On One Condition

by TitaniaFaerieQueen

Summary:

Madara gave Hashirama one condition to agree to peace—Tobirama had to die. Hashirama rejected it, but Tobirama agreed. In secret. He sent a message to Madara, and met him in the forest between their territories.

Madara quickly learned to regret his demand. Too bad it was too late. ... Or was it?

Notes:

This was written for Tales Under the Lamplight 2025.
I'm honored to be a part of this event, and want to thank Phlebas and greenchair for the awesome work they are doing, organizing this. ❤️

Chapter 1

Stepping out into the clearing, senses on high alert and anger churning in his gut, Madara stared at the Senju, Sharingan spinning. Then his eyes were drawn to the hole in the ground beneath an old gnarled tree. A freshly dug grave. Was this an ambush? He couldn’t sense anyone else nearby. And the Senju was without armor. Without any visible weapons. Frowning, he nearly growled out, “What is the meaning of this?”

Standing quite still, expression almost… Sad? ...the Senju lifted his arms out from his body, palms facing towards Madara. “You set your condition. My death for peace between our clans.”
He scoffed. “You expect me to believe you are willing to just lie down and die?”
“If it means the children will be allowed to be children… To grow up without a kunai in their hand and the terror of trying to survive on a battlefield…? Yes.”

Anger flaring up again, Madara hefted his gunbai. Then he moved. In the blink of an eye he had closed in on the Senju, swiping the sharp edge of the gunbai down, slicing through flesh and bone in a diagonal line from his shoulder to his hip. He caught the twitch as the Senju wanted to move, but he didn’t. Not until his guts started to spill out. Then he took a trembling step backwards and fell into the grave. By the time his body landed with a wet thud, his eyes were already staring blindly out into eternity.

Madara froze. He had expected trickery. Had expected the Senju to dodge, or use that jutsu of his to disappear. Not just… stand there and allow himself to be cut down. Icy claws dug into his heart. Had the Senju been telling the truth? Was he really so… selfless as to be willing to die to keep the children of his clan safe? That… Madara swallowed. Fuck. He had messed up, hadn’t he? Hashirama had healed Izuna. And Madara had repaid his kindness by killing Tobirama.

With his Sharingan still active he could see how the chakra in the body was rapidly dissipating. There would be no miraculous rescue. No coming back from this. He deactivated the Sharingan, unable to keep staring at what he had done. Instead he went through hand seals. Doton wasn’t his strongest suit, but he was proficient enough to move the pile of earth back into the hole. Once done, it was obvious there was a grave there, but he had no Mokuton to fix that.

Glancing around the clearing a little frantically he wondered why the man had chosen this as his final resting place. It was a lovely spot, and there was a small waterfall nearby. Had that appealed to the Suiton user? Had he picked this spot for its beauty? Madara would never know. Had lost his chance to know. Fuck. Where his rage had once burned, he now only felt chilled to the bone. Quickly he left the clearing, vowing to never return to it.

⁂

A long moment later, the earth on the grave collapsed down. A sound like a sigh, and faint rustling of the leaves. A week later, the Hatake clan welcomed back a long lost brother.

⁂

He had waited several weeks before he accepted one of Hashirama’s overtures for peace. When they met up to discuss conditions, he had used every ounce of his acting skills to feign anger and disgust when he asked, “Where’s that demon you call a brother? I thought he’d be here to taunt us.”
The hurt that flashed in Hashirama’s eyes cut Madara to his soul, but he was a shinobi, nobody could tell how he truly felt. Hashirama wasn’t as good a liar. “Tobirama is away on a mission.”
Madara caught the flicker of worry. Still he sneered out, “I hope it’s a very very long mission.”

Hashirama made no more comments about his brother. The truce was signed. Madara went home. Looked at Izuna, who was recovering just fine, and locked himself in his rooms. He felt like shit.

By the time the truce was changed into a declaration of peace, Tobirama was officially missing. Nobody knew where he was. Except Madara. And he couldn’t tell anyone. Not when that would destroy the very peace the man had given his life for. Despite how he could tell that Hashirama was grieving.

When work started on the village, the Elders returned to an old topic—Marriage. And all Madara could think of was that he didn’t deserve that kind of happiness. Not when he kept hearing how the Senju spoke of their missing heir. How kind he was to children. How smart he was. How much he had helped them with even the most mundane tasks, creating jutsu that could make life easier even for civilians. Then Hashirama let slip that some of the blueprints they had used for the village had been drawn up by Tobirama years ago. Madara had been so sure the man was dead set against peace. How wrong he had been.

Even Izuna had changed his tune. One day, while seated on their brand new engawa drinking tea imported from an island beyond Uzushio, his little brother had looked at the new koi pond with a thoughtful expression. “Tōka-san told me that the idea for the Academy came from Tobirama. They found it in his notes after he disappeared.”

It wasn’t a far-fetched topic for Izuna to broach, since he had volunteered to teach at the academy. To make sure Uchiha-kids were treated fairly. But it was still strange for him to mention his long lost rival. Madara refused to give any indication he was interested in the topic. It just brought with it new waves of guilt, which was very unwelcome since he had only just managed to start pushing back the old ones.

When the village was finally finished, several clans had already agreed to join. And Hashirama had been instated as Hokage. Madara was fine with it. There was no way he would have been comfortable in that position considering his own contribution to the peace was such a deplorable act. No, he was even considering stepping down as clan head, to allow Izuna to take up the position. His excuse would be that he was a relic of the war, and that Izuna was much better suited to govern in time of peace. Doing so would also free Madara up to run missions. Preferably out of Konoha as often as possible, so he wouldn’t have to look at Hashirama’s sad expressions every time something reminded him of Tobirama.

Mind made up, he went in search of Izuna.

⁂

When the Hatake joined Konoha, they were given land close to the Aburame. This suited them perfectly, as most civilians in the clan were farmers, something that Konoha welcomed eagerly despite their Hokage having the Mokuton. The shinobi of the Hatake clan were also very welcome, seeing as they were considered some of the best hunters and trackers in all of Land of Fire.

Hatake Arata was immediately promoted to jōnin, and assigned to the tracking unit. With his silver hair it was assumed he was part of the main family, but nobody ever confirmed or denied it. The lower half of his face was obscured by a cloth-mask, while the upper half was partially hidden behind his new hitai-ate. However, a seal could be seen painted on each temple, just at the corner of his dark gray eyes.

He quickly gained a reputation as one of the absolute best trackers in Konoha. Which was one of the reasons he was assigned to Uchiha Madara’s team for a mission to recover a kidnapped Uchiha teenager.

Quietly he had packed what he might need for an extended mission, met up with the rest of the team, which consisted of the former clan head of the Uchiha, a Nara woman called Sumiko, an Aburame named Ryo and Senju Tenpi, a distant cousin of the Hokage. The five of them set out at a rapid pace. The kidnappers had a thirty-six hour head-start, since Uchiha Hinote had been a part of a team on a mission outside Konoha, and his own team had not noticed he was missing until it was his turn to take guard.

Having already spread his senses out and found all of the more common fiery Uchiha chakra, and the less common crackling of the Raiton users in their clan, Arata had been able to pinpoint the one who was clearly unconscious yet still moving. Towards the newly established hidden village of Kumogakure, which made sense since the shinobi clans of Land of Lightning had long traditions of such heinous crimes. Since none of the other people on his team were trackers, nobody questioned the direction he took them in once they had gone past the spot where Hinote was last seen. He would occasionally pause for up to ten seconds, mainly to make sure none of his team were flagging, but also to give them the impression he was following a trail. Then they took off again.

After nearly a day and a half of constant running, Madara made them stop. “We rest for three hours. Eat something, and get some sleep.”

He then summoned a clowder of cats and sent them out to guard the area. Stuffing a small onigiri into his mouth underneath his mask, Arata mulled over the incongruity of one of the strongest shinobi in Konoha, or possibly even the whole world, having cats as his summons. Though, presumably he could summon cats of varying sizes. Something to ask his own summons about the next time he spoke with them.

⁂

Madara had been a bit concerned. The Hatake was leading them in almost a straight line towards Land of Lightning, which was an obvious destination for bloodline thieves. Perhaps a bit too obvious. So he had worried that the shinobi was guessing more than actually tracking, since he barely stopped once or twice every hour, and never for more than a few seconds at a time. But then, on one of the breaks, Madara stretched his own senses out as far as they could go in the direction they were running. And found Hinote. After that he trusted that the Hatake knew what he was doing.

⁂

Arata had spent half a year learning a new way to fight. Most of that was spent unlearning a lot of the old ways he’d been doing things. Things that might trigger a memory in people who had known him. When they caught up to the kidnappers, he was glad he had made the effort. Otherwise Madara would have caught on, he was sure of that.

Ducking underneath a swing, he sliced at the hamstrings of the shinobi attacking him. Not bothering to finish him off, he just moved on to the next one, hearing a gurgle behind him as the Nara used her shadows to great, and gory effect. The shinobi carrying a bound Hinote started to sag, and fell over, foaming at the mouth. Ah, the Aburame at play. A great fireball encompassed three of the kidnappers, leaving a disgusting smell of burnt hair and flesh. They only screamed briefly, then they never moved again. Tenpi had cleaved one of the kidnappers in half, then he rushed over and checked on Hinote, before standing over him to keep him safe in case any of the remaining kidnappers would attempt to reclaim him. Less than two minutes later none were alive to try.

The return to Konoha was much more relaxed. Partially because Hinote was still woozy from whatever the Kumo nins had given him.

As soon as they had signed in, Arata tossed a scroll to Uchiha Madara. “My report.”
Madara grabbed it, lifting an eyebrow, but it was Tenpi who asked in an incredulous tone, “When did you have time to write that?”
Arata shrugged. “While we were running.”
Sumiko frowned. “I’ve been running behind you all the time. When?”
He just gave her a smirk, knowing it would be visible by the way the mask moved. “Not my fault you didn’t notice.”

Before she could do more than grumble at him, he turned back to Madara. “Am I dismissed, taichō?”

The moment Madara waved him off, Arata disappeared in a shunshin, eager to get home. Or, mostly eager to get away from Madara. Being so near the Uchiha made his skin crawl.

⁂

The successful recovery of Uchiha Hinote didn’t only make the Uchiha clan as a whole relax more, but it also made the Hyūga less disinclined to join the village. In fact, they offered up a mission which, if successful, would almost guarantee that they would join. One of the main branch members had been missing for three years, believed to be somewhere in Land of Lightning. All attempts to find him had been unsuccessful, but the Hyūga were reasonably certain he was still alive. After all, for bloodline thieves, a male was more valuable than a female. A woman could only give birth to one child every nine months, but a man could get any number of women pregnant in the same time-frame. And Hyūga Kaisei would soon be old enough to be put to that kind of use.

