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Tobirama was a shinobi. He was born and raised as a warrior of the Senju clan. However, sometimes… he couldn't help but wonder.
The dark sky was brightened by numerous lanterns strung together along the path. Loud and joyful chatter blocked the natural sounds of the night. Adults manned stands, celebrating and selling activities, trinkets, and food. Children either ran in groups or waddled after their parents, laughter bubbling through the streets.
Amongst but away from the crowd, a young pale boy with hair light like the moonlight stood in front of a wall of masks.
Tobirama wasn't sure what came over him. He hadn't intended to stop in this village longer than what was necessary to restock his supplies after his mission. He had been sent out to gather information on a growing merchant group by their competitor and was now on his way home after being away for a week. Given the distance and his remaining inventory, he stopped by a quaint civilian village near the Land of Grass after passing the border back into the Land of Fire.
Yet, the young Senju found himself drawn to the local festival the village was holding as if enchanted by its music, lights, and merriness.
Except, what was one supposed to do in these circumstances?
Tobirama stood there lost, staring at the masks to pretend he was just interested in the pretty display of goods. He stood there probably for much too long; however, the boy-genius decided to use his age to his advantage so anyone that saw him would just see an enthralled child at his first festival, awestruck—as much as he loathed to be compared to a regular child. Nonetheless, Tobirama knew his time was running out. Soon someone would approach him with how long he stayed there or the owner of the stand would just kick him out if he wasn't going to buy anything.
“Hey Oji-san! I'll take that mask.” Perhaps, he should buy a mask now like that kid.
Tobirama's attention was drawn to the storekeeper taking the money from a dark-haired boy. The kid looked a few years older than him, maybe the same age as Hashirama, and wore a casual dark blue yukata. However, that wasn't all that caught Tobirama's sharp eyes.
This kid… he’s a shinobi.
As a natural sensor, Tobirama was more perceptive than the average ninja, child or not. This boy had chakra and quite an abundance of it. He was probably from some huge clan and, judging by his features, the list narrowed in the genius' head and it still included his clan’s archnemesis—the Uchiha. In fact, Tobirama was positive his hypothesis was correct; this boy was an Uchiha.
It was good that Tobirama's appearance was unlike the typical Senju, though the Senju tended to vary more than the Uchiha did in looks.
“Here,” Suddenly, darkness covered his vision and snapped Tobirama from his contemplation. It took him a second to jostle the mask to the side so it was no longer limiting his vision. The dark-haired boy was in front of him with a knowing smirk. “You wanted this right?”
The silver-haired boy gaped. Why was he talking to him?!
“Come on, we shouldn't get in the way now.” The boy's voice was gentle, his dark eyes soft, and his hand around Tobirama's own was warm as he tugged him away from the mask stand.
Behind them, the uncle manning the mask stand wished them to enjoy the festivities before going back to his sales pitch.
Tobirama's mind swam. He couldn't comprehend what this kid was trying to do. Did he know?! Was he dragging Tobirama away from the civilians so he could kill him in cold blood?!
The silver-haired boy didn't resist as the dark-haired boy dragged him aside, away from the crowd of the festival. They stood in the dark shadows of the surrounding woods, hidden from the bright lanterns but near enough to still see the festive streets.
“Hey, you're a shinobi, right?” The Uchiha boy asked now that they were alone.
Tobirama tensed, “... What about it?”
“Well, I am too.” The Uchiha smirked.
That only shot panic through the Senju, but he hastily drowned the feeling to not reveal weakness.
“It's easy to recognize that we both stand out like sore thumbs amongst that crowd.” The dark-haired boy pointed back to the festival with his thumb. “I won’t ask what you're here for, and I'm not telling either.”
“Obviously,” Tobirama snorted, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, a ‘thank you’ would be nice, you know?” The Uchiha scowled. “I did just save you from blowing your cover and I bought you that mask!”
“I could have bought it myself,” Tobirama sniffed, crossing his arms so he didn't reach for the mask. He couldn't refute about receiving help from the other boy though as much as he wanted to. He wasn't bull-headed.
“Sure,” The other boy flashed an infuriating smirk. “Do you even have enough money for that?”
Tobirama's eye twitched. He did not enjoy being underestimated. “I do.”
“Prove it.”
He swore he would wipe that smirk off the older boy’s face.
This time, it's Tobirama that took the other boy’s hand and dragged them back into the festival.
“What do you want?” He goaded the older kid, motioning to the stands.
“Your treat? Are you sure you can even afford it?”
Tobirama's glare was enough of an answer for the Uchiha to scan the area. Finally, the boy decided on takoyaki and Tobirama paid for the snack. They stood to the side again to eat the treat.
The other boy took one and blew on the piping hot orb. After a few seconds of blowing, he ate the whole thing rather than taking bites out of it.
Tobirama scrunched his nose at the display. Perhaps it was an Uchiha thing, but normally people would need more than a few seconds to get the takoyaki cool enough for consumption.
