Chapter Text
“No one can love you.”
Izuna spoke the words against the hollow of his throat, etched them into his skin more surely than a blade. Tobirama was silent as he curled his fingers in the back of Izuna’s cloak. It was enough of a reaction. Izuna smirked against the side of Tobirama’s neck, victorious. Blood stained his lips, but it wasn’t something they noticed, not even as Izuna smeared it across Tobirama’s skin, a lurid painting.
“You are war. You smell of the fires that rip through the forests that your family so loves. Scorched earth and fresh graves and the smell of death on the battlefield—”
“Enough.”
Izuna chuckled softly. He slid one hand down Tobirama’s chest piece, slipped his fingers underneath. The other fisted the fabric at Tobirama’s hips and tugged him even closer—as though they weren’t already uncomfortably close.
Tobirama’s anger rolled through him slowly, like an encroaching fog. He sifted his fingers through Izuna’s long hair, gentle at first, then tightening into a fist and using his grip as leverage to pull the smaller man back. Izuna made a noise in the back of his throat, a half-pleased, half-pained growl. His eyes were heavy lidded, lips curled in that infuriating smirk.
“What’s wrong?” Izuna asked, though his voice was anything but concerned. He shifted in Tobirama’s lap, but didn't try to pull away from his hold. “Don’t you enjoy knowing exactly why you were placed on this Earth? To know your sole purpose is to fight and kill, to know you were built for war?” There was a breathless giddiness to Izuna’s voice. Tobirama didn’t know if it was because the idea excited him or if he just got off on pushing Tobirama’s buttons. “You never have to worry about the future because the Gods know you might not live to see tomorrow—”
Tobirama seized Izuna’s throat. “I said enough, Izuna.” He could easily snap the man’s neck at that moment, and the gleam in Izuna’s eye said he knew it, too…and it excited him.
“One of us is going to die, Tobirama,” he purred through his strangling. “I used to hope it would be you…but now, I hope I die first.”
“Why?”
“Because you Senju are so soft-hearted. I know you’ll suffer for the rest of your life.” Izuna broke Tobirama’s hold with a practiced ease and leaned in until their lips were brushing. “You’ll never get over me and you’ll never move on.” Izuna’s breath was hot on Tobirama’s skin. “You’ll think of me forever.”
It was a threat, a promise, and a curse all in one.
Tobirama held many regrets in his rather short life. There was too much left unsaid, too much left undone, too much anger, bitterness, and resentment. It kept him awake at night, cold in his otherwise comfortable bed, in his opulent home, so different from his drafty childhood room. The tiny space he shared with his brothers was once his only solace, warped floors and threadbare futons included.
Now he sat in the lap of luxury, surrounded by convenience and riches that would’ve astonished him years ago. Konoha set the precedent. It was the first to gather the clans, form a truce, and raise a powerful force the world had never seen. Other countries soon followed, using Konoha as a model, but for Tobirama, it was hollow. They were changing the world but it felt as though none of it was real, none of it was made to last. His mortality had been seared to the forefront of his mind the day he lost the last piece of himself.
Even now, Izuna’s smile haunted Tobirama’s every move: an after-image of bloodied lips and messy hair and a glint in his eye that reminded Tobirama of wildfire, devouring the forest without mercy.
It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.
Tobirama carried on as he always did. So many loved ones were lost through the years, but he persevered, holding his head high. Hashirama gave him something to focus on, a future of peace and happiness where children could grow without the fear of death looming over them. Tobirama, despite his misgivings, believed in his brother. If anyone could make such a wild fantasy come true, it was Hashirama.
Izuna’s death marked a vicious change in their world.
There was a secret that they would take to their graves. A secret whispered by the wind through the boughs of the trees the village was named for. The countless hours spent on the banks of that river, fingers entwined in unruly raven hair and lips on pale skin—it would remain unknown to all but Tobirama.
Hashirama was the heart and soul of the village. He was the visionary, the life’s blood. He built the village out of love for those who would come to reside there. Tobirama would follow his brother into hell, but he would always remain the steadfast voice of reason. When Hashirama wanted to build arbitrarily, Tobirama saw the logic in an orderly street grid so that the village could grow without hinderance.
When Hashirama attempted to appoint Madara as Hokage, Tobirama urged him to put it to a vote. He knew Hashirama wouldn’t want their village to function like a massive clan hierarchy, therefore democracy was the logical choice. The fact that Hashirama was overwhelmingly chosen for office over Madara was merely a benefit.