Madara was given the mission. And his first pick for the team was Hatake Arata. Then, seeing as they were going to have to go into Land of Lightning, he wanted some heavy hitters. Akimichi Tuya, Senju Tadaaki and Senju Tōka fit that description fairly well. He should also have someone good at infiltration. Yamanaka Kangiten and Aburame Kuebiko. And, because it had been some time since he got to spend time with him, Uchiha Hikaku. He would have brought Izuna along if he could, but with his new responsibilities as clan head, there was no way Izuna had the time to spare for such a long mission.

⁂

When he was told the mission, Arata knew he needed to visit the Hyūga compound. Madara had looked at him strangely when he told him that, but relented when Arata insisted that he needed to see the place the boy had been stolen from. Then, for good measure, he asked the mother for something the boy had used, and made a show of sniffing it. He could feel the incredulous stares, and heard the Yamanaka whisper to the Akimichi, “Is he really going to track by scent?”

Arata let them believe that. But the true reason for the visit had been to get a good feel for what Hyūga chakra felt like. Then, while he was still sniffing that blanket, he sent his senses out, towards Land of Lightning, searching through the country for a similar signature. And found nothing.

A bit disheartened he sent his senses wider, knowing that he was already taking a little too long with the show of memorizing the scent. But then, in the mountains of Land of Wind, something pinged his senses. A faint, but steady glow, surrounded by completely different types of chakra. He quickly handed the blanket back, then moved to the house the boy had been living in three years ago. And set off.

⁂

Madara couldn’t help it. He frowned. There was absolutely no way that the Hatake was able to follow three year old tracks. But the man shot off like he had a clear path in sight. The team sprung into action, following the crazy tracker. If he pulled this off, his legend would be set.

Half an hour later Madara called for a halt. “Where the hell are you going?”
Arata blinked, tilted his head, and nodded it in the direction he’d been running. “They went this way.”
Pointing in the opposite direction, Madara nearly growled out, “Land of Lightning is that way.”
The look he received in return was clearly questioning his intelligence. “I know. But the kidnappers went this way.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! There’s no way you can know that!” In his anger, Madara’s eyes reacted, activating the Sharingan, and that was the only reason he caught the way Arata flinched just a tiny bit. But he couldn’t miss the way the tracker wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore. It cooled his rage a bit, realizing that at some point in the past, the Hatake must have fought against the Uchiha.

Body tense, the tracker flexed his fingers, possibly itching to pull a kunai. “Look, you picked me for this mission, so let me do my job? Otherwise we have to go all the way back to Konoha so you can find a replacement. … Or, you can head to Land of Lightning, and I’ll go to Land of Wind. You can pick up another tracker when you pass by Konoha.”
Madara was sorely tempted to do just that. Annoyed, he wanted to teach the tracker a lesson. “Fine.”

He turned around towards Konoha, expecting a protest. Instead he saw his team stare, and felt the tracker leave. Turning back he stared at the forest. What. The. Hell?

Cursing up a storm he set out to catch up to the tracker so he could yell at him. Half an hour later, he, and the team, had to admit that they had completely lost him. The man had had less than half a minute head-start, and now he was just… gone.

⁂

He knew it had been stupid. It was obvious Madara had not meant it, both from his body-language and his chakra. But Arata had grabbed the opportunity with both hands. There was no way he was eager to spend the next two weeks or so together with Madara. And Tōka. Besides, it would be much easier for him to slip in undetected and just nab the kid. He reached for the Hiraishin marker he had left by the border to Rain on a previous mission. That would save him almost a day of travel-time.

⁂

Standing in the forest, Madara was fuming. Without a tracker there was no reason to go forward. But if they went back, he would have to admit that he couldn’t control his own team. Still, they needed a tracker. Incredibly annoyed, Madara ordered his team back to Konoha for a replacement.

That annoyance just escalated when, upon reaching Konoha, every tracker they asked turned the job down, either with an embarrassed shake of their head, or, in the case of the older ones, with a scoff. “You can’t track something passing through an area three years ago. A thousand things will have crossed the path, muddying the tracks. Plants will have grown. The rain and snow will have washed away every clue.”

It wasn’t until he asked a Hatake tracker, that he got another answer. “Uh, Uchiha-sama, if Arata-san said they went that way, then going to Land of Lightning is a waste of your time. You’d be better off taking another mission and just wait for him to return with the kid.”

In the end, that was what he did. A week went by. Then another. And another. They were well into the fourth week before commotion at the gate caught his and Hashirama’s attention. It was Hatake Arata. Hyūga Kaisei was with him. And about ten other kids. That explained the delay. The kids could not travel at shinobi-speed.

Madara wanted to yell at him, but he knew that it stemmed from embarrassment. And he still remembered that small flinch. Besides, Hatake Arata had been right, and if Madara had insisted on doing things his way, the boy would not have been found. Turning around, Madara went back to his office, letting Hashirama deal with it. His pride prevented him from acknowledging the situation.

A month later, the agreement was signed with the Hyūga, and they moved to Konoha.

⁂

Arata had thought that maybe their last mission together had left Madara disinclined to request him for another mission, but that only lasted two months. Then he found himself standing in the Hokage’s office once more with the surly Uchiha beside him. Aburame Ryo was back, and Aburame Kuebiko. Apparently this was a mission the Aburame clan head was paying for.

He looked at the Hokage and scratched his neck. “You want me to track bugs?”
A quick nod. “Can you do it?”

His sensory skills would not be of much use for this. The amount of bugs in any given area was too vast to separate out a single type even if he was able to sense their minuscule amounts of chakra. No, he would have to rely on his intelligence and powers of observation. Which meant he had to alter the seal on his eyes. Pushing a finger under the edge of his mask he scratched his chin. Then realized what he was doing. Madara being this close made his skin itch. Quickly stilling his movement he let out a breath. “I’ll give it my best shot. When do we depart? I have some things I’ll need to prepare.”

It was Madara who replied. “You’ve got two hours. Meet up at the northern gate.” Arata gave him a bow and shunshined out of there. To the library. It was not much time to do research, but it would have to do.

⁂

If Madara was quite honest with himself he had accepted this mission, which was really far beneath his skill level, simply for the opportunity to finally see the Hatake flounder. After the disastrous—for him—rescue of the Hyūga kid, Madara had only heard praises for the tracker, and it annoyed him. Someone so disrespectful shouldn’t be held in such high regard.

There was not really any urgency in the mission, and the journey progressed in silence. The two Aburame would sometimes converse silently, but didn’t make any attempts at getting to know either Madara or the tracker better. And Arata would dig out huge books from a sealing scroll every time they made camp. How he could read in the dim light was beyond Madara. His own sight had been steadily declining, so he was using the Sharingan and the Mangekyō sparingly. And certainly not for something so frivolous as reading.

They were nearing the border to Land of Wind, and had camped out underneath an overhang in a small canyon. Madara had the middle shift, sitting on a rock, peering up at the night sky. Clouds had started to block out the stars, making the poor light even worse. But he had his sensing skills, so he didn’t worry.

A noise behind him had him turn slowly, looking at the tracker. Every night he slept utterly still. Almost unnervingly so, but right now he was moving, looking a little restless. Suddenly his eyes flashed open, and for a very very brief moment Madara thought they were red. Sharingan red. Then, with a blink, they looked black. And Arata was scrambling out from under his blanket. “Get up! We have to move!”

Spreading his senses out wide, Madara couldn’t find what it was the tracker had detected, but the man was already packing up his sleeping mat and blanket, stuffing it into a scroll. The two Aburame had rolled to their feet quickly, doing the same. Not wanting to find himself in another embarrassing situation because he had ignored the Hatake, Madara grabbed his stuff. But he was frowning while doing it. “I can’t sense anyone. Why are we moving?”

Pausing briefly, the Hatake pointed to the sky. “Rain.”
“Rain? You’ll have us pack up camp in the middle of the night because it’s gonna rain? We’re under an overhang. Doesn’t it…?”

Before he could finish the sentence Arata gave him another one of those looks that clearly questioned his intelligence. Then he swept his arm in a wide arc, indicating the canyon they were in. “This will soon be a river.”
“What?”
“The land here is too dry to absorb the rainfall that is coming. Where do you think the water will go?”
“Oh…” He did not argue any more, just followed when Arata jumped up onto the edge of the canyon. And then he could see it. Dark clouds sweeping towards them with a dense curtain of rain below.

They found another shelter higher up, watching the rain come closer. Soon they could hear a roar as a wave of water crashed through the canyon below them in a flash flood. If they had lingered… Though, how had the Hatake known? The mystery of the man was only increasing, and Madara found himself watching him even more intently.

⁂

Reaching the area where the bugs they were tracking were said to be numerous, Arata crawled over rocks and peeked into nooks and crannies on the cliff-side. Being a desert landscape, everything was dry and windswept.

He noted that the two Aburame were more lively than they had been the entire trip, and that some of their own bugs kept buzzing through the air silently. The only one who was still was Madara, standing there with his arms crossed, ostensibly keeping an eye out for threats, but Arata could feel how most of the Uchiha’s attention was on him. Doing his best to ignore it he quickly scaled up a small crack, peering inside. It was surprisingly full of critters, but not the ones they were looking for. He leapt down again and moved along, feeling those dark Uchiha eyes on him.

⁂

Paying so much attention to the Hatake, Madara had to admit that the man appeared to know what he was doing. A scorpion was snatched up and held out to Aburame Ryo, who wobbled his head a bit, then fished a box out of somewhere, opening it so Arata could drop the scorpion into it. Not the critter they were after, but clearly, if it was tiny, creepy, and had an exoskeleton, the Aburame were interested.

With nimble movements the Hatake pulled himself up along another crevice, and Madara’s eyes followed him up. He noticed that the other Aburame, Kuebiko, had paused what he was doing, peering up at the Hatake. Not a minute later Madara nearly choked on air when he overheard Ryo whisper to Kuebiko, “The Hatake are known for their exceptional senses. If my bugs can scent how aroused you are, I am sure he will detect it as well. Control yourself.”

Resolutely not showing that he’d overheard, Madara’s mind was jumbled. Aburame Kuebiko was attracted to Hatake Arata? Sure, the tracker was well built, and moved with a graceful economy that did nothing to deter from his physical appeal, but… He scrambled for something, anything, but after a moment he had to admit that the only thing he really had against the Hatake was his evasive behavior and lack of respect for authority.

Which, after seeing that flinch, he suspected that the man was keeping his distance not out of disrespect, but possibly out of wariness, or even fear. The thought bothered him a little. So he focused on the lack of respect for authority. Only, he couldn’t really fault the man for his disobedience when it had led to the rescue of a bunch of kidnapped children. Especially since their rescue had allowed Konoha to enter into negotiation with four minor clans after returning their children. One clan had already accepted the invitation to join.

