Chapter Text
Tobirama was born with chakra simmering at his fingertips, the world open and receptive and immense. Born with eyes as red as blood, hair as white as snow, power coiled in a body far too tiny for the intensity it afforded.
What an immense fate, what a terrible child.
Tobirama was born a sentinel. One of tremendous power, extreme intellect.
His mother's midwife had glanced at him with wide amazed eyes, cradling his head in her old wizened hands.
"Oh you are blessed, but what a terrible bargain, what a terrible bargain. May you find your guide little one, or so god may help you."
Even as a babe unable to walk or stand, Tobirama remembers being aware, present and quiet in a way no normal child ever was. He remembers the times he followed-felt Hashirama across the paddy fields, tracing his familiar chakra, sunflower bright-summer breeze, so very warm and kind. Remembers the way he had taken to chakra as easily as one might take air to inhale. Remembers throwing a kunai with absolute accuracy even before he'd learned to speak properly.
Remembers the way the clansmen whispered behind his mother's back.
A deal with the devil, they whispered. A cursed child, they discussed. The Lady Senju and her abomination of a second son. Eyes as red as those detestable sharingan the Uchiha sported, the child that never cried, the child who was barely human, a wraith given human flesh.
Tobirama does not speak much. At least, not in the way his brother does. Larger than life and enthusiastic, warm and fantastic. Talking to Hashirama is easy, it's fun. His brother brings joy to people, smiles and laughter and soft eyes. Tobirama pales in comparison. He is the moon to his brother's sun, remote and cold and insufficient to measure up to his warmth in any way.
His existence has always been contrary.
On one hand, Tobirama is the model of a perfect shinobi, powerful and calm, silent and decisive. He has never been visibly sentimental, does not hesitate where his brother might. He is on token, dependable where Hashirama would falter. On the other hand, he is the pariah. He is the shadow the clan likes to forget, as they bask in Hashirama's presence, his sincere charisma.
Tobirama does not mind, he doesn't care about any of it.
He loves his brother, the brother who'd never cared about how different or abnormal he was. The brother who'd thunder down the hallways of the clan house, Tobirama on his shoulders, the one who'd talked and talked and filled the room with joy and laughter even as Tobirama sat quiet, as their mother withered away under the strain of another pregnancy.
Their beautiful mother, confined to a life in a clan not her own, with a man as cold as ice. No freedom, plagued with constant sickness. She never had the strength to say much, but whatever she could manage, she taught them. Taught them love, of kindness, humility and grace.
She kept smiling at him, always. Said she found him beautiful and sincere and that gossip meant nothing.
"How could you be cursed, you with your huge heart, all that love inside." She used to grin.
Tobirama always feels like he's let her down. Love is not something people think him capable of, and he's never been able to prove them wrong. He isn't like Hashirama, ready to throw his life away at the first mention of peace, he doesn't carry the same brand of optimism and hope. He's a perfect shinobi first and foremost, emotions don't play a role in most of the decisions he takes.
His father makes sure of that.
Butsuma Senju is not a warm man. One did not lead a clan under wartime with kindness as a virtue.
Tobirama had known right from the start, that there was no room for love in that man's heart.
And so it was all the more amazing, how Hashirama was so kind, so optimistic even as their father showered them both with disapproval.
Hashirama for being so stubbornly good, Tobirama for being a blemish on the clan head's pristine family with his abnormalities.
However they were still children, the worst had hardly even begun.
First, their mother died, leaving behind two new brothers, small and precious.
The little protection offered to both Hashirama and Tobirama under her name all but disappeared. There would be no more laughter, no more games. Their brothers were to be raised by the midwives, strangers, while they trained, while they entered the battle.
Tobirama refused to accept it. They would not take his brothers from him. Boys who would never get to know their mother, never know of her kind smile, the way she taught them what was truly right and what was wrong, the way she had taught them what love was. When Butsuma had struck him across the face, hard enough to draw blood, Hashirama had gone half mad with anger.
Half the house was destroyed in seconds, the mokuton manifestation had shaken the clan.
They were allowed to have their way, in exchange for Hashirama's freedom, his use as an asset on the field.
