The story goes on....
“We cannot, absolutely CANNOT, let an Uchiha stand among us!”
“They killed two of my sons! I can't stand the sight of them. This is an outrage!”
“How dare you?! How dare you even suggest it, Hashirama?! You're a disgrace to your own clan!”
The setting was a large hall with a wooden ceiling and wooden floor covered in mats. There were broad paper-paneled walls pierced by small, open windows. In the center of the room was a long, oaken table atop which rested a lamp, and around which about fifteen shinobi were seated.
The lantern threw a dull, lurid light on their grim, scowling faces, murder and fury blazing in their eyes and their nostrils flared. The air was tense and stifling with discord; jaws were set, teeth grinding, blood boiling, veins throbbing and hatred was lurking. A great clamor rose and carried to the other surrounding buildings in the Senju clan quarters and it was all because of young Nezumi Uchiha.
At the head of the table, three people were seated; Tobirama on the left corner, Hashirama on the right, and in the middle, an aged, wrinkled, lean man with grizzled long hair, a full, grey-flecked beard, drooping, sunken eyes which were very placid and narrowed. His head was lowered and his wiry, old frame was wrapped in a full length white kimono. He was Butsuma Senju, leader of the Senju clan and father of Tobirama and Hashirama. Like his sons and unlike everybody else in the room, he was perfectly quiet, and unfazed by the shouts and cries of his angry clansmen.
Tobirama furrowed his brows and looked about him in annoyance. He wasn't particularly a fan of the Uchiha but this was just excessive! Simply for a young child? Growing tired of the tirade, he jumped to his feet and cleared his throat. “Settle down, settle down, my brothers and sisters. We gathered here to talk--”
“Silence, you insolent brat!” cried one of the Senju present, a fuming, bearded old man in green armor, whose tiny, beady black eyes were scrunched up in a scowl which deepened all his wrinkles. “What do you know about the Senju, you little--”
“BE QUIET!” roared Hashirama, leaping to his feet and running his eyes through the faces of his kin. Chakra was pouring, or rather flooding, out of him in ominous, bloodcurdling torrents, and his hair was dancing about violently. The floor was quaking under their feet, the table before them snapped and broke into two as a result of his power, the lamp fell to the ground but was still in good condition, paper panelled walls began to crumble and the faces of the Senju men were white with dread and horror. Only Tobirama and Butsuma looked unruffled.
“Hypocrites! All of you!” thundered Hashirama, his face red with emotion, his brows furrowed in anger and his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. The Senju's entire body was aquiver with wrath. “The Senju chose love? Really? So, this is the love which the legends spoke of? The love that our ancestor believed would bring peace? You are a disgrace to your bloodline! Scoundrels! Vipers! Evil! Heartless! All of you! You would abandon a helpless, innocent child simply because he is an Uchiha?! You are not Senju! None of you are even really human as far as I'm concerned!”
At his last words, a wooden beam from the ceiling fell and nearly crushed one of the men present. Luckily, he was able to leap out of the way. It was then that Tobirama decided that things were getting too out of hand, and gently placed a placating hand on his brother's shoulder, doing his best not to recoil in fear at the waves of chakra pulsing out of him. “Settle down, Hashirama!”
Tobirama's elder brother drew several slow, long breaths, the cloud of chakra that had filled the room like a mighty wind dissipating by the second until it was no more, and then Hashirama seated himself. Tobirama turned to the rest, who were still working to regain their composure and still their pounding hearts. They were still rather pale and trembling when the white-haired Senju began:
“As my brother has said, we need to show the love that our ancestors taught us. Besides, if we were to train an Uchiha with the Senju ways, there's no doubt that the result would be a very powerful ninja. Nezumi can become two things under the right instruction; a beacon of hope for peace in this world since he would be the result of two rival clans and a powerful ninja for the Senju who would give us a greater edge over our enemies.” 'Especially Uchiha' seemed to be tagged at the end of that sentence and, though it went without saying, everyone present got the message and were nodding in agreement.