With a small sigh Madara had to concede that Hatake Arata was attractive. Both physically, and what little he had been able to glean of his personality. And now that the idea had been planted, he couldn’t help but become increasingly curious as to what hid under that mask of his.

As the day progressed, more and more of Madara’s attention was dedicated to cataloging Arata’s movements. At one point the man had bent over the dry skeleton of a tree, and Madara nearly groaned at where his own mind went to, admiring that firm ass and wondering how it would look naked. Fuck, this mission had been a mistake.

⁂

When he caught sight of one of the small beetles, Arata allowed a tiny sigh of relief to slip past his lips. The attention Madara had on him was increasingly hard to ignore. Especially when he had felt a flicker of something in the Uchiha’s chakra that felt decidedly more friendly than ever before. It was bad enough that one of the Aburame lusted after him, but Madara..? That was a disaster in the making. And what the hell had triggered that? The man had shown no such interest before. Was it some sort of alpha male bullshit? Aburame Kuebiko was not subtle in his ogling. Had Madara caught on and decided to stake some sort of claim? Arata would be sure to shut that down quickly if the Uchiha did anything untoward.

Wrenching his focus back to the beetle, Arata fished out a scroll and unsealed the contents. A rotting piece of meat. It took less than twenty seconds before the first beetle scurried out from a crack, and by the time the two Aburame had joined him, the slab of meat was covered in flesh eating beetles.

With the mission objective completed, they set out for Konoha. And all through the journey Arata felt the attention of the two men on himself. But neither made any move.

Entering the gates, Arata tossed his report to Madara, bid all of them a good evening, and shunshined home. To his empty apartment.

Tossing his clothes in the laundry he stepped into the shower, to wash off the grime from the journey. While he was rinsing his hair he leaned on the tiles, sighing. It had been far too long since he had any sort of sexual interaction with anyone not his own clone, but he simply couldn’t allow himself to be that vulnerable with someone else. Not when his very existence could jeopardize the peace. Perhaps it was time to take a solo mission somewhere far away?

He didn’t get around to it, as he was immediately assigned a new mission with Madara. Had the Uchiha requested him? He suspected so, but was unsure why. Surely the man wouldn’t be so unprofessional as to allow his own desires to dictate who he went on a mission with?

To his relief, Madara made no advances. But he was acting more friendly, and inviting more interactions. Which made Arata suspicious.

It took another month of various missions back to back before Madara finally made a move. Not while on a mission though, so at least he was somewhat professional about it. But it still left Arata blinking at the slightly shorter man. “You’re… asking me on a date?”

He must have sounded as incredulous as he felt, because Madara narrowed his eyes just a bit. “You don’t approve of relationships like this?”
“What?”
“Between two men...?”
“What?! No, that’s not…” He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t care about gender. That’s not it. I…”

⁂

Madara waited, but nothing further came out. He pushed gently, “Then why?”
“You tried to kill me!” It was blurted out, only for panic to flood Arata’s eyes and he took a step back.

It explained so much, but at the same time so little. The ‘you’ sounded personal, like he meant Madara himself had tried, and not the Uchiha as a clan. Which made little sense. “I’ve never fought against the Hatake.”

“It wasn’t… I wasn’t fighting for the Hatake then. I… It’s not important. … Please, just… Let it go. It… I…” His voice faded out, and he took another step back. Madara let him. It pained him, but he couldn’t push, he knew that much. Especially when he had no idea when he was supposed to have tried to kill the Hatake, what the circumstances had been. Watching the retreating back of Arata he wondered if it had been a mission where they had been on opposing sides.

Going back to his house, lost in thoughts, he made himself tea and sat down looking out into the interior garden. He should have remembered meeting Arata before. Unless the man had been in disguise? That had to be it. Still, he was a sensor. How come he didn’t recognize Arata’s chakra signature? So many questions.

He was still sitting there when Izuna came home. As soon as Izuna had grabbed a cup and joined him, Madara tilted his head slightly. “What do you know about Hatake Arata?”
Izuna took a sip of his tea before answering. “What, the lost Hatake?”
“Lost?”

“Mhm, he was missing for many years before returning out of the blue. Nobody knows where he was or what he was doing. Rumors are rife though. Some claim he worked as a mercenary, while others say he went to a temple to train. Someone insists they saw him in Land of Iron when they went there to guard a caravan, and there’s rumors he was sighted in Land of Water, though the latter could be mere speculation because he’s apparently a very skilled Suiton user.”

Madara looked up. “Suiton? I’ve only seen him use Raiton and Doton.”
“Megumi told me he used Fūton, and Hikaru told me he’s proficient at Katon.”
“So he knows how to use all natures? That is impressive.”
Izuna nodded, then looked down at his tea-cup, rotating it slightly. “He has yet to fail a mission since joining Konoha.”

“Really?” Even Madara couldn’t claim that. Things happened, and sometimes the mission had failed even before leaving the gates. So, to not fail a single one… He had to either be extremely lucky, or be highly selective in what missions he accepted.

He was staring out into the garden, mulling over the new information, when he felt Izuna’s calculating stare. “Why the sudden interest?”

Unwilling to share his feelings, he opted to share the mystery. “He has always been a bit… skittish around me. I recently learned why. Apparently at some point I tried to kill him. The problem is that I have no memory of that. I can’t remember meeting him anywhere before the Hatake joined Konoha, and after that I certainly haven’t had any cause to attack him. So, when did it happen?”
“Hn.”

They sat in silence, enjoying the rest of the tea, and Madara felt a little lighter. Izuna was good at ferreting out information. If anyone could figure it out, it would be his otouto.

⁂

After the confrontation with Madara, Arata couldn’t stay in Konoha. He took a mission to Land of Water, and once that was complete, grabbed one for Land of Earth. The next weeks progressed like this, mission after mission. He was so little at home that at first, upon returning from a quick mission in Suna, he thought it was just a matter of his seals having deteriorated due to him not refreshing the chakra in them. But, upon closer inspection he realized they had been tampered with. Someone had been inside his apartment.

⁂

Izuna poked the scroll he had brought in, now unrolled in front of the Hokage. “Hashi, the man was missing for twenty years. Nobody knows where he was during that time, or with whom. He vanished as a three year old, and resurfaced as a twenty-four year old, with skills that put even the most experienced Hatake to shame. He’s a potential threat.”

The Hokage ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure? He’s our very best tracker.”
“He’s an unnaturally good tracker. Everyone I’ve spoken to says it’s impossible that he followed the trail of the kidnappers of the Hyūga boy. Impossible. And yet, he found him and brought him back. How? Did he already know where the kid was? Was he working with the kidnappers? We don’t know. And that’s a problem.”
Hashirama sighed, but gave a slow nod. “Put Intelligence on it.”

Chapter 2

Listening intently to the report given by his operative, Izuna tried to ignore the fact that his own brother was listening in. It was unprofessional, but on the other hand, if the operative had not noticed Madara… Besides, it was not as if he wouldn’t tell Madara anyway after the Nara had left. His brother had some kind of low-key obsession going on with the Hatake in question, and Izuna did not want to poke too deeply into exactly what kind of obsession it was.

The operative spread more files onto Izuna’s desk. “Look, every Hatake we’ve spoken to swears Hatake Arata is family. They have even been willing to let the Yamanaka skim their mind to ascertain the truth of that statement. Also, there’s nothing in his apartment that suggests he has any loyalty elsewhere.” Nara Eiji tilted his head slightly, as if he was considering how to phrase what came next. “Though, there is something else… It’s not what we found. It’s what we did not find. There are no images or tokens of his lost family. No shrine to his dead parents. None of the usual Hatake trinkets to remember the dead by. Nothing. Which suggests that he either feels absolutely nothing for them, something that even I think is unlikely, or… he has a shrine hidden away somewhere.”

When Izuna next looked that way, Madara was gone. Presumably to search for that shrine. Oh well, if he did find it, Izuna would know soon enough.

⁂

The first thing Madara had done was check where Arata was supposed to be. A quick mission to Tanzaku-gai, to ensure the silence of a witness to a clumsy assassination attempt by one of the daimyō's relatives. Hopefully the cousin had learned to leave such things to the professionals in the future. Still, it meant that he would have at the very least six hours.

Going over every inch of Arata’s home, Madara, even with his Sharingan, could not find any trace of a shrine there. So he moved outwards, starting with the garden, then the rooftop, the attic, the basement, and nearby apartments that were currently uninhabited. Nothing.

He stared across the street, where a larger shrine was set up, to honor Susanoo-no-Mikoto. Surely not? Except, up in the rafters in a little-used side-room, only a tiny corner of a photo visible from below—something that anyone would easily miss if they did not have their Sharingan active—was a small shrine. A shrine that held familiar pictures. Madara had seen those same faces before, in the small shrine dedicated to Hashirama’s lost family. The only image that was missing from this shrine was Tobirama. It did not take a genius to make the connection.

Tobirama. Hatake Arata was Tobirama.

A myriad of emotions fought for attention inside Madara’s head. Tobirama was alive. Had faked his own death. Alive. He had not killed Hashirama’s last brother. Tobirama had been in Konoha. For months. Close to a year. What if he had told someone? What if Hashirama found out that Madara had tried to kill his brother? Had thought he had killed him. Panic clawed at him, but then sanity reasserted itself. No, Tobirama wouldn’t do that. If he had gone to the effort of faking his own death for peace, then he would not risk it by telling anyone. Would not risk the peace. He was too selfless. Which meant that he would most likely run away now if he knew that Madara knew.

That thought… hurt. Not only because of the guilt he’d carried for so long, but… to never see Arata… Tobirama again… No, that… He had to… apologize. Convince the other man to return. If not for Madara, then for Hashirama. It had broken something in his friend when Tobirama disappeared. And now Madara had a chance to make that right. To fix it. If he could only persuade Tobirama to come back.

The first thing he needed to do was to leave everything undisturbed, and hope that Tobirama had not had any undetectable seals monitoring his shrine. Then he needed to find a way to corner the younger man in private, but in such a setting that it did not come across as threatening. The latter proved to be incredibly hard to do, and now Madara knew why. Tobirama-as-Arata had access to all of Tobirama’s jutsu, including the one that allowed him to move faster than the Sharingan could track, and apparently over distances that should not be possible.

A week went by, and Madara was growing increasingly frustrated. He was also certain by now that Tobirama had caught on to the fact that Madara was attempting to get him alone, though he probably did not know why just yet.