It took a while to convince his brother to accept the role, but like everything else, Tobirama helped him see the logic. Hashirama was adamant that Madara at least be his right-hand man… which might’ve irked Tobirama somewhat, but he knew he had to compromise somewhere and Hashirama was unlikely to change his mind. Tobirama’s mistrust of Madara was clear for all to see.
He couldn’t speak of the source of his anger towards Uchiha Madara. Hashirama begged for a reason, but the information remained sealed. Tobirama was almost certain that Madara was the real reason Izuna had died. While medical care had been lackluster at that time, Izuna’s skill as a medic had been above-par. Izuna was meant to live, but he died at the hands of his last remaining brother all for Madara’s greed of power.
Madara never outright accused Tobirama of Izuna’s death and Tobirama had no substantial proof against Madara. There was only that life-altering, disreputable affair in the forest of their childhood home.
Izuna took the wildfire with him, and Tobirama found himself bereft without the light.
For years, Hashirama dogged him. Why wasn’t he married? Why wasn’t he interested in having children of his own? When would he settle down? When would he start his life in full?
Tobirama gave up trying to dodge these questions and began offering acidic ripostes. They felt good rolling off his tongue, even as he was plagued by a ghost that wouldn’t let go. Izuna was a cat that had happily sunk his claws in long ago.
Hashirama’s constant badgering was a stone lodged behind Tobirama’s ribs. With each innocuous question his brother asked, that stone weighed him down further. Tobirama was accustomed to the discomfort, but with each word, Izuna’s face became clearer and clearer.
“ Children? ” the Uchiha crowed, voice muffled by death and time, but still loud in Tobirama’s mind. He could picture Izuna’s gossamer lips curled into a smirk, dark eyes narrowed in mirth. “Oh, what is your brother thinking ? You, of all people, should never be allowed to procreate.”
‘Why is that?’ Tobirama had given up trying to determine if conversing with a man ten years dead would qualify as insanity and accepted the fact that Izuna would haunt him to his grave.
“Because,” Izuna purred, “you would make the worst father. And I’ve known quite a few terrible fathers, my own being at the top of the list.” He was outright laughing by now, still mocking Tobirama long after he returned to the earth, nothing more than ash.
‘Not nearly as terrible as you.’
But the retort would go unheard. Izuna wasn’t there, no matter how many times Tobirama could swear he felt him. He was getting so sick of the concerned look on Hashirama’s face. All he wanted was—
Was what? To mourn? To go back in time and still his blade? To un-spill that blood?
Or to hear Izuna’s voice one last time?
“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that drivel your brother has been touting recently.” Izuna turned a graceful arc to look at Tobirama on the river bank. The Uchiha arched a dark brow and reached down to roll his pant leg up a little further as he stood in the shallows of the river. The cool water was refreshing on a hot day and his usual kimono top was folded beside Tobirama, leaving him in nothing but his pants and chest bindings.
“You’re going to have to be more specific. Nearly everything that passes my brother’s lips is drivel.” Tobirama didn’t pull his gaze from the scroll he was attempting to distract himself with. The water looked inviting, especially since he was wearing his summer armor, but he refused to show too much interest.
Izuna chuckled, and Tobirama finally glanced up. Izuna stared up at the boughs of the trees and the blue sky beyond, one hand propped on his hip. “ Peace. ” Izuna twisted the word and huffed, sardonic. “What a concept, that. As if no one has ever attempted such a thing before.”
“You do not want peace?” Tobirama asked. He met Izuna’s baleful look steadily. “If peace were possible, that is.”
“What are we without war?” Izuna countered. He flicked his hand out with a flourish as he often did when he spoke on a topic he was passionate about. Tobirama found it interesting to watch, almost endearing. “We are shinobi. We are taught to fight, kill, and die from the moment we can hold a blade.” He carded his hand through his loose hair and sighed. Tobirama returned his attention to his scroll. “How do we translate in a world of peace ? We would be obsolete.” Izuna glanced back at him but Tobirama pretended not to notice. “Does Hashirama just believe we’ll lay down our weapons and become… what? Civilians? Merchants? Traders?”
“That isn’t what he has in mind, no.”