Hashirama scowled, he knew his brother was really appealing to their hatred for Uchiha and not their love for all men. But his priority was the sparing of Nezumi's life. He was rather surprised that Tobirama was the one speaking up for the child and it showed on his expression; the rising of his brows, the widening of his eyes and the slight slacking of his jaw.
“Then, it is settled.” spoke Butsuma Senju in a deep, hoarse voice, his very first words in the whole proceeding. “Uchiha Nezumi will be raised by the Senju clan under the special care of my sons.”
“Again.” commanded Tobirama.
“Brother, just a little break.” Hashirama pleaded.
“Again!” Tobirama's voice rose and his brows furrowed.
Hashirama sighed.
“It's ok, Hashirama-san!” said Nezumi with a smile, the boy was panting. drawing deep breaths between each word. “I'll be happy to do it again!”
Dressed in only a pair of Nezumi stood in the middle of the same grassy plain where Hashirama found him, the weather was still as sunny as on that very day, the wind was as quiet and soothing. But Nezumi was no longer withering away due to starvation and fatigue. He was displaying his current level of ninjutsu mastery to a very stern and tasking Tobirama and an encouraging Hashirama, both standing about five meters away from him, adorned in their usual battle armor. The child's hands, which were stronger and less sinewy from two months of healthy living with the Senju clan, swiftly weaved a flurry of hand seals. His chest rose and he drew his head back, his chakra burned and his cheeks swelled, then he lurched forward and spat.
Suiton: Suujinheki!
A great flood of water poured from his lips and surrounded him, before rising into a veritable wall of liquid about two meters high. The wall of water kept steady for about ten seconds and then fell away, the technique caster drawing short breaths and supporting himself with both hands resting on his knees. He was soaked and the grass around him was uprooted in some places and sodden in others as a result of the water that flowed away across the plain.
Hashirama was smiling warmly, his eyes gleaming with pride and joy. He considered Nezumi as a little brother as well as a son. His actual brother Tobirama, however, was unimpressed, or rather if he was, the scowl on his face completely masked it.
Hashirama began, “That was great, Nezu--”
“You need to hold the wall for longer.” interrupted Tobirama. “ In battle, you may come under a barrage of attacks that can last for nearly half a minute. Also, chances are you'll be casting the technique in unison with other warriors and if you can't put in more chakra, you will become a weak point in the defense. Is that understood?”
Nezumi nodded with a grave expression which one might not expect a ten year old to be capable of. Hashirama was glaring disapprovingly at his younger brother but Tobirama largely ignored him, concentrating his attention of the young Uchiha.
“Brother, you're being too strict. A wall of water at age ten is impressive.” complained the dark haired Senju.
“Yes, but we've buried a lot of impressive kids, haven't we? Our own brother included. Now, be quiet.” countered Tobirama.
Hashirama sunk his head dejectedly in lugubrious sulking at his brother's words. Tobirama still chose to ignore him.
“Anyways, Nezumi-kun,” the younger Senju continued, “practice makes perfect. I expect the next time we meet, your defense will be acceptable.”
Nezumi nodded. “I'd like to try it one more time.”
“I can sense your chakra.” said Tobirama. “You're running low. Nothing good can come of over taxing yourself.”
“I know, but one more attempt won't hurt, right?”
Tobirama regarded the boy keenly for a moment. There was something burning in his dark, wide eyes. Then, the Senju took a step back and motioned with one hand for Nezumi for havr another go at it again.
The little boy nodded and went through the seals in perhaps half the time it took him to do so a moment before. This alone had so shocked Hashirama that he lifted his head from his brooding and his jaw sagged. Even Tobirama's eyes had widened a small, negligible fraction, something that went unnoticed, but what came next was even more unexpected: The water which surged from Nezumi's lips rose a good two and a half meters high and the towering defense held for very nearly a full minute!
When the technique crumbled away, there was a tremendous distance between Hashirama's lower jaw and his upper one, leaving his mouth utterly gaping, while Tobirama's brows had risen quite high on his face. Nezumi was soaked in water and sweat, he was completely out of breath and thus staggered precariously. The boy swooned and tottered for a moment before his feet finally gave way under him and he fell, luckily, into the waiting arms of Tobirama Senju, who had positioned himself for the catch via a speedy use of the Shunshin no jutsu. If only the little boy's lids had fallen over his eyes a moment later, and if his consciousness had lingered a while longer, he might have heard when Tobirama smiled and uttered, in a soft voice, the words, “You did good.”