Hashirama spent his days training and arguing, clashing with their father. Tobirama couldn't stand it. Couldn't bear to watch his brother limp back at night, voice hoarse from arguing but still smiling at their younger brothers, cradled in Tobirama's arms.
It was thus that he decided, no one, absolutely no one, would ever harm Hashirama again, not as long as he was alive.
No one, would take Itama and Kawarama from him.
His life, he would use to protect them.
And so, he joins his brother on the frontlines, even as Hashirama scowls with disapproval.
Tobirama knows, that for them, him and their little brothers, Hashirama would take everything on his shoulders.
It would break him. Crush his soul, his ability to dream. Butsuma would make sure of it.
He will not let that happen.
So, Tobirama deflects, spends his days sharpening his immense abilities, listens to Butsuma without argument. For every dispute with Hashirama, he plays mediator, meddles, diverts the issue.
Butsuma knows more often than not, what Tobirama keeps trying to do.
It earns him more than a few whip lashings, broken bones, punishments.
But, it works.
Butsuma may not like it, but Tobirama manages to interfere in ways that profit the Senju more, as a whole.
Tobirama is nothing if not useful. His abilities are just as phenomenal as Hashirama's, if not as flashy. His sensory capabilities are several times more potent than the best of their existing sensors. His grasp on chakra is so advanced that more often than not, he manages all the delicate requirements of advanced jutsu thrown at him several times faster than Hashirama.
Hashirama is undoubtedly a monster in terms of raw chakra and specialist fighting techniques, but he isn't good for the rest. That is where Tobirama thrives. Everything from assassinations, high level jutsu development, espionage, war time strategy.
Forcing Hashirama into these things, the backhanded life of a shinobi that he hates, it would be a surefire way to break his spirit. But, no matter how much Butsuma tries to, he can't. Not with the protection Tobirama maintains for him at all times. Hashirama is always more useful on the battlefield, as a figurehead, than anywhere else, and all the rest are matters Tobirama monitors with a vice grip.
Over time, Tobirama becomes the perfect tool for their father.
He hates it, but his prowess and versatility provide him with powerful standing in the clan.
The cost is high. His hands are stained with blood, blood that will never wash off, but it's worth it.
With him in the way, no one can touch his brothers. With the White Demon in the way, no one would dare.
This is not an honorable way to live. Tobirama spends more nights awake, scrubbing at his hands, picking at his scars, than he does asleep.
Sleep does not come easy, but he learns to live with that. In the end, as long as he can keep his loved ones safe, his clan content, it's enough.
It has to be.
(If no one knows about how his growing powers cause backlashes, headaches, it's for the best. His status as a sentinel cannot interfere with his responsibilities.)
Tobirama knows his intellect is uncommon, he is a genius by most standards, his plans mostly never fail, but he isn't infallible and today (perhaps years in the making), he's walked himself into a major mistake. He realizes it in the way Hashirama explodes at him during dinner.
"Tobirama. Tell me you didn't." Hashirama begins, mouth slanted with something like grief.
"Did what?" Tobirama asks, tired, voice hoarse. He's just returned from a mission that's going to keep him awake for the better part of the coming week.
"You killed the entire Kumori clan didn't you." Hashirama continues, voice furious.
No, not exactly, but what he did wasn't much better, so he doesn't feel like he should justify it or explain it. Tobirama doesn't bother replying.
Hashirama should know better than to ask, by now.
"Tobi! I cannot believe this! How could you just slaughter them!" Hashirama explodes, slamming his hands on the table, standing up.
The matter regarding the Kumori clan had been running for weeks.
The trade agreement they'd had with their clan specified a certain delivery of weapons which they'd failed to accommodate.
Further still, they'd sent a letter of dismissal for their continued inquiries, citing their intentions to ally with the Uchiha.
Tobirama doesn't know how the Uchiha managed to wrangle support from one of their allied clans, but it had happened,
and it had left Butsuma incensed.
Hashirama had been arguing for the matter to be brushed off, it wasn't as if the Senju were lacking in weapons, the Kumori were only a measly part of their connected network.
But, it was never about the weapons. Once the Uchiha were mentioned, it was a lost cause, a matter of pride.
