#mito x touka

[tobiramamonmari29]

toka senju point of view:

I wake up slowly feeling the rays of the sun caress my face. .I yawn slightly putting my hand over my mouth then turn to my right, my black hair was mixed with the red hair of my girlfriend: uzumaki Mito. I sigh with relief before getting closer to her, my head resting on her imposing chest as I held her as best I couldas I could by the waist I pull her closer to me feeling away from her warm body.

.A slight weight fell on my shoulder, and an arm moved above me. I heard a soft whisper against my shoulder as she caressed my body.

Our legs are all mingled with others, and our feet caressed from one to another. a hand slipped gently massaging my black hair, I moaned at the sensation so pleasant. She was therefore awake, and after the caresses followed small kisses on my shoulder from her.

a new weight was made on the bed, then we both sat on our backs, she was resting on my chest. Our two cats obviously the first to be lifted as usual they climbed on the bed.

The other two moved to have their heads on my shoulders. as mito dipped to settle on my stomach then decided that she plunged her slender fingers into the raven black hair of the older couple who was watching her as toka traced the outline of her chest and neck, her hand when it was small come and go onhis frail, pale shoulder.Toka: Hello, she says in a hoarse voice.

Mito: slept well? She said in a baby voice.

Toka: personally I slept well!

Mito hummed at her response as Toka smiled softly back.

Mito: I slept well too.

Toka: so much the better honey.

Mito: lunch?

toka: let's stay in bed a bit longer

In response mito smiled a little while toka forced them to bring us closer for more contact.

Mito: I agree let's stay.

Toka: I like to stay in bed!

Mito: I really like staying in bed too.

what do I like mornings like this where our bodies intertwine to become one, share a pleasant and loving warmth we were only contemplating each other and I think I can say with certainty that my girlfriend is is the most beautiful woman on Earth. her freckleless face, her straight nose, her plump pink lips, she had the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. her body is just a dream, beautiful breasts with adorable thigh-high bodies...their flat, muscular stomachs, I love everything about my girlfriend.

she is perfect, so intoxicating that the more the days pass the more I love her, it's as if every day I fell in love with her again.

Toka: I love you my wonderful wife.

Mito: we love you too honey, me and our cats.

Toka: we love you mito, me and our cats.

mito: you are the best wife one could have, sweetheart.

What do I like, and what do I like in the morning for those times.

End.

[luchicm04]

Sorry, I couldn't help myself😅

[seohyun0306]

This is the fic btw and if you’re interested in hate sex and dysfunctional relationships give it a whirl :D

[sjhanny2000]

Hidden Within the Arrangement (9/?)

A/N: Hi everyone, sorry for such the long break between chapters! I have recently joined an exercise class three days a week and along with my full time job as a teacher, I've simply been exhausted. It doesn't help that I've been experiencing some the worst writer block in my life. It's just been hard to feel happy with the work I've been churning out lately. With that aside, please enjoy the extra long chapter as an apology for my extended absence!

Word Count: 8.87K+

Warning(s): mentioned/referenced couples violence, mentioned/referenced child death and abuse, angst, some foul language, misunderstandings galore, arranged marriage, etc.