It was only after a good night's rest that Nezumi was able to stand firmly on his two feet, such was the exhaustion that came upon him after the impressive display of ninjutsu. But, he had shown in that moment, on that bright sunny day, that he had something which Hashirama would later come to know as a 'Will of Fire.'
On another bright sunny day, Hashirama was pacing the front yard of his home with a grim and anxious expression on his face, eyes facing the floor in deep thought and his two hands clasped behind his back. A few yards behind him, reposing full-length in a long wooden bench, shaded from the sun by the patch of roof hanging over the veranda, was Tobirama. A tooth pick danced between his teeth, his messy hair covered his eyes, which were shut, while two legs were crossed in front of him on the railing of the corridor and his fingers interlocked at the back of his head.
The house was quite large and august, as one would expect from the residence of the Senju leader and his two sons. There was a garden on the grounds which hosted a stone fountain between its well trimmed hedges and trees. The rapping of a shishiodoshi sounded in its ever constant rhythm in tandem with the warm chirping of the birds nested in the boughs of the trees, providing the only sounds in the compound, while Hashirama paced and Tobirama laid silent.
“Stop it.” Tobirama said at length, his eyes still closed as if asleep.
Hashirama paused in his trotting about and turned to his brother, “What?”
“Stop pacing. It's annoying.” replied Tobirama, still maintain his lazy position. “He'll come back.”
“We have no assurance that Nezumi will return from the mission, brother!” cried Hashirama in a nervous voice. “He could...he could go the same way as Itama!”
“I trained Nezumi. He'll make it back. He can't die on his very first assignment.”
“It could happen! Why, there was Torii's kid, Kubo, I think his name was. He died on his first assignment. The corpse was unrecognizable! And there was also, yeah, Maki's daughter! She--”
“I'm in no mood for you foolish babbling, Hashirama. I can sense the chakra of the team--they just passed through the front gates of the Senju quarters.”
“They're back!?” Hashirama shrieked in surprise.
“Yes.” muttered Tobirama.
The elder Senju immediately bounded away, leaping hurriedly and frantically towards the entrance of the Senju territory. In his wild abandon and deep anxiety, he neglected to ask his little brother to check if Nezumi's chakra signature was amongst them, even neglecting to do so himself--as he was also able to sense chakra though not as well as Tobirama. Such was the worry and impatience that tugged at his heart and shattered the equanimity of his mind.
Leaping over several houses, he finally arrived at his target; a small group of armored Senju who were trudging onward wearily from their assignment. He could see blood stained bandages, men supported by the shoulders of their fellows and even one individual unconscious and laid on a stretcher which was borne by two Senju at both ends. Hashirama's worry was effectually elevated to horror at the sight.
“Nezumi! Nezumi!” he began to scream as he approached. His face had paled, his eyes were swollen and projecting and his chest seemed to sink and deflate under the effect of some heavy blow. “Nezumi! Nezu--”
Hashirama Senju, perhaps the strongest shinobi of his clan at that time, was, in this instance of emotional distress, most embarrassingly caught unawares by his sudden collision with something of moderate, if not light weight, which was adorned with Senju armor. The assaulting object tackled him to the ground and he laid there disconcerted for a moment.
“Hashirama-san!”
The Senju was roused from this senseless state by that elated greeting and, finally finding his bearings, cast his eyes upon his attacker, who was none other than Nezumi. The boy was adorned in slightly battered armor and his face was somewhat begrimed, but the sun behind him had brightened his worn features, giving his skin a more pleasant hue, and there was a wide and silly grin stretched across his face.
“I made it back, Hashirama-san!” the child announced joyfully.
“Nezumi!” cried Hashirama pulling the boy into a hug so tight that he was left gasping for air.
It is at this heartfelt reunion of loved ones that this chapter comes to an end.
