Wabi-Sabi

***

Be careful in dealing with a man who cares nothing for sensual pleasures. Nothing for comfort or praise or promotion but is simply determined to do what he believes to be right. He is a dangerous and uncomfortable enemy because his body, which you can always conquer, gives so little purchase over his soul.

Professor G. Murray

***

Tobirama doesn't realize his brother has left until Butsuma comes looking and takes his frustration out on Tobirama's students. It makes his blood boil to watch his father, their esteemed and noble leader, throw aside the ones working so hard to impress him. 

Tobirama's long given up impressing him; no one will ever come close- except Hashirama, the one person who doesn't care. But his students are still young, still innocent to the true character of most of the adults around them. They don't need additional materials for the nightmares before they're old enough to get drunk to drown them out.

His father's obsession with destroying the Uchiha has made him someone not even their mother could love, and she could love even the ugliest things.

He escorts them all to the clinic and makes the medic on duty promise to escort them home personally before he sets out. Waiting until he's well clear of the compound before stretching out his senses to pick up the trail of his brother's gentle chakra. 

Light and petal-soft, it drifted on the wind and dissipated with a speed that made Hashirama difficult to track for most people.

Most.

Tobirama had been tracking his brother since the day he'd learned to differentiate between chakra signatures. He hadn't been the first chakra signature he'd learned- that dubious honor went to their father, always know where the threat is, but Hashirama's had been next. His brother's chakra was a comfort, a reminder that there was someone good in this world, and it was only a matter of time before the Senju Clan would regain its former glory under a leader who thought more about progress than vengeance.

He followed Hashirama's chakra across the grassland into the dense forest that lined the Naka River and managed to feed all the clans that inhabited the Land of Fire during the harshest winters.

Those were the only times a Senju and a Uchiha could cross paths and leave alive. And only then if Butsuma wasn't one of them.

Tobirama hated them, too, but feeding their people was always more important. He could still remember the few lean years they'd had in his lifetime and the sharp pain in his stomach when it had been empty for days. Or the terrible cramps that had come when he'd gotten so hungry he'd lost all reason and eaten raw rice and moldy vegetables. Hashirama always looked terribly sad when the pain became so bad that Tobirama'd had no choice but to seek his brother out.

They'd been lucky these last few years; mild winters and wet springs had left the crops bountiful and lush, and they'd managed to fill up the winter stores early. They'd been so good, in fact, that Butsuma had managed to open trade with the Land of Whirlpools, and between the food and Tobirama's skills with storms, they now had a Princess for Hashirama to marry and the promise of little ones on the horizon.

Tobirama was looking forward to his future nieces and nephews. Hashirama's brains and the princess' rumored beauty and they were already adorable in his head. 

And taking up space in his heart.

Butsuma didn't believe there was anyone who would willingly have children with Tobirama. He laughed it off in public and told Tobirama in private that they'd never survive to adulthood. His albino coloring had put his father off from day one and, in the interest of total transparency, had put off a few potential partners who were worried about what their possible children would look like. 

Hashirama always became enraged when Tobirama told him about it, so he'd learned not to mention it anymore. There was no point in Hashirama getting in trouble for something that couldn't be changed, and since Tobirama wasn't lying in bed dying of a broken heart, he was clearly fine.

The murmur of a calm river gave him pause. A reminder of the peace they all fought so hard for. When Tobirama could wander the edge of the river alone without worrying about a kunai or an arrow from the shadows. 

Butsuma kept swearing those days would be back soon, making promise after promise to the clan. He called himself a realist, but his outlook was far too fatalistic. Hashirama was an optimist, but he lacked any interest in the day-to-day and focused on the big picture. That village that he dreamed of and a world without war. 

Both are equally impossible but rooted in Hashirama's heart regardless.

As equally impossible as Butsuma's dream of annihilating every Uchiha in the world. 

They could win; that was the most likely outcome of the war between the clans anyway, but the idea that they could wipe out every drop of Uchiha blood was so unrealistic as to be impossible. The Uchiha guarded their dojutsu zealously, but they didn't stop their members from marrying into other clans when they wanted to, and while it was rare to see a Sharingan outside the main body of the clan, the blood and thus the possibility was there.

His father had a rather childish view of the world. All black and white and no grey.

Hashirama just saw white. The good, the hope, the future.

Maybe that was why Tobirama could only see the darkness, the struggle and the sacrifice and the endless terror. 