Izuna was silent for a long moment, stock still in Tobirama’s peripheral. Tobirama glanced back at him to find the other man with an ambiguous look on his face. It lasted only for a heartbeat before Izuna’s lip twisted into a sneer. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “So you do believe in the shit he says.”
“What?” Tobirama’s brow furrowed and he straightened. “I never said—”
“You’ve obviously spoken to him about it, probably at length. Tch.” He waded a little further into the water. “Damn, Senju, I thought you had more sense than that. There is no such thing as peace in this world.”
It was obviously bait. “It is a pretty fantastical idea, I agree, but how can you stand as you are and say there’s no such thing? Your weapons and half your clothes are beside me and you wear no armor. I am focused elsewhere, unconcerned with your movements, is that not peace in the simplest form?”
Izuna turned to scowl at him and Tobirama struggled not to stare as long dark hair spilled over his shoulder. “That’s different,” Izuna grumbled.
“Is it?”
“Yes , it is.” Izuna stressed. “This isn’t peace, it’s a ceasefire.”
Tobirama arched his brow. “Between two lifelong enemies. A truce strong enough to allow us to be vulnerable with one another.”
“It is a biological need.” Izuna hissed, petulant.
“Oh, I’m not arguing that. However, no matter what the reasons may be, we still allow ourselves to be vulnerable even when we are not satiating such needs.”
Izuna closed his eyes. Tobirama watched the muscle work in his jaw as Izuna gritted his teeth. “We have only known war, Tobirama. We were born to fight in this war and we were born to die in this war. We aren’t here to settle down and play house. If you think otherwise, you’re a fool.”
Tobirama continued to stare, long enough for Izuna to open his eyes and glare at him. They weren’t friends by any means, but Tobirama had learned to read his sometimes-lover fairly well. “I don’t think it’s peace that bothers you, it’s change.” Izuna’s glare grew hotter, fury simmering just beyond dark eyes. Tobirama was not cowed by it. “You fear what your place would be in a world that no longer needs soldiers when being a soldier is all you know.”
Izuna stared through him, eyes focused but his attention turned inward. Eventually he turned away and glared at the water. “Peace doesn’t exist, Tobirama.” His tone booked no argument. “Someone always fucks it up.”
The years passed and Hashirama’s dream flourished. Peace was within reach yet discontent grew between the Senju and Uchiha. There was a hole that only grew more jagged as time went by. If Madara consigned his own brother to death, what would he do to Tobirama’s? He feared that if he gave an inch, Madara would take a mile. Hashirama was the only thing Tobirama had left in this world and he refused to let Madara take that from him.
Tobirama’s mistrust and Madara’s perilous grip on sanity only added fuel to the fire. All too soon, Madara snapped and fled the village.
Hashirama was heartbroken over it. Tobirama secretly relished the victory. It was one less thing to worry about for a few months, at least.
Madara’s first attack came in the middle of the night. Tobirama was awake, going over blueprints when a familiar chakra signature sparked at the edge of his passive sensing range. He wasn’t even sure he’d actually felt it at first, and sat back in his chair, focusing his energy to expand his awareness. Sure enough, it was Madara’s chakra headed towards Konoha at a rapid clip. Tobirama sighed and pulled on the hiraishin seal he kept outside of his brother’s house and knocked on the door to warn him of Madara’s return.
Madara grew a little wiser with the second attack. He attempted to create a distraction by deploying a clone in another direction while he muffled his chakra signature and took a different route. However, he chose to do it in the middle of the day at the unfortunate time when Tobirama was checking Konoha’s defenses. A finger to the ground and Tobirama easily tracked the Uchiha’s movement. He pinched the bridge of his nose and teleported to his brother’s office to warn him yet again, and urge him to stop showing Madara any mercy.
It went on like this for several years. Every few months Madara would attempt an attack, only to be foiled by Tobirama’s sensing abilities and Hashirama’s quick response. Of course, Madara was a skilled sensor in his own right, but it was one area in which he couldn’t rival Tobirama, just as he couldn’t win against Hashirama who stood against him in defense of the village.
The first time Madara made it close to the village before being caught was when Tobirama was away on business. Still, Madara accidentally tripped a seal at the edge of Konoha, immediately alerting Mito to his presence. It provided enough time that Hashirama could head him off, warding him away from the village like every attempt before.
The only other time Madara made it close to the village was the one time he didn’t attempt to hide at all.