To Be Continued
“We cannot, absolutely CANNOT, let an Uchiha stand among us!”
“They killed two of my sons! I can't stand the sight of them. This is an outrage!”
“How dare you?! How dare you even suggest it, Hashirama?! You're a disgrace to your own clan!”
The setting was a large hall with a wooden ceiling and wooden floor covered in mats. There were broad paper-paneled walls pierced by small, open windows. In the center of the room was a long, oaken table atop which rested a lamp, and around which about fifteen shinobi were seated.
The lantern threw a dull, lurid light on their grim, scowling faces, murder and fury blazing in their eyes and their nostrils flared. The air was tense and stifling with discord; jaws were set, teeth grinding, blood boiling, veins throbbing and hatred was lurking. A great clamor rose and carried to the other surrounding buildings in the Senju clan quarters and it was all because of young Nezumi Uchiha.
At the head of the table, three people were seated; Tobirama on the left corner, Hashirama on the right, and in the middle, an aged, wrinkled, lean man with grizzled long hair, a full, grey-flecked beard, drooping, sunken eyes which were very placid and narrowed. His head was lowered and his wiry, old frame was wrapped in a full length white kimono. He was Butsuma Senju, leader of the Senju clan and father of Tobirama and Hashirama. Like his sons and unlike everybody else in the room, he was perfectly quiet, and unfazed by the shouts and cries of his angry clansmen.
Tobirama furrowed his brows and looked about him in annoyance. He wasn't particularly a fan of the Uchiha but this was just excessive! Simply for a young child? Growing tired of the tirade, he jumped to his feet and cleared his throat. “Settle down, settle down, my brothers and sisters. We gathered here to talk--”
“Silence, you insolent brat!” cried one of the Senju present, a fuming, bearded old man in green armor, whose tiny, beady black eyes were scrunched up in a scowl which deepened all his wrinkles. “What do you know about the Senju, you little--”
“BE QUIET!” roared Hashirama, leaping to his feet and running his eyes through the faces of his kin. Chakra was pouring, or rather flooding, out of him in ominous, bloodcurdling torrents, and his hair was dancing about violently. The floor was quaking under their feet, the table before them snapped and broke into two as a result of his power, the lamp fell to the ground but was still in good condition, paper panelled walls began to crumble and the faces of the Senju men were white with dread and horror. Only Tobirama and Butsuma looked unruffled.
“Hypocrites! All of you!” thundered Hashirama, his face red with emotion, his brows furrowed in anger and his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. The Senju's entire body was aquiver with wrath. “The Senju chose love? Really? So, this is the love which the legends spoke of? The love that our ancestor believed would bring peace? You are a disgrace to your bloodline! Scoundrels! Vipers! Evil! Heartless! All of you! You would abandon a helpless, innocent child simply because he is an Uchiha?! You are not Senju! None of you are even really human as far as I'm concerned!”
At his last words, a wooden beam from the ceiling fell and nearly crushed one of the men present. Luckily, he was able to leap out of the way. It was then that Tobirama decided that things were getting too out of hand, and gently placed a placating hand on his brother's shoulder, doing his best not to recoil in fear at the waves of chakra pulsing out of him. “Settle down, Hashirama!”
Tobirama's elder brother drew several slow, long breaths, the cloud of chakra that had filled the room like a mighty wind dissipating by the second until it was no more, and then Hashirama seated himself. Tobirama turned to the rest, who were still working to regain their composure and still their pounding hearts. They were still rather pale and trembling when the white-haired Senju began:
“As my brother has said, we need to show the love that our ancestors taught us. Besides, if we were to train an Uchiha with the Senju ways, there's no doubt that the result would be a very powerful ninja. Nezumi can become two things under the right instruction; a beacon of hope for peace in this world since he would be the result of two rival clans and a powerful ninja for the Senju who would give us a greater edge over our enemies.” 'Especially Uchiha' seemed to be tagged at the end of that sentence and, though it went without saying, everyone present got the message and were nodding in agreement.