Taglist:  @tsukihimeyfan  

~~~

 From a young age, Hashirama knew he was never the sharpest kunai. In fact, many over the years considered him to be intellectually challenged, having always been far more interested in helping tend to the gardens or play games rather than learning from musty scrolls from even mustier elders. Father never was pleased to learn that Hashirama had skipped yet another lesson to swing from the trees, nor when he slacked off in his training, but for some reason unknown to his young self, he had no interest in what others around him deemed important. All he wanted to do was explore, make flower crowns with baby Touka, snuggle in mother’s lap beside the hearth, and run around in his grandmother’s cabbage patch. He had been happy and content until one day, in the midst of the leaves turning, Hashirama noticed that his mother’s lap was growing smaller and her stomach larger, hard and firm. When he had asked her why, the Hatake woman paused in her knitting and gifted him with a fond smile, placing  a tender hand on her swollen belly. 

  “Well, sometime in winter, I will be having a baby,” Mother gently took hold of his tiny palm and placed it against the taut surface, his chocolate irises growing wide at feeling something briskly skim the skin beneath her stomach. “And you, my little sapling, will have a little brother or sister to play with.” 

 Though it was years ago, Hashirama could remember how excited he had been to be a big brother, an anija as his mother dubbed him during one of the cold winter nights he had been allowed to sleep with her and father. He toddled after his mother everywhere, asking question upon question and offering her flowers he had picked from the nearby meadow so they could decorate the bedroom before the baby came. Often, he even found himself talking to his unborn sibling whilst mother slept or while she knitted, telling his otouto or imouto everything he had done throughout the day and more. Touka sometimes joined in his mindless chatter when they had playdates or her mother needed to attend to something without juggling a far too curious toddler like she was. The two of them together would learn about what needed to be done before a baby arrived and everything that came after their arrival, including how to hold one, that it needed far more sleep than they did, and that they wouldn’t be ready to play games with them until they were a bit older. Still, Hashirama was excited and far too young to understand the weight his mother had been under at the time. 

 He understood it quite well when he found her sobbing over a bundle of white mere hours after his new sibling had been delivered. It had been early in the morning that very day when he crawled out of bed, sleepily rubbing his eye whilst stumbling messily into the kitchen where mother should have been making breakfast, only to find his grandmother, aunt, and various other women of the clan bustling about in an anxious hurry. Before he had been able to even question what was going on, his father was upon him, stern faced and unforgiving, guiding his three year old self away from the women and onto the back engawa where various men, including his uncle and the male clan elders, lounged about, cups of sake poured and thick smoke slinking leisurely from their pipes. Hours must have gone by before Hashirama asked where his mother was and when he did, Touka’s father came to pause in his recent whittling project a few feet away, a playful laugh escaping the shinobi as an eager grin on the man’s face. 

  “No one told you, boy? Your mother is having the baby you have been obsessing over!” 

 How excited he had been, hearing that his new otouto or imouto would finally be arriving after so long! What would they look like? Would they like him? Would they like plants like he did? Would they also dislike eating pickled herring? Oh he had so many questions to ask! 

 As dusk approached, high pitched cries echoed from deep inside, cheers of triumph and celebration escaping the group of men surrounding him, prompting him to cheer as well though he had no clue as to why. Pipes were relit, cups refilled, and the joy flowing from the men was contagious, so much so that Hashirama hadn’t caught the look of displeased hatred fixed upon his father’s face as he appeared on the engawa. The man made no move to stop the moment he stepped over the threshold, passing the men without a word whilst they followed him with questions of their own, leaving his young self all on his lonesome. 

 Grandmother eventually came out to fetch him, her dark eyes holding an emotion he had been unable to put a name to as she led him into the house, her aging hand grasping his youthful one. Just as they reached the door, he could hear his mother crying, which prompted him to panic simply because mother never cried-! 

  Moving to cradle his earth-toned cheeks in her calloused palms, grandmother kneeled down to meet him at eye level, face stern yet comforting. “Your mother needs you to be strong right now and not ask questions, Hashirama. Can you do that for her?” 

 If his mother needed him, then he would do anything for her and he had told the woman adamantly so! With his fiery admission, grandmother let out a sigh he couldn’t tell was out of hopelessness for his grandson or out of relief and moved to open the door, quietly guiding Hashirama inwards without another word except “hush.” Knowing better than to make the old woman cross, Hashirama did as he was told, but it was hard to do so when he came upon the scene set before him. Clearly exhausted, his sobbing mother sat in the center of the room, a bundle of pristine white cradled protectively against her hardly clothed chest whilst she rocked back and forth. 

  “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry! Amaterasu, Raijin forgive me!” 

  “Mama?” 

  He had been unable to stop himself from speaking at the moment, so confused and scared at the situation at hand because wasn’t everyone supposed to be happy for the new baby? Father had spoken various times how he would finally have the precautionary heir he had been waiting for and mother had never spoken badly about the baby, not once! Never had Hashirama realized at that age just why his mother had been crying and his father furious, the remaining adults still present being sullen and hesitant to speak. However, he knew something  was wrong the second his mother’s reddened eyes met his own, to see just how distraught the unshakeable kunoichi was. Fear clouded those obsidian irises, an emotion Hashirama had never seen in his mother’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but toddle over and plop down right beside her, not saying another word. After a few long seconds of quiet, the smallest, palest hand Hashirama had ever seen appeared from the snowy bundle in his mother’s arms, a tiny, adorable squeak following soon after. 

   While Hashirama wasn’t the sharpest kunai ever, he did have enough common sense to realize that his mother was holding the new baby, his new imouto or otouto, and a rush of giddy excitement had filled him with a gasp. “Is that the baby?!”

  In an instant, his mother’s fearful apprehension seemed to melt away, a weak but ever present smile growing on her cracked, pale lips whilst she adjusted her hold on the bundle. “It is. Would you like to meet them?” 

  Nodding vigorously, Hashirama was practically vibrating with excitement, only for such a feeling to be eclipsed by that of utter awe the moment his mother pushed away a bit of the blanket to reveal the person he had been waiting to meet for months now. Chubby, rosy red cheeks contrasted perfectly against the baby’s skin that was pale as a ghost, wild tufts of pearly white covering the top of their tiny head, so pure and beautiful. 

  “Hashi, I want you to meet your new otouto, Tobirama,” Hashirama’s already racing heart began to sprint faster upon hearing he had a baby brother, just like he had wanted! “Tobirama, this is your anija, Hashirama. He’s been so excited to meet you, little one.” 

  With wide, awe-filled eyes, Hashirama couldn’t help but smile, moving to stand on his tippy toes to gain a better view of his new brother. “Hi otouto, I’m Hashirama, I’m your anija!” 

  The rosy cheeked infant let out a hardly audible coo, one soft as downy feathers and sweet as permission jelly, and Hashirama couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped his lips at seeing alabaster eyelashes flutter open. They opened just enough to reveal neverending pools of merlot, the young boy’s irises of freshly toiled earth searching the tiny ones of his brother with curiosity; he had never seen anything or anyone like him, especially amongst their fellow clansmen. Tanned fingers cautiously snuck across the bundle of snow, the toddler watching in wondrous anxiety as his right index finger came to gently poke the flesh of Tobirama’s tiny palm, hoping to garner some reaction from the newborn. Chubby, pearly white fingers clumsily curled around Hashirama’s extended digit mere moments after the older boy made contact with the younger, a smile as bright as the summer sun blooming on the toddler’s face. Turning his attention to their observing mother, who watched on in relieved fondness, Hashirama couldn’t help but beam. “Did you see, mama?! Otouto is holding my finger!” 

  Mother let out a soft chuckle, the Hatake woman moving to hold his brother out to him, a knowing look in her dark eyes. “Would you like to hold Tobirama for yourself, sweet sapling?” 

  “Yeah!” 

  “Hold still, now. There you go.” Careful in ensuring Tobirama was held correctly within Hashirama’s arms, mother set the hours-old infant into the toddler’s lap with a smile. 

  Hashirama could only gaze down at his otouto in wonder the moment he was settled into his arms, taking in all his peculiar and tiny features because how couldn’t he? His baby brother was perfect. 

  “Hashirama.” 

  Earth colored irises met desperate, stern obsidian, mother never breaking eye contact with him. 

  “You must promise me, Hashirama, that no matter what may occur between the two of you, you will protect Tobirama from harm.” Brushing strays locks of chocolate from Hashirama’s line of vision, the woman remained steadfast in sobering seriousness, lips thin and unforgiving. “He will be your greatest ally and dearest friend, even in times of turmoil and strife, so you must take care of him and treat him well. Do you understand?” 

  Not truly understanding what their mother was asking of him, Hashirama had had no issue in replying in the way he did. “I promise mama! I’ll protect Tobirama, no matter what!” 

  He would have never made that damn promise if he had known just how difficult Tobirama would make for him to keep his word. From birth, Hashirama and Tobirama were opposites of one another in everything that seemed to matter, whether that be looks, intelligence, personality, and so on. Whilst Hashirama was loud and messy, Tobirama was quiet and calculated even as a baby, and while he himself was a healthy, robust child, the white haired child was frail and sickly throughout the beginning of his childhood. Due to such frailty, mother would spend most of her time tending to Tobirama, ensuring he was well fed and clothed at all times and spending countless hours with the boy that she failed to spend with Hashirama, reading him a plethora of scrolls that bored the brunette to the core. It left Hashirama to play on his own, which wasn’t supposed to be the case anymore because Tobirama was to be his new playmate, the otouto that followed him everywhere and loved to play in the garden and get dirty! Every time Hashirama tried to roughhouse like he had seen other brothers do within the clan, mother or one of the house maids were upon them in a flash, scolding him thoroughly whilst plucking Tobirama up from the tatami floor with stern glares. 

   “What have we told you about playing roughly with Tobirama?! He-!”

  “-can’t handle it!”

  Yes, physically, Tobirama was quite feeble as a small child, but it was evident fairly on into his life that he was an intellectual prodigy in the making. The pair of them had been playing on the engawa with their mother hanging laundry nearby, Hashirama nursing a few bruises from training while he showed his otouto his newest technique for flower crowns. The one that had been present on his cheek must have caught the freshly turned six month old’s attention somehow because before the toddler realized what was happening, Tobirama was crawling towards him with worry in those vibrant merlot irises of his and much to Hashirama’s surprise, the baby jerkily placed a comforting hand over the aching flesh. It was only moments later that mother was upon them, a rare grin of admiring pride on her lips whilst she pulled a quiet Tobirama into her arms, cooing obsessively over how smart her little Tobi was and not paying a shred of attention to him. Such behavior only continued as Tobirama continued to grow, his otouto standing at the mere age of eight months while Hashirama had been eleven months, the albino’s first word of “Hashi” following just a short month later. While he should have been excited to have his otouto’s first word be his name, Hashirama hadn’t been able to stop the bitter jealousy filling his veins, such a feeling only increasing when mother praised the baby for his accomplishment. 

 Even with these feelings, Hashirama loved his otouto, his joy in spending time with Tobirama doubling when mother was nowhere in sight and he had the free reign to do as he pleased. Whenever he was free from training, such free time having steadily been shrinking following Tobirama’s birth, Hashirama was with Tobirama, telling him about his adventures with the other clan children or how father had been particularly rough during training that day. By the time Tobirama’s first year was rolling around, the pair of them were venturing the garden together and watching the koi play in the pond within their grandmother’s courtyard, Touka often joining them on their endeavors with her ever serious attitude. Moments spent cuddled together on hard nights when father made mother cry and bleed or with Tobirama riding on his back whilst they once again ran away from a flock of angry chickens ate away at the feelings of jealousy, the two of them slowly growing closer with the passing of time. Grandmother would call them two peas in a pod, a strange emotion in her eyes every time she uttered it, and how eager he had been to finally have the otouto that did as he did, not obtaining all of mother’s attention and being interested in following him wherever he went. They were exactly what Hashirama imagined when it came to being brothers, attached at the hip with a bond that could never be severed. His child self was too optimistic for the bloodthirsty world they lived in.

   “Again!”

  As the seasons changed and the two of them grew, Hashirama found his shinobi training intensifying, such changes becoming even more evident following his fifth birthday. Butsuma was a strict and unforgiving taskmaster, eager to tear Hashirama down at any given opportunity and never hesitating to beat him into a sobbing mess of quivering submission. Any time spent with Tobirama dwindled during this period of their shared lives, Butsuma having no interest in interacting with the bright eyed toddler that he steadfastly proclaimed was not his own blood, one of the many excuses he spouted endlessly when he beat their mother black and blue. Still, Hashirama found himself feeling unhappy and unfulfilled, never excited to learn how to properly throw a kunai or how to kill an enemy in one move; he would have much rather been playing with Tobirama and Touka or running through the woods in search of adventure, enjoying everything nature and the world had to give-. 

  “You stupid boy!” 

  A loud crack filled the air the moment the back of father’s hand struck Hashirama's left cheek, the force behind the strike sending his small and gangly self sprawling to the ground with a cry. In an instant, Hashirama moved to clutch the aching flesh within his palms, tears blurring his vision whilst he looked up at the monster of a man standing before him. 

  Senju Butsuma, in all his snarling glory, gazed at him with eyes identical to his own, a maddened rage consuming the clan head’s dark irises whilst he loomed menacingly above the young boy. “Tears are for the weak, Hashirama, and I’ll be damned if my heir is seen weeping like a goddamn infant! Get up!” 

  “I’m sorry, father! I’ll do better, I promise,” Unable to stop the tears from falling, a yelp escaped the five year old as Butsuma’s cold, calloused hand took hold of his arm, forcefully yanking Hashirama to his feet. “Let go, father! Please!” 

  “ENOUGH!” Butsuma’s free hand wheeled backwards for another harsh slap, the crazed clan head frothing at the mouth. With his body being held in place by the man’s tight grip, all Hashirama could do was screw his eyes shut and wait helplessly for the scarred limb swung to strike him once again. 

  *Shing* 

  “Argh!” 

  In a disorienting blur, the hand gripping Hashirama’s arm was gone, sending the five year old sprawling to the ground with a cry of surprise, roughly falling backwards onto the dusty training field on his behind. Dark eyes snapping open at neck breaking speeds at the sudden change, Hashirama hurriedly glanced around, only to see Butsuma clutching his right hand against his chest, the appendage weeping a steady stream of crimson from the kunai that was now lodged through his palm. Before Hashirama could even react, a small figure white as snow stepped between the two of them, their thin and gangly frame swamped in Hashirama’s hand-me-downs. What absolute terror filled his veins when his brain finally caught up with the situation set before him, to see two year old Tobi standing between him and Butsuma, arms spread out and feet parted in a protective stance, placing himself in the crossfire. 

  Only to add insult to injury, Tobirama in all of his craziness stood his ground against the man that was triple his height. “Leave anija alone!” 

  “Tobi no,” Hashirama moved to stand but it was as if time was in slow motion, reaching his hand outward to pull Tobirama away from harm.

  Butsuma let out a growl of a monster, the aging brunette taking hold of the kunai’s hilt with murderous intent in those hellish eyes of his. “You little bastard, I’ll slit your throat-!” 

Time slowed to a painful crawl as the man pulled the weapon from his palm and moved to step forward, wielding the kunai with the intent to kill Tobirama, sweet, brilliant Tobirama. He couldn’t let his otouto die-!

  Protect otouto…

  The kunai was within Tobirama's exposed throat when suddenly, the momentum behind Butsuma’s cowardice act came to an abrupt stand still and the air surrounding them grew silent. No one was able to speak, Hashirama and Tobirama out of shock but Butsuma? A thick branch gagged the monster of a human standing before them, vines wrapped around the horrified man’s limbs in an unforgiving hold of steadfast restraint. Hashirama had been unable to do anything but silently cry, something unfamiliar and powerful coursing underneath his skin as he had watched plants erupt from the ground beneath Butsuma’s feet and restrain the clan head in a matter of seconds, hand outreached and shaking. 

  “Anija.” His attention snapped to the left to see a worried Tobirama kneeling beside him, the toddler clearly having moved at some point in the chaos. Tobirama wasted no time in grabbing his extended arm with surprisingly gentle hands and lowering it into his lap, voice leveled and comforting to Hashirama’s ears. “You are safe, anija. I am here.” 

  That was the first of many times that Tobirama would step in-between their father and Hashirama. It was also the first time Hashirama’s mokuton awakened, a development that proved to be both a curse and a blessing for him over time. After that day, their father deemed Tobirama old enough to train much to their mother’s utmost displeasure, the woman pleading with Butsuma until a harsh slap silenced her pleas. 

 From that day on, the two of them were trained alongside one another and much to Hashirama’s gradual envious horror, Tobirama repeatedly proved himself to be the better shinobi in every way that matter. Ninjutsu, taijutsu, genjutsu, you name and Tobirama was excelling in it, his otouto facing Butsuma’s arduous training regiments and scathing words without a single tear and a kunai in hand. With the awakening of the mokuton, Hashirama’s training doubled and many times, he was forced to face Tobirama in combat practice, which almost always led to him collapsing in defeat and the albino standing victorious. Butsuma would verbally and physically beat Hashirama for every defeat he met at Tobirama’s skilled hands and every time his otouto stepped in to defend him, the boy would promptly be beaten as well. Every time this happened, Hashirama’s promise to his mother echoed loudly within his mind and his frustration with the younger boy would grow because he was the one that was supposed to be protecting, not Tobirama! His envy for Tobirama only grew when Butsuma would falsely praise the albino for his accomplishments to rub it in Hashirama’s face, and when their mother would coddle him with kisses and dusty scrolls and simply treat Hashirama’s wounds and hand him his study materials without a spoken word, her dark eyes conveying her desperation for him to do his work. Neither of his parents ever truly understood how hard school was for Hashirama, having been so full of energy and his attention so short that he was set up for failure from the very beginning, and neither were forgiving when they found him playing rather than studying. 

   “I paid for the finest tutors and what do you do?! Daydream and make flower crowns?!” 

  “Hashirama, please, just do your work! The faster you complete your lessons, the sooner you can join Tobirama and Touka in the courtyard-!” 

  While he knew their mother never meant to do it intentionally, her protectiveness over Tobirama would subtly place an ever growing wedge between her two eldest sons.    Said wedge would grow larger with the arrivals of Kawarama and Itama, followed by Madoka’s birth and her and mother’s subsequent deaths, and Butsuma’s constant jeerings that seemed to always hit their mark no matter what Hashirama did to ignore it like Tobirama said to. His frustration and disdain for the war between their clan and the Uchiha grew with this wedge, Hashirama becoming far more resisting and combative because there was no point to the bloodshed the two clans were creating. He would complain to his otoutos about the stupidity of it all and all Tobirama would do is stare at him with suddenly unfeeling, dim merlot irises and tell him to be realistic and resume their training, settling his attention back on Kawarama and Itama’s stances. Tobirama had been the one to insist their two otoutos train so excessively, Butsuma watching on with feigned indifference while he watched his four sons fight one another in sadistic glee, and Hashirama did everything in his power to show the two young boys that the world had more to offer than crusty, old scrolls and war. Their opposing ideologies clashed far more often than Hashirama would care to remember, Tobirama acting if he was the all-knowing mother in a vain attempt to fill the hole left behind their poor mother and kami it angered Hashirama to no end, especially when Itama and Kawarama chose him over their eldest anija. At times, the envy Hashirama bore on his shoulders took shape in harsh words and brutal hits on the training field against the white haired boy; Tobirama, was a prodigy after all, he could handle himself in battle, even if the older boy accidentally snapped one of his bones amidst the chaos out of anger. 

  Their toxic relationship continued onwards as the war with the Uchiha worsened, Butsuma’s attitude following suit much to the four brothers’ chagrins simply because it meant even harsher training and far more beatings. Tobirama bore a brunt of the beatings by the age of nine and his twelve year old would keep his promise to their mother by healing the boy when his injuries were bad enough or when Butsuma took it a step too far. Aside from that, Hashirama lived out his days in search of some reprieve from the doom and gloom that came from the war and in that seemingly hopeless search, by the grace of the Kami, he came upon a raven haired boy skipping rocks on the opposite side of the Naka River. 

 Madara, as he would come to learn through playful teasing and mindless chats, was everything he had been looking for in those bleak days, their meetings being one of the few reasons Hashirama willingly rose from his futon every morning. They spoke about everything under the sun it seemed, from hobbies to their favorite foods, often skipping stones or adventuring up and down the Naka without a care in the world. Tobirama, ever the astute and nosy otouto that he was, of course had to notice the change in Hashirama’s overall attitude but much to his relief, the younger boy never had time to question him about it due to his mission load and his duties in the home. Hashirama would never openly admit it, but there were times that he thanked the Kami that Butsuma had saddled Tobirama with the responsibility of caring for Kawarama, Itama, and their household, simply because it meant he had more time to spend with Madara by the peaceful riverfront. Touka would berate him for abandoning Tobirama in said duties but such grievances disappeared from the front of his mind every time he saw Madara patiently waiting for him, that feigned look of indifference on the boy’s face. Outside of his studies, training, and the battlefield, Hashirama made himself scarce, aiming to avoid Butsuma’s foul temper and Tobirama’s nags in hopes of experiencing the freedom he had so desperately craved for years now. Then, in one of the worst battles between the Uchiha and Senju to date, Kawarama’s life was taken from them with the throw of a single spear and Hashirama could only wish he had spent more time with his otouto whilst he watched the dirt hit the surface of his brother’s far too small casket. 