Powerful chakra flooded Tobirama’s senses at dusk, so cloying and unexpected that he doubled over, overwhelmed. Hashirama called his name, held him upright by the arm and demanded what had happened. It was all Tobirama could do to grit out that the village was about to be under attack from a bijuu… the nine-tails, judging by the strength of it’s chakra.
Hashirama, Tobirama, and Mito all geared up and went to head the kyuubi off at the pass only to find that the beast was under Madara’s control. Hashirama forced them to stand down and went to face his childhood friend in battle one last time.
It was the most monumental war Tobirama had ever witnessed. There was no other way to term it; it was no battle . It was too gruesome to be so simple. No, it was a war with only two warriors.
It scarred the earth, tore his brother to shreds, and permanently seared itself behind Tobirama’s eyelids. It ushered in a new, stranger age, and swiped the chance at peace off the table.
Seeing his brother hold the broken body of his best friend was another nightmare to add to Tobirama’s collection.
He and Mito worked together to seal the Kyuubi. Tobirama carefully painted the seal around her navel while Hashirama held the beast at bay. They didn’t have much time as Hashirama was exhausted, but with two fūinjutsu experts, they worked fast. From there, sealing the Kyuubi was simple.
While both Hashirama and Mito were distracted handling the Kyuubi, Tobirama stepped away to where Madara’s body still lay, cold and pale on the banks of the river. It was easy to seal the corpse in a scroll and walk away. He felt no remorse, no guilt. It was karmic retribution for whatever Madara had done to his own brother. When Hashirama asked, Tobirama merely stated that he handled it.
Madara didn’t deserve a proper funeral.
Hashirama worked tirelessly to achieve his dream. All he had wanted was a chance at that perfect world where children no longer had to die in wars waged by old men. Where young mothers were no longer forced to bury their sons.
Madara’s death changed something in Hashirama. Madara was dead, the dream was dead, and a piece of Hashirama died with them.
Tobirama pushed his brother to new extremes, hoping to force him out of the ditch he’d dug for himself, but it was as if Hashirama already had one foot in the grave. The dullness of death hung in his gaze and it sent a chill down Tobirama’s spine.
It was the same flat gaze that stared back at Tobirama in the mirror.
The second he realized that, the pieces locked into place. His brother’s fatigue, the thousand-yard stare, the way dark eyes flickered to the left and down: Hashirama was hearing Madara the same way Tobirama heard Izuna.
It was a pain he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
Still, Tobirama felt no remorse over the fact that he’d hid Madara’s body, sealed away in his lab. He gathered information on how the Sharingan and the Mangekyo worked, recorded it all for the sake of research and potential medical advancement, and only when he went to destroy the eyes did he hesitate.
They were the last piece of Izuna left in the world. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He did, however, take great pleasure in unceremoniously dumping Madara in an unmarked grave near the newly formed Kusagakure. Uchiha held the belief that a soul would only achieve peace if their body burned to ash on a pyre. Tobirama was not a spiritual man, but he hoped it was true. He hoped Madara suffered for eternity.
Time blunted the blade of grief and Hashirama eventually returned to some normalcy, though he would never be the same. Mito and Tobirama improved the bijuu’s seal and replicated it before forming a task force to track and seal other tailed beasts. The power was too great to let go unchecked when new civilizations were being born.
When Hashirama’s first child came into the world, the entire village rejoiced. With that baby boy came the return of Hashirama’s determination. Konoha prospered.
Tobirama adored that child.
It prompted Hashirama to assign him a genin team. Tobirama was vehemently against it, but his brother would hear none of it. The looming war needed as many warriors as they could supply and sending unseasoned children out on the field made them both sick. Like it or not, Tobirama was the best option to train those kids.
He had a very limited time to make skilled warriors out of young shinobi whose faces still held their baby fat. Hiruzen, Koharu, and Homura flourished under his tutelage and Hashirama’s training, when the elder Senju found time.
When the first skirmishes touched their borders, Hashirama sent some of his most capable shinobi to take care of it. They danced on the edge of war for years, yet Tobirama never led a war party. Instead, he took on more students at the insistence of his brother.
Danzo, Kagami, and Torifu met with his original team on many occasions, teenagers who foolishly believed themselves ready for the battlefield. The day he met the newest members of the team, Tobirama could only set them to spar together.
There was an Uchiha on the team that held the same mischievous glint in his eye Izuna once had. He was quick with his opinions and quicker with his wit, taunting his teammates in a way that caused Tobirama’s chest to ache.