“Huh, it's actually good.” The boy blinked in surprise. He probably wasn't expecting festival food to be all that good; it tended to be just decent, so Tobirama understood the sentiment. The boy continued to eat, only to stop after his third one to give Tobirama a scrutinizing look. “Aren't you going to eat?”
“You can have it,” Tobirama didn't want to burn his mouth if he tried to eat any of them now. He preferred not suffering for weeks waiting for it to heal.
The older boy didn't take his refusal well though. “Come on, it's not like it'll kill you to enjoy while you can.” He pushed the takoyaki plate toward him. “Besides, you look like you haven't eaten anything decent for days.”
“I eat just fine,” Tobirama crossed his arms. He had been living off rations for the past few days while traveling back to the Land of Fire as was a staple for most ninja on missions.
“Just have some already! I'll feel bad if you don't.” The Uchiha persisted, huffing. “It's like I'm stealing candy from a baby.”
Tobirama’s brows furrowed. “That's not how you're supposed to use that phrase, and I'm not a baby!” He couldn’t help but snap at the other kid. Logically, he knew that the boy wasn’t calling him a baby, but he didn’t appreciate being demeaned by someone else, especially someone that couldn’t be that much older than him. “I'm ten.”
“Well, I'm twelve.” The indeed older boy looked proud of the obvious. As if age determined superiority, Tobirama didn’t even need to try to get his elder brother to roll on the floor; though, that was more because he was Hashirama but also in part because of his own competency. “So, as your elder, you should listen to me.” The dark-haired boy stabbed a takoyaki and blew on it for a bit before raising it toward the younger. “Here, I even blew it for you. Eat.”
The silver-haired boy grimaced, “You know, that's still much too hot for me to consume, right?”
“Hah?” The Uchiha looked offended, but complied without much argument. He blew on the takoyaki some more—but, definitely not enough for Tobirama. “There, for you, little Mr. Sensitive.”
Tobirama scowled at the other child but didn’t want to make more of a fuss in case the kid decided it was smart to just shove the still-hot snack into his mouth. Instead, he blew on the takoyaki ball some more before allowing it into his mouth. He didn’t take bites as he would usually since he didn’t want to invite more criticism from the other boy. However, that was certainly a mistake. He should have listened to reason and not pride.
Hot!
Tobirama breathed rapidly, trying to cool the molten lava in his mouth without vomiting it out on the other boy’s foot. He even utilized his cool water-natured chakra in an effort to protect the insides of his mouth from burns. Thankfully, it was enough to prevent more than a minor burn.
He wasn’t the only one to regret this.
The older boy flailed, unsure of what to do beyond being utterly unhelpful. He winced, “Sorry, I wasn't expecting that. I didn't think you really couldn't handle it.”
Tears crept up in the corner of Tobirama’s eyes as he glared daggers at the other boy. “That's why I told you.” He managed to seethe out after swallowing the somewhat cooled-down takoyaki.
“It's my bad. I forget that other clans don't tend to have the same heat tolerance…” Yeah, this boy was definitely an Uchiha. Their signature jutsu practically had them breathing fire. The older kid mulled over something for a moment before his expression morphed into determination. “Alright, wait here!” The boy ran off, leaving Tobirama behind.
This was the perfect chance to escape. Yet, Tobirama didn’t. He reached up for the mask that the other boy had bought him and took it off. It was a fox mask, beautiful in a way that fit the kitsune youkai that was said to be a master at transformation and seduction. Though, the civilians who made the mask likely gave it no greater meaning than the aesthetic.
Why did he choose this one? Does he like foxes? Or, did he think I wanted it?
Tobirama was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the other boy returning until there was something cool and moist against his cheek. He jolted for a split second, but swiftly recognized the intruder and relaxed slightly.
The dark-haired boy was holding two glass bottles that he realized were the fizzy drinks popular amongst civilians. “Here! Something cool to help.”
“... Thanks.” Tobirama took the glass held up to his cheeks. It was promising and soothing.
They both opened their bottles which thankfully did not explode on them, proving the other boy’s skills passively. It showed that the older hadn’t shaken the drinks when he maneuvered through the crowd.
The older boy chugged a gulp before exhaling dramatically. “Haaah! That's the stuff!”
Tobirama hummed behind the bottle. He had to agree, the drink was very refreshing.
The Uchiha shook his bottle lightly in thought. “Normally, I wouldn't drink this fizzy stuff. We don't really have the luxury for it.”
“Me neither.” Tobirama found himself responding, “My father believes it's just a distraction…” From training.
The dark-haired boy grunted, “Guess all shinobi clans have that in common.”
They dropped the souring topic in favor of finishing the snack and drinks. After disposing the trash in the nearest waste bin, the older boy turned back to him. “Alright, what do you want to do next?”
“Huh?”
The dark-haired boy gave him a lop-sided smirk. “Well, we're here already, and we got a mask and food and drinks.” He shrugged and motioned to the mask that was back on the side of the pale boy’s head. “We might as well enjoy the festival as we please for the night, right? I take it you don't need to return urgently.”
Tobirama reflected on the pros and cons of the proposal. “I guess… Alright.”