He picked his way through the trees as he remembered their younger years when Hashirama had been more willing to follow the rules and try to fit in. Before, he'd stopped caring about whether or not Butsuma was proud of him or whether or not the Clan Elders were pleased. He'd become so rebellious in the last couple of years that even Tobirama had begun to wonder if he knew his brother anymore. 

Change was a natural thing, of course. No one died as the same person they'd been the day they were born. And if he was totally honest with himself, Tobirama wasn't upset with Hashirama changing, as much as he was with the fact that Hashirama's new beliefs seemed to exclude Tobirama and the Senju. They hadn't even managed a civil conversation about Hashirama's new life philosophy of peace and brotherhood and a united land, devolving into screaming insults about Tobirama's violence and Hashirama's delusions. 

There was a gulf growing between them that Tobirama couldn't figure out how to bridge. 

His only surviving brother hates him. He's sure of it. Because he can't help it. Anytime Hashirama starts waxing poetic about peace and his village, Tobirama can't help but point out all the gaps in his logic. All the ways, it will never work. Hashirama used to bring it up all the time, but in the last few years, he's brought it up in front of Tobirama less and less.

The further Hashirama moves away from him, from all of them, the closer the rest of the clan coalesces around him. It's suffocating. Tobirama has been his brother's heir since he was born, but he never once believed he'd actually have to lead. There was no one that could match his brother in battle. Only Madara came close, but Hashirama was still the stronger of the two of them.

Tobirama had no doubt that when the time truly came, his brother would win. Someday, whatever strange attachment had led to the friendship between his brother and Madara would break, and the Senju clan would finally be victorious. 

Tobirama's young students would be safe. Touka, stalwart, never resting, Touka could stand still for once. 

Butsuma might even be happy. Might smile for real, instead of the cruel, twisted thing he did now. 

Tobirama could visit Itama and Kawarama without feeling guilty that he wasn't out avenging them every second of every day.

Maybe then, Butsuma wouldn't still come into his room at night, when he finally managed to sleep, and drag him to his labs. Wouldn't make him work on horrific new ways to kill as many enemies as possible.

Tobirama loved to create, loved to invent and study and learn, and one day, maybe he could do it to help instead of hurt. 

Butsuma had sold his last creation, a blood-boiling poison, to the highest bidder. Less than a week later, Touka and Renji had stumbled across a family that had fallen victim to it on a mission. 

They weren't even shinobi, just civilians who happened to own a plot of land another wanted, but Butsuma had been so pleased with the price it fetched that he actually praised Tobirama publicly.

And Tobirama, sick fool that he was, had felt a spark of happiness at that moment that had immediately turned to nauseous guilt. Hashirama had always said there was nothing to be proud of when it came to killing. It was a burden to be born with the appropriate level of somber resignation. 

It was one thing to kill in battle as a shinobi. It was something else to kill a civilian unable to defend themselves.

It was war, though, and while Hashirama had an unending well of optimism…he was the only one. They couldn't afford shinobi who regretted killing. Who hesitated. 

Hesitation was death.

Ahead, Hashirama's chakra bloomed suddenly, like a sunflower following the rising sun. 

It's still comforting despite their estrangement. The only chakra that didn't grate against Tobirama's ridiculously keen senses. Itama hadn't either, but he hadn't lived long enough for it to develop fully. 

Kawarama's….

Kawarama's had been unsettling, and Tobirama had gone to extreme lengths to hide how it made him feel. To this day, he hasn't been able to figure out what it was, but when Butsuma had been pushing him to complete the Edo Tensai and suggested using it to bring back his brothers-manipulation, Butsuma just wanted more soldiers…something deep and dark in Tobirama had always known he'd never use it to bring back Kawarama. 

The guilt at that thought was still enough to make him stop and wretch. Just dry heave; thankfully, he hadn't been able to stomach eating much the last few days.

He'd just managed to force the nausea down when he felt the sparks. Bright and sharp and hot and backed by a wall of heat that somehow seemed solid but far off at the same time.

An echo of a wildfire.

Madara.

Hashirama was with Madara on the banks of the Naka River.

Again.

Hashirama, who had never forgiven Tobirama for telling Butsuma about their meetings, who had sworn to strike down the the Uchiha heir the next time he saw them while Butsuma beat him bloody. 

Hashirama who was Tobirama's older brother. His only brother now.

Who preferred the enemy to his own blood over his own.

Because there was no other reason why Hashirama would risk everything to meet up with Madara after Butsuma had learned about their meetings.