 Kawarama’s death, no,  murder , pushed Tobirama almost to the brink of madness and Hashirama could only watch on in silent, grieving aggravation as his otouto attempted to pretend he was smothering poor Itama in attention and protection like their mother once had done for the albino, yet he allowed Butsuma to speak so ill about his freshly buried son! Tobirama’s possessive behavior encouraged a wedge to appear between himself and Itama, the young boy clinging to Tobirama’s side like a leech instead of his like he should have, and all Hashirama could do was watch on in envious turmoil. Tobirama continued to be the perfect brother and the ever perfect cousin in Touka’s eyes, their lone surviving cousin looking down on Hashirama in disdain whilst placing oh-so-perfect Tobirama on a pedestal. 

 The same oh-so-perfect Tobirama who had garnered everyone’s attention on and off the battlefield, both good and bad, the one who seemed to slaughter countless lives without a single regret and carried on with blood soaked hands that dripped an endless trail behind him. His death count by the age of ten was in the hundreds and much to Hashirama’s utter horror, he followed every one of their father’s orders silently, cold and reserved like he had been since he was a baby.

   “The wraith of the Senju, that is what your brother is, Hashirama-sama.” 

  “That   thing  is incapable of love, all demons are.” 

  “The only reason why I keep that demonic bastard alive is because of your continual failures, not only as a shinobi but as a man! A soulless, defective being serves as a better son than my own flesh and blood and all within the Land of Fire knows this!” 

  His friendship with Madara was the only thing that kept Hashirama sane in the months following Kawarama’s untimely demise. Topics of the world around them were banned and conversations about peace and harmony bore fruit between them, childish hope and fading innocence present. In a surprise show of emotion and vulnerability, Madara spoke of the people his family believed to be Amaterasu’s descendants, of how revered and well-loved the Blessed were because they were someone’s soulmate, of how he wished he could have been fortunate to have such a perfect person in his life. He had been so enraptured in the very idea of soulmates existing, Hashirama brought forth the question that would ruin everything. 

   “How do you tell the difference between who is a Blessed and who is not?” 

  Individuals born with skin and hair white as freshly fallen snow and eyes as red as spider lilies. Madara’s answer made Hashirama’s stomach curdle and his blood boil, his emotions clashing so dangerously within that he hadn't dared to speak in fear of saying something he couldn’t take back. He was forced to sit there and listen quietly as Madara went on and on about finding his Blessed, of meeting the one the Kami had fated him to fall in love with and take as his eventual spouse, someone that looked exactly like Tobirama. Hashirama never mentioned anything of Tobirama after that, refusing to even take the chance that Madara would discover that his otouto was one of his people’s sought after Blessed, that the boy was the one his best friend had thought about unknowingly for years. Tobirama had taken enough from him already, he wouldn’t allow him to take Madara from him as well. 

 Such a greedy mindset must have angered the Kami, so much that soon after the first anniversary of Kawarama’s passing, Itama joined their brother, mother, and sister in the Pure Lands. Itama’s death left the two remaining brothers broken and what little remained of Tobirama’s heart seemed to vanish from existence, the freshly turned eleven year old remaining silent in existential grief that couldn’t be remedied no matter what Touka and Hashirama did to do so. He was forced to watch perfect Tobirama slowly fall apart with each passing day and all Hashirama could do in his own grief filled mind was give the younger boy space to heal on his own. In his mourning of yet another brother dying, Hashirama numbly ventured to the river and Madara arrived not long after, and it was that day that they vowed they would create a place of peace and prosperity, a life in which their younger siblings deserved. 

 As their friendship continued to deepen and their training segments grew more advanced with every passing week, Hashirama found the will to at least attempt to salvage what little remained of his and Tobirama’s fractured relationship. The albino met him with initial skepticism but with time and smiles, the wedge between them shrank bit by bit; it had nearly been a decade since Hashirama could remember not feeling upset just by being in Tobirama’s presence. They trained together, ate together, soothed one another when the nightmares became too overwhelming, their relationship was finally what Hashirama had dreamed for all those years. Tobirama followed his lead and only corrected him when needed, acting as Hashirama’s rock and council in stressful times on and off the battlefield. Tobirama and him were finally brothers in more than just blood and how foolish he had been to believe that such developments had been without an ulterior motive. 

 Tobirama was Butsuma’s loyal, little soldier after all. 

 Within a day, a two year long friendship was burned to ashes, all because of his heartless monster of an otouto. Utilizing Tobirama as an innocent mean of spying on Hashirama, Butsuma learned of his friendship with Madara, and in turn came to know that the boy he met at the river was the eldest son of Uchiha Tajima, the clan head of the Senju’s mortal enemy. The truth of his best friend’s familial origins was something he had subconsciously suspected, seeing how Madara was able to use ninjutsu, genjutsu, and taijutsu, but seeing the truth set before him with Butsuma glaring at him and Tobirama hanging his head in submission like a dog made everything real. All of it turned to hell when Butsuma, in all his homicidal madness, ordered him to follow Madara and if he grew suspicious of Hashirama, to kill him, that very order sealing the fate of Hashirama and Madara’s friendship for good. 

 If Tobirama had just kept his damn mouth shut for once. 

 The next river rendezvous between Madara and himself was the final nail driven into the coffin that was his and Tobirama’s relationship, the hammer falling deafeningly against the head of the nail the moment Butsuma and the boy he once vowed to protect appeared with the intent to kill the Uchiha teen before them. Hashirama and Madara were forced to watch Uchiha Tajima and Izuna do the same, their father’s and brother’s blades meeting without mercy, the intent to kill their foe heady and suffocating. Then, without an ounce of regard or care for the children they brought into this world, each clan head threw their chosen weapon not at one another, but at the two young boys fighting below them. Both teens reacted without hesitation, neither wishing to witness yet another brother die even if there were misgivings between them, and the rocks they had once skipped out of play swiftly turned into weapons with a swift and precise flick of their wrists. Their dream died that day, as did their friendship, and with the awakening of Madara’s sharingan came the bitter reality of what Tobirama had done, of the utter betrayal he had committed simply because Butsuma had demanded. 

 It was that day that Hashirama silently decided he no longer had a brother, just a fellow Senju that lived under the same roof as him and fought alongside him. He played the role of the doting anija and once Butsuma was graciously killed, he wore the title of clan head to finally gain advantage over the boy for the first time since his birth all those years ago, something he wielded against Tobirama with ease. Yet, even with his harsh words and questionable actions, Tobirama stayed by his side and supported him, even drawing up extensively detailed blueprints for the village Hashirama continued to dream about night after night. A part of him had wondered whether how he treated his brother was wrong, that Tobirama perhaps had been conditioned into the mindless killer he had become, but every time Hashirama attempted to look him in the eyes, all he could see was the perfect shinobi he could never be. So, they lived with each other in tense but bearable conditions, which improved with the arrival of beautiful and graceful Mito, the Uzumaki princess being everything that Hashirama wanted, needed, and more. Better yet, she acted as the much needed buffer between the two Senjus, thankfully becoming one that assisted in dealing with Tobirama when he forgot to eat and sleep for days on end so Hashirama could tend to other matters. 

 Time flew by after Mito’s arrival in the Land of Fire and suddenly Hashirama was twenty-years old and facing off with Madara once again on the battlefield, their respective brothers having a battle of their own nearby. If they were truthful with themselves, everyone knew these battles were for show, used to continue on the war none of them wished for in hopes of the opposing side caving in and their clan reigning supreme. That specific day in history was the day that the tables of long winded fate were turned and the few embers of hope remaining within Hashirama’s heart grew into a fiery blaze, all because Tobirama had nearly spilt Uchiha Izuna’s blood on his already blood soaked hands but in a rare show of humanity, chose not. Tobirama’s actions that day set off a chain reaction amongst their peoples and as Hashirama sat across from Madara amidst peace concessions they both had longed for, a tiny part of him dared to acknowledge that the younger Senju heir had finally done something good in his life.  

 The Uchiha delegation's final requirement for concession, however, silenced that thought without hesitation. How could Madara want to marry Tobirama of all people, all because he was somehow one the “Blessed” simply because of his outward appearance?! Hashirama had tried to object, asking the Uchiha clan head whether this course of action was truly necessary, only for the bane of his existence to speak for him. 

   “We agree to the terms you lay before us.”

  Just thinking about the moment made the hokage’s toes curl in disgruntled disgust, because how dare he steal Madara away again-?!

  The sound of his office door slamming against the wall adjacent to it sent Hashirama flying upwards in surprise with a cry, the jarring feeling echoing through his right knee the moment it clashed mercilessly against the wood of his desk. Subconsciously moving to grasped the injury area whilst his mind reeled, Hashirama moved to see just who had been the culprit of the slamming of his door, only to see a tan hand marked in white scars come into his field of vision, calloused fingers unforgivingly grasping the collar of his hokage dress. The unexpected motion ripped a grunt from the hokage, Hashirama suddenly finding himself eye to eye with a seething Touka, his cousin’s dark eyes alight with barely contained rage. 

 “Where. Is. He?!”

 Hashirama grimaced at the kunoichi frigid tone, trying to pull away from the woman in hopes of being spared from her unforgiving anger. “Touka! What are-?!” 

 “Don’t play dumb with me Hashirama,” Touka all but roared in face, pearly white teeth gnashed together with sharp canines out for all to see. “WHERE IS HE?!” 

 “I don’t know who you’re talking about!” In an act of primal instinct, Hashirama pushed his cousin away from himself, glaring at the kunoichi because what in the world was she talking about?! 

 His admission only seemed to worsen Touka’s ire, the fellow Senju stepping forward with her naginata primed and ready to strike. “Don’t play dumb with me, you-!” 

 “Touka.” 

 Manicured fingers curled around the width of Touka’s weapon, his beautiful Mito appearing in all her prim glory, face lacking any negative emotion and voice even-keeled as always. 

 “Mito, my sweet, thank goodness you’re here! Touka’s gone mad-!” A wave of relief swept over his confused person, Hashirama moving to embrace his lovely wife-.

 Just mere inches away from wrapping his arms around the Uzumaki, Mito raised a hand of warning into the air, painted lips turnt downwards in utter seriousness. “We do not come here on a social visit, my husband. We are in search of Tobirama.” 

 The edges of his field of vision grew green with envy, his words dripping with jealousy as they slipped from his suddenly dry lips, arms falling unceremoniously at his sides, “Oh, is that all?” 

 Priming her naginata to strike once again, Touka took a threatening step forward with a deep snarl. “Is that all?! You bastard-!”

 “Hashirama!” 

 In an instant, Hashirama’s attention was snapping over to the doorway of his office, his earth toiled irises meeting Madara’s charcoal ones, his best friend standing there with a hint of concern on his face. Behind him stood a weary Izuna and frowning Hikaku, the three Uchihas watching the scene before them unfold with cautiousness, Madara’s gloves hand clutching the doorway in a near death grip. “Where is he, Hashirama? Where is Tobirama?!” 

 Truthfully, the Uchiha clan head’s queries threw the Mokuton user off kilter. Wasn’t it just yesterday that Madara came to his office complaining of his brother’s poor decorum, expressing how stressful their arranged marriage had become for him? 

 “You! You have no right to ask where he is, you spineless bastard of a human!” Touka spun on her heel in a blur, projecting her rage onto the Uchiha without mercy. “None of you would be here if Mito and I hadn’t intervened and questioned you about Tobirama’s whereabouts!” 

 “You should be glad that we agreed to assist in your search for the Senju Demon! I only came along because the village’s peace treaty depends on this scam of an arranged marriage,” Izuna growled, the younger of the two Uchiha brothers glaring at the Senju kunoichi from his place beside Madara, Hikaku placing a stilling hand on the nineteen year old’s shoulder. 

 “That is enough, Izuna-sama,” Mito’s words silenced the boy in a second, the Uzumaki princess turning her scathing glance onto Izuna, deep plum colored irises swelling with concerned seriousness. “Now is not the time for petty arguments, nor name calling. If you truly wish to maintain peace amongst our peoples, you should learn to quell your hatred and listen for once. Such a change of behavior would do you some good.” 

 Mouth agape in surprise, the Uchiha teen could only stare at Mito whilst the woman moved to settle her unnerving gaze back unto Hashirama’s unsuspecting person yet again. “Hashirama, please tell us, where is Tobirama?” 

 “Why is there such an urgency to find him? Did otouto do something wrong again,” Hashirama wordlessly noted how everyone in the room tensed just a fraction, even Mito, the queen of prim, stoic perfection. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. “Mito, just what is going on?” 

 Her painted lips moved to speak, but as the first word began to slip out, Madara stepped forward with surprising steadfastness. “We believe Tobirama may have been injured. Upon entering his lab, your dear cousin and wife found it in disarray, as well as a pool of blood on the floor.” 

   “Hashirama!” 

  Glancing up from his current plant obsession of the week with a jump at the slamming of the screen door, Hashirama found himself meeting Touka’s panicked gaze, his typically stoic cousin clearly in distress. “It’s Tobirama, hurry!” 

  Out of nowhere, a teary-eyed Kawarama appeared, one small hand clutching onto the silky fabric of Touka’s kimono. “Father beat him, anija, he beat Tobi!” 

  Hashirama hadn’t realized he was running until his hand came to grapple the wood of the doorway of Tobirama’s room, dark eyes hurriedly searching the room’s contents until-. He thrust himself forward in a blur, Touka right beside him as they came to kneel at the bloodied, broken body of a contorted Tobirama, Kawarama yanking a sobbing Itama from their dying brother with desperate urgency. Ragged, wet breaths were the only thing that kept Hashirama from believing his otouto was already, his state of being lying only inches from death’s door. The younger boy’s legs were a sickening sight, his left tibia bent unnaturally underneath Tobirama’s battered skin; he nearly vomited at the jagged, alabaster bone jutting from the albino’s right leg, flesh torn and weeping thick rivets of crimson from the puncture wound.

  Reaching out a shaking hand to cup Tobirama’s split skull as thick globs of salty tears began to pour down his tan face, all Hashirama’s voice could muster in his horror was a weak mutter. “Tobi, oh Kami what on earth did he do to you?!”

  The pool of blood beneath the young boy’s body was a gruesome sight Hashirama knew he would never forget. 

  “What do you mean he may be injured? He was perfectly fine when I met him for his mission debrief this morning,” Hashirama cried, panic beginning to sprout within his chest, earth-colored irises snapping to the left to search his wife’s serious features. “Are you sure it’s even his blood?!”

 “I am afraid so; the blood contained Tobirama’s chakra signature.” Mito refused to break eye contact with him, the redhead resting her hands upon his broad shoulders whilst she gifted him with an imploring look. 

 “That is why we must know, where is Tobirama?” 

 Tongue having suddenly grown heavy, Hashirama found himself stumbling over his words, the brunette unable to look away from his wife. “I-I, he requested to undertake an S-Rank assassination mission in Lightning Country and since he’s been instigating fights with Madara lately, I gave it to him, no questions asked so they could spend some much needed time apart! I didn’t know he was hurt-!” 

 “Whether you realized he was hurt or not means nothing now, Hashirama.” Mito’s manicured nails pressed into the muscled flesh of his shoulders, forcing him to stop mid-panicked ramble. “What matters is his time of departure and his target, nothing else. Now, when did he depart and who is his intended target?” 

 His target? Who was it again? 

   “Raikaku has been reported to be traveling throughout the steppes between here and Lightning Country,” Hashirama pointed to the map of the elemental nations set before the two brothers on his desk, gesturing to the unmarked territories marked on the general vicinity. “You are to observe first, and when you see the right moment-.” 

  Tobirama wasted no time in cutting him off, gifting him with a callous nod, far more stoic and aloof than he usually was. “Understood. I will not fail you, anija.”

  Oh, fuck. 

 His chest grew heavy at the damning, frigid realization spilling into his veins, eyes growing wide and mouth going agape, desperate to deny the reality set before him. “There’s no need to get so upset, Tobi can handle himself after all-!” 

 Touka took another step toward him, dark eyes narrowed in impatient suspicion. “Where did you send him?!” 

 “He, he’s headed towards the lands between Fire and Lightning Country,” The Senju clan head wanted to vomit, his stomach thrashing madly within his core at soberly realizing he had sent his brother, his lone, remaining brother, whether he acknowledged him as one or not, to his possible death. Had Tobirama been injured like they said, and if so, why hadn’t he noticed-?

 Gloved hands unforgivingly grasping the collar of his uniform jerked Hashirama from his spiraling thoughts, charcoal irises digging into his brown. Madara’s seething face was suddenly a mere inch away from his own, the Uchiha tightening his grip on Hashirama’s clothes whilst aggressively shaking his upper body. “Who is his target you, dimwit?! Who did you send Tobirama to assassinate?!” 

 “Raikaku, his target is Raikaku!” 

 The second the name of the Scribe of Raijin escaped him, he found his back meeting the wall with a jaw aching slam, uniquely patterned, swirling irises of scarlet and obsidian belonging to the one and only Uchiha Madara searing into his flesh. “What in the hell is wrong with you?! You and I both know that going after Raikaku without additional support is suicide! Are you trying to get your brother killed?!”

 “Of course not! Don’t you think I told him the same thing?!” Grasping Madara’s wrist, the Mokuton user tried to shove his best friend away to no avail as he attempted (and failed) to provide logic to his decisions, the Uchiha’s grasp only tightening. “I tried to convince him to take Touka or Izuna with him but he wouldn’t listen! He just kept saying that he was fully capable and that he didn’t need to put anyone else he cared about in harm's way and then he left!”

 “And you didn’t think to stop him?! You’re the goddamn Hokage, you imbecile!” Madara roared with a menacing scowl, Izuna and Hikaku rushing over to pull the frothing Uchiha off of Hashirama. “We all know that when Tobi makes up his mind, there’s no arguing with him! You of all people should know this, you’ve complained about it constantly!”

 “Enough!”

 “Quarreling amongst one another is going to do nothing in helping Tobirama-sama!” With a vicious tug of Madara’s arm, Hikaku placed himself between the two of them, the look on his face deadly as the jellyfish toxin Mito ingrained into the finishing of her senbon needles.

 Touka gave a reluctant nod of agreement, pointing the blade of her naginata at the pair of them. “The Uchiha's right, we’re wasting time. We need to catch up to Tobirama before it’s too late. Now shut the fuck up, you pieces of shit!” 

 “For once, I agree with you, Senju,” Izuna quipped readily beside her, only to garner himself a threatening finger being pointed his way. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, you scheming weasel! Your treatment of my cousin is just as despicable as theirs and I’ll be damned if I don’t beat you within an inch of your life like you fucking deserve the moment Tobirama is safe!” 

 The threat promptly had Izuna shutting his mouth with an audible click, to which Mito took as a sign to speak. “If we have any hope of stopping Tobirama before he reaches Raikaku, we need to leave immediately.” 

 “Hikaku-san, Izuna-sama, you will remain here in the village in case a situation occurs. Touka, Hashirama, Madara-sama, and I will be pursuing Tobirama en route.”

 Settling her damning plum irises on the three shinobi, the Uzumaki princess spoke like a true war leader. “Gather everything you will need for the journey ahead and rendezvous at the northeastern entrance within five minutes. Be late, and we will leave you behind.” 

 Madara let out a grunt, the Uchiha sending a poisonous glare towards Hashirama. “I will be ready in two.” 

 With that said, the dark eyed man disappeared in a flash of smoke and fluttering leaves, leaving the remaining five shinobi to their own devices. Izuna and Hikaku wasted no time in abandoning the office as well, shunshinning after Madara most likely, who was in the most peculiar of moods, even for the Uchiha clan head. Hashirama moved to speak with a solemn Mito, only for a seething Touka to block his path, his cousin glaring at him with fiery eyes. “If Tobirama dies because you, know that you’ll be the first one I’ll be killing, you being hokage be damned.” 

 “Touka, I’m-.” 

 “If you are done threatening my husband, dear cousin,” Mito sidled against Hashirama's right side, gifting the taller kunoichi with a warning glance. “You should be preparing yourself for the road ahead.” 

 “You’re lucky your wife is terrifying, Hashirama, or your ass would be mine. Remember that.” Sending one last glare his way, Touka pulled away and shunshinned with the swift signing of her hands. 

 “Hashirama.” 

 The twenty year old shifted his gaze downwards to meet Mito’s, the redhead meeting him with a face of little to no emotion. “If Tobirama does not return home with us unscathed, I will not stop Touka from beating you within an inch of your life.” 

 “Mito, I-!” 

 “Silence,” Hashirama paused mid objection, knowing far better than to test his wife’s patience. “I am thoroughly disappointed in you, husband. In fact, I am appalled by your behavior. I have every right to divorce you and remove Tobirama from your care, since you clearly care so little about him to begin with.” 

 Not waiting for Hashirama to respond, the Uzumaki kunoichi stepped away, her gaze never leaving his. “Ready yourself, we leave in four minutes.” 

 She was gone in a puff of smoke, the scent of sea salt wafting through the office air, leaving Hashirama to bear the weight of his mistakes all on his lonesome. 

   “You must promise me, Hashirama, that no matter what may occur between the two of you, you will protect Tobirama from harm. He will be your greatest ally and dearest friend, even in times of turmoil and strife, so you must take care of him and treat him well. Do you understand?” 

  “I promise mama! I’ll protect Tobirama, no matter what!” 

  The young man was unable to stop his stomach from heaving its contents outwards at the guilt-drenched memory, the burning bile scorching the inside of his throat with shame while he expelled what little remained of his breakfast in a nearby pot. After a few moments of unsuccessful dry heaving, Hashirama pulled away with a pant, wiping the bile coating his lips on the back of hand without a care in the world. He wasted no time in rising to his feet and stripping himself of his hokage attire, slipping his armor onto his shaking form and shunsinning to the northeastern entrance. 

 Hopefully the others would still be there when he arrived.