Tobirama had tried to tamper the matter down, but this time, he couldn't. Not when so many Senju were touchy about the conflict with the Uchiha. And at the end of the day, the Clan Head wasn't Hashirama, who was still a child, it was Butsuma.
Of course, Butsuma had wanted him to slaughter them all, but he obviously would not.
He'd forced them to scatter instead, threatened them to abandon their lands and flee in groups. Never to combine under the clan name again.
He didn't kill them, but at the same time, he might as well have, considering he destroyed their entire lifestyle.
His mouth was still bitter, and he wasn't going to forget the hatred nor grief in their eyes anytime soon.
He'd felt their distress, the fear and agony rippling through their soul. Each one of them hostile,
their chakra going icy cold-withering anger.
The more Tobirama grows, the more he can sense of people, their emotions, their souls, lit up in hues of jasmine white-foxglove pink or any of the myriad of ways one can color a soul,
sunk in the textures of crashing waves, of vengeful thorns. Sometimes he can't help but get blindsided, get crushed under the hatred of their mournful life forces.
A lot many people detest Tobirama after all. And for good reason.
"Well the Kumori clan doesn't exist as a competing clan any more but they aren't dead." Tobirama replies, flatly.
Hashirama stares at him stunned. He just doesn't comprehend why.
A lot many people detest Tobirama, but Hashirama doesn't. So why does he look at him like that?
His brother understands. Surely he must?
The sinking feeling in the pit of stomach is the premonition to something terrible, he can almost taste disaster.
"It wasn't as if I had a choice anija." Tobirama continues, exhaling shakily.
"Didn't have a choi-Tobi! Are you listening to yourself right now? That's how father justifies things! For the good of the clan we have no other choice! Have you already forgotten our mother? The things she taught us?! You're turning out to become the exact shinobi our father is!" Hashirama roars.
Tobirama flinches, hard.
The ball drops.
Never had Hashirama's chakra been this agitated in his presence, been so-
so angry.
As a sensor, a sentinel on top, the change in his nature strikes Tobirama like a physical blow.
"You don't even look upset! You did something to ruin their lives and you walked away! How can you-
Hashirama doesn't even bother completing his sentence, he stalks away, incensed and overcome. Unable to finish his words.
Tobirama doesn't remember Hashirama ever being this mad at him, this upset with him, chakra flickering in disgust. For a while, he sits frozen, unable to deal with the sudden pain blooming across his chest. He doesn't think a physical knife to his chest could've hurt as much as how Hashirama's words did.
Forgetting their mother? Becoming a second coming of their father?
Is that what Hashirama thinks of him? But why?
Surely he has to know what Tobirama is doing, and why. All the things that are at stake.
None of the children or non-combatants were targeted. Even the active shinobi, they were spared as long as the clan members promised to scatter, abandon their lands.
As long as the Kumori remained active as a unified clan, Butsuma would target them,
so yes, Tobirama had forced them to scatter, with the threat of their lives hanging in balance.
Was-was he wrong though? What other solution was there?
What else could he have done?
He's already taking a huge risk sparing their lives, if the news reaches Butsuma-
Tobirama isn't really worried about himself, he can take torture, punishments, whatever may be thrown at him. But if he goes for Itama, or Kawarama. Even Hashirama.
He would never forgive himself.
But, Tobirama starts to realize how he's driven himself into a corner.
He's been so busy trying to protect them, perhaps he's become a person they can't understand at all.
It makes him so terrified, and the fear runs rancid through his veins.
He can't lose them, he can't lose Hashirama.
Hashirama's chakra smolders in the distance, for once, its not sunshine warm-calm and steady, it's angry and disappointed, it recoils from Tobirama's presence,
and that hurts, the pain tears through his core, sudden and unexpected.
He's a shinobi, a perfect soldier, because he has to be.
He doesn't want any of this-doesn't want this-doesn't want this.
How can he not see? How can Hashirama not understand?
Tobirama barely makes it to the solitude of his room before he collapses, muffled sobs tearing out of his rotten throat.
No, no, this is not what he wants.
This is not what he wants.