Reaching the end of his patience, Madara decided to attempt another tactic, and so he sought out the Hatake clan head in his home, confronting him head on as soon as the two of them were alone. “You knew.”
The older man tilted his head, expression neutral. “Knew what?”
“Who Arata really is.”
“Ah… Yes. He is my nephew.”
Madara scoffed. “He is Senju Tobirama.”
Hatake Jūkichi simply nodded, not even attempting to deny it given how sure Madara was. “Yes. And my nephew. My older sister married into the Senju.”
“That’s why you took him in.”
“Yes.”
“And the real Arata?”
“Dead.”
“You kept him listed as missing…”
“It pays to have options.”
“I see.”

Madara studied the older man, who studied him back. After a long moment, Jūkichi put his hands inside the sleeves of his kimono, appearing completely relaxed, but Madara knew he was either reaching for a weapon or forming seals. When the Hatake spoke once more, his voice had taken a hard edge. “What will you do now? Will you demand his life again?”

Part of him was annoyed that the older man dared to ask him that, but another part felt horrified to be reminded that he had asked for Tobirama’s death. Had all but demanded it, and then executed it. He still didn’t know how the younger Senju had faked it, but could still remember vividly the sight of Tobirama’s lifeless corpse falling into the grave he had dug for himself. And that made him feel sick. That he dared to feel affection for the same man now. It was no wonder Arata… Tobirama shied away from him. He must have been terrified.

Realizing that the Hatake was awaiting an answer, Madara, face betraying none of his thoughts, shook his head. “No.” He did not elaborate. Did not tell the other man how that demand had haunted him for years. Instead he allowed a frown to settle. “Why did you keep it from Hashirama? Is he not your nephew as well?”
There was a quick quirk of the Hatake’s lips, then he shook his head. “No. He is not.”

Madara stilled. He had not been aware of that. Hashirama never mentioned that they were half-siblings, born of different mothers. Presumably it did not matter to him. But it did explain the differences between the two. However, right now that was unimportant. What Madara had come for was to attempt to use Tobirama’s relatives as… Blackmail was such an ugly word for it, but, in essence, that was what it was.

“Have a runner deliver a message to Tobirama—Arata—and tell him that you wish to see him. I know he will sense my presence, but hopefully, with you here as well, he will come and allow me to speak with him.”
Jūkichi’s eyes were narrow slits, and there was a tension to his shoulders, but he did not act on the anger that surely coursed through his veins. He was too smart for that, knowing that unless Madara acted first, the Hatake would be seen to be the aggressors, and the Uchiha were far more entrenched in Konoha. Any attempt on Madara’s life would risk the expulsion of the entire Hatake clan from Konoha. Well, that, and Jūkichi had no chance of besting Madara, whose only true opponent the past decade had been Hashirama.

“Well?” Madara leaned against the wooden wall, crossing his arms in a blatant display of not finding Jūkichi threatening. With a small sigh, the Hatake clan head complied, sending for Hatake Arata.

⁂

With how the message had been worded, Tobirama knew two things—The first was that Madara knew who he really was, and the second was that his uncle had wanted him to stay away. But when his senses told him that Madara was currently lingering inside the Hatake main house, how could he? Who knew what the Uchiha might do to his family if Tobirama did not show? Oh, he didn’t think Madara would be violent. Not in the middle of Konoha. Not with so many sensors around who would be able to bear witness through walls. But Madara had political clout. Was a master tactician. And had Izuna, the current spymaster in Konoha, on his side. Evidence could be faked of misconduct. One by one, Madara could take away Tobirama’s family on false charges. No, he could not risk that.

With his chakra coiled tight as a spring, he entered his uncle’s home, gliding into the main room like a malevolent shadow, glaring at Madara the whole time. The sentiment was returned, sort of. Madara’s eyes were assessing, but showed surprisingly little animosity. Without taking his attention off Tobirama, Madara told Jūkichi, “Leave us. I am not about to harm him, but what I need to discuss with him is not for anyone else to hear.”

Tobirama met Jūkichi’s eyes and gave a small nod. He did not think Madara would take the risk of harming him now. Not when so many were aware that he was in the same room as Hatake Arata, and so many of the Hatake knew who Arata really was. No, the moment Madara laid a hand on Arata, someone would be running to let Hashirama know. Whatever it was Madara had been so eager to discuss with him that he had been trying for a week to corner him before he even resorted to underhanded means to do so, it was probably, loath as Tobirama was to admit it, related to the incident a while back where Madara had attempted to ask him out.

However, the moment they were alone and his senses confirmed that nobody was close enough to eavesdrop, Madara surprised him. “Why didn’t you let anyone know you were alive?”

Tobirama’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he found his words. Fortunately his half-mask hid the undignified display. “You wanted me dead! Struck me down without hesitation. Buried what you thought was my corpse and turned your back. Of course I didn’t tell anyone. I expected you to try to finish the job if you knew.”
“But you let Hashirama, your own brother, think that you were gone! How could you do that to him?”
“Like you should have told him that you, his supposed best friend, had left what you thought was my corpse in a shallow grave in the forest?”

Madara reared back. After a long moment he said in a half-choked voice, “I thought it was a trick. I expected you to dodge, or that it was an incorporeal clone or… When my gunbai connected with flesh rather than cleave through the air… When you fell… I panicked. I really thought I had killed you, ...and that wasn’t what I had wanted at all. Despite what I had said… I… That… I couldn’t tell Hashirama. You died for the peace. How could I… throw away your sacrifice by telling Hashirama? There would have been no peace if I did.”

“Exactly.”

⁂

They had reached a stale-mate. Madara could not argue against Tobirama’s logic. If Tobirama had let Hashirama know, it would have ruined everything he had been attempting to achieve. Everything he had achieved. Madara had agreed to the peace after Tobirama’s sacrifice. He could not say for certain if he would have agreed under any other conditions. Which meant he could not really condemn Tobirama for what he had put Hashirama through.

What it also meant was that, as of now, there was no way for Tobirama to come clean about who he was without risking everything he had sacrificed so much for. That was not something Madara would stand for. “We need a reason that can explain why you left your clan thinking you were dead for over two years. Something that also explains why you would hide in plain sight, posing as your own relative.”

Tobirama leaned slightly away from Madara, giving him an odd look. Remaining quiet for so long that Madara was just about to ask ‘well?’, Tobirama spoke before Madara could open his mouth. “Why are you so invested in this? Is it just because you fear what Hashirama might do if the secret somehow comes out, or is this related to… that… incident where you, ah, requested a date?”

Embarrassed that the younger man brought that up, Madara froze for a moment, before he spluttered out a denial. “No! That’s not… It’s… I mean… Gah! What I’m trying to say is, it’s not because of that.” He paused, then winced, and admitted, “I realize that you probably find it to be the height of irony, but once I actually got to know you, well, inasmuch as Hatake Arata is you, I found that I really do like you. But, I also realize how futile it is. You have absolutely no reason to return my feelings. I behaved reprehensible towards you. I…” His voice petered out, unable to give voice to the final thought, but it was clear that Tobirama knew where he had been heading, as it was his turn to cross his arms, looking unimpressed.

Madara squirmed under that stare for a few moments before he rallied. “Anyway, we need to find a way to bring you back. One that makes sense.”
He was not sure if Tobirama took pity on him, or if he just accepted the change in topic in order to drive this meeting closer to its end. In either case, he gave a small nod, and added, “It’ll have to be something big. Something serious. Nothing else will convince Hashirama. He knows me too well.”

“A threat to Konoha?” Even as he said it, Madara knew what Tobirama’s reply would be.
“No. The problem with that idea is that I disappeared before you agreed to peace with him.”
“What about a threat to that peace? Something that you’d caught on to, and worked to suppress?”
“It still makes for odd timing that you accepted just a few weeks after I left.”
“Not if you had already removed one of the obstacles to peace.”
“Like what?” To Tobirama’s credit, it sounded like a genuine question, and not a sarcastic dismissal. However, Madara was currently fresh out of ideas.

“I don’t know. I would have to go over the reports and logs from back then, to see if there was anything I could point to as having been a major hurdle to overcome.”
Looking off to the side, Tobirama took a deep breath, before admitting. “I can get access to most of the Senju files from back then. I made copies…”
“Then we have a plan?”
“A tentative one.” Tobirama didn’t look like he was happy about it, but given where they had started out, Madara would take what he could get. An agreement of cooperation was leaps and bounds beyond where they had been two years ago, in that clearing in the forest.

And though he was loath to bring it up, he was also insatiably curious, so, suppressing the itch in his body that demanded he do something, Madara pretended to be calm and asked, “Now that I am aware it was all a trick… How did you do it? You fooled even me. Made me think I had killed you.” He saw the minute flinch, and added quickly, “Don’t think it didn’t bother me. Like I’ve already said, I was sure you would dodge or do something, and when you didn’t… I left there feeling like I had made the worst mistake of my life. It was… That was the reason I passed on the position as Hokage, and the reason I gave up the leadership of the clan to Izuna. I didn’t feel like I deserved it after my deplorable contribution to the founding of Konoha.”

Tobirama watched him out of the corner of his currently gray eyes, then his shoulders lifted in a quiet sigh. “It’s a new variant of clones. Instead of merely acting as distractions or to sow confusion as to which one is the real one, my clones have substance. They can act independently of me, and have access to my entire arsenal of jutsu. I also… gain their memories when they dispel.”

It took Madara a long moment to properly comprehend what Tobirama was telling him, not because he was stupid, but because his mind simply didn’t want to understand. Didn’t want to know that Tobirama had the memories from that moment. That he knew what it felt like to be killed. By Madara’s gunbai. The air in his lungs left him in a harsh exhale, as if he had been punched in the sternum. He deeply regretted asking. It had been better to simply think it was an interesting trick.

Now… It explained the flinch and apprehension he had seen in Arata. Of course he would have feared Madara. To have such a vivid memory… Unbidden, the scene from the forest stood out crisp and clear in Madara’s mind. He had after all had his Sharingan active. Recording his own misdeed for the rest of his life.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, unable to look at Tobirama while he said something that was long overdue. “For what it is worth, I truly am sorry for what happened back then. Even when I made that demand of Hashirama, I knew he would never agree. Especially not since he had just healed Izuna, but… I just felt so helpless. I was terrified of what would happen the next time Izuna had to face you in battle, and I wanted to protect him, I just… went about it in an awful way. I was angry, and scared, and… When I met you, I was so sure that you had come to try to assassinate me. That it was some sort of trick in order to take me out of the equation, and force Izuna to submit to the Senju.”

Madara let out a bitter laugh. “I had been conditioned by my own Elders and years of war to expect the very worst. There’s even a sacred clan tablet, with writing from hundreds of years ago, that mentions the Senju as enemies, saying you will always betray us, that it is imprinted in your minds. But it was our minds that were clouded, weren’t it? Where Hashirama kept begging for a chance to prove that there could be peace, it was the Uchiha that resisted. The Uchiha were the paranoid ones who kept the war going for far longer than it should have.”