Hashirama scowled, he knew his brother was really appealing to their hatred for Uchiha and not their love for all men. But his priority was the sparing of Nezumi's life. He was rather surprised that Tobirama was the one speaking up for the child and it showed on his expression; the rising of his brows, the widening of his eyes and the slight slacking of his jaw.
“Then, it is settled.” spoke Butsuma Senju in a deep, hoarse voice, his very first words in the whole proceeding. “Uchiha Nezumi will be raised by the Senju clan under the special care of my sons.”
“Again.” commanded Tobirama.
“Brother, just a little break.” Hashirama pleaded.
“Again!” Tobirama's voice rose and his brows furrowed.
Hashirama sighed.
“It's ok, Hashirama-san!” said Nezumi with a smile, the boy was panting. drawing deep breaths between each word. “I'll be happy to do it again!”
Dressed in only a pair of Nezumi stood in the middle of the same grassy plain where Hashirama found him, the weather was still as sunny as on that very day, the wind was as quiet and soothing. But Nezumi was no longer withering away due to starvation and fatigue. He was displaying his current level of ninjutsu mastery to a very stern and tasking Tobirama and an encouraging Hashirama, both standing about five meters away from him, adorned in their usual battle armor. The child's hands, which were stronger and less sinewy from two months of healthy living with the Senju clan, swiftly weaved a flurry of hand seals. His chest rose and he drew his head back, his chakra burned and his cheeks swelled, then he lurched forward and spat.
Suiton: Suujinheki!
A great flood of water poured from his lips and surrounded him, before rising into a veritable wall of liquid about two meters high. The wall of water kept steady for about ten seconds and then fell away, the technique caster drawing short breaths and supporting himself with both hands resting on his knees. He was soaked and the grass around him was uprooted in some places and sodden in others as a result of the water that flowed away across the plain.
Hashirama was smiling warmly, his eyes gleaming with pride and joy. He considered Nezumi as a little brother as well as a son. His actual brother Tobirama, however, was unimpressed, or rather if he was, the scowl on his face completely masked it.
Hashirama began, “That was great, Nezu--”
“You need to hold the wall for longer.” interrupted Tobirama. “ In battle, you may come under a barrage of attacks that can last for nearly half a minute. Also, chances are you'll be casting the technique in unison with other warriors and if you can't put in more chakra, you will become a weak point in the defense. Is that understood?”
Nezumi nodded with a grave expression which one might not expect a ten year old to be capable of. Hashirama was glaring disapprovingly at his younger brother but Tobirama largely ignored him, concentrating his attention of the young Uchiha.
“Brother, you're being too strict. A wall of water at age ten is impressive.” complained the dark haired Senju.
“Yes, but we've buried a lot of impressive kids, haven't we? Our own brother included. Now, be quiet.” countered Tobirama.
Hashirama sunk his head dejectedly in lugubrious sulking at his brother's words. Tobirama still chose to ignore him.
“Anyways, Nezumi-kun,” the younger Senju continued, “practice makes perfect. I expect the next time we meet, your defense will be acceptable.”
Nezumi nodded. “I'd like to try it one more time.”
“I can sense your chakra.” said Tobirama. “You're running low. Nothing good can come of over taxing yourself.”
“I know, but one more attempt won't hurt, right?”
Tobirama regarded the boy keenly for a moment. There was something burning in his dark, wide eyes. Then, the Senju took a step back and motioned with one hand for Nezumi for havr another go at it again.
The little boy nodded and went through the seals in perhaps half the time it took him to do so a moment before. This alone had so shocked Hashirama that he lifted his head from his brooding and his jaw sagged. Even Tobirama's eyes had widened a small, negligible fraction, something that went unnoticed, but what came next was even more unexpected: The water which surged from Nezumi's lips rose a good two and a half meters high and the towering defense held for very nearly a full minute!
When the technique crumbled away, there was a tremendous distance between Hashirama's lower jaw and his upper one, leaving his mouth utterly gaping, while Tobirama's brows had risen quite high on his face. Nezumi was soaked in water and sweat, he was completely out of breath and thus staggered precariously. The boy swooned and tottered for a moment before his feet finally gave way under him and he fell, luckily, into the waiting arms of Tobirama Senju, who had positioned himself for the catch via a speedy use of the Shunshin no jutsu. If only the little boy's lids had fallen over his eyes a moment later, and if his consciousness had lingered a while longer, he might have heard when Tobirama smiled and uttered, in a soft voice, the words, “You did good.”