What the other boy said was true and Tobirama knew this could be his last chance to enjoy a festival. With the general lethality of his profession and the raging clan wars that had already robbed the childhood of his own younger brothers, there was no telling when he would join them.
Tobirama missed them—Kawarama and Itama. He missed them so much he at times wanted to just go join them, but he couldn't leave his older brother behind like that, not without fighting the world until his last breath.
“Great,” Suddenly, there was a warm hand around his own. It dragged Tobirama out of his dark thoughts. He knew he was generally on the cooler end, but how could someone be so warm? “Come on, I saw a target throw game. Let's see who has the best aim.” The older boy provoked him with a toothy grin.
Tobirama couldn't help but bite. “Just because you're older doesn't mean you have the advantage.” He smirked confidently, “I beat my older brother all the time during accuracy training.”
“Oh?” The dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow at him, “We'll see about that.”
The two boys ran off to the game booth. Unfortunately, they tied in terms of ability and made the shop owner cry. So, in mercy, they left the poor old man alone and only took one prize instead of the whole booth. What would they even do with all that?
“You sure you're fine with me choosing?” The older boy asked for the second time now.
Tobirama did not like repeating himself. “Yes, now hurry up already. The owner is going to cry again.”
“Alright, alright.” After a moment, the Uchiha took a red pinwheel spinner toy. As if he couldn’t be more obvious about his identity.
Tobirama chose to remain silent about it. He didn’t want to… break this illusion of anonymity they had between them. It was as if they could put behind their clans and be actual children for once. The genius wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the notion or not, but somehow he felt it was best to keep it like this—at least for the night.
The two boys were under the spell of an unsaid agreement.
For this one night, they could leave behind their clan names, escape from the responsibilities of being a ninja, and pretend to be like normal children just for the duration of the festival.
Tobirama could allow himself to laugh. He didn’t even know the other boy’s name, but he too looked relatively carefree.
Like that, the two boys enjoyed the festival. They ate more food, played more games, challenged each other, laughed and teased, and enjoyed the atmosphere together. In the end, they watched the civilians launch fireworks into the dark sky, brightening it with multitudes of different flashing colors. It was a sight that Tobirama wished he could remember forever, even if it was to be never spoken of again. He hoped he would always remember this moment. The bright lights, the loud joyful chatter, and the warm hand encasing his own.
After the fireworks show, it was time for the dream to end.
The two young shinobi parted ways—one with a red pinwheel in hand and the other with a fox mask on his head.
Tobirama didn’t look back, but he couldn’t help but wonder.
He hoped they never met again though. If they did, then it would be as enemies and Tobirama knew this. Unfortunately, the world did not work in their favor and the adults were all too dumb to be reasoned with.
What Tobirama hadn’t expected was that they would reunite so soon, though.
Fate was a twisted, cruel thing and Tobirama didn’t believe in it. But, even he had to admit that it was an odd coincidence that the Uchiha boy he had met at that festival back in that civilian village near the Land of Grass had befriended his own older brother, who was the same age as him. When he had first sensed them and realized what Hashirama was doing, the genius wasn’t sure what to do.
However, memories of that night and his brother’s glowing happiness made him keep silent.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one that noticed.
Their father had caught on and decided to drag him into confronting Hashirama about it. Tobirama schooled his expression into practiced blankness as he listened to them argue, not willing to jump in between them unless their father threatened to harm his brother again.
Tobirama ignored the coldness that ran through his body as he donned his happuri.
Thankfully, his father’s plan did not go as he intended. Thankfully, the Uchiha’s family also followed him. Thankfully, the older boy didn’t seem to recognize him.
Somehow, there was an ache in his chest. Did the older boy’s little brother manage to bruise him somehow?
It was good that the older boy—Madara, he learned his name from Hashirama—didn’t remember him though.
Their fathers were already alarmed by Hashirama and Madara’s meetings. He shuddered when he imagined what his father would do if he knew of his own – though brief – meeting with Madara.
So, Tobirama hid the fox mask away in a safe place, where no one but him would know and where no one that could pry into his room would find it. Occasionally, he would take the mask out and clean it. It helped him cope as the war continued to rage, taking away the chances for more children to enjoy that moment like he had.
It made him crave even more for the peace Hashirama spoke of.
His older brother would often recount his time with Madara, speaking fondly of the Uchiha. Tobirama silently listened to his brother, absorbing what he could. However, both Hashirama and Madara were much too naive.
There was no way they would be able to actually achieve peace like that—not at this rate, not with how the war continued to deteriorate.
Tobirama was a genius, not just in shinobi skill and fighting but also in intellect. He had a great grasp of politics and psychology even at his young age, understanding the world probably better than most adults did.
The shinobi world needed to change. Too many children have been sacrificed already for pointless conflicts when their lives were already full of carnage by profession. Peace—an alliance, a treaty, a village like his brother dreamed of—those were all good things, but it would take more than just Hashirama and Madara taking the position of head in their respective clans.
Tobirama smoothed his fingers against the wooden fox mask. His red eyes gleamed with resolve as he vowed.
For his brother, for that moment that saved him, for the children—Tobirama would change the world. He ensured it.