connecting him to the Nara.
"Sorry, old habit," the girl muttered and drew back her shadow. "Let's just call it a draw, shall we?"
Itama gave her a cold glare, before turning and collecting his kunai.
Fumio turned to his friends.
"Your cheek," Akiko said, holding out a handkerchief.
A thin line of blood was visible on his cheek, where the leaf had sliced into it.
— — —
The talks continued all day and into the next, after which the visitors from the capital left.
Lord Ouchi's vassalage to the Uchiha was to be broken, with guarantees and peacekeeping troops paid for by the daimyo himself. Lord Amago's sister was to be married to him to avoid blood feuds, her dowry being the province that had previously been taken.
The Hagoromo had been almost wiped out, the Shimura in a slightly better position with a newfound hatred towards the Uchiha. The latter and the Senju had lost their clan leaders and key leadership.
Everyone involved had suffered immensely and now the daimyo swooped in and returned everything to status quo ante.
All of this had already been decided before Lord Akimichi Sadao had been sent to treat with them. The purpose of the talks had been to hammer out various details and allow the parties to claim any final, small but face-saving concessions. All the while reminding them of their places.
Had there been a conclusive winner, one way or the other, the daimyo would probably not have dared to be so heavy-handed. But no.
So many dead, for what?
Kawarama's laughing face appeared in his mind and he tamped down on the guilt. He was avenged, was that not worth something?
You've left us with a right mess father.
Itama avoided Lady Akiko and her group after their little excursion, returning only to bid farewell once they left. The boy had enjoyed the lady's presence, her sweet smiles, delicious snacks and elegant demeanor; but the Yamanaka had a crap personality and the Nara had used her technique on him without his consent. The Senju did not enjoy their games.
Tobirama had chastised him for agreeing to the spar. In his opinion, Itama had a handicap and needed every advantage he could get. Such as being shrouded in mystery.
Hashirama had laughed and congratulated him for winning and defending the Senju honor. Itama knew that Hashirama was not bothered by the speculation that the Senju had killed their own ally to further a war (and Itama pointedly avoided asking if it was true), but rather by the gall of accusing them of it to their face.
Then he had disappeared and returned again with a gift.
"This is father's katana," Itama said, awed.
"Yep!" Hashirama confirmed with a grin. "The finest blade in the clan. And now it's yours!"
"But…" Itama protested, thinking of the blade his mentor had gifted him.
He held up a hand to stall Itama's protests.
"I don't want it," the brunette stated, shrugging. "I'm fine with the sword I already have."
"And I as well," Tobirama added, when Itama turned to him. "I have some other ideas I am exploring."
Senju Butsuma's sword had been passed down from his father, and his father before. It was an heirloom. Made out of the best quality chakra steel it was incredibly sharp, capable of holding a fine edge without being brittle. It could punch through armor and meet other, similarly high quality blades, without taking undue damage.
His chakra slipped into it with no resistance. A faint sheen was seen around it, extending the edge just a little further.
Already his mind was conjuring up ideas to experiment with.
"Oh thank you, brother!"
"Now," Hashirama says, rubbing his hands and leaning in. "Tell me more about these delicious… painapperus!"
—-
The Uchiha and Senju, through the daimyo's proxies, agreed on a twelve-month truce. They called it a mourning period but it was meant to allow the lands to recover and the peasants a year to plant and harvest in peace.
It was a much welcome respite, and the clan luckily had funds and supplies to cover the shortfall in mission income, as any request even remotely at risk of resulting in an interaction with the Uchiha or their allies had to be declined.
Hashirama was particularly happy, Itama noted. At first he thought his brother was simply relieved to not have to fight his childhood best friend Uchiha Madara. The thought grated at the teen, no matter how much he loved his older brother.
Then Hashirama assigned himself a good-will mission in the Ouchi lands, and Itama came along. He got to watch his brother rebuild a village that the war had destroyed, growing it house by house and giving each a unique twist.
With winter setting in, the vegetation had all gone into hibernation and the ground was starting to harden. It made the Mokuton that much harder and chakra-consuming, but his older brother took it in stride as a challenge and additional training.
"'Sides, without homes in winter many children and elderly will die!" he declared.
Watching his older brother use his precious chakra to re-house war refugees, and doing so with such enjoyment brought a smile to his face. Hashirama was truly a gentle soul.
The Uchiha, not to be outdone, eventually showed up with bags of charcoal. But they were surly, prideful noblemen and the gesture was a little too little, a little late. And so it is the charismatic Senju Hashirama whose name persisted on the peasants' lips, to Itama's delight.
The Senju did not stay idle. The clan came together to train and assist the supporting forces with their labor. Itama found himself not just helping make medicine and assisting in the forge again but sewing clothes, weaving baskets, drying fruits, pickling vegetables, smoking fish…
Itama hounded Toka to practice her Genjutsu on him, eager to build up his yin resistance for the next time he had to face a Yamanaka or Nara. Toka in turn took no pity on him and had him relive some of his worst memories, including almost dying against the Uchiha and actually dying as Daeron. Over and over, until he could notice and resist them.
Hashirama had just turned sixteen when their father died and the daimyo forced an end to the war. Two months later, just before the new year, Itama turned thirteen. Tobirama turned fifteen two months into the new year.
The elders, having kept their distance, finally confronted them in their house.
"Hashirama, you are fast approaching your seventeenth birthday and the truce will be over soon after that. It is time you marry and produce heirs."
Three weeks later Itama and Tobirama headed off to find their brother a wife and their clan a matriarch. They were accompanied by three of the elders and a guard of fifteen Senju warriors. Their destination? The Land of Whirlpools.