When Madara looked up, Tobirama’s eyes were unfocused and there was a frown marring his forehead. After a few moments, he asked, “The Uchiha who defected to the Senju—They were all civilians, were they not? Am I right in thinking that they would not have access to read that tablet?”
Not thinking that it was a big secret, Madara shrugged. “It’s not that they don’t have access, it’s more that they simply can’t read it. You have to have the Sharingan in order to decipher the text.”
“So… Nobody not an Uchiha would be able to read it… Perhaps especially no Senju?” Tobirama met Madara’s eyes, and all the Uchiha could do was give him a slow nod, finally catching on to what it was Tobirama might be thinking.
“And this tablet instructs you to not trust any Senju. This sacred tablet.” He paused briefly, but before Madara could think of a suitable reply, Tobirama continued. “Did you know, the Senju also have some ancient writings. Scrolls so old that they are brittle and require handling with the utmost care. They mention the Uchiha, saying you are descended from the brother of our ancestor, meaning we have a common forefather. The Uchiha and the Senju were once one clan. However, something happened, and the two brothers had a falling out. The Senju scripture claims the Uchiha brother betrayed the Senju one, though, given that your tablet claims it was the other way around… I wonder what the truth was?”

Madara’s mind was both racing, and running in circles. Was the whole war between the Senju and the Uchiha founded on sibling rivalry? It seemed ridiculous, but on the other hand… Nobody alive knew what the true start of the war had been. Just that it had been a matter of betrayal. And they had never questioned it. Had never stopped to ask ‘what kind of betrayal?’

What else could he say than, “I’ll have to look into that as well.”
If that tablet had been fanning the flames of war for centuries while purporting to be sacred… It might need to suffer an unfortunate accident. He would need to make sure he had not misread it somehow first though. It, no matter whether it was truly sacred or not, was ancient, and thus a relic. People, especially the elders, would not be happy if he broke it. Though, he was a shinobi. He could make sure he was nowhere near it when it happened. But first, time to re-read that old thing.

There was, however, one more thing before he was prepared to let Tobirama leave. Well, two, if he was honest. The first one being, “I got my brother to look into you. I am not sure if he has found out who you are yet, but it may just be a matter of time. Even if I tell him that I’ve changed my mind and trust you now, his curiosity has been roused.”
Tobirama did not look surprised at this announcement, so perhaps Izuna had been less circumspect than he thought himself to be? In either case, this led towards the second thing. “If we are to compare notes on this, and find a workable excuse to bring you back to your brother, we will need to meet. I hope you now trust that I have no intention to attempt to harm you in any way, no matter how much of an idiot I was in the past, and that… my… feelings regarding you are now very different from back then.” He paused as it occurred to him what this could come across as, so he hurried to clarify, “Not that I expect you to ever return that sentiment, I just… thought you should be aware.”

“Okay. I suppose short missions out of the village would give us time to plan. I can buy us extra time by using the Hiraishin to cut down on any possible travel-time.”
Madara nodded, then a small frown creased his brow. “Wouldn’t it be more expedient to take a longer mission, and get it all out of the way at once?”
Shaking his head, Tobirama explained, “You gave your brother reason to be suspicious of me. Do you really think he would not worry if you went on an extended mission with me? That he would not attempt to spy on us? No, it is better to take several short missions, so that his concern never gets enough time to reach a boiling point.”

Madara knew Tobirama was right. Had known it before he asked his question if he was honest with himself, though a tiny part of him had hoped the younger man would agree to go on a longer mission with just the two of them working together, sharing rooms at an inn, getting more time to talk, and possibly work through their issues. Still, he would get some time with Tobirama. He would just have to make the most out of it.

With a small sigh and a nod, he told Tobirama, “I’ll find a suitable mission and let you know. Until then I’ll be looking into the tablet and the old files, to see what I can dig out.”
“I’ll look into the Senju files. … Is that all? Can I leave? It’s…” Tobirama stopped mid-sentence, leaving Madara to wonder what he had been about to say, but when he had not resumed talking in nearly half a minute, Madara took pity on him and gave a tired nod. Not waiting a second more, Tobirama spun around and made his way out of the room. Not really eager to talk to the Hatake, Madara followed him out, then headed towards the Uchiha main house.

He had not really thought simply talking with Tobirama would magically fix everything, but even so, there had been a stubborn spark of hope that had proved impossible to squash. Well, it was reduced to a blip now.

Falling face first onto his bed, Madara groaned. He should have planned the whole thing better. Why was it that when it came to battlefield tactics, he was a genius, but when it came to flirting tactics, he was a dunce? Izuna had inherited all of those genes. Most of the dates Madara had had over the years, it had been the other person taking the initiative, and Madara had simply accepted. He had never had to work for it. What was he even supposed to do to get Tobirama to like him? Was it even possible? They had the worst possible starting point.

Grinding his face against the pillow, he groaned even louder. Then he pushed himself up and took a deep breath. He was not going to give up. The road ahead might be long, and uphill all the way, but he was not a quitter. And the very first thing he should do was to show that he took his tasks seriously. He needed to have something to show the next time he saw Tobirama. And to do that he needed to visit the Naka shrine and the archives.

Changing his clothes into something a little less conspicuous, Madara pulled his hair up in a ponytail. Like that, he looked like just any random Uchiha. Putting some supplies into a bag, he slung it over one shoulder and headed out.

⁂

Feeling unsure about the path he had just laid out for himself, Tobirama headed back to his apartment, then he paused, glancing around. If Izuna was searching for anything to pin on Arata, the shrine was at risk. Was that how Madara had known his real identity? It had been foolish to put it so close to where he lived, but he had wanted to be able to visit it at a short notice. Which was doubly stupid. He had the Hiraishin! He could have placed the shrine in Suna, and still been able to go there every day. Which… He darted across the street, and in mere moments he had sealed up everything, leaving no trace that it had ever been there. Even the lingering scent of incense blended with all the other incense being burned in the shrine proper, which was part of why he had chosen that spot in the first place. Well, hindsight and all that. He would find a new location when he had time. First he needed to unseal about 890 years worth of files to skim through them.

Chewing on an onigiri some hours later, Tobirama frowned at the scroll open on the reader he had designed and built himself. He had started with the most recent files, hoping to find something useful to explain his departure there, but had not expected to get lucky so fast.

Checking a corresponding file, he frowned. The discrepancy was subtle, but it was there. And once he knew what to look for, which names to suspect, it did not take long before a pattern started to reveal itself.

A few hours more, and one of the walls in Tobirama’s apartment had been turned into a map of events and timelines, with color-coded strings connecting important clues. Seated on a cushion in the middle of the floor, tapping his fingers on a notebook, Tobirama was looking over all he had found so far. He would need access to more recent files, and, preferably, the financial ledgers for the Senju clan if he was to prove this, but so far everything tied together neatly. Almost too neatly, but he knew he would never have noticed this if he had not been searching for something exactly like it. Elder Nichirin had been clever, hiding things in plain sight. Though he was almost sure that she’d had help from Elder Mifune, he just could not prove it yet. But he knew where he could find the evidence. It was only a question if he could get to it.

⁂

Madara was kneeling in front of the tablet, his nose a mere hands-breadth away from the surface, his Mangekyō Sharingan spinning slowly as he examined every scratch and line. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but after reading through everything he could on the tablet for the third time in a matter of minutes, something had been itching in the back of his mind. Something felt off.

It was not the depth of the carving. That was pretty uniform. Almost too uniform, like it had not been carved by a human hand.

It was not the age of the various segments of the writing either, as the patina was even throughout the whole thing.

Nor was it the way the lines had been carved. It seemed to be the same hand that had carved the whole thing.

However, the way things had been phrased… It was odd. The first parts had a certain… flow to it that in later writing, most notably the parts that you needed the Mangekyō Sharingan to read, was interrupted at points, sounding… Well, flat if he was honest. There was also the bit where there had been a lot of warnings about using the Sharingan for selfish things, or simply overusing it, and they had all sounded like sincere warnings, whereas when it came to the latter part, particularly the bits that described the Eternal Tsukuyomi, the warnings sounded… He didn’t want to say it, but the word that fit best was probably tempting. Like when the older children had told a young Madara that he should not go into Naoki-obasan’s kitchen, because there were warm cookies there and he might burn himself. A temptation wrapped in an insincere warning. Yes, exactly like that.

But why the Eternal Tsukuyomi? It didn’t seem like a bad thing. A perfect genjutsu, creating a paradise for the one trapped. What was so bad about it? It could be a kind way for someone crippled in battle to sort of live out their life in a nicer way. Except… The way it was phrased… Where the description ended… Was there another evolution to the Sharingan? Was that where the eye-transplant came into the picture?

Slowly, Madara pieced together more and more information, and it became clearer and clearer that there had to be more hidden on the tablet, but the idea he was left with was that he needed to add some other Uchiha’s eyes to his own in order to read it. However, the way it read… Close by blood and deed… Did that mean…? Izuna?

Madara shook his head. No. No way. That would never happen. No, what he was reading on the tablet already felt wrong. He was not about to blind Izuna just to figure out what else might be on it. It was enough that he no longer trusted that it had been written by someone who had the Uchiha’s best interest in mind.

He rose to his feet, prepared to leave the underground chamber, then he paused. He knew that there was something shady about this, but what about the other members of his clan? Anyone with the basic Sharingan could come to this room to meditate on the wisdom of the tablet. What if someone in his clan had been convinced by the writing that implied that the Senju were practically fated to betray the Uchiha? Writing that, now that he knew what to look for, lacked the flow that other parts had. What if someone in his clan had been working in the shadows to sabotage the Senju, or to give the Uchiha advantages? If they had been preparing for a betrayal, they could have set up any number of traps in preparation for that day. And if they grew convinced enough that it would come, they would be looking for signs. Any little mishap or misstep by the Senju, no matter how innocuous or innocent, could set off a chain of events that could spell disaster for Konoha.

Was Madara just being paranoid for thinking like that? The problem was that he knew his clan. Knew how obsessive anyone with the Sharingan could become over time. This was something he himself could have done if he had reason to think they would go behind his back. And now that he already was being honest with himself, it would not be unthinkable that he would have gone that way if peace had come about by force or underhanded ways. Well, more underhanded than Tobirama’s faked death. Something that Madara, now that he knew the truth, had to admit had been a masterclass in manipulation.

Scoffing at himself, Madara shook his head. All he felt, knowing that, was a sort of warm admiration for Tobirama’s skill, rather than fury over having been the target of said manipulation. Damn, the man was playing him expertly without even trying. He couldn’t even blame Tobirama for the feelings Madara had acquired. Arata had done absolutely nothing to encourage them. Quite the opposite in fact. No, Madara had gone and fallen head over heels for a man that didn’t even show him his face. But now he knew what was hiding behind the mask.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Madara squeezed his eyes shut. He had more important things to worry about. He could not afford to waste time daydreaming about white hair and red eyes. No, right now he needed to find a way to ascertain whether his fears were unfounded or not. But how?