What friendship was worth death? Because Butsuma would not be merciful twice and Hashirama wouldn't be the only one he took his rage out on. There was no telling how many of their clan would suffer because Hashirama had decided to be defiant.

And for what?

Tajima was dead, but Madara hadn't given any indication he was open to peace. Nothing had changed. 

But here they were on the banks of the Naka.

The same place Tobirama had found them before. 

Their special place.

Tobirama and Hashirama don't have a special place. 

Well, Hashirama has one, but he was very clear that Tobirama wasn't welcome there. Had screamed it loudly and at length when they were both still healing from Butsuma's strikes.

They may have been brothers by blood, but Madara was the brother Hashirama really wanted.

It made him wonder if Itama and Kawarama had survived, would Hashirama still have turned to the Uchiha?

Madara had buried brothers, too; maybe if he hadn't, he wouldn't have reached for Hashirama.

Was Izuna as jealous of their relationship as Tobirama was? Did he feel replaced?

He smothered his chakra and walked on his toes as he approached, slipping through the shadows the thick forest provided. 

Hashirama and Madara were seated on the bank of the river, looking out over crystalline water that glistened in the afternoon sun.

They were….

The sight of them made him stop mid-step. 

Pressed together from shoulder to knee, Hashirama's arm draped over Madara's shoulder while Madara's own rested on Hashirama's knee.

Tobirama had never touched someone like that. Hashirama had always been affectionate and fond of hugs, but there was something different about this.

Hashirama was quick to pull away after hugging someone, gave his physical affection freely but without depth, but he and Madara had clearly been seated together for a while.

And it clearly wasn't the first time they'd been this close.

The anger bubbled, rose in his chest and his chakra, and he barely had time to clamp down on it before either of them noticed.

So he watched Hashirama nuzzle Marada's ridiculous mane of hair. Madara laugh, bright and clear, and press a kiss to his forehead and thought, oh, it wasn't friendship that Hashirama was throwing them all away for. 

It was worse.

***

It's been so long since Hashirama had been able to laze about in the sun that he'd almost forgotten how good it felt.

The Naka River has always held a special place in his heart. It's as deeply rooted in Hashirama's personal religion as it is in the Uchiha's. 

This is where he first met Madara. His first friend. His brother. The other half of his soul. 

This is where he found hope for the future.

Where the dream of a village where everyone he loved was safe first coalesced. 

All these lifetimes and Hashirama should have seen every possible side of the river. 

Clear and blue. 

Brown and murky. 

Red and still.

But it's different in every life. Everyday. It's never the same river, no matter how many times he sees it.

Like the people that orbit around them in every life. 

Even the two of them. 

Madara changes day by day, life by life. So does Hashirama, and his relieved sigh is enough to make the warm body pressed against his side shift.

"What are you sighing about now, petal head?"

Hashirama can't help but grin and lean against him, "Just thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself."

"We change, but we never grow apart."

Madara snorts. He still isn't the sappy type. That will always be Hashirama's realm. Madara's love is more quiet devotion to Hashirama's gushing admiration. Which is always funny, given that the Uchiha are overly dramatic and emotional compared to the stoic and silent Senju. 

"Of course we don't, you fool. We're stuck with one another at this point." And he laughs as Hashirama descends into squawking outrage.

It had been months since they'd managed to get away like this. Since they could just sit peacefully and rearm themselves for what's coming.

There's no peace to enjoy yet, but on days like this, it's easier to hope, easier to believe they're going to win this time.

Easier to be silly and latch on and squeeze until Madara has no breath left to laugh with and had to resort to grabbing fists full of Hashirama's hair.

"Ow! That's cheating, Dara!"

"All's fair in war, Kudzu!"

For a few moments, they devolved into a childish wrestling match until Hashirama used the advantage of an additional foot of height and just sprawls out on top of Madara until he can't breathe.

"Alright, alright, I give. Get off me, you oaf!"

"I wish I didn't have to go back."

"It's not forever. We're getting closer." Madara sat up and pulled Hashirama with him. 

"We have to get it this time. I'm the one who's going to go mad if we have to do this again."

"We both will."

"We're so close, Madara. We can retire and live together in the village and leave the fighting to others."

"Even if we finish everything in the next decade, we'll still be too young to retire."

"Nonsense, the Clan Wars will be over. We can retire whenever we want to."

"We're not the only clans in existence, Pretty Flower. Someone will always want to fight."

"Dara, if we defeat Zetsu and Kaguya, no one will ever pick a fight with us again."