He stayed for a little over an hour, eyes unfocused as the shinobi paired off and fought. An hour was all it took for his shaking to become noticeable and he teleported to the Hokage tower, leaving six bewildered teenagers behind.
“Why him?” Tobirama almost slammed the office door behind him. “Of all people, why him?”
“Who?” Hashirama blinked owlishly in the face of his brother’s barely-leashed panic.
“The Uchiha.”
“Ah, Kagami.” Hashirama grimaced at his brother’s venom. Paperwork forgotten, he dropped his pen and stood, walking around his desk to face Tobirama. “He’s an Uchiha, but he’s also a kenjutsu master. From what his file says, he’s fiercely loyal, respectful, and kind. He’s a team-player and will absolutely watch his teammates’ backs. He’s the perfect addition to your team, Tobirama. I don’t see the issue. ”
Tobirama snapped his mouth shut as his mind supplied him with broken images of an Uchiha he should’ve never cared about. He couldn’t find the words to speak and glared at a spot just over Hashirama’s shoulder like a child.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Hashirama asked. Tobirama said nothing, but the way his shoulders tensed seemed to be proof enough for Hashirama. “Brother, please. What is going on? I was willing to accept your intolerance of Madara, but why have you extended that dislike to an innocent just because of his clan?”
The silence that lingered between them was suffocating.
Hashirama’s breath hitched and dark eyes widened. Tobirama tensed up further, fearful of the next words out of his brother’s mouth.
“Is this…” Hashirama hesitated, searching for the right words, “…is this about Izu—"
“Don’t.”
Hashirama looked taken aback. One word, more venomous than anything Tobirama had ever said to him before. It wasn’t unusual for Tobirama to be upset with his older brother, but that anger was entirely foreign and the shock showed on Hashirama’s face.
“Don’t you dare,” Tobirama hissed, trying to temper his tone but failing. Hashirama could always read him best, but it wouldn't take a sensor to tell that he was troubled. Chakra turbulent, Tobirama struggled to compose himself.
Neither moved for a long moment, Hashirama studying Tobirama while Tobirama pointedly avoided Hashirama’s gaze. Footsteps eventually broke the silence. They both turn to the door as it swung open, revealing a wary Mito with her young son tucked against her chest. She looked between them, but before she could question the situation, Tobirama reached for his furthest seal and vanished.
The dreams that night were worse than usual. Tobirama woke with the feeling of Izuna’s mouth on his skin and the sound of his scathing insults ringing in his ears.
He didn’t move from his bed that day.
Tobirama only got out of bed the day after because he had to. He had obligations. He couldn’t shirk his duties, not when war loomed over them. He forced himself to choke down a meal that tasted like ash on his tongue and dressed himself properly.
The fact that it took over an hour for him to compose himself enough to leave the house was of no consequence.
Nor was the fact that his hands shook.
Team Tobirama waited with bated breath and wary eyes. They watched him like a bunch of rabbits waiting for a predator’s strike.
“Katas.” He waved a hand, “pair up and show me how well you work together.”
He refused to look at Kagami directly.
Tobirama wasn’t even going to speak to the Uchiha, but after a few weeks of watching the teenagers train, he realized he had to say something. Maybe it was childish of him, but at least he could be childish and still make a point.
In the middle of Kagami sparring with Hiruzen, Tobirama stepped in and stopped his student. “The five of you go a hundred yards out and free-for-all.” Both boys looked surprised, but Hiruzen recovered quickly and nodded at his sensei before shooting Kagami a concerned look.
Hiruzen, along with Koharu, Homura, Torifu, and Danzo, stepped further away to begin an every-man-for-himself training exercise. Tobirama watched them for a moment before turning back to the boy in front of him.
Kagami tried his best not to fidget, but Tobirama could see the way dark eyes looked everywhere but at him. In the weeks since Hashirama tacked the three onto his original team, Tobirama had come to realize something.
When he supervised their training, corrected their katas, and laid obstacles for them to overcome, Kagami was almost silent. He thought nothing of it at first and was honestly grateful to not be plagued with thoughts of his dead lover.
However, when he silenced his chakra and crept out to the training field to see what they did when he wasn’t supervising, he saw the difference. He once thought Hiruzen to be too bright and happy for his own good, but it was nothing compared to Kagami. The boy was the heart of the group, a bright spot within the shining example of the first full generation to become shinobi inside of Konoha.