 ~~~

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

[neptunemagia]

what are your favorite magia record ships? personally, mine is juri x yuna!!

I ship Yachiyo with Iroha and Tsuruno, and Iroha with Sana. Felicia is their baby.

Momoko x Mitama x Kanagi

Masara x Kokoro

Touka x Nemu in a little kid crush way

Juri x Yuna

Shizuka x Sunao x Chiharu

Hazuki x Konoha

Rika x Ren is practically mandatory

Seika x Leila x Mito

Yu x Kei (from the one summer event with the ghost story)

[donotpercieveme123]

Someone tagged me in a post about the founders as aro and hell it's about time I post my own headcannons! I think they're all some flavour of aro.

1. Mito (my beloved)

Aro (romance repulsed), and a lesbian. Her marriage to Hashirama was arranged (I like the reason behind why as it is in WASS, where whirlpools had to get rid of her because Princess wanted to lead and it upset their democratic political system basically). Girl boss lol! So yh I think she's a bit bitter, especially since she never wanted a husband or children. Tsunade mentions Hashirama but not her, I imagine she was a very emotionally distant figure in her children's life. But I think her and Hashi became friends, they were comfortable enough together at first, but with time she grew to resent him a little for all his empty promises and what happened to her home years after as a result. I think she's also best friends with Touka, and they have something of an affair, a fwb type situation. Everyone's cool with it.

2. Hashirama

Aro (but just indifferent, he'd be okay being with someone who is romantically interested in him as long as they accept that he won't be able to return those feelings). I actually think he's canonically aro. He never mentions his wife and the most important relationships to him are familial and friendships (the VotE scene yh, lovers are often top of the list of ppl who hold dearest and he doesn'tmention it, he never actually mentions his wife lol). Even into his adulthood he never really realises it though, especially since nobody's ever expected jt of him (Mito is literally a romance repulsed lesbian lol, and Madara is emotionally constipated). When he was younger, like early teens, he thought he was going to marry Madara just so he could have his best friend to himself, solidifying bonds and what not. He never even considered it as romantic though.

3. Madara

Demi romantic/ can't really tell the difference between romantic and platonic attraction. Spends his whole life thinking he's in love with Hashirama, playing out this tragic unrequited romeo and juliet story, when really he probably just wants to be prioritised. He'd marry him just to have him to himself lmao. He got so depressed and heartbroken over Hashirama marrying, thinking him and Mito were some love sick couple, completely taken with each other. Which not true at all. He resents her, but accepts it, especially since it's around the time he leaves the village. The whole time Mito is like, bitch I know ur eyeing up my husband, I DON'T WANT HIM, have him please, he's annoying. They'd actually really get along if they talked through it lol.

4. Tobirama

Yh just obviously he's aro (also romance repulsed, but in a more I literally don't care kind of way, get that shit away from me). He never marries, never has children, never wants to. He's devoted to his brother and the village and that's okay with him. He's secretly a little lonely though, I don't think the man had any friends. Maybe he knew Izuna well enough to think that if things had happened differently they might have been friends. They would have literally been platonic soulmates!

5. Izuna

I've already posted about this but yh he is REPULSED by romance, nothing turns him off or weirds him out faster. Having said that he is big on relationship anarchy. He likes to blur the lines with friends in terms of how he physically expresses his affection. Man has no boundaries lol. He also really wants a qpr (either completely platonic or fwb, and depending on if I characterise Tobirama as ace or not, he fills both of those). They're fucking intense lol. Like ur half of my soul and I hate and love u for that, I want to carve my mark into you, and rip our souls out and tie them together so we'll find each other in the next life. Fucking insane😂 They're both yandares about it though, they never really acknowledge it, and if anyone else points it out they'll gaslight the shit out of them. Like idk what ur talking about, all friends are like this. Unhinged.

[evapourate-rn]

Mito: Did you buy eggs like I asked?

Touka: Even better!

Mito: What the fuck did you-

Touka: [holding up a chicken] Her name is Fluffy.

[atossofthedice]

DINMAQ

FOUNDERS VERSION!

---

Touka: Do you have a bobby pin? Izuna: Yeah. *searches in their hair* Izuna: Oh, no, wait. I’m not a nine-year-old girl.

---

Hikaku: Do you take constructive criticism? Madara: Not without crying

---

Hikaku: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

---

Hashirama : What do you call a dictionary on drugs? Mito: If you say "addict-ionary" I swear I will cut you. Hashirama : I was actually going to say "high definition", but your answer's much better. Mito: ...

---

Madara: I desire moisture. Mito: Please just say "I want water" like a normal person.

---

Touka: Are you reading fan fiction? Hikaku, reading an article about extremely rare diseases: Wh- No. Touka: Oh, is it on AO3? Hikaku: This is CNN.

---

Hashirama : ...I'm pretty sure that place is fire-proof, or something. Madara, grenade in hand: Alright, but is it explosion-proof?

---

Izuna, dramatically: They called me a fool. Naori, sick of Izuna's shit: They weren’t wrong.

---

Hikaku: When do you usually go to sleep? Madara: Whenever I collapse is entirely up to the gods.

---

Mito: Please say words of encouragement to me so I don’t murder someone right now. Touka: There are no books in prison. Mito: *sighs* Thank you.

---

Mito: Come to dinner tonight. I can’t cook, but I’ll bring plenty of free wine. Touka: Marry me.

---

Touka: Are you ready to commit? Mito: Like, a crime or a relationship?

---

Touka: Relationships should be 50/50. Mito cooks us dinner while I sit on the kitchen counter looking pretty.

---

Hashirama: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers! Madara: Please, just say fuck.

---

Madara: I feel like doing something stupid. Hashirama: I’m stupid, do me!

---

Tobirama: I want to kiss you. Izuna, not paying attention: What? Tobirama: I said if you die, I won't miss you.

[tolsunflowerboi]

 @madatobiweek2022 DAY 7 - Free Day/The Moment They Knew

It was nearly time. 

Over 8000 years he’d waited, had watched civilizations rise and fall, stars be born and die. He’d watched the other Gods fade, wasting away as their belief slipped through their fingers like water, nothing but dust among the stars. 

But soon it would be over, all his patience come to fruit. 

Soon.

Tobirama had 3 rules when it came to investigating ancient temples:

Don’t bleed on anything

Don’t break anything

Don’t read anything even vaguely ritual sounding out loud

So would someone please like to explain to him why he was currently running for his life, while the room behind him was crashing down around their heads.

“IT DIDN’T LOOK THAT IMPORTANT!” His brother wailed as he ran only half a step behind him, “I’M SORRY TOBI!”

A hand curled round his elbow, pulling him out the way as a heavy ceiling tile hit where he’d been just seconds before. 

“LESS CRYING MORE RUNNING ANIJA!” 

There was a loud laugh behind him, Tobirama glancing back to spot Touka and Izuna dodging falling debris, while Mito scowled at her fleeing husband. Of course the adrenaline junkies would find this fun, not like they could be crushed to death at any moment or anything. 

Turning his attention back in front of him, he spotted an opening along the far wall. They hadn’t gotten that far in their exploration yet, before Hashirama had managed to bring the roof down. He had no idea where it went, only that it branched off downwards, further into the temple. Between the prospect of maybe death and certain death, Tobirama knew what he’d choose. Veering off to the right, he dragged Hashirama with him, hearing the others follow quickly, amidst panting and curses. 

Tumbling through the doorway, Touka yanked on Izuna’s shirt, pulling him in just as the last of the ceiling collapsed, blocking up the door and causing the hall to fill with dust. 

Coughing hard, Tobirama groped for his headlight, switching it on and blinking quickly. Eyes watery, he moved further down the corridor, sweeping the light down the stairs. At the end, just visible in the beam of light, looked to be an archway to another room. 

Turning back, he watched as Mito hit Hashirama in the chest. “What did you even do?” She glared at him as she asked, swiping back a lock of hair that had come loose out of her face. 

The man’s eyes widened as his shoulders drooped, looking for all the world like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I just tried to move one of the slabs, it was covering up an inscription. I didn’t think it would bring the whole room down!”  

The man looked miserable, and rightly so. They didn’t even know if there was a secondary exit to this place, and it seemed that their only option was to go further down. Either they died of starvation and/or dehydration while down in what was the equivalent of the temple’s basement, or they got very very lucky and found a viable exit further in. 

A loud clap drew their attention to Izuna, “Welp, are we going down into the possible murder hole or what?” 

Hashirama let out an offended noise, “It is not a murder hole, this is a temple-”

“That Snow White over there,” Izuna tipped his head in Tobirama’s direction, “deciphered was to an unknown     war god. Who knows how these people worshipped them. Konoha as a whole was only discovered 2 years ago, we barely know anything!”

He had to admit, and he hated to do it, but Izuna did have a point. The Konohian civilization was so new, but they’d already discovered more sites depicting fights and war than anything else. It was entirely possible that they took part in ritual sacrifices, there was plenty of evidence of other, comparably modern civilizations, doing so, like the Mayans and Aztecs. 

A hand caught Izuna’s collar, cutting him off mid argument with the older man, “Muder hole or not, it’s the only way available. So let's stop arguing and get moving shall we?” Touka jerked her chin in the direction of the stairs, eyebrow raised, waiting until both men nodded at her before starting down.  

“Well,” Mito stepped into place beside him, following behind the others, “let’s look on the bright side, at least it doesn’t seem booby-trapped like the last temple we found.” 

A click sounded below them, all eyes snapping to Touka who was at the last step, foot pressing into an indentation on the stone floor. 

Tobirama whirled around to Mito, a betrayed look on his face.

“Mito, why?”

After the worst 15 minutes of their lives, the five of them finally came to a stop in a large, circular room. 

Flying arrows, pit traps, pressurised acid and an honest to god spike trap at the end of one of the hallways were just some of the things they had dealt with. That none of them were dead or grievously injured was a gods’ damned miracle. 

Beside him, Izuna was bent over, hands on his knees as he gasped loudly. “T-Time out, let’s just-just take a breather for a sec, yeah?” There were groans of agreement from Mito and Touka while Tobirama nodded his head tiredly. Even Hashirama was winded, breathing deeply as they took the chance to look around the room. 

It was largely bare, with a smaller circular divot connecting the three, wide stone pillars holding up the ceiling. Etchings on the walls looked similar to the one they’d seen earlier, with a repeating mural appearing every two or so feet between them. 

It was round, with an inner circle about half way from the centre point. Connecting to the inner circle were what looked like three outward facing commas, all an equal distance from one another. 

Mito pressed her hand to one, rubbing her fingers together once she pulled them away, causing red dust to fall from her hand. 

“They must have used a red pigment, none of the other stone has coloured dust like this.” 

Tobirama hummed in acknowledgment, but most of his attention was taken by the large stone statue on the opposite side of the room. 

It appeared to be male, and dressed in some kind of plate armour. Spiked, carved hair fell over one half of its face, while the other showed its eye, carved with the same pattern as the murals on the wall. 

A metal basin sat at the statue's feet, likely copper given its colouring, that caught Tobirama’s attention. It was the first piece of metalwork they’d found so far, the rest of the temple seemingly made only from stone.     

“So is this the mysterious god then? It definitely looks like a war god.”

Touka was right, the stone sword at the statue's hip, and what looked like an old fashioned gunbai on its back, made the statue’s depiction look dangerous. 

“Looks like, I wonder what the bowl was for,” Izuna wandered closer to the copper basin, peering inside.He could hear Mito and Hashirama muttering about the inscriptions behind them “Maybe it’s a place for offerings?”

Tobirama was thinking the same thing, “Possibly.” He reached out with a hand, running it over the edge of the bowl only to jerk back with a curse, shoving his thumb into his mouth as a bead of blood ran down the side of the bowl and pooled at the bottom. 

“Fuck”

The God's anticipation rose as he watched the mortals make their way through his temple. This was it. This was what he’d been waiting for. He monitored their progress, confidence growing as they spotted the doorway in the main room of the temple, descending further down after the entrance collapsed. 

He helped them slightly as they triggered the waiting protections; just a drop of power, they were only mortal now after all. He didn’t want them to die. The God also couldn’t help but preen as they admired his statue, pleased at their attention to detail.  

Despite that, he stilled as they approached him, watching eagerly as The Other reached out to touch him. He saw the blood drip down, feeling his power rise and swell at the offering and grabbed onto it. It was time.

He was free.

“Fuck”

Tobirama watched with despair as his blood hit the bottom of the bowl. Rule 1. RULE 1! It was his first rule and like an idiot he’d gone and broken it. 

The blood started to hiss and steam in the bowl, jumping around from an invisible heat as three of them backpedalled away. The droplet rose in the air, rippling as it hovered over the bowl. Tobirama felt a hand grip his shoulder, Hashirama and Mito having made their way over to the rest of them as they stood back by the entrance. 

As they watched, the blood droplet zoomed forward before suddenly stopping. It dropped from the air and hit the circular divot in the floor, rolling and expanding as it did until it filled it, connecting the three pillars in a circle of blood.

“Oh no,” Understatement of the century Tobirama thought, but Hashirama wasn’t finished yet, “this altar isn’t for worship, it’s for summoning.”

And summoning something it was.

Light began to pool between the pillars, growing brighter and brighter each second. Banging echoed around them like the pounding of drums, the scent of smoke and iron heavy in the air. The room got hotter as they staggered under the oppressive weight and heat of the air, eyes squeezed shut to ward off the blinding, pulsating light in front of them. 

The pressure increased, stealing their breath and making their heads ring with pain, until everything simply, stopped. They felt their ears pop at the sudden silence, eyelids gone dark at the sudden lack of shining light.

Cautiously, Tobirama opened his eyes, needing to see just how big of a fuck up they’d made. Lifting his gaze, he jolted as he met bright, red eyes with spinning black tomes staring straight at him. A hand reached out, calloused and rough as it cupped his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone just under his own red eyes. 

“Hello Love. We’re finally together again.” The being’s lips pulled back, revealing sharp, white teeth. It should have terrified him, but nothing in Tobirama felt fear for the man. “I won’t let them separate us again, Love. Any of us.”

Tobirama felt the others shift behind him, pressing against his back in support as he stared at the being’s, at the God’s, face.

“Madara,” the name tumbled out of his mouth, strange and unknown and yet somehow Tobirama knew that was the God’s name. Somehow it made the God smile even wider, leaning in so it’s breath fanned over his face. 

“Yes, I am. You don’t remember yet, but don’t worry. I’ll help you remember.” His lips pressed against his own, light and chaste, then gone as quick as they came. He pulled back, sweeping his gaze over the five of them, huddled on the ground like children. “All of you. And then we’ll take back our rightful place among the stars.” 

[thekingwhereitallends]

Hashirama:(talking about third mizukage) He is such a humble man.

Touka:Your daughters call him daddy.

Tobirama:...

Touka:Should've been reminded to you.

*a few hours later*

Mito:What kind of man you are?

Third Mizukage:Tall,Muscular,Powerful, Pacifist,Rich,Genius,Fair and Single.

Mito:Do you have an affair with my children?

Third Mizukage:Touka said something huh?

Mito:How did you know?

Third Mizukage:Very well then...

Third Mizukage:Your eldest daughter and i are in love.

Mito:Great.

Mito:Marry Her.

Third Mizukage:Yes,Ma'am.

[dahtwitchi]

Merry Christmas!