And he wasn't totally wrong. Despite their efforts, it was unlikely that the final battle against Zetsu and his mother would be anything other than apocalyptical. 

If they survived, the rest of the shinobi world would be wary of them for a long time.

It didn't sound so bad when looked at that way.

"What would you even do if you retired?"

"Tend my garden."

"You already do that."

"I'd do it more. I'd play with our children. Teach. Take care of you and Tobi because kami knows neither of you will ever stop working."

"I could stop."

"Ha! You can barely sit still when you're too injured to move! You'll never be able to retire."

Madara's scowl was adorable on his younger face. Well, Hashirama knew it was adorable at any age, but it was especially adorable when they were teenagers and still clinging to their baby fat. 

"You know what I just realized?"

"What?"

"All these lifetimes, and I've never gotten to see you as a baby. You must have been so cute! I bet you came out snarling."

"What the fuck, Hashirama. Babies can't snarl."

"Yes, they can! I've seen Inuzuka babies do it!"

"That's because they're half-wolf!"

"Sometimes I think Tobi came out annoyed."

"That does seem to be his base state. Which would mean Izuna came out dunked in a koi pond."

"That doesn't count, Madara. You do that to him. If anything, he came out mischievous."

"Don't remind me. He's finally married, and he's still a pain."

"And you wouldn't have him any other way. The same way I'd never change Tobi….well, I could do with less hitting, but otherwise, he's perfect."

"Your younger brother is an egomaniacal tight-ass."

"And you love him."

"Yes, well, the Uchiha aren't known for their tastes."

"No, of course not. Tajima's wives were only known for being three of the most beautiful and cultured women the Land of Fire had ever seen."

"My mother was a geisha, Hashirama."

The Senju snorted. "Yes, an orphan born to nothing who died the beloved companion to one of the most powerful men in the land. She's still mourned by your clan. Didn't Kikyo-mejin even come down from the mountain for her funeral?"

Madara's chest swelled with pride at the memory, "She did."

It had been the only time he'd seen her in this lifetime, so far, and he doesn't remember most of it. Tajima had procured a few barrels of honey wine from far to the north to honor his dead companion- to drown out her memory more like, and none of the Uchiha remembered much of what followed.

They'd always been weak to the syrupy wines produced in the far northern ends of the Land of Snow. Madara's grandmother had banned it during her time as an elder, not that it was easy to get in the Land of Fire anyway. It had to be sealed correctly and packed carefully to survive the months-long trip without going bad.

And half a cup never failed to send even the most alcoholic Uchiha into a drug-induced euphoria. They generally saved it for special occasions or the few years when the clan had been in the black instead of teetering on the edge of starvation.

"I'm sorry I missed her funeral."

"Not your fault. She only cared about shinobi because my father and I were shinobi. She didn't spare much attention for the politics of it."

"Still, she was your mother. I would have liked to meet her."

"I don't know that you would have liked her. She was very proper."

"Madara. She was your mother. I love her regardless because she gave birth to you."

"You bleed sap, you overgrown weed."

"Don't you love my mother?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because you don't!"

He felt guilty when Hashirama flinched, but there was no point in the Senju denying it. They'd long since shared their darkest family secrets, and thankfully, Madara came out ahead on that one- a few blood feuds notwithstanding. 

Hashirama's family belonged in a god damn mental hospital. 

"The only positive thing she did was give birth to you and Tobirama."

"Don't say that in front of him. He adored her."

"Didn't she try to smother him this time around?"

"He doesn't remember."

"You coddle him, Hashi." Madara signed as Hashirama tucked in close and hid his face in Madara's hair.

His muffled response, "You do too." Made the Uchiha snort.

"Yeah, because I want to marry him."

Hashirama's hysterics took over. "He'll never marry you if you coddle him, Dara. He'll just stab you. And then you'll stab him back, and then it'll just be you two stabbing each other!" 

"So, a standard shinobi marriage." Madara pressed a kiss to his forehead. A thoughtless habit developed several lifetimes ago when Hashirama had confided his fear of the mokuton and the day he would inevitably stop being able to feel. Madara had promised all the affection he had in him until that day inevitably came.

***

Madara will be the last thing Hashirama sees before he goes. He's already decided this. 

Even if he hasn't told his best friend. 

***

"Not funny. I want nieces and nephews. You have to do something besides stabbing one another."

There's a pause, naturally. "I can't decide if I want to point out that it's kind of stabbing either way. Or that we're perfectly capable of multitasking."