He was sitting there, staring blindly out into the air when he heard the soft shuffle of someone walking down the stairs, and it came to him—if someone had been seduced by the writing on the tablet, they might be returning down here quite often, to reassure themselves that they were on the right track, or simply to check up on details. All Madara would need to do was keep track of who was coming and going, which was a perfect job for his summons.

Rising to his feet, he brushed dust off his pants, gave a shallow bow to the Uchiha who had entered even as he made a note of who it was, then he walked out of there, leaving the other man to his own meditation. As soon as Madara felt hidden from view by the small forest that surrounded the shrine, he summoned five of his cats, ordering them to keep an eye on the shrine and make a list of who entered, when, and how long they stayed. The old mog, Hisako-nekochan, made a jaunty kind of salute with her tail, then she turned around and started to delegate tasks to the younger cats. Madara left them to it, heading home to change before he went looking for a suitable mission. The old files could wait until the evening.

Chapter 3

Seated at a small izakaya in the seedier parts of Tanzaku-gai, Madara and Tobirama exchanged the information they had gathered so far.

“I have found indications that some of the Elders are embezzling funds and undermining anija’s authority on certain matters, but I haven’t been able to collect proof of it yet.” Tobirama took a sip from his cup, put it down, then sighed. “I don’t think it is entirely enough yet, but I suppose I could imply that they had been sabotaging peace efforts as well. After all, now that anija has his village, it is harder for them to keep up their scheme, since all financial decisions are under more scrutiny.”

Madara nodded, chewing and swallowing a piece of inarizushi before he spoke. “Well, I have my summons keeping an eye on the tablet I mentioned earlier, because once I really spent time looking it over, it is clear that it is encouraging distrust of the Senju to a strangely intense degree. It made me wonder if those of the Uchiha who have proved more resistant to integration in the village have been reading that tablet more than the rest.” He paused to drink some more sake, then frowned slightly. “I don’t yet know if anything usable will come out of it, but my gut tells me that it is worth looking into. As for the files we have… I have come to realize that quite a lot of my ancestors came across as extremely paranoid. I mean, more than your average shinobi. There were ramblings about eyes in the dark, and a foul-smelling spirit that kept haunting the settlement. Someone also claimed that they heard whispers at night, but when they checked, nobody was there.”

Madara emptied his cup and nudged it towards Tobirama for a refill before he admitted, “There were… worse things mentioned as well. I know this war has been going on for centuries, but… as long as I’ve been alive, I have not seen… atrocities like what I found in one of the old letters in the archive. Apparently, some two hundred years ago, one of my ancestors kept a Senju shinobi captive and… Uh… cut pieces off him, trying to… He sewed them into his own body.” Looking rather green, Madara pushed the plate away from himself and closed his eyes. “By the time the clan realized what was going on, both the Uchiha and the Senju were too sick with infection to be saved. They were burnt on the same pyre, and a priest was called in to purify the remains. Everyone thought the crazy behavior had to be because of possession. And that’s not the first time that word has been mentioned.”

He fell silent, and Tobirama waited to see if there was more, but after a long enough time had passed, he asked, “Are you thinking of using that? To imply that there is an evil spirit haunting the Uchiha?”

Madara’s forehead hit the counter with a small thud. “I don’t know. That would be throwing some of my dead relatives under the cart, implying that they were the reason I never accepted the peace initially. It would also mean implying that you had something to do with their death, if you want to use this as an excuse for your disappearance.”

Tobirama picked up his cup again, shrugging. “I have done worse.”

Madara rubbed a hand over his face, then he picked his cup up as well, draining it. As he put it down again, he glanced towards Tobirama. “Let’s wait and dig some more before we decide on a course of action. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and something crops up that will fit much better than a secret assassination of a random Uchiha.”

Tobirama nodded. He still needed to collect the evidence of betrayal within the Senju, and something more might crop up there too. For now, he had a mission to get through, together with a Madara who was very different from the one Tobirama remembered from the war.

Oh, the change had been there from the moment the Hatake had joined Konoha, but back then, Tobirama had told himself that Madara only behaved like that towards him because he thought Tobirama really was Arata. Now however, that excuse no longer worked. Madara knew that Arata was Tobirama, and he had not gone back to the hostility from the war.

In fact, Madara still behaved as if he had a crush on him. Not in any obvious way, mind you, but it was there, in the furtive glances and the way he was clearly trying to make a good impression on Tobirama, by being polite, and offering to buy him food, or giving him the more interesting tasks on the mission.

Tobirama did not know what to make of that. This was still the man who had killed who he thought was Tobirama, and buried him in the forest. The fact that Madara claimed that he had been sure it was a trick… Well, it was not something Tobirama could verify. He didn’t have the Sharingan. His memories did not remain crisp and clear, able to be trusted even years after the fact. No, it was quite possible that Madara’s expression had not been as gleeful as he remembered it. That he had been shocked instead. And that he had not been dismissive when he buried Tobirama’s clone and left, but rather had been acting in a panic. It was possible. Tobirama could not deny that. And it left him confused.

⁂

They had been on two more missions, and Tobirama had a tentative plan for how to go about getting his hands on the proof of the embezzling and manipulations of the Senju Elders, but Madara’s progress had been slow. Therefore he was delighted when the clowder handed in their report, informing him of a new development. That delight immediately crashed and burned when he read the report.

He had to read it twice before looking up at Hisako-nekochan, who was sitting there cleaning a paw. When he spoke, Madara’s voice was tight with tension. “Are you really saying that the evil spirit haunting the Uchiha is real?!”
The cat gave a full-body shrug. “What is a spirit? What is real? If shadows moving on their own, whispering in the ears of people and convincing them to write letters can be considered a spirit, then yes, it is there, and it is clearly planning something, considering the things we overheard.”

Madara looked down at the report again. A letter to Takigakure, containing information about Hashirama’s schedule for the next month. The implication was clear. It was a setup for an ambush. Did the spirit want Hashirama dead? Or was it aiming to kidnap him? What for? To set Madara up as the next Hokage? Or to try to steal Hashirama’s bloodline?

He needed to get his hands on that letter, but when he checked, he found that the hawk had already departed. Well, he knew the destination, so he called up a quartet of summons that specialized in retrieval and tasked them with getting their paws on that letter as soon as possible, to bring it to him as evidence in the upcoming trial. Because there was no way Madara was going to let such a betrayal against the village go. No, he was going to root out each and every member of his clan involved in this treachery and see them stripped of rank and freedom.

But first he needed to update Tobirama on the latest development.

Searching through Konoha with his senses, he found the particular chakra in the Flower District, something that immediately sent a flare of jealousy through him. Rushing there, he almost slipped on a roof-tile when he spotted Izuna hanging over a ledge, peering down, clearly spying on Tobirama.

Coming to a stop beside his brother, he gave him a sharp grin when Izuna twisted his neck to glare at him. Neither spoke, just turned their attention towards their common target.

Tobirama, still in his disguise as Arata, was standing with his arms crossed, appearing to be berating another Hatake. They could not hear what he was saying over the din of the street, and the angle was wrong to read his lips, but the posture and general body-language of the man he was speaking to suggested that whatever was said was a lecture on something.

As he watched, cold dread suddenly slithered up Madara’s spine. Standing like that, it was suddenly obvious that this was Tobirama. He had seen him with that posture, berating Hashirama on the battlefield often enough in the past, and while Madara already knew that this was Tobirama, there was a chance that Izuna would also recognize this.

Attempting to distract him, Madara nudged his brother, almost making him slip and fall off the ledge. “So, what have your investigation revealed so far that I would not already know from having gone on missions with the guy?”

Scrambling to right his grip, Izuna once more glared at Madara. “Don’t do that! I almost fell!”
Madara had no sympathy. “You are a shinobi. If that was enough to send you tumbling, then you wouldn’t have made it so far in life.”

Izuna grumbled, but his eyes were no longer on Tobirama, so Madara would put up with it. “Well, any new information?”
With a heartfelt sigh, Izuna pouted. “No. Like that little show down there proves, he is clearly high in the hierarchy. The other Hatake listen to him. He also doesn’t have any vices that I’ve been able to spot. He barely drinks, and never to excess. He doesn’t take any other drugs that I know of. He doesn’t even visit the brothels, so either he has a really low libido or he has a way to relieve pressure that I haven’t been able to detect.” Here Izuna gave Madara a suspicious side-eye, but given that he, to his disappointment, was not Tobirama’s secret lover, he ignored it.

“I’ve also been unable to locate any shrine, so it is possible he simply is not religious.”
Here Madara interjected, “Or he keeps the shrine in a sealing scroll, to have it with him at all times.”
“Yes, or that. In any case, he is a curious blend of Hatake mannerisms and something else that I haven’t been able to determine the origins of.”
Madara didn’t comment on that. Instead he listened to Izuna’s increasingly inconsequential list of things he had observed, until he felt reasonably sure that Tobirama’s secret was still safe for now. Then he interrupted Izuna. “Well, I’ll be dragging him with me on a mission now, so you’ll get a few days off from your spying to catch up on your other tasks. I left some onigiri in the fridge, but you’ll have to find someone else to mooch off for dinner.”

Izuna huffed and spluttered and denied mooching, but Madara grinned and turned a deaf ear, instead jumping down from the roof to land neatly next to Tobirama, sending the Hatake beside him stumbling backwards in shock. There may also have been a glint of a kunai that was drawn and sheathed in the same moment, in an instinctual defensive reaction. Tobirama on the other hand didn’t move an inch. He must have known Madara was there, which meant that he had probably known about Izuna as well.

As a greeting, he informed the younger man, “My brother is convinced you have the world’s lowest libido.”
Tobirama gave him a stare so flat that Madara was sure his ninneko would have been impressed. “Is that your way of trying to goad me into proving him wrong?”

The Hatake Tobirama had been speaking to made a noise like a punctured balloon, then he vanished in a flurry of leaves and shed dog-fur. Tobirama barely glanced after him before sighing and turning to fully face Madara. “New mission?”
“New mission. Takigakure this time. Though I have some information you need to read through first. Lunch at my office?”

There was a flicker of suspicion in Tobirama’s eyes, but he agreed and followed Madara to the administration building, stopping along the way for some takeaway food. As soon as they had stepped inside Madara’s personal office, he closed the door behind them and activated the privacy seals that Mito had graciously supplied to every high-ranking official in Konoha.

Tobirama grabbed the visitor’s chair, pulling it up to the desk and nudging aside a pile of paper to create space for his lunch. Madara almost fell into his own chair, glared at the contents on his desk, and pushed aside more of the papers, halfway tempted to chuck it all on the floor. He didn’t, but it was a close thing.