Happy holidays, all of you lovely followers, fellow fans, and just all the nice randoms who deserve some christmas spirit! :3 Thank you for all that have been the fandom experience of this last year~ (This is available as free printable quality download in my first reblog of the post.)

[rinrinp42]

byakko4 replied to your post:

I’m a bit bored tonight, so how about people send...

How about Konoha founders era naruto and My Hero Academia?

I do not know BNHA!  Let’s give it a wirl!

Okay, before even opening Google, I actually do know a few things by virtue of a certain Lovely Lady I Know, which does include that there are Quirks and professional heroes.

So of course I’m going to make the Founders Heroes In Training.  Kinda.

I’m thinking that I’m going to take some inspiration from Superhero High.  But also I kinda don’t quite get the Quirk names, so I’m just going to say what they do and use Naruto technique names.

Hashirama has Mokuton, sorry I don’t make the rules.  Madara can create an impenetrable energy armor around himself - Susano.  Mito has some of Kurama’s powers (fire and the biju ball things who’s actual name I’ve forgotten?) and looks a bit like a fox - because I think it’s fun, and I guess call it Foxy? Touka can make illusions that seem real - kinda actually like calling this one Mirage.  Izuna I actually want to go intangible, I don’t know if that is even something that could happen, but I want it.  He totally downplays it.  Either that or he has fire powers.

Because I’m trash, at first it definitely seems as if Tobirama doesn’t have a Quirk, but (and Izuna already knew), he does!  He can teleport both himself and bring other’s with him.  It’s not a flashy teleport, but here then not, and he’s more focused on figuring out how to fight because that has a limited scale when in battle, so no one figures it out for a while.

I’m thinking that they kinda get thrown together (ala Breakfast Club?) and end up kinda creating a superhero team.

And then they stumble upon Zetsu’s plan to resurrect/free The Greatest Villain The World Has Ever Seen, and it’s a race to try to stop him/stop Kaguya.  Izuna constantly pretending to be dead so that he can sneak into places he shouldn’t go does not help.  Honestly, he and Tobirama give the rest heart attacks because they’ll go to gather info by breaking into the enemy strongholds and such.

Idk from there.....

[luchicm04]

lost in the forest masterlist

Summary: At first Karen thought she got lost walking a beautiful path during a tour she had signed up for long ago. Being a department leader, whose vacations were difficult to get. However, one detour... one bad turn or who knows what happened made her end up surrounded by a group of dangerous men. The good part is that they aren’t members of any gangs or known group, but ending up kidnapped and forced to live among strangers wasn’t the way she thought her ecotourism would end, much less discovering that they are shinobis. How did she end up in some sort of feudal Japan? What are shinobis and clans? It seems familiar but... from where? She had heard those words before. Uchiha and Senju...

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character

Tag: #lost in the forest fic

posted on ao3

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, found family, time skips, fluff, angst, character death, implied rape, kidnapping, suicidal thoughts, sexism, PTSD, manipulation, cultural shock, tags to be added

All characters belong to Naruto and the ocs to the original author of this work, who allowed me to translate it.

CHAPTERS:

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

part nine

part ten

part eleven

part twelve

part thirteen

part fourteen

part fifteen

part sixteen

part seventeen

part eighteen

part nineteen

part twenty

part twenty-one

part twenty-two

part twenty-three

part twenty-four

part twenty-five

part twenty-six

part twenty-seven

part twenty-eight

part twenty-nine

part thirty

part thirty-one

part thirty-two

part thirty-three

part thirty-four

part thirty-five

part thirty-six

part thirty-seven

part thirty-eight

part thirty-nine

part forty

part forty-one

part forty-two (WIP)

OTHER STUFF

Cover art

Memes

AI generated art

AI generated art 2

Playlist

[sjhanny2000]

Hidden Within the Arrangement (10/?)

Summary: The old saying of time is of the essence never rang more true as the Leaf's top shinobi flight to save Tobirama's life grows more dire by the second.

A/N: Welcome back homies! Sorry for the long wait and little activity, life has yet again kicked my butt and my will to write. This chapter will bounce between Hashirama, Touka, and Mito's perspective. The next one is solely dedicated to our spiky porcupine, Madara 😈

Warning(s): mention/reference to child abuse/neglect/death

Word Count: 3.5k+

~~~~

The feather soft splashes of the Naka were the only thing Hashirama and Madara could hear from their spots on the river’s edge, the two thirteen year old boys settled beside one another in quiet with their eyes searching the sky’s endless landscape in content. It had been one of those rare days that neither boy had the will nor interest to train with one another, being content with simply being in the other’s presence on the cool fall day that had come to be in the Land of Fire. They had spent countless hours splashing about and skipping rocks to pass the time, laughter and playful jabs (at least from Hashirama) echoing fluidly across the rocky riverbank they had come to call their meeting place. This very place had become a sanctuary of sorts with the passage of time, somewhere they could escape the harsh realities that came with being not only shinobi but clan heirs that never seemed to quite meet their respective fathers’ lofty expectations. 

Family was a topic rarely broached between the two young teenagers, simply due to the fact that speaking of such things would inevitably lead to identities being revealed and their already precarious arrangement tarnished beyond saving. The rare moments where either of them even dared to mention their blood relatives was when they found themselves dreaming of a time without war, of shinobi fighting alongside one another under one banner within the Land of Fire regardless of their clan or allies, for one common cause. Dreaming of a childhood where they would no longer be molded into child soldiers but to solely be children that played, daydreamed, and explored the world around them. Both teenagers pondered what their lives would be like in a time of peace subconsciously, thoughts focusing almost solely on the ones they had lost far too soon, particularly their fallen siblings. Even outside their rendezvous at the riverfront, Madara yearned to hear his three youngest brothers’ laughter just once more, to see his mother smother her five children with attention and affection. Hashirama simply wanted the chance to hug Kawarama and Itama once more, to have someone to hold on the dark nights with even darker thoughts. Tobirama was never one for physical contact, being the clear opposite of Hashirama who thrived off of hugs and touches, and Izuna was abhorrent to Madara’s overprotectiveness due to how adamant he was to prove himself, often stating with great indignancy that he was fully capable of handling himself. Each elder brother couldn’t help but question that if in another world, would their brothers be the way they are or would they be more alike? 

“What lengths would you go to protect your younger brother?” 

Hashirama promptly turned his head just enough to face his friend, Madara gazing up at the sky with thoughtful and serious pools of charcoal, caution-fueled curiosity pumping through his veins. He would later feel a meager flicker of shame of how hesitant he had been when it came to answering Madara’s question, envy and bitter emotion crawling up his throat. From the moment he laid his eyes on Tobirama, uncertainty and excitement in his veins, Hashirama had wanted to protect his younger brother, his otouto and at some point, unbeknownst to him, such a mindset had changed. The thought of losing Tobirama was paralyzing, yes, but not for the fact that the white haired boy was his brother; no, the mere thought of being left as the lone survivor and forced to face the world alone was far more grievous. Was such reasoning appropriate? No, probably not, in fact mother would have scolded him for such thoughts if she was still alive. Yet, he still thought those blood-riddled, desperate thoughts, his field of vision steadily growing more tint with envious viridian, the years of pent up jealousy threatening to suffocate his lungs. All Hashirama wanted to do was scream, yet, for some reason, he still answered. 

“To the ends of the earth.”

The near silent splash of their sandals’ respective bottoms hitting and thrusting off the Naka’s surface was damn near deafening to Hashirama’s ears, the long haired brunette dutifully following his group in tense silence. All four of them were dressed for war, their small squad moved into the forest without a moment’s hesitation, killing intent tumbling off the three shinobi moving alongside him, each one bearing a face of disgruntled focus. Mito, foregoing her traditional Uzumaki garb, had chosen to fit herself in Senju armor quite similar to Touka’s own, although hers happened to be a sheening violet that contrasted violently with her scarlet locks. The Uzumaki woman had taken the role of squad leader within seconds of Hashirama’s appearance at the northeastern entrance, Madara and Touka having already arrived at the predetermined location with their gear and themselves at the ready, and the Senju clan head could do nothing but follow behind like a lost duckling. Momentarily shifting his gaze to the left, the hokage was met with Touka’s determined form, the kunoichi an explosive tag just waiting to be set off and Hashirama knew better than to address his cousin when she was in such a mood. 

“Touka is much like a yellowjacket, anija.” Tobirama’s pupil-less pools of endless merlot messily met Hashirama’s earth-rich ones, the albino pausing in his task of sharpening the length of his katana to do so. “Docile until provoked.”

Bile curdled dangerously within the back of his throat at the memory made the mokuton user inwardly and outwardly cringe, his stomach feeling as if he had eaten a hefty stone. A complicated mixture of emotions toiled about within him, his heart and mind at war over the reality that he may have been the one to send his brother, perfect Tobi, to his potential death. A part of his heart rejoiced greedily at the thought of Tobirama no longer existing, relishing in the mere possibility that they would be too late, that Hashirama would no longer be burdened with the truth of being the lesser, unintelligent son. Not surprisingly, the voice within him clashed madly against his beating organ, his heart aggressively snarling with its canines bared whilst it worked to rid his poor excuse of a soul of its poisonous envy. Tobirama was his brother, the one he had pledged to protect, love, and cherish from the day the young boy was brought into this accursed world, and he knew that a world without his otouto wasn’t one worth living in. That didn’t stop the feelings of past resentment from bubbling up to the surface however, oozing sleepily from invisible emotional wounds that never have seemed to heal no matter what either he or Tobirama did.

With a slight shake of his head, Hashirama purged his already brimming mind of those poisonous thoughts, trying to set his focus back on the task at hand, on pushing himself forward into the unknown set before them. There was no time to be wasted if they were going to reach Tobirama in time, a great if not impossible feat in itself. His otouto had come to create a jutsu, the Flying Raijin as Tobirama had proudly named it, to best the Uchiha’s sharingan and in turn became the fastest shinobi in the Land of Fire if not further and the likelihood of them reaching him before he met his intended doom was slim if second to none. 

Such a heavy thought bore significant weight on all four shinobi’s minds as they ventured further from the village into the dense forests of the Land of Fire, not a word spoken between them. Truly, what could be said to mitigate the situation at hand? 

Touka grimaced at the thought, grinding her teeth in raging opposition because they shouldn’t be in such a predicament in the first place. Oh how she wished she hadn’t paid mind to Tobirama’s requests, that she not defend him from his dolt of an older brother and his abusive excuse for a future husband. The urge to beat the ever living shit out of not only Madara and Hashirama but Izuna as well boiled dangerously beneath her skin, clenched fists tense and ready to strike either man in their party if they so much as utter a sound. They honestly had no business, no , no fucking right to be a part of this retrieval mission; those bastards were why her precious cousin was not only injured but on this suicide mission in the first place! Both men (if she could even call them that with how childish they acted) were absolute idiots with their own selfish goals and incentives and Tobirama had been their unwilling victim, years of abuse and conditioning from Butsuma and other Senju having warped his sense of self-worth to the near point of non-existence. Hashirama, bearing his own trauma and self-induced jealousy, ripped into his younger brother with conditioned purpose and Madara, once an avid enemy rapidly turned intended spouse in the span of just months, was crafted to be a bringer of war just as Hashirama was and taught from birth to bear hatred for the Uchiha’s eternal rival. While Touka could only postulate the troubling events and behaviors Madara and Izuna had both experienced, seeing as how she hadn’t been present in their lives aside o from the battlefield, but she knew without a fact that it gave neither of them the excuse to treat Tobirama the way they had. Madara had struck her cousin in a moment of emotional and physical vulnerability, having only been in such an unstable state because of the Uchiha and her damn older cousin in the first place, and kami how she wished she had been there in the moment to stab her naginata through the fool’s foul spewing throat-!

Now, she was fully aware that Tobirama was nowhere near perfect, no matter how hard he had tried over his seventeen years of life, but Touka knew without a shred of doubt that he deserved far more in life than what he had been given. He deserved a spouse that not only loved but respected, cherished, and worshiped him as if he was the greatest thing on this cursed earth; it was the least the Kami could do for him after experiencing the brutal childhood of sneers, broken bones, sickness, and abuse Tobirama seemed to endlessly endure. Right? 

Mito, not oblivious to the internal war her husband and cousin-in-law were warring against their emotions, continued to flare the tendrils of her sensory field outward as she led the way towards the border, focused on finding any inkling of Tobirama’s soothingly cool chakra whilst continuously kneading more chakra to sustain her efforts. She herself was struggling to maintain her emotional composure, though one could not sense her plight just by looking at her person; no, the mask of emotional indifference she had come to craft over the span of her childhood in Uzushiogakure was one of her greatest masterpieces and one she relied on heavily in moments like these. Born as the second eldest child to the Uzumaki throne, Mito had to be epitome of perfection if she wished to be regarded, let alone be gifted with an ounce of attention and consideration, seeing as how she was forever stuck in her nee-san’s massive shadow. Countless hours of her childhood had been spent working on her fuinjutsu craft and training herself into an excellent kunoichi, Mito striving to be the one who just might catch her subjects attention for longer than just a moment. She refused to be the extra, the spare heir if the worst happened and her nee-san perished, and such a mentality needed a face of fearlessness and invulnerability to make her demands a reality. If Mito wished to be regarded seriously by those around her, she had to craft a persona of grace and perfection, one that spoke without a stumble of the tongue and stood tall with the confidence of a Kami. 

“Those of the court are much like the sharks of the ocean, my beloved Mito.” Father’s tender hand cupped Mito’s cheek with reverence, her seven year old self gazing up at the man that was the epitome of dignity and grace whilst he gave her a bittersweet, knowing smile. “The second a drop of your blood hits the water’s surface, they will be upon you without mercy.” 

So, with that knowledge in mind, even as a young child, Mito set about eradicating every shred of external weakness she could find within herself and in doing so became the revered Crimson Tide, one of the most powerful fuinjutsu masters of the Uzumaki clan. She reveled in her status with perfectly veiled pride by the age of twelve years old, bearing a selfless front as her heart relished in the spoils of her success, at hearing her people and the rare foreigner murmur their intimidated approval whilst she walked the streets conducting various acts of charity. Mito had been content with her life, each day full of learning and exploring every inch of the island and the waters beyond it, whilst scouring each and every millimeter of the royal library in search of new information to progress her research and studies. All had been well and then, on a stormy, summer’s day shortly after her fourteenth birthday, a gangly boy with skin pale as the moon and curls as white as a dove’s feathers appeared on Uzushiogakure’s shores. 

To say the boy piqued her interest almost immediately was putting it mildly; Mito found herself unable to pull her deep violet gaze away from the mainlander who had crossed the ocean’s rugged landscape as if it were smooth as freshly woven silk. The boy’s features, while offsetting to many of her people due to factless superstitions that cankerous elders and fire and brimstone religious preached to stray the population from the unknown, were a marveling mystery that Mito desperately wished to dissect and consume. She studiously studied such features whilst the boy, Senju Tobirama as he had come to introduce himself as before her father and the council members present at the time, taking notes of his high cheekbones and scar littered skin, many of the marks a rosy pink which testified that he had acquired them recently. Mito listened on with vigor as Tobirama eloquently explained his reasoning for weathering the high seas to reach their island, bearing a scroll from his father, Senju Butsuma, who wished for his eldest son to marry one of Uzumaki Akaneo’s daughters in hopes of strengthening their ties both politically and economically. Her father, ever the studious and ruminative man, gave Tobirama no instantaneous action, expressing with great seriousness that he would need time to mull over the Senjus proposal and in doing so, promptly offered Mito as the boy’s guide until said decision had been made. 

That very decision would change Mito’s life forever. As her father pondered on with his advisors, Mito found herself engrossed in the boy who would potentially become her brother-in-law. With a tongue sharp as silver and a mind fit as a freshly tuned biwa, Tobirama proved himself to be the epitome of a genius over the coming weeks, stumping Mito in matters of science and ninjutsu development, the twelve year old boy having already created a jutsu in which he could create multiple tangible copies of himself. Such a jutsu was astronomical in terms of advancement and difficulty but Mito found herself enraptured in Tobirama’s thorough explanation of his scientific process, to which he informed her that only were these copies capable of performing their own jutsu, they were autonomous yet interconnected with one another subconsciously at the same time! What proved to be even more impressive was Tobirama’s wealth of knowledge on fuinjutsu, with such knowledge having been attained and mastered through self-taught lessons from the meager age of four years old. 

As time passed and the summer grew long, Mito came to accept that she had finally met not only her intellectual but physical match in no one other than Senju Tobirama. Her fourteen year old self relished in finding someone who not only possessed a brilliant mind and impressive sensory abilities, but an individual who could be quiet as a sunny day at sea one moment yet destructive as a hurricane the next. Tobirama’s incline to suiton nature happened to garner the attention of many as well, elders and young alike mystified that a mainlander could possess such a strong tie to water, and they would avidly watch on in interest whilst he and Mito sparred one another at the training grounds. In time, Tobirama had become one with the Uzumaki, assisting in staving off the harshest of storms when need be and teaching the young ones basic taijutsu and ninjutsu, a duty in which many of the elders loathed to undertake due to the rowdiness of the children. Oh many a nights did Mito find herself gazing at the constellations twinkling above in the night sky with Tobirama and her sisters at her side, the four of them listening on with wonder and stars in their eyes. Tobirama had become the brother the princesses had also wanted, one that provided comfort yet tough lessons, a confidant and an anchor amongst the brisk waves of life's ocean. How mortified Mito would feel upon learning that Tobirama had become such an astute individual and sibling due to being one of the sole caretakers for his and her future husband’s younger brothers, both of which she never had the pleasure of meeting due to them having been killed early on into their childhoods. 

It was because of Tobirama that Mito would meet the man she would come to call her husband, her new friend assuring her that only was Hashirama strong, he was kind and a thoughtful individual who was dedicated to protecting his loved ones. It was because of Tobirama that she would venture from her home, the only place she had ever known, and settle in the Land of Fire, far from her family and deep into the mainland. It was because of him that she would gain not only a brother but a cousin as well, Touka swiftly becoming one of her dearest friends and closest confidants upon her arrival in the Senju compound. It was because of him that Mito would be spared from Butsuma’s cruel demands for her to consummate her marriage with Hashirama at the mere age of fourteen, to produce the next clan heir as if Tobirama himself had not been standing right there. It was because of Tobirama that Mito began to notice just how cruel Hashirama could be to a brother that he claimed to love with all his heart, how her eversweet husband could be so bitter to another human without batting an eye. 

Mito couldn’t help the curling of her fists just at the mere thought of Hashirama’s kunai sharp words, of Madara’s ignorant and foolish actions, of knowing her precious otouto was in danger because of their arrogance. Her temper flared and her heart screamed for retribution, but she knew that now was not the time nor the place, no matter how much she craved for penance. Flaring the tendrils of her sensory field outwards once more, Mito steadied her internal self whilst taking the leap over the dense tree line that acted as the unofficial border line between the Lands of Lightning and Fire, focusing on the task at hand. She wasted no time waiting to see if her party was following her, Hashirama’s hefty and earthy chakra clashing deftly with Madara’s own fiery and ash-riddled signature acting as blinding beacons amidst the mainly empty forest. The kunoichi shifted her body just enough to dodge a poorly placed tripwire, her party members thankfully doing the same; they had no time to waste on trivial bomb tags that were clearly placed by a genin or an idiot of a higher ranking shinobi. 

With a silent cry of her missing brother’s name, Mito sent her sensory field outwards in growing desperation, and just as she expected to be met empty handed as she had been every time before, chakra of frigid mint and fresh fallen rain flickered across the far edges to the northwest. In any other case, she would have felt relief at sensing her otouto’s precious chakra, but such relief evaporated the very moment she felt it fluctuate in and out of existence, which could only mean-.

“I sense him, 20 miles northwest of here,” Her words jarred the others from their internal dialogues, the three shinobi snapping to attention. “We won’t reach him in time if you wait on Touka and I! Go!” 

“Mito-!” Hashirama, the damn fool, dared to argue, concern ringing true in his voice, and she didn’t hesitate to rip into the mokuton used without restraint. “Do you wish to see your brother alive or not, husband?! GO!”

“Listen to your wife, you imbecile! MOVE IT!”

Madara was gone in a flash of crimson and obsidian, the Uchiha racing towards Tobirama’s estimated location without abandonment, leaving the remaining three shinobi in the dust. The hokage, effectively silenced by her question and his best friend’s jarring shout, launched himself after the man without another word, leaving Mito and Touka to follow after them. 

All they could do now was pray to the gods that Hashirama and Madara reached the teenager before it was too late. 