"I can't decide if I should point out that he's my baby brother or just hit you."

"I know you've planned our wedding, Petal."

Hashirama sniffed, "That's different." He insisted, just to make Madara sputter and squawk.

So lost to their momentary joy, they didn't notice the foreboding shadow until it was already upon them.

"Aniki…."

And then Izuna was standing over them, chakra blazing, sharingan spinning wildly, and before either of them could think of an excuse, Tobirama was there in a flash and a gust, and Madara and Hashirama were being pulled in opposite directions.

There isn't time for words. Izuna and Tobirama are practically foaming at the mouth at a chance to fight one another again, so all Hashirama and Madara can do is lunge at their respective blood and drag them in opposite directions as quickly as possible.

They both should have paused to wonder why it was so easy, but alas, they're still young in this life.

And stupid.

But they'll find that out soon enough.

***

Hashirama's fate is sealed. 

He knows this. 

Madara knows it, though he still seeks a way to change it.

One day, the mokuton will become Hashirama. It rests in his heart and his chakra pathways now, but it will spread. It's already begun, albeit slowly. Hashirama has learned, all those lifetimes, how to delay it as long as possible. 

But his fate is sealed.

One day, the mokuton will invade every atom of Hashirama's being. Every cell, every hair, every limb will stop being human and instead become the same wood as the God Tree.

That thing Hashirama can never allow to exist. Even if it serves him.

One day, Hashirama will look down at the skin of his hands, callused from training and battle and healing and touching those he loves, and one day, they will be wood instead of skin, and Hashirama will no longer be able to feel the warmth of Mito's skin or the strength of Madara's grip.

He won't feel the prick of Tobirama's annoyance when he interrupts his experiments, just bask in his attention for a little while.

If it comes fast enough, he'll never know what the skin of his children, his nieces and nephews, and grandchildren, he'll never know what it feels like.

Is there something more terrifying than that? To exist as part of the world but never able to feel any of it?

Even all they have suffered so far pales in comparison to the terror Hashirama feels as he remembers those few lifetimes he's already lived where he made it to that point.

To reach out and touch those he loves and not feel anything when his skin presses against theirs.

It's better to be dead, he's learned. 

Just the thought of it makes his heart stutter and his breath catch, but when he reaches for Tobirama, his precious baby brother, he flinches away at Hashirama's touch and shoots him a glare so harsh it sends chills down his spine.

"Don't touch me."

"Tobi-"

"No. Did you think I would just turn a blind eye? Just ignore-"

And Hashirama can't stop his own temper from rising. "I'm well aware you wouldn't."

He loves Tobirama; he's the only member of their family that Hashirama can honestly say he loves without reserve, but it still stung that in every life, he was the one to report Hashirama's friendship with Madara to their father.

The betrayal, however insignificant in the long run, still stings every time.

It's rare to see Tobirama so overcome with emotion, to see him lose control and let his eyes glisten as he bares his teeth. The only other time, besides right now, was the very first time he found Hashirama with Madara. 

"How could you do this?"

"I told you-"

"Oh, spare me any more nonsense about your dream."

***

He's been replaced. 

He's been replaced.

His last brother, his last ally, his last friend…

He has been replaced.

"Stop pretending and be honest for once."

"I am!"

"You're not! Just admit you love Madara!"

"Of course I do. When have I ever tried to hide it?"

Of course, I do. Like Tobirama was the crazy one for thinking he didn't.

"He's… I don't know how to make you understand Tobi. I trust him. We have the same dre-goals. We have the same goals. We want the same things."

How did he explain what it was like to fret because he couldn't find the words to describe something and then realize he didn't need them because Madara already knew? 

To meet a true equal on the field of battle? Who could match Hashirama blow for blow and win, even when Hashirama was at his best.

Who could match Hashirama step for step in war and in peace. Who laughed hysterically when Hashirama's hair got stuck in trees and doors but patiently untangled it instead of cutting it off.

Who let Hashirama practice new jutsus on him without complaint…well, without pointless complaining. God forbid he miss a sign or skip a step, then he'd never hear the end of it.

God, they'd be perfect together. Vicious and commanding and unyielding in all things. Madara didn't believe it, and Tobirama couldn't see it, but they fit together so beautifully that sometimes it made Hashirama's heart hurt. 

And they were both stubborn bastards that would never admit it.