His smile highlighted a major difference between him and Izuna. Where Kagami was lively and hopeful, Izuna had been dark and cynical. Everyone from his era had been touched by that sickening darkness; not even Hashirama had been able to avoid it.
Kagami was what Izuna could have been, had circumstances been wildly different. Both were loud and opinionated, with a similar curve to their teasing smirk. Where Izuna had reminded him of a cat, dangerous, cunning, and clever, Kagami was more like a pup, loyal, protective, and intelligent. So very similar, yet complete opposites.
However, when Tobirama was around, Kagami was a different person entirely. He was demure, obedient, and soft-spoken. Tobirama wondered what he had done to cause that. Had the boy figured out his aversion?
“Continue.” He attempted not to bark the order, but it still sounded harsh. There was an ashy taste in his mouth that he’d come to associate with Izuna and it choked him up.
Kagami flinched imperceptibly and sunk into his fighting stance. “Yes, sir.”
Poor kid didn’t even last thirty seconds. Even with his sharingan blazing, he’d been unable to come close to hitting Tobirama. Just when Kagami thought he had a good opening, Tobirama flowed around his attack like water. He shifted his stance, moving slow enough that Kagami saw the attack coming, but could do nothing to stop the hit. Tobirama’s foot connected with the Uchiha’s ribs, launching him halfway across the training field.
The commotion drew the attention of the other five shinobi. They froze as their teammate rolled to a stop, barely able to catch himself before collapsing face-first in the dirt, breathing heavily.
“Sensei!” Hiruzen yelped as Tobirama moved, flash-stepping over to the downed Uchiha. He elected to ignore the panicked shout and knelt to assess Kagami’s injuries.
“Are you having trouble breathing?” His arm wound around the younger man’s chest when it became clear that he was barely able to hold himself up.
“N-no, sir…” Kagami mumbled, his voice an amusing mix of pain, fear, and annoyance. Tobirama couldn’t help the tilt of his lips.
“Alright, no punctured lungs, then—”
“Oh, wonderful news.” Kagami muttered, then immediately froze when he realized what he’d said and who he said it to. He glanced over his shoulder, expression worried.
Tobirama smiled slightly, unable to keep himself from finding amusement in Kagami’s smart mouth. Dark brows scrunched together and Kagami turned his gaze back to the earth below his hands.
“Nothing’s broken” Tobirama passed a hand over Kagami’s side as he checked for injuries. “Bruises, but nothing of concern.” The only sound the kid made was a quiet, pained grunt as Tobirama helped him stand.
After he made sure Kagami wasn’t going to topple over, Tobirama let go and took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you understand why I did that?” He asked. Kagami didn’t answer, only tilted his head and gave him a look that screamed ‘I don’t know, because you get off on watching people squirm?’
Tobirama bit the inside of his cheek to keep his face blank. The Uchiha’s headband had come off at some point, and his unruly hair fell in eyes. He slouched from the pain of his bruised ribs but held himself together admirably. “You consistently leave your left side open to attack.” Tobirama arched his brow. “You may be considered a kenjutsu master, but if you give your enemies such a large target as you gave Hiruzen and I, you won’t last a day in war.”
“...Did you have to be so harsh, though, sensei?” Hiruzen finally stepped up to them, concerned about his friend’s well-being.
Tobirama spared him a glance before returning to Kagami. “You learned a lesson you won’t forget, did you not?” Kagami opened his mouth, thought about it, then pursed his lips and nodded. “Sometimes, Hiruzen,” Tobirama looked back at his student, “all it takes is one time; one strike to learn a lesson. Better that the hit come from me than the enemy.”
Though Tobirama hated the way his father raised him to fight, the lessons were learned quickly when pain was involved. Fuck up and suffer your mistake. Make your bed and lie in it. Tobirama normally would never use such a technique on anyone, but time was running short and he refused to lose one of these kids on the battlefield.
Unlike his father, however, he would not force Kagami to suffer long. “Get checked out at the hospital just to be sure. Hiruzen, go with him and stay until he’s cleared. Tomorrow, all of you will report at 6 AM sharp… And Kagami?” The Uchiha’s attention was rapt. “Tomorrow, you’ll fight with your left hand. Now that you know your weaknesses, you can make them your strengths.”