~~~

The feather soft splashes of the Naka were the only thing Hashirama and Madara could hear from their spots on the river’s edge, the two thirteen year old boys settled beside one another in quiet with their eyes searching the sky’s endless landscape in content. It had been one of those rare days that neither boy had the will nor interest to train with one another, being content with simply being in the other’s presence on the cool fall day that had come to be in the Land of Fire. They had spent countless hours splashing about and skipping rocks to pass the time, laughter and playful jabs (at least from Hashirama) echoing fluidly across the rocky riverbank they had come to call their meeting place. This very place had become a sanctuary of sorts with the passage of time, somewhere they could escape the harsh realities that came with being not only shinobi but clan heirs that never seemed to quite meet their respective fathers’ lofty expectations.

Family was a topic rarely broached between the two young teenagers, simply due to the fact that speaking of such things would inevitably lead to identities being revealed and their already precarious arrangement tarnished beyond saving. The rare moments where either of them even dared to mention their blood relatives was when they found themselves dreaming of a time without war, of shinobi fighting alongside one another under one banner within the Land of Fire regardless of their clan or allies, for one common cause. Dreaming of a childhood where they would no longer be molded into child soldiers but to solely be children that played, daydreamed, and explored the world around them. Both teenagers pondered what their lives would be like in a time of peace subconsciously, thoughts focusing almost solely on the ones they had lost far too soon, particularly their fallen siblings. Even outside their rendezvous at the riverfront, Madara yearned to hear his three youngest brothers’ laughter just once more, to see his mother smother her five children with attention and affection. Hashirama simply wanted the chance to hug Kawarama and Itama once more, to have someone to hold on the dark nights with even darker thoughts. Tobirama was never one for physical contact, being the clear opposite of Hashirama who thrived off of hugs and touches, and Izuna was abhorrent to Madara’s overprotectiveness due to how adamant he was to prove himself, often stating with great indignancy that he was fully capable of handling himself. Each elder brother couldn’t help but question that if in another world, would their brothers be the way they are or would they be more alike?

“What lengths would you go to protect your younger brother?”

Hashirama promptly turned his head just enough to face his friend, Madara gazing up at the sky with thoughtful and serious pools of charcoal, caution-fueled curiosity pumping through his veins. He would later feel a meager flicker of shame of how hesitant he had been when it came to answering Madara’s question, envy and bitter emotion crawling up his throat. From the moment he laid his eyes on Tobirama, uncertainty and excitement in his veins, Hashirama had wanted to protect his younger brother, his otouto and at some point, unbeknownst to him, such a mindset had changed. The thought of losing Tobirama was paralyzing, yes, but not for the fact that the white haired boy was his brother; no, the mere thought of being left as the lone survivor and forced to face the world alone was far more grievous. Was such reasoning appropriate? No, probably not, in fact mother would have scolded him for such thoughts if she was still alive. Yet, he still thought those blood-riddled, desperate thoughts, his field of vision steadily growing more tint with envious viridian, the years of pent up jealousy threatening to suffocate his lungs. All Hashirama wanted to do was scream, yet, for some reason, he still answered.

“To the ends of the earth.”

The near silent splash of their sandals’ respective bottoms hitting and thrusting off the Naka’s surface was damn near deafening to Hashirama’s ears, the long haired brunette dutifully following his group in tense silence. All four of them were dressed for war, their small squad moved into the forest without a moment’s hesitation, killing intent tumbling off the three shinobi moving alongside him, each one bearing a face of disgruntled focus. Mito, foregoing her traditional Uzumaki garb, had chosen to fit herself in Senju armor quite similar to Touka’s own, although hers happened to be a sheening violet that contrasted violently with her scarlet locks. The Uzumaki woman had taken the role of squad leader within seconds of Hashirama’s appearance at the northeastern entrance, Madara and Touka having already arrived at the predetermined location with their gear and themselves at the ready, and the Senju clan head could do nothing but follow behind like a lost duckling. Momentarily shifting his gaze to the left, the hokage was met with Touka’s determined form, the kunoichi an explosive tag just waiting to be set off and Hashirama knew better than to address his cousin when she was in such a mood.

“Touka is much like a yellowjacket, anija.” Tobirama’s pupil-less pools of endless merlot messily met Hashirama’s earth-rich ones, the albino pausing in his task of sharpening the length of his katana to do so. “Docile until provoked.”

Bile curdled dangerously within the back of his throat at the memory made the mokuton user inwardly and outwardly cringe, his stomach feeling as if he had eaten a hefty stone. A complicated mixture of emotions toiled about within him, his heart and mind at war over the reality that he may have been the one to send his brother, perfect Tobi, to his potential death. A part of his heart rejoiced greedily at the thought of Tobirama no longer existing, relishing in the mere possibility that they would be too late, that Hashirama would no longer be burdened with the truth of being the lesser, unintelligent son. Not surprisingly, the voice within him clashed madly against his beating organ, his heart aggressively snarling with its canines bared whilst it worked to rid his poor excuse of a soul of its poisonous envy. Tobirama was his brother, the one he had pledged to protect, love, and cherish from the day the young boy was brought into this accursed world, and he knew that a world without his otouto wasn’t one worth living in. That didn’t stop the feelings of past resentment from bubbling up to the surface however, oozing sleepily from invisible emotional wounds that never have seemed to heal no matter what either he or Tobirama did.

With a slight shake of his head, Hashirama purged his already brimming mind of those poisonous thoughts, trying to set his focus back on the task at hand, on pushing himself forward into the unknown set before them. There was no time to be wasted if they were going to reach Tobirama in time, a great if not impossible feat in itself. His otouto had come to create a jutsu, the Flying Raijin as Tobirama had proudly named it, to best the Uchiha’s sharingan and in turn became the fastest shinobi in the Land of Fire if not further and the likelihood of them reaching him before he met his intended doom was slim if second to none.

Such a heavy thought bore significant weight on all four shinobi’s minds as they ventured further from the village into the dense forests of the Land of Fire, not a word spoken between them. Truly, what could be said to mitigate the situation at hand?

Touka grimaced at the thought, grinding her teeth in raging opposition because they shouldn’t be in such a predicament in the first place. Oh how she wished she hadn’t paid mind to Tobirama’s requests, that she not defend him from his dolt of an older brother and his abusive excuse for a future husband. The urge to beat the ever living shit out of not only Madara and Hashirama but Izuna as well boiled dangerously beneath her skin, clenched fists tense and ready to strike either man in their party if they so much as utter a sound. They honestly had no business, no , no fucking right to be a part of this retrieval mission; those bastards were why her precious cousin was not only injured but on this suicide mission in the first place! Both men (if she could even call them that with how childish they acted) were absolute idiots with their own selfish goals and incentives and Tobirama had been their unwilling victim, years of abuse and conditioning from Butsuma and other Senju having warped his sense of self-worth to the near point of non-existence. Hashirama, bearing his own trauma and self-induced jealousy, ripped into his younger brother with conditioned purpose and Madara, once an avid enemy rapidly turned intended spouse in the span of just months, was crafted to be a bringer of war just as Hashirama was and taught from birth to bear hatred for the Uchiha’s eternal rival. While Touka could only postulate the troubling events and behaviors Madara and Izuna had both experienced, seeing as how she hadn’t been present in their lives aside o from the battlefield, but she knew without a fact that it gave neither of them the excuse to treat Tobirama the way they had. Madara had struck her cousin in a moment of emotional and physical vulnerability, having only been in such an unstable state because of the Uchiha and her damn older cousin in the first place, and kami how she wished she had been there in the moment to stab her naginata through the fool’s foul spewing throat-!

Now, she was fully aware that Tobirama was nowhere near perfect, no matter how hard he had tried over his seventeen years of life, but Touka knew without a shred of doubt that he deserved far more in life than what he had been given. He deserved a spouse that not only loved but respected, cherished, and worshiped him as if he was the greatest thing on this cursed earth; it was the least the Kami could do for him after experiencing the brutal childhood of sneers, broken bones, sickness, and abuse Tobirama seemed to endlessly endure. Right?

Mito, not oblivious to the internal war her husband and cousin-in-law were warring against their emotions, continued to flare the tendrils of her sensory field outward as she led the way towards the border, focused on finding any inkling of Tobirama’s soothingly cool chakra whilst continuously kneading more chakra to sustain her efforts. She herself was struggling to maintain her emotional composure, though one could not sense her plight just by looking at her person; no, the mask of emotional indifference she had come to craft over the span of her childhood in Uzushiogakure was one of her greatest masterpieces and one she relied on heavily in moments like these. Born as the second eldest child to the Uzumaki throne, Mito had to be epitome of perfection if she wished to be regarded, let alone be gifted with an ounce of attention and consideration, seeing as how she was forever stuck in her nee-san’s massive shadow. Countless hours of her childhood had been spent working on her fuinjutsu craft and training herself into an excellent kunoichi, Mito striving to be the one who just might catch her subjects attention for longer than just a moment. She refused to be the extra, the spare heir if the worst happened and her nee-san perished, and such a mentality needed a face of fearlessness and invulnerability to make her demands a reality. If Mito wished to be regarded seriously by those around her, she had to craft a persona of grace and perfection, one that spoke without a stumble of the tongue and stood tall with the confidence of a Kami.

“Those of the court are much like the sharks of the ocean, my beloved Mito.” Father’s tender hand cupped Mito’s cheek with reverence, her seven year old self gazing up at the man that was the epitome of dignity and grace whilst he gave her a bittersweet, knowing smile. “The second a drop of your blood hits the water’s surface, they will be upon you without mercy.”

So, with that knowledge in mind, even as a young child, Mito set about eradicating every shred of external weakness she could find within herself and in doing so became the revered Crimson Tide, one of the most powerful fuinjutsu masters of the Uzumaki clan. She reveled in her status with perfectly veiled pride by the age of twelve years old, bearing a selfless front as her heart relished in the spoils of her success, at hearing her people and the rare foreigner murmur their intimidated approval whilst she walked the streets conducting various acts of charity. Mito had been content with her life, each day full of learning and exploring every inch of the island and the waters beyond it, whilst scouring each and every millimeter of the royal library in search of new information to progress her research and studies. All had been well and then, on a stormy, summer’s day shortly after her fourteenth birthday, a gangly boy with skin pale as the moon and curls as white as a dove’s feathers appeared on Uzushiogakure’s shores.