Tobirama was his precious baby brother. The only other being that shared Hashirama's blood. Who shared Hashirama's childhood and fears. Because no matter how much Hashirama described, no one else could ever understand the sour taste that terror brought to your mouth when your bedroom door opened in the middle of the night.

Madara was….

"He is the other half of my soul, Tobi."

Someday, someday in some lifetime, maybe even this one, Hashirama's brother and the other half of his soul would both sit at this table together with Mito and their children, and Hashirama could sit back and look at the people that he held closest in his heart and finally stop and breath.

***

"He's the other half of my soul, Tobi."

And, oh…

What was Tobirama supposed to say to that?

What was he supposed to say when Hashirama got that stupid, peaceful smile on his face. The one that never appeared when they were home in the compound among their family.

What was he supposed to do if the only thing that could make Hashirama smile like that was Madara?

Nothing.

There was nothing he could do.

There was nothing Hashirama wanted from him.

"Is it worth it, then?" Betraying us. Betraying your kin. Betraying everyone that loves you.

Because the clan did love Hashirama. Their father and his old guard the obvious exceptions, but there were plenty of others who saw Hashirama as the future. Hope eternal that the Senju clan would one day be free of the endless cycle of burying their children and restored to teh ancient glory they'd held decades past.

And he was willing to through them all away for Uchiha Madara.

"Tobi…"

"Must be if you're willing to take such a risk."

"Some things are worth the risk. You'll understand that someday, Tobirama."

"Unlikely."

Then he turned his back on his brother and started back to the compound, not bothering to check if Hashirama followed.

He'd made his choice, and Tobirama wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing his tears.

***

Steady on, children. Steady, she whispers, but not even the one carrying her is listening now.

***

Izuna's chakra has always burned bright and hot, a flash fire in the high heat of summer, destroying everything within sight in the blink of an eye. He'd followed Madara around like a duckling since the day he'd learned to walk, and despite the sting of his mother's recent death, Madara had taken to the toddler, much to the clan's surprise.

He'd practically raised him after it had become clear that Tajima had decided to focus his limited attention on their older brothers, and Izuna's mother had been more interested in securing her power in the clan.

By the time either parent had thought to look on Izuna, he'd been firmly stitched to Madara's side, and nothing could sway him. 

Aside from those few lifetimes where he'd killed Madara…

But those aside, he's always on Madara's side. Always willing to support him in all of his hair-brained schemes. 

Except peace, he's always been hesitant about that one, but Madara's wearing him down. 

It's only taken god knows how many lives, but he is wearing him down.

"I'll kill him, Aniki. I can't believe that fucker got me!"

And then-

"And what the fuck were you thinking with all that shit after? Did your brain die when I did?"

And Madara may be failing at everything else he's trying to do now, but this, he can at least do this. Because it's there. Like everything. Always. Tucked away in the endless abyss that made up the combined memory of the Uchiha.

"Stop." He commands, and Izuna does because Madara hasn't squandered their relationship in this life. "Look again."

Abd Izuna tilts his head the way the Uchiha do, gaze lost to the distance as he shorts through it all. Flips the pages of the Uchiha memory until he lands on that first chapter that started this whole damn quest.

"Can't believe that fucking snowflake got me. What jutsu is-"

….

"What the fuck is that?!"

...…

"Zetsu!" And there's so much disgust and rage in his words that Madara feels all of his worries about his brother's support and loyalty float away.

"What the hell is he? Did she actually give birth to that thing? What the fuck?" 

Izuna's questions continue all the way back to the compound. Ranging from disgust at the existence of Zetsu and Kaguya's machinations to disgust at the explicit memories of Madara and Hashirama's lives together.

"Aniki, really? What they- why would you do that with him?"

"Oh, for fucks sake, stop being dramatic. Hashirama is a very attractive man by any standard."

"I'd blind myself, except it would be pointless because the memories would still be there!"

"If those put you off, definitely don't look at the next batch."

...

Izuna's shriek sent every nearby bird into the sky.

"HOW IS THAT EVEN PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE?"

"We spent a few decades working on flexibility."

"I hate you….Wait, does the Snowflake know?"

"Hmmm, not unless Hashirama has told him."

And then Izuna's got him by the collar, sharingan spinning wildly in the madness their clan was known for. "DIBS."

"Excuse me?"

"I get to tell him. Keep your filthy mouth shut, Aniki."

His brother is, above all else, a troll.

***

Stupid infants, she mutters. But there's a pleased echo to it that wasn't there before.

***

In any war there are heroes on both sides.

Hero

***

~tbc~