It was only after a good night's rest that Nezumi was able to stand firmly on his two feet, such was the exhaustion that came upon him after the impressive display of ninjutsu. But, he had shown in that moment, on that bright sunny day, that he had something which Hashirama would later come to know as a 'Will of Fire.'
On another bright sunny day, Hashirama was pacing the front yard of his home with a grim and anxious expression on his face, eyes facing the floor in deep thought and his two hands clasped behind his back. A few yards behind him, reposing full-length in a long wooden bench, shaded from the sun by the patch of roof hanging over the veranda, was Tobirama. A tooth pick danced between his teeth, his messy hair covered his eyes, which were shut, while two legs were crossed in front of him on the railing of the corridor and his fingers interlocked at the back of his head.
The house was quite large and august, as one would expect from the residence of the Senju leader and his two sons. There was a garden on the grounds which hosted a stone fountain between its well trimmed hedges and trees. The rapping of a shishiodoshi sounded in its ever constant rhythm in tandem with the warm chirping of the birds nested in the boughs of the trees, providing the only sounds in the compound, while Hashirama paced and Tobirama laid silent.
“Stop it.” Tobirama said at length, his eyes still closed as if asleep.
Hashirama paused in his trotting about and turned to his brother, “What?”
“Stop pacing. It's annoying.” replied Tobirama, still maintain his lazy position. “He'll come back.”
“We have no assurance that Nezumi will return from the mission, brother!” cried Hashirama in a nervous voice. “He could...he could go the same way as Itama!”
“I trained Nezumi. He'll make it back. He can't die on his very first assignment.”
“It could happen! Why, there was Torii's kid, Kubo, I think his name was. He died on his first assignment. The corpse was unrecognizable! And there was also, yeah, Maki's daughter! She--”
“I'm in no mood for you foolish babbling, Hashirama. I can sense the chakra of the team--they just passed through the front gates of the Senju quarters.”
“They're back!?” Hashirama shrieked in surprise.
“Yes.” muttered Tobirama.
The elder Senju immediately bounded away, leaping hurriedly and frantically towards the entrance of the Senju territory. In his wild abandon and deep anxiety, he neglected to ask his little brother to check if Nezumi's chakra signature was amongst them, even neglecting to do so himself--as he was also able to sense chakra though not as well as Tobirama. Such was the worry and impatience that tugged at his heart and shattered the equanimity of his mind.
Leaping over several houses, he finally arrived at his target; a small group of armored Senju who were trudging onward wearily from their assignment. He could see blood stained bandages, men supported by the shoulders of their fellows and even one individual unconscious and laid on a stretcher which was borne by two Senju at both ends. Hashirama's worry was effectually elevated to horror at the sight.
“Nezumi! Nezumi!” he began to scream as he approached. His face had paled, his eyes were swollen and projecting and his chest seemed to sink and deflate under the effect of some heavy blow. “Nezumi! Nezu--”
Hashirama Senju, perhaps the strongest shinobi of his clan at that time, was, in this instance of emotional distress, most embarrassingly caught unawares by his sudden collision with something of moderate, if not light weight, which was adorned with Senju armor. The assaulting object tackled him to the ground and he laid there disconcerted for a moment.
“Hashirama-san!”
The Senju was roused from this senseless state by that elated greeting and, finally finding his bearings, cast his eyes upon his attacker, who was none other than Nezumi. The boy was adorned in slightly battered armor and his face was somewhat begrimed, but the sun behind him had brightened his worn features, giving his skin a more pleasant hue, and there was a wide and silly grin stretched across his face.
“I made it back, Hashirama-san!” the child announced joyfully.
“Nezumi!” cried Hashirama pulling the boy into a hug so tight that he was left gasping for air.
It is at this heartfelt reunion of loved ones that this chapter comes to an end.
To Be Continued
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