To say the boy piqued her interest almost immediately was putting it mildly; Mito found herself unable to pull her deep violet gaze away from the mainlander who had crossed the ocean’s rugged landscape as if it were smooth as freshly woven silk. The boy’s features, while offsetting to many of her people due to factless superstitions that cankerous elders and fire and brimstone religious preached to stray the population from the unknown, were a marveling mystery that Mito desperately wished to dissect and consume. She studiously studied such features whilst the boy, Senju Tobirama as he had come to introduce himself as before her father and the council members present at the time, taking notes of his high cheekbones and scar littered skin, many of the marks a rosy pink which testified that he had acquired them recently. Mito listened on with vigor as Tobirama eloquently explained his reasoning for weathering the high seas to reach their island, bearing a scroll from his father, Senju Butsuma, who wished for his eldest son to marry one of Uzumaki Akaneo’s daughters in hopes of strengthening their ties both politically and economically. Her father, ever the studious and ruminative man, gave Tobirama no instantaneous action, expressing with great seriousness that he would need time to mull over the Senjus proposal and in doing so, promptly offered Mito as the boy’s guide until said decision had been made.

That very decision would change Mito’s life forever. As her father pondered on with his advisors, Mito found herself engrossed in the boy who would potentially become her brother-in-law. With a tongue sharp as silver and a mind fit as a freshly tuned biwa, Tobirama proved himself to be the epitome of a genius over the coming weeks, stumping Mito in matters of science and ninjutsu development, the twelve year old boy having already created a jutsu in which he could create multiple tangible copies of himself. Such a jutsu was astronomical in terms of advancement and difficulty but Mito found herself enraptured in Tobirama’s thorough explanation of his scientific process, to which he informed her that only were these copies capable of performing their own jutsu, they were autonomous yet interconnected with one another subconsciously at the same time! What proved to be even more impressive was Tobirama’s wealth of knowledge on fuinjutsu, with such knowledge having been attained and mastered through self-taught lessons from the meager age of four years old.

As time passed and the summer grew long, Mito came to accept that she had finally met not only her intellectual but physical match in no one other than Senju Tobirama. Her fourteen year old self relished in finding someone who not only possessed a brilliant mind and impressive sensory abilities, but an individual who could be quiet as a sunny day at sea one moment yet destructive as a hurricane the next. Tobirama’s incline to suiton nature happened to garner the attention of many as well, elders and young alike mystified that a mainlander could possess such a strong tie to water, and they would avidly watch on in interest whilst he and Mito sparred one another at the training grounds. In time, Tobirama had become one with the Uzumaki, assisting in staving off the harshest of storms when need be and teaching the young ones basic taijutsu and ninjutsu, a duty in which many of the elders loathed to undertake due to the rowdiness of the children. Oh many a nights did Mito find herself gazing at the constellations twinkling above in the night sky with Tobirama and her sisters at her side, the four of them listening on with wonder and stars in their eyes. Tobirama had become the brother the princesses had also wanted, one that provided comfort yet tough lessons, a confidant and an anchor amongst the brisk waves of life's ocean. How mortified Mito would feel upon learning that Tobirama had become such an astute individual and sibling due to being one of the sole caretakers for his and her future husband’s younger brothers, both of which she never had the pleasure of meeting due to them having been killed early on into their childhoods.

It was because of Tobirama that Mito would meet the man she would come to call her husband, her new friend assuring her that only was Hashirama strong, he was kind and a thoughtful individual who was dedicated to protecting his loved ones. It was because of Tobirama that she would venture from her home, the only place she had ever known, and settle in the Land of Fire, far from her family and deep into the mainland. It was because of him that she would gain not only a brother but a cousin as well, Touka swiftly becoming one of her dearest friends and closest confidants upon her arrival in the Senju compound. It was because of him that Mito would be spared from Butsuma’s cruel demands for her to consummate her marriage with Hashirama at the mere age of fourteen, to produce the next clan heir as if Tobirama himself had not been standing right there. It was because of Tobirama that Mito began to notice just how cruel Hashirama could be to a brother that he claimed to love with all his heart, how her eversweet husband could be so bitter to another human without batting an eye.

Mito couldn’t help the curling of her fists just at the mere thought of Hashirama’s kunai sharp words, of Madara’s ignorant and foolish actions, of knowing her precious otouto was in danger because of their arrogance. Her temper flared and her heart screamed for retribution, but she knew that now was not the time nor the place, no matter how much she craved for penance. Flaring the tendrils of her sensory field outwards once more, Mito steadied her internal self whilst taking the leap over the dense tree line that acted as the unofficial border line between the Lands of Lightning and Fire, focusing on the task at hand. She wasted no time waiting to see if her party was following her, Hashirama’s hefty and earthy chakra clashing deftly with Madara’s own fiery and ash-riddled signature acting as blinding beacons amidst the mainly empty forest. The kunoichi shifted her body just enough to dodge a poorly placed tripwire, her party members thankfully doing the same; they had no time to waste on trivial bomb tags that were clearly placed by a genin or an idiot of a higher ranking shinobi.

With a silent cry of her missing brother’s name, Mito sent her sensory field outwards in growing desperation, and just as she expected to be met empty handed as she had been every time before, chakra of frigid mint and fresh fallen rain flickered across the far edges to the northwest. In any other case, she would have felt relief at sensing her otouto’s precious chakra, but such relief evaporated the very moment she felt it fluctuate in and out of existence, which could only mean-.

“I sense him, 20 miles northwest of here,” Her words jarred the others from their internal dialogues, the three shinobi snapping to attention. “We won’t reach him in time if you wait on Touka and I! Go!”

“Mito-!” Hashirama, the damn fool, dared to argue, concern ringing true in his voice, and she didn’t hesitate to rip into the mokuton used without restraint. “Do you wish to see your brother alive or not, husband?! GO!”

“Listen to your wife, you imbecile! MOVE IT!”

Madara was gone in a flash of crimson and obsidian, the Uchiha racing towards Tobirama’s estimated location without abandonment, leaving the remaining three shinobi in the dust. The hokage, effectively silenced by her question and his best friend’s jarring shout, launched himself after the man without another word, leaving Mito and Touka to follow after them.

All they could do now was pray to the gods that Hashirama and Madara reached the teenager before it was too late.

~~~

The feather soft splashes of the Naka were the only thing Hashirama and Madara could hear from their spots on the river’s edge, the two thirteen year old boys settled beside one another in quiet with their eyes searching the sky’s endless landscape in content. It had been one of those rare days that neither boy had the will nor interest to train with one another, being content with simply being in the other’s presence on the cool fall day that had come to be in the Land of Fire. They had spent countless hours splashing about and skipping rocks to pass the time, laughter and playful jabs (at least from Hashirama) echoing fluidly across the rocky riverbank they had come to call their meeting place. This very place had become a sanctuary of sorts with the passage of time, somewhere they could escape the harsh realities that came with being not only shinobi but clan heirs that never seemed to quite meet their respective fathers’ lofty expectations. 

Family was a topic rarely broached between the two young teenagers, simply due to the fact that speaking of such things would inevitably lead to identities being revealed and their already precarious arrangement tarnished beyond saving. The rare moments where either of them even dared to mention their blood relatives was when they found themselves dreaming of a time without war, of shinobi fighting alongside one another under one banner within the Land of Fire regardless of their clan or allies, for one common cause. Dreaming of a childhood where they would no longer be molded into child soldiers but to solely be children that played, daydreamed, and explored the world around them. Both teenagers pondered what their lives would be like in a time of peace subconsciously, thoughts focusing almost solely on the ones they had lost far too soon, particularly their fallen siblings. Even outside their rendezvous at the riverfront, Madara yearned to hear his three youngest brothers’ laughter just once more, to see his mother smother her five children with attention and affection. Hashirama simply wanted the chance to hug Kawarama and Itama once more, to have someone to hold on the dark nights with even darker thoughts. Tobirama was never one for physical contact, being the clear opposite of Hashirama who thrived off of hugs and touches, and Izuna was abhorrent to Madara’s overprotectiveness due to how adamant he was to prove himself, often stating with great indignancy that he was fully capable of handling himself. Each elder brother couldn’t help but question that if in another world, would their brothers be the way they are or would they be more alike? 

“What lengths would you go to protect your younger brother?” 

Hashirama promptly turned his head just enough to face his friend, Madara gazing up at the sky with thoughtful and serious pools of charcoal, caution-fueled curiosity pumping through his veins. He would later feel a meager flicker of shame of how hesitant he had been when it came to answering Madara’s question, envy and bitter emotion crawling up his throat. From the moment he laid his eyes on Tobirama, uncertainty and excitement in his veins, Hashirama had wanted to protect his younger brother, his otouto and at some point, unbeknownst to him, such a mindset had changed. The thought of losing Tobirama was paralyzing, yes, but not for the fact that the white haired boy was his brother; no, the mere thought of being left as the lone survivor and forced to face the world alone was far more grievous. Was such reasoning appropriate? No, probably not, in fact mother would have scolded him for such thoughts if she was still alive. Yet, he still thought those blood-riddled, desperate thoughts, his field of vision steadily growing more tint with envious viridian, the years of pent up jealousy threatening to suffocate his lungs. All Hashirama wanted to do was scream, yet, for some reason, he still answered. 

“To the ends of the earth.”

The near silent splash of their sandals’ respective bottoms hitting and thrusting off the Naka’s surface was damn near deafening to Hashirama’s ears, the long haired brunette dutifully following his group in tense silence. All four of them were dressed for war, their small squad moved into the forest without a moment’s hesitation, killing intent tumbling off the three shinobi moving alongside him, each one bearing a face of disgruntled focus. Mito, foregoing her traditional Uzumaki garb, had chosen to fit herself in Senju armor quite similar to Touka’s own, although hers happened to be a sheening violet that contrasted violently with her scarlet locks. The Uzumaki woman had taken the role of squad leader within seconds of Hashirama’s appearance at the northeastern entrance, Madara and Touka having already arrived at the predetermined location with their gear and themselves at the ready, and the Senju clan head could do nothing but follow behind like a lost duckling. Momentarily shifting his gaze to the left, the hokage was met with Touka’s determined form, the kunoichi an explosive tag just waiting to be set off and Hashirama knew better than to address his cousin when she was in such a mood. 

“Touka is much like a yellowjacket, anija.” Tobirama’s pupil-less pools of endless merlot messily met Hashirama’s earth-rich ones, the albino pausing in his task of sharpening the length of his katana to do so. “Docile until provoked.”

Bile curdled dangerously within the back of his throat at the memory made the mokuton user inwardly and outwardly cringe, his stomach feeling as if he had eaten a hefty stone. A complicated mixture of emotions toiled about within him, his heart and mind at war over the reality that he may have been the one to send his brother, perfect Tobi, to his potential death. A part of his heart rejoiced greedily at the thought of Tobirama no longer existing, relishing in the mere possibility that they would be too late, that Hashirama would no longer be burdened with the truth of being the lesser, unintelligent son. Not surprisingly, the voice within him clashed madly against his beating organ, his heart aggressively snarling with its canines bared whilst it worked to rid his poor excuse of a soul of its poisonous envy. Tobirama was his brother, the one he had pledged to protect, love, and cherish from the day the young boy was brought into this accursed world, and he knew that a world without his otouto wasn’t one worth living in. That didn’t stop the feelings of past resentment from bubbling up to the surface however, oozing sleepily from invisible emotional wounds that never have seemed to heal no matter what either he or Tobirama did.

With a slight shake of his head, Hashirama purged his already brimming mind of those poisonous thoughts, trying to set his focus back on the task at hand, on pushing himself forward into the unknown set before them. There was no time to be wasted if they were going to reach Tobirama in time, a great if not impossible feat in itself. His otouto had come to create a jutsu, the Flying Raijin as Tobirama had proudly named it, to best the Uchiha’s sharingan and in turn became the fastest shinobi in the Land of Fire if not further and the likelihood of them reaching him before he met his intended doom was slim if second to none. 

Such a heavy thought bore significant weight on all four shinobi’s minds as they ventured further from the village into the dense forests of the Land of Fire, not a word spoken between them. Truly, what could be said to mitigate the situation at hand? 

Touka grimaced at the thought, grinding her teeth in raging opposition because they shouldn’t be in such a predicament in the first place. Oh how she wished she hadn’t paid mind to Tobirama’s requests, that she not defend him from his dolt of an older brother and his abusive excuse for a future husband. The urge to beat the ever living shit out of not only Madara and Hashirama but Izuna as well boiled dangerously beneath her skin, clenched fists tense and ready to strike either man in their party if they so much as utter a sound. They honestly had no business, no, no fucking right to be a part of this retrieval mission; those bastards were why her precious cousin was not only injured but on this suicide mission in the first place! Both men (if she could even call them that with how childish they acted) were absolute idiots with their own selfish goals and incentives and Tobirama had been their unwilling victim, years of abuse and conditioning from Butsuma and other Senju having warped his sense of self-worth to the near point of non-existence. Hashirama, bearing his own trauma and self-induced jealousy, ripped into his younger brother with conditioned purpose and Madara, once an avid enemy rapidly turned intended spouse in the span of just months, was crafted to be a bringer of war just as Hashirama was and taught from birth to bear hatred for the Uchiha’s eternal rival. While Touka could only postulate the troubling events and behaviors Madara and Izuna had both experienced, seeing as how she hadn’t been present in their lives aside o from the battlefield, but she knew without a fact that it gave neither of them the excuse to treat Tobirama the way they had. Madara had struck her cousin in a moment of emotional and physical vulnerability, having only been in such an unstable state because of the Uchiha and her damn older cousin in the first place, and kami how she wished she had been there in the moment to stab her naginata through the fool’s foul spewing throat-!

Now, she was fully aware that Tobirama was nowhere near perfect, no matter how hard he had tried over his seventeen years of life, but Touka knew without a shred of doubt that he deserved far more in life than what he had been given. He deserved a spouse that not only loved but respected, cherished, and worshiped him as if he was the greatest thing on this cursed earth; it was the least the Kami could do for him after experiencing the brutal childhood of sneers, broken bones, sickness, and abuse Tobirama seemed to endlessly endure. Right? 

Mito, not oblivious to the internal war her husband and cousin-in-law were warring against their emotions, continued to flare the tendrils of her sensory field outward as she led the way towards the border, focused on finding any inkling of Tobirama’s soothingly cool chakra whilst continuously kneading more chakra to sustain her efforts. She herself was struggling to maintain her emotional composure, though one could not sense her plight just by looking at her person; no, the mask of emotional indifference she had come to craft over the span of her childhood in Uzushiogakure was one of her greatest masterpieces and one she relied on heavily in moments like these. Born as the second eldest child to the Uzumaki throne, Mito had to be epitome of perfection if she wished to be regarded, let alone be gifted with an ounce of attention and consideration, seeing as how she was forever stuck in her nee-san’s massive shadow. Countless hours of her childhood had been spent working on her fuinjutsu craft and training herself into an excellent kunoichi, Mito striving to be the one who just might catch her subjects attention for longer than just a moment. She refused to be the extra, the spare heir if the worst happened and her nee-san perished, and such a mentality needed a face of fearlessness and invulnerability to make her demands a reality. If Mito wished to be regarded seriously by those around her, she had to craft a persona of grace and perfection, one that spoke without a stumble of the tongue and stood tall with the confidence of a Kami. 

“Those of the court are much like the sharks of the ocean, my beloved Mito.” Father’s tender hand cupped Mito’s cheek with reverence, her seven year old self gazing up at the man that was the epitome of dignity and grace whilst he gave her a bittersweet, knowing smile. “The second a drop of your blood hits the water’s surface, they will be upon you without mercy.” 

So, with that knowledge in mind, even as a young child, Mito set about eradicating every shred of external weakness she could find within herself and in doing so became the revered Crimson Tide, one of the most powerful fuinjutsu masters of the Uzumaki clan. She reveled in her status with perfectly veiled pride by the age of twelve years old, bearing a selfless front as her heart relished in the spoils of her success, at hearing her people and the rare foreigner murmur their intimidated approval whilst she walked the streets conducting various acts of charity. Mito had been content with her life, each day full of learning and exploring every inch of the island and the waters beyond it, whilst scouring each and every millimeter of the royal library in search of new information to progress her research and studies. All had been well and then, on a stormy, summer’s day shortly after her fourteenth birthday, a gangly boy with skin pale as the moon and curls as white as a dove’s feathers appeared on Uzushiogakure’s shores. 

To say the boy piqued her interest almost immediately was putting it mildly; Mito found herself unable to pull her deep violet gaze away from the mainlander who had crossed the ocean’s rugged landscape as if it were smooth as freshly woven silk. The boy’s features, while offsetting to many of her people due to factless superstitions that cankerous elders and fire and brimstone religious preached to stray the population from the unknown, were a marveling mystery that Mito desperately wished to dissect and consume. She studiously studied such features whilst the boy, Senju Tobirama as he had come to introduce himself as before her father and the council members present at the time, taking notes of his high cheekbones and scar littered skin, many of the marks a rosy pink which testified that he had acquired them recently. Mito listened on with vigor as Tobirama eloquently explained his reasoning for weathering the high seas to reach their island, bearing a scroll from his father, Senju Butsuma, who wished for his eldest son to marry one of Uzumaki Akaneo’s daughters in hopes of strengthening their ties both politically and economically. Her father, ever the studious and ruminative man, gave Tobirama no instantaneous action, expressing with great seriousness that he would need time to mull over the Senjus proposal and in doing so, promptly offered Mito as the boy’s guide until said decision had been made. 

That very decision would change Mito’s life forever. As her father pondered on with his advisors, Mito found herself engrossed in the boy who would potentially become her brother-in-law. With a tongue sharp as silver and a mind fit as a freshly tuned biwa, Tobirama proved himself to be the epitome of a genius over the coming weeks, stumping Mito in matters of science and ninjutsu development, the twelve year old boy having already created a jutsu in which he could create multiple tangible copies of himself. Such a jutsu was astronomical in terms of advancement and difficulty but Mito found herself enraptured in Tobirama’s thorough explanation of his scientific process, to which he informed her that only were these copies capable of performing their own jutsu, they were autonomous yet interconnected with one another subconsciously at the same time! What proved to be even more impressive was Tobirama’s wealth of knowledge on fuinjutsu, with such knowledge having been attained and mastered through self-taught lessons from the meager age of four years old. 

As time passed and the summer grew long, Mito came to accept that she had finally met not only her intellectual but physical match in no one other than Senju Tobirama. Her fourteen year old self relished in finding someone who not only possessed a brilliant mind and impressive sensory abilities, but an individual who could be quiet as a sunny day at sea one moment yet destructive as a hurricane the next. Tobirama’s incline to suiton nature happened to garner the attention of many as well, elders and young alike mystified that a mainlander could possess such a strong tie to water, and they would avidly watch on in interest whilst he and Mito sparred one another at the training grounds. In time, Tobirama had become one with the Uzumaki, assisting in staving off the harshest of storms when need be and teaching the young ones basic taijutsu and ninjutsu, a duty in which many of the elders loathed to undertake due to the rowdiness of the children. Oh many a nights did Mito find herself gazing at the constellations twinkling above in the night sky with Tobirama and her sisters at her side, the four of them listening on with wonder and stars in their eyes. Tobirama had become the brother the princesses had also wanted, one that provided comfort yet tough lessons, a confidant and an anchor amongst the brisk waves of life's ocean. How mortified Mito would feel upon learning that Tobirama had become such an astute individual and sibling due to being one of the sole caretakers for his and her future husband’s younger brothers, both of which she never had the pleasure of meeting due to them having been killed early on into their childhoods. 

It was because of Tobirama that Mito would meet the man she would come to call her husband, her new friend assuring her that only was Hashirama strong, he was kind and a thoughtful individual who was dedicated to protecting his loved ones. It was because of Tobirama that she would venture from her home, the only place she had ever known, and settle in the Land of Fire, far from her family and deep into the mainland. It was because of him that she would gain not only a brother but a cousin as well, Touka swiftly becoming one of her dearest friends and closest confidants upon her arrival in the Senju compound. It was because of him that Mito would be spared from Butsuma’s cruel demands for her to consummate her marriage with Hashirama at the mere age of fourteen, to produce the next clan heir as if Tobirama himself had not been standing right there. It was because of Tobirama that Mito began to notice just how cruel Hashirama could be to a brother that he claimed to love with all his heart, how her eversweet husband could be so bitter to another human without batting an eye. 

Mito couldn’t help the curling of her fists just at the mere thought of Hashirama’s kunai sharp words, of Madara’s ignorant and foolish actions, of knowing her precious otouto was in danger because of their arrogance. Her temper flared and her heart screamed for retribution, but she knew that now was not the time nor the place, no matter how much she craved for penance. Flaring the tendrils of her sensory field outwards once more, Mito steadied her internal self whilst taking the leap over the dense tree line that acted as the unofficial border line between the Lands of Lightning and Fire, focusing on the task at hand. She wasted no time waiting to see if her party was following her, Hashirama’s hefty and earthy chakra clashing deftly with Madara’s own fiery and ash-riddled signature acting as blinding beacons amidst the mainly empty forest. The kunoichi shifted her body just enough to dodge a poorly placed tripwire, her party members thankfully doing the same; they had no time to waste on trivial bomb tags that were clearly placed by a genin or an idiot of a higher ranking shinobi. 

With a silent cry of her missing brother’s name, Mito sent her sensory field outwards in growing desperation, and just as she expected to be met empty handed as she had been every time before, chakra of frigid mint and fresh fallen rain flickered across the far edges to the northwest. In any other case, she would have felt relief at sensing her otouto’s precious chakra, but such relief evaporated the very moment she felt it fluctuate in and out of existence, which could only mean-.

“I sense him, 20 miles northwest of here,” Her words jarred the others from their internal dialogues, the three shinobi snapping to attention. “We won’t reach him in time if you wait on Touka and I! Go!” 

“Mito-!” Hashirama, the damn fool, dared to argue, concern ringing true in his voice, and she didn’t hesitate to rip into the mokuton used without restraint. “Do you wish to see your brother alive or not, husband?! GO!”

“Listen to your wife, you imbecile! MOVE IT!”

Madara was gone in a flash of crimson and obsidian, the Uchiha racing towards Tobirama’s estimated location without abandonment, leaving the remaining three shinobi in the dust. The hokage, effectively silenced by her question and his best friend’s jarring shout, launched himself after the man without another word, leaving Mito and Touka to follow after them. 

All they could do now was pray to the gods she no longer believed in that Hashirama and Madara reached the teenager before it was too late. 