Once they were eating, he pondered how to phrase things. He should probably start with the most important bit. “So, there are two things… The first one is that there is at least one traitor in my clan. Which is why we’re going to have to fake a mission to Takigakure, because a letter was sent there, giving information about Hashirama, and I need to know if this means they are stupid enough to send an assassin or a retrieval crew after him. We also need to gather as much evidence as we can of any collaboration between the member of my clan and Taki, in order to take legal action against the traitor, and political action against Taki.”

Tobirama swallowed the last piece of grilled fish, put his chopsticks down, leaned back in the chair and gave Madara a narrow-eyed stare. “Why did that letter leave Konoha in the first place?”
“Because I was not informed about its existence until it had already been sent. I am fast, but even I cannot keep up with a hawk.”

The glare retreated, and with a small sigh, Tobirama gave him that one. “True.” Then he tilted his head slightly. “And the second thing?”
Madara stared intently at his food for a moment, stabbing a single grain of rice so that it split in two. “Well, according to my summons, there actually is an evil spirit haunting the Uchiha. They observed it in our sacred shrine, speaking to the member of my clan that sent off that letter. I have no idea what it is plotting, but clearly, given what I’ve been reading in old letters and journals from our archives, it must have been around for a long time.”
“Wait, you’re telling me that the real curse of the Uchiha is a malevolent spirit?”
“I mean, I have not seen it myself, but… it looks that way?”

“Do we need a priest then? A bunch of ofuda? What?”
Madara was pleased that Tobiarama had not immediately assumed he was joking, but presumably the Senju had had their fair share of missions involving lesser yōkai and other nuisances. But an actual evil spirit that was manipulating events, now that was not your common fare. In fact, Madara could think of only one person in Konoha that might know of a way to defeat such an entity. “I think it is time we brought in outside help.”
“Anija?”
“No. Mito-hime.”

At that, Tobirama gave him a surprised look, but he did not object. He probably knew Mito’s skills better than even Madara did.

They discussed a few more things, like the wording of the fake mission and who to use as a fake client, and when they would depart, which was agreed on would need to be as soon as possible. Then they split up, and Madara headed to get an audience with Mito, to explain the problem to her, so that she, hopefully, would have a solution by the time they got back.

Madara was feeling more hopeful than he had in a long time.

⁂

The mission request had been snuck into the pile of open missions, and accepted officially by Madara less than ten minutes later. Tobirama had packed his supplies, let his new clan know that he would be away, and stood by the gate, waiting for Madara. The sun had yet to set.

Somewhere off to his left he sensed Izuna’s chakra. How the younger Uchiha brother had time to spy on him this much in person, especially with his responsibilities both as Uchiha clan head, and as head of the Intelligence Division, Tobirama had no idea, but he was looking forward to some days out of the village, simply for the chance to not sense that itching Raiton-heavy chakra at his back all the time.

In a way, it was a relief that Madara now knew, because it meant that Tobirama would not need to be on high alert all the time, fearing that one of his old mannerisms would slip through and blow his cover. That was already over and done with, and he had survived it.

It also meant that he was free to use his signature jutsu with impunity, no matter that Madara insisted it was dizzying to travel by Hiraishin. It was far faster than to travel on foot, even as a shinobi, so Tobirama would not budge. And especially not when it was possible that his brother’s life might be on the line.

Checking on Madara’s chakra and finding it in Hashirama’s office, Tobirama leaned against the wall of the guard booth with a small sigh. He couldn’t complain about Madara informing the Hokage about where he would be heading. It was a good thing he had a marker well on the way to Taki, so he could make up for the lost time.

While he waited, he watched the guards search various carts full of produce that were making their way into Konoha. Despite there being a lot of farmers inside the village walls now, what they were growing was not enough to feed all the inhabitants. Especially not with Obon just a day away.

For his own entertainment, he manipulated the water in a few of the cucumbers on one of the carts, making them jump, and in turn getting both guards to fix their eyes on that spot until another cucumber moved. He took pity on the farmhand when he started to splutter excuses, insisting that the cucumbers had been perfectly normal when they were loaded onto the cart, and he had not passed by a cemetery or anywhere where they were likely to be possessed.

Huffing out a small laugh, just enough to get the guards to glance his way, he splayed his fingers out and displayed a few short chakra strings, giving them the impression that was how he had made the cucumbers move. One of them gave him a halfhearted glare, while the other one rolled his eyes before waving the cart on.

Fortunately, Madara arrived before the guards could get it into their head to berate him, and Tobirama gave them a jaunty little wave before darting out the gate. He caught Madara giving him a confused look, but chose to not elaborate.

That was the last bit of levity for that mission. As soon as they were out of view of any of the sentries, Tobirama moved closer to Madara and put his hand on the Uchiha’s bicep, wrenching them through space and time to a location only a few hours out of Taki. Madara growled at the sudden jump, but to his credit he immediately changed direction and kept running this time.

They ran side by side until the roar of the waterfalls of Taki could be heard clearly, then they split up to make their separate ways into the village. Tobirama used the cover of the mist that hung heavy in the air, running down the side of one of the waterfalls, leaping into cover behind a house just moments before a patrol turned in his direction.

The moist air clung to his skin, soaking into his clothes quickly, making them cling to his body. Quickly making his way further from the waterfall, he mapped out all the chakra signatures in the village, and the empty spots, sure signs that someone had hidden their chakra there. He avoided what was surely guards, weaving around them with practiced ease. Soon the central building came into view, and shortly after, Tobirama was seated in an isakaya with a decent view of the main entrance, his true features hidden under a henge. He barely had time to order before Madara slipped into the vacant seat next to him.

They started an innocent conversation about low quality kunai that rusted in the humid climate while they waited. Before they had exhausted that topic, a cat wound its way between their legs, stretching up against Madara’s legs, begging for scraps. When it left, a folded note disappeared from Madara’s thigh and into his sleeve. It was a time and location for them to meet up with the ninneko. They finished the meal they had ordered, then agreed to head closer to the harbor, to another watering hole.

Before they arrived at that location, they had vanished, slipping into the shadows, to enter a deserted warehouse where it was clear that the cats had made themselves a temporary base inside a large empty crate.

The letter was delivered to Madara, but the ninneko was sad to announce that it had been read by the recipient before they had been able to replace it with a copy. Since then, the recipient had been stuck in a meeting with five other old men and a crotchety old lady that kept jabbing them with her embroidery needle every time she disliked what they said. Two members of the clowder had managed to sneak into the room and were paying close attention to the discussions, but what they had confirmed was that it was indeed plans for an assassination attempt on Hashirama, to weaken Konoha, because Taki feared that with Land of Fire’s shinobi forces consolidated in one village, the daimyō might set his eyes on the surrounding smaller countries, to expand his borders, and out of all those countries, Taki, with the river harbor and fertile soil, would be high on the list.

It was not an entirely stupid thought to have, if you didn’t know Hashirama like they did. The current Hokage would never go along with it, and would find a way to charm the daimyō into reconsidering his plans to find a peaceful and diplomatic solution instead. In fact, replacing Hashirama might actually put Taki more at risk. Was that part of the plan for that evil spirit? Was this how it planned to increase its power, by sowing discord across vast areas? Tobirama regretted not paying more attention to how supernatural creatures evolved and what rules they operated under. It was a gap in his knowledge that he would seek to remedy when he had time to spare for such pursuits again.

For now, all they could do was wait and see what the Taki Elders concluded. At least, if they decided to make use of the knowledge the Konoha traitor had sent them, Tobirama and Madara would be in a prime position to take out the assassin as soon as he or she left for Konoha.

Taking a leaf out of the summons’ book, Tobirama made himself a small nest inside a crate, out of view if anyone were to peek inside the warehouse during the night. An array of seals set up a warning system that would notify him if anything bigger than a cat came into the building. That done, he ate a ration-bar, drank half a bottle of water, and went to sleep.

Just before nodding off, he caught Madara inspecting the other abandoned crates, presumably following his lead.

They were rudely awoken the next morning by way of claws to a bare wrist and someone yowling in their faces, “Wake up! They have an agent already in Konoha!”

Tobirama scrambled out of his crate, slapping a hand on his sealing-scroll to instantly pack up his bedding, then he checked his gear. “What happened? How did you miss that?”

Madara rolled out of a crate, looking slightly ruffled but just as awake as Tobirama was. He glared at the ninneko, but didn’t interrupt the report.

⁂

Yume-nekochan looked contrite as she informed him, “It turns out that Taki had already sent an operative to Konoha, to infiltrate and relay information back, but one of the Elders went behind the other’s back, and sent off a message with a new mission for him as soon as he heard about the contents of the letter. This information came out when a brawl broke out between two of the other Elders over what action to take. The hawk should have already arrived there if it flew through the night. I’m sorry, but… Hokage-sama is in danger. Miku is trying to dig up information about the assassin, but all we know so far is that it is a man called Kakuzu.”

“Clean up here and grab whatever information you can, then return to Konoha. We’ll head back there now, to find this man.” He held his hand out, trusting Tobirama to know what he wanted. The younger man did not disappoint him, grabbing his hand, then the world swirled around them.

It was obvious they were back in Konoha, and with a faint feeling of embarrassment, Madara recognized Arata’s apartment. He should not know what it looked like, so he looked around, pretending to take it in. Whether Tobirama bought it or not did not really matter, as the man immediately rushed towards the door, and Madara followed him.

Even though it was still early, people had started to mill about in the streets as vendors were setting up their stalls, or people were heading off to work. The assassin could be among them, or he could be in hiding, biding his time. “I’ll keep an eye on anija. You need to alert ANBU and Intelligence. The Hyūga could also come in handy right now.”

Madara winced at the last comment, but he didn’t object. This was one instance where he could agree that the Byakugan was better suited. They split up, and Madara rushed towards the Administration building, reaching out with his senses to find Izuna. He took a hard left when he realized Izuna was still at home, presumably starting the Obon rituals as the clan head. Hikaku would have to take over, using a henge so as to not alert the traitor to what was up.

⁂

Tobirama found Hashirama quickly. He was by the shrine, hard at work cleaning it before he had to go to work. Settling in atop a shed, hidden by the leaves of a wide sakura-tree, Tobirama used all his senses to keep the whole area under surveillance.

He could not deny that the more people showed up to care for their own families’ shrines, the more Tobirama’s anxiety started to spike. He didn’t know all of these people. Couldn’t say for certain that they belonged to the village, and only had to trust that the other shinobi would notice if someone was a stranger, or behaved out of character.

By the time Hashirama was finally done and headed towards the Administration building, Tobirama was not sure if he was relieved or not. Hashirama himself would be more on the alert when moving through a crowd, but on the other hand, it was much easier to get really close before trying to strike.