~~~

Sorry for another cliffhanger, it was just too much to resist! Kudos, comments, bookmarks and the like are always appreciated! Until next time!

[thekingwhereitallends]

Wait you actually did it😭

For people who asking who the hell is kenshn,he is the third mizukage.

Here i'll give you the idea,no need to rush.Even if you don't do it,i've no problem cause i understand since third mizukage isn't popular(not his fault tho and i love him).

Kenshin:(shirtless,sitting on ground after defeating hashirama in a ninjutsu sparring)

Hashirama:(laying on ground,gasping) I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!YOU ACTUALLY CLAPPED MY CHEEKS!

Kenshin:(gives a blank stare)

Mito:(arms folded,looking at kenshin from far away) My my...

Mito:(blushes as she remembers madara) They share some similiarities.

Kenshin:(opens his eyes)

Mito:(disappointed) My bad,he's got blue eyes.

Mito:(nods,approaches kenshin) You need something pretty boy?

Mito:I mean sexy beast-I mean big boy?

Hashirama:(lift his head) I'm smelling bad news.

Kenshin:...

Kenshin:Just a glass of water,i'll be grateful.

Mito:(smiles) 'maybe i'm wrong.'cause madara was the bad boy type,extroverted emo guy.This boy is a man of few words, depressed but still too sweet for this world)

Mito:(caresses kenshin's cheeks) You know,you deserve the world and i mean it!

Hashirama:(jealous) HEY BUD!

Kenshin:(smiles) You are flattering me.

Mito:(stands up) Alright,i'll be back.

Hashirama:(shouting) YOU KNOW I'D LIKE A CUP OF GREEN TEA!

Mito:(shouting) DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE WHO CARES?!?

Hashirama:(sobs silently)

Tobirama:(blank face) Was that just drama?

Tobirama:How pathetic.

Touka:(slaps tobirama in back of neck, hammers his head into the ground) You can't understand complex emotions.

So I have a very badly drawn short version 😭😭😭 sorry for taking too long. At this point I see Kenshin as nun but a giga Chad.

😎

[hitodama3]

Juubi Tobirama & Soul bond AU

Soul Bond Au Concept:

Everyone has strings coming from their hearts that connect to other people. They are connections of love. Though it can be any kind of love; romantic, platonic, familial, etc.

The more you love someone/thing the thicker and more visible the bond is.

In the past people thought these bonds proved you had a soul, because how could someone have a soul if they didn't love a single person?

They snap due to the death of one of the individuals with the bond, if one side betrayal the other in a way that hurts them so deeply for at least one moment they can not feel a single ounce of love for the other, or it will gradually split apart and snap if the feelings fading away over time.

A snapped bond hangs like a cut thread from the chest for as long as the owner thinks about the other. If they move on the thread will eventually fade away from visibility.

The broken bond does leave a mark on your soul even if it has faded from view. The bonds branch our from the soul like strings from a yarn ball. So when they are cut they unravel a bit of the soul and leave a hole.

This hole cannot heal naturally even if the person moves on it can only be replaced, or over time the opening will be carefully patched over (if the owner truly moves on), but the hole on the inside will remain.

Broken bonds cause physical pain to the owner, so society places high importance on the bonds. Parents warn their children to be careful who they bond with because they have to be wary of broken bonds and the pain they cause, because eventually if you get to many holes your soul will unravel, and it kills you.

The cause of death due to having too many holes in a person's soul is called unraveling.

People don't care if you have less bonds but only if the ones you have are thicker to account for the lack of multiple bonds. It's uncommon for anyone to have less than three bonds. At least one really strong and two weaker ones. So people with less than three are judged heavily by society.

Those with many thick bonds are considered very loving and are looked on well by society.

Those with no bonds or broken bonds are considered soulless and are pariah, while those who only have broken bonds are looked at in pity or disgust because only those who have lost everything or are criminals should only have broken bonds.

Below is finally the Tobirama part of this post. ⬇️

Okay so now that I've spent an age explaining the bond concept here's the Tobirama part of the concept.

Tobirama as a child started off with the familial bonds like most children. He has six bonds: Butsuma, his Mom, Hashirama, Kawarama, Itama, and Touka.

He did not have thick bonds from the beginning with his father. It thinned, frayed, and snapped the first time he hit Kawarama or Itama.

He had a thick bond with his mother.

He had thick bonds with Kawarama and Itama. He would never admit to having a favorite but Itama's was slightly thicker.

He used to have a thick bond with Hashirama but since the river it started to fray over time before finally snapping the first time Hashirama told him he was nothing but a tool to end an argument.

Touka's grew thicker over time and by the time the clan war's are ending is his only remaining bond.

Tobirama never gained any platonic or friend based bonds because due to his coloring and attitude was isolated by his clan. Tobirama lost two agemate playmates this way. Parents driving them away from with frowns, grimaces, and whispers of demon. Leaving him with two holes in his soul.

Clansmen made a game of seeing if young Tobi would bond with them to break it on purpose. It started as an order from Butsuma to make him a better weapon then became a game. This occurred three times before he noticed the pattern and closed himself off because he now had another three holes in his soul.

Tobirama had gained five holes in his soul by the time Itama died at the hands of his clansmen and no longer trust them to make bonds. The breaking of his familial bonds except Touka leave him with ten holes in his heart.

For this AU ten is an extreme number and most people would have unraveled at this point, but Tobirama is stubborn and keeps going.

Tobirama gets two more from people he's gotten close to on missions he was unable to protect or save. With twelve holes in his soul Touka is heavily concerned for her 'brother', but he's sent out on another mission where he gets close to a child and develops a bond with them only for them to die, enemy-nin or illness you decide.

Tobirama knows after that last snap at unlucky number thirteen that he's going to unravel. He informs the elder council who give him one last suicide mission for him to die on and benefit the Senju one last time.

On that mission he encounters Kurama and impresses him. Kurama seeing the damage decides that finders keepers and if they can't take care of the pale kit then the kit is his now.

Tobirama gains a bond filling in the place of his father's bond.

Matatabi gets enlisted to go check on Kurama by the other bijuu since he hasn't been seen in ages, and is impressed by the kitten Kurama has adopted and decides to stay and help nurse the kitten back to help, because she doesn't trust Kurama to not kill the human kitten.

Tobirama gains a bond filling in the place of his mother's bond.

Overtime Tobirma befriends each of the bijuu and they fill in his bonds. Then the gods check on their children to see why they've congregated and see the human packed to the brim with thick familial bonds with their children. And decide what can they do but except his as family as well.

Here are the bond relations I imagine.

Grandmentor: Susanoo (Water god)

Grandmother: Ameratsu (Fire goddess)

Grandfather: Tsukuyomi (The *Actual* moon god)

Godfather: The Shinigami

Annoying Aunt/Uncle: Shukaku

Mentor: Isobu

Friend: Son Goku

Brothers x 3 to replace Hashirama, Kawarama, and Itama: Kokuo, Saiken, Gyuki

Excitable cousin: Chomei (wind chakra)

After getting bonds with all of the chakra beasts Tobirama becomes a pseudo Juubi. Closer to the wolf form we all headcannoned before learning about the god tree shenanigans.

While Tobirama is getting a new family, back in Senju and Uchiha land. When Tobirama was sent out on a suicide mission the council sent Touka out on a year long mission because they knew she'd become rabid if she found out what they did. Hashirama unable to run the compound as efficiently without Touka and Tobirama loses ground against the Uchiha. Supplies, contracts, and shinobi start dropping without the two their to manage it. Hashirama asks the council about their whereabouts and is told they are both on long term critical missions.

The good thing about the Senju loosing ground and numbers is the Uchiha gain it. So that the two clans are more on equal terms and relaxes the Uchiha into agreeing to a cease fire. The Uchiha have spies in court that have seen Touka so they know where she's been for a year, but no one has seen Tobirama so they assume he's dead.

Once they start planning the village Madara offers his condolences for the death of Hashirama's last brother, and oblivious sub!optimal Hashirama states Tobi's not dead and goes to grab his soul bond and notices it gone, pats around his chest frantically and doesn't find a snapped soul bond, only for Mito to tell him confused he doesn't know that his bond with Tobirama snapped over a year ago.

Hashirama is horrified, and finds out about the suicide mention and Tobirama's unraveling from the elders, and frantically goes searching for him.

Only to find a healthy, happy, choke full of soul bonds Tobirama surrounded by gods and monsters that are pissed about his prior treatment.

And this could all be shortened backstory for a very lovely Tobirama x (someone but we all know I prefer Madara or Indra).