Regretting not having changed out of mission clothes, which would make him stand out in the street, Tobirama threw on a henge and moved a little ahead of Hashirama, using the window on one of the shops as a mirror to keep an eye on his brother as he wound his way among the civilians. Why did his brother insist on taking the long route? Was this another one of those ‘The public needs to feel like they can approach me’ things? In some ways, Hashirama might be right, but right now Tobirama wished it was not so. He was on his toes, ready to jump at the slightest sign that Hashirama was under attack.

⁂

As soon as he had informed Izuna, and Hikaku had been tagged in for the clan head duties, the two of them threw on henges and headed for the ANBU offices. Madara filled Izuna in on the way there, then they split up, with Madara gritting his teeth as he sought out the Hyūga clan head. He hated having to reveal that there was a traitor in his clan, especially to a Hyūga, but this was too important for him to let his pride get in the way. Fortunately, Hyūga Hayami was immediately willing to listen, and in short order she had delegated her tasks to her heir, and snagged three of her most trustworthy clan members to assist.

With four Hyūga on his tail, Madara headed towards where he could sense Hashirama’s chakra.

“Isaye-chan, check the Administration building. If anything at all strikes you as odd, alert ANBU.”
“Hai!” The younger Hyūga split off at the order from her clan head. Likewise, the two remaining ones were directed to other parts of the path Hashirama would follow. Then only Hayami remained by Madara’s side, her Byakugan already on.

Leaping from the roof of a baker’s to the red tiled roof above a grocer’s, she idly commented. “That young Hatake you went on a mission with is already down in the street, close to the Hokage. Is he in on this?”
“Yes. He has been helping me investigate.” Madara didn’t elaborate further, just attempted to pinpoint Tobirama in the crowd ahead. Whatever he had done, it made it hard to sense him, and that worried Madara slightly. What if someone mistook Tobirama for the assassin? He should have mentioned that to Izuna before he left.

“There are four ANBU on the Hokage right now, but there appears to be twelve more heading this way.” Hayami sounded cool and collected, but Madara noticed her discreetly pulling her ring off and tying it to her belt. Preparing to fight?

A sudden, sharp motion from her had him tense up, especially as she sped up, shouting, “The Hokage is under attack!”
Madara kicked off from the roof, not caring if the tiles cracked under the force.

⁂

Tobirama had been following the trader with his eyes for twelve seconds, watching him winding his little cart through the crowd with a bit more finesse than you’d expect from a middle-aged merchant. Moving closer, he leapt at the same time as a brace of senbon went flying. In a matter of two seconds, the whole street erupted in motion as civilians were pushed out of the way by large roots bursting out of the soil and shinobi were pulling weapons, preparing to fight.

He had assumed that with so many shinobi, as well as Hashirama, the God of Shinobi, there, it would have been over quick, but he had not counted on the assassin using the civilians as a sort of shield, diving underground, only surfacing briefly to make another attack aimed at Hashirama, who was too busy trying to get the civilians to safety to properly defend himself.

In an attempt at forcing the assassin out, Tobirama flooded the entire street with half a foot of water. He felt Hashirama’s chakra stutter at that, and realized he might have given himself away. However, even worse, the assassin had taken advantage of Hashirama’s distraction, and rose out of the ground right behind the Hokage. Not thinking, just acting, Tobirama used the Hiraishin, putting himself between the attacker and his brother. The sound of steel against steel screeched loudly, and Tobirama gritted his teeth. The attacker was strong. However, the delay caused by Tobirama blocking his swing meant that several senbon hit home in the unknown shinobi’s shoulder. Sinking back underground had to have been excruciatingly painful, not to mention the vast amounts of water that followed him.

Tobirama was tracking him with his senses, doing his best to predict where the man might reappear, but he too was distracted when Hashirama spun towards him and exclaimed loudly enough for the whole street to hear, “Tobirama?!”

Realizing that his cover was blown anyway, he disabled the seals keeping his hair a few shades darker and his eyes gray. No point in wasting chakra on that any longer. Pulling the mask down, he jabbed his elbow into Hashirama’s side. “Focus! The assassin is under us!”

To his credit, Hashirama jumped out of the way mere moments before the foreign shinobi shot out of the churned up mud, sword first. The spot he emerged was right in front of Tobirama, which was why he was the first to notice the change. The eyes that met him were glowing golden and filled with malice. So focused on it that he missed the way the sword was descending towards him, Tobirama blanched when a katana swung through the air just above his head, crashing against the assassin’s sword. Then he felt Madara’s chakra blazing against his back.

He only had a fraction of a moment to process that Madara had just saved his life, then he had to focus back on the battle.

It quickly became clear to everyone around that something had changed with their opponent. As if the glowing yellow eyes were not enough, he was moving faster, his strikes harder, and every so often, patches of his skin would gloss over with black patches, dark as a void.

The circle cleared of civilians kept spreading outwards as shinobi worked hard on evacuating them, and the nearest buildings started to take damage, forcing more and more people away. If they did not end this soon, someone might die.

Almost as if the creature had read his mind, one of the arms of the shinobi stretched out, impossibly long, sword pointed straight at Hashirama.

Only to crash with a ringing chime against a barrier that shimmered in the air. The tinkling of bells sounded in the air, heralding her arrival. Landing next to Madara, graceful like a crane, Mito held both hands out towards the possessed assassin, golden adamantine sealing chains shooting out of her palms, winding around the man, tighter and tighter. For a moment it looked like he had two heads, as the evil spirit attempted to pull free, but then he was wrapped up from head to toe.

Holding her chains with one hand, Mito snapped one of the seals off her buns, licked it, and slapped it against the middle of the metallic cocoon. It looked like the seal expanded, wrapping around the trapped assassin, then it absorbed the whole bundle and rapidly shrank in size, fluttering down. Mito snatched it out of the air.

Around her, everyone fell silent. A few of the more sensible ones looked at her with fear in their eyes, while Hashirama looked utterly besotted. He darted in and picked the petite woman up, spinning her around, laughing. “You are amazing, my love!”

Then, as if he just remembered, he dropped her back down, keeping one arm around her, and turned slowly towards where Tobirama stood, Madara still at his back. Hashirama’s expression was unreadable. But not for long. A trembling smile split his face, and he burst out, “You found my horse!”

Utterly baffled, Tobirama paused halfway to sheathing his sword. “I… What?”
Holding his hand out, as if wanting to touch Tobirama, but fearing what he might find, Hashirama’s voice was a little wobbly. “The cucumber horse I made for you! I gave it eight legs so it would be super-fast, like you!”
Pushing the sword all the way into the scabbard, Tobirama moved closer, carefully taking his brother’s hand. “Anija… I am not dead.” There was a small pause, before an incredulous, “Eight legs? I don’t think horses work like that.”

He didn’t manage to say anything else before Hashirama had pulled him into a crushing hug. Somehow, Mito had dodged out of Hashirama’s grasp before she was included in the hug, but she put her hand on Tobirama’s shoulder, as if she too wanted to be sure he really was there.

⁂

By the time they had filled Hashirama and his wife in on the basics, and made sure that cleanup was started, Izuna and the other clan heads all wanted a full account of what had happened. It was decided to have an impromptu council meeting, where Tobirama and Madara explained what they had found out and how they had known about the ambush before it happened. Of course, it was a heavily edited story, interspersed with just enough truth to make it believable, but still keep the true reason behind Tobirama’s faked death hidden.

Fortunately, Tobirama and Madara seemed to work seamlessly together to spin the tale, how Tobirama had found discrepancies, and while tracking them, had stumbled across an implication that similar things took place within the Uchiha clan. He had then, under cover, contacted Madara, and when Madara investigated, it became clear that it ran deeper than mere embezzling. Unfortunately, Tobirama had let something slip to one of his contacts that he suspected the spirit had overheard, because the one he talked to had died. That was when Tobirama had decided that he needed to be free to do more digging, and they needed to make the spirit believe that it had gotten away with it. Thus his disappearance, pretending that he had died on a mission. He had hoped that it would not take that long to figure out what the spirit wanted, but even though Madara had become impatient, and given the things he had found in the Uchiha archives, thought it might force the spirit’s hand to make peace with the Senju, it had still been almost two years.

It didn’t look like anyone questioned the story, probably since they had almost all actually seen the possessed assassin, but Izuna was pissed at Madara for not being included in the plan. Then he asked why Madara had voiced his suspicions about Arata, but Madara had an answer for that as well. “We needed to make sure his cover held, and if you couldn’t see through it, I felt reasonably sure that the spirit would not either.”

With all the threads neatly tied up—the paper seal with the evil spirit sealed inside a sturdy box, Tobirama back by Hashirama’s side, and the explanation out of the way, Madara felt that this had concluded just about as well as he could have hoped.

Waiting for Izuna up on the roof of the Administration building, Madara sat looking out across the village. The village that had only come about because of Tobirama’s cunning.

A tiny part of Madara still insisted that he should be ashamed for being manipulated so easily, but it was being overshadowed by the part that was actually grateful for the machinations. The Uchiha clan was safer than they had been in as long as the archives went back. Izuna had taken over as clan head and settled into the role, leaving Madara free to do missions and whatever else he might fancy.

Perhaps he should take a longer mission, as a vacation?

He heard someone land with a soft thud behind him, but almost as if his body knew before his mind did, Madara didn’t even tense up. With a few steps, Tobirama was beside him, sitting down on the warm tiles.

The silence persisted for a few moments, before the younger man spoke in a soft voice, “You saved my life.”

It took Madara a few moments to remember what Tobirama was talking about. In the heat of the battle, his instincts took over, and he had just reacted, protecting that which was precious to him. With a noncommittal hum, he leaned back, looking up at the late summer sky. A lone hawk circled high above. He could feel those once-more red eyes boring into him, but honestly didn’t know what to say.

Before the silence could become uncomfortable, Tobirama spoke again. “You helped save my anija, and you helped bring me home. I guess I can give you a chance to convince me.”

One of Madara’s palms slipped on the tile when he twisted towards the Senju, causing him to fall backwards, scrambling to catch himself. Leaning on his elbows, looking up, he found Tobirama leaning over him with a curious smile on his face.

Needing to be sure, he asked, “What…? Does that mean…?”
That curious smile was absolutely a smirk. “I’m asking you out on a date.”

Above them, the hawk let out a cry, and swooped down, circling another hawk that had just taken flight from one of the many aviaries in Konoha.

Notes:

Notes: At some point I copied a single line from a fic into a document because it inspired me. Stupid as I was I didn’t think to write down which fic it was from (although I have a vague memory that it might have been one of Keanblade’s works?), so if anyone happens to recognize this, please let me know in a comment.

The line that inspired this fic:
“the man who wanted him dead so badly that he'd made it the sole condition to end an entire war.”