#menokami

[mizunokami]

My nemesis, my only friend

starter for @menokami

Never had wounds ever taken that long to heal on him. Not only did it hurt, day and night, but it also got infected and ached even more. But Tobirama was a resilient boy and his body refused to die, even in the enemy’s care.

What they wanted with him, Tobirama didn’t know. As days went by, hope for his clan to come and get him shrunk. He had a lot of time to think and thinking about it, there was no good, logical reason why they would need to take the risk of retrieving him from what seemed like the Uchiha main camp.

Sure, he was the Senju’s primary sensor now and it would be a loss, but knowing his father, Butsuma would surely not trade with an Uchiha. Even if it meant keeping his first trueborn son out of their claws.

And Hashirama?

In his heart, Tobirama hoped for his older brother to produce another of his miracles and come save him, but in his head, he knew that even Hashirama’s blossoming powers had their limits. He didn’t want for his brother to get hurt, but it did break his heart, slowly but surely, to know that noone would come for him.

It didn’t help that his assigned ‘caretaker’ liked to affirm that every time he saw him. Izuna was particularly cruel. Having Tobirama bedridden at his disposal, too weak to defend himself properly, Izuna’s sick mind came up with all sorts of things to amuse himself with. From rubbing salt into his wound to bringing him things that were supposedly cut off of Senju, he knew no boundaries.

Tobirama endured. Before he healed, he’d already given up on his family. It was just not plausible for them to come and get him. Too much risk for too little reward. It made his heart bleed more than the wound ever had, and Izuna stuck his little hand right in there, twisting it. He kept enduring. When he healed, he’d set his mind on something else. If his clan wasn’t going to get him out, he’d get himself out, sooner or later.

[sennokami]

Spring Thaw

starter for @menokami

“We don’t have any battles coming up,” Madara said one morning. It was a cool day in spring and the early hours still had a frosty bite. He wore his thickest mantle with a heavy wool cloak, his hair tucked in to keep him warmer. “I thought we should do something.”

Get out of the camp. Walk. To just do something that was frivolous and fun because they could. Madara could barely remember the last time he dragged Izuna out for a trek through the forest. It felt like their life previous to the Mangekyo was from an entirely different time -- the memories of strangers who only shared their faces.

No more though. Madara already had his hawking glove strapped on. He tossed Izuna’s glove to him.

“Put on something warm. We’re hunting for the clan.”

[kiiroisenkoh]

Troubled Times @menokami

The bodies were discovered by others within the clan at the outpost when they failed to return home later that day. It was a massacre when they arrived, bodies strewn about, seven in total, blood and gore staining the ground. From the weapons in their hands, one could conclude they died fighting. Each of these men and women had families, friends, people that would have to hear of their deaths, would have to mourn when their bodies were later burned. 

What had happened, they weren’t entirely sure. There were no trails of blood leading anywhere, no clues to indicate where the murderer had disappeared to. Only one of the men recognized the lingering chakra within the area, identifying it as that strange medic that had helped to heal some of their clan. 

The report was given to Izuna later that night, when the bodies were brought home to be inspected, and Hikaku gave the location of the medics camp. Something had happened to those people, and somehow, that strange medic was involved. 

The sun was rising by the time Minato made it to his camp. He carried the box of ink with him that Tobirama had brought to that tiny hut yesterday, holding it close to his chest. Refreshed as he felt, he had to hurry with his packing. Staying here was no longer an option, not with everything that had happened yesterday. 

This place wasn’t his home. For the past few months, he’d fallen into a sort of content state of being fine with the thought of living in this place. Now his movements were hurried as he set to packing the things of importance, sealing up what he needed within scrolls. Clothes, ink, food he had stored away, they would all be coming with him. 

He had done this to himself. Had ruined what bit of peace he had with his need for revenge, so blinded by it that he’d been at the time. Minato took a moment for himself, standing in the middle of his camp and just letting himself take it all in. 

He would truly miss this place. 

[zankouu]

There are many differences between us for example I’m not a sl**

[mizunokami]

Burning heart

starter for @menokami

Never would he have thought that one day the Edo Tensei would save a life. Much less his own.

But here he was, clinging to Riko’s muddy, blood-splattered fur with the last of his reserves, equally dirty and perhaps more direly injured than the nimble wolf who carried him away as fast as her paws took her.

Away from what had been a battleground for most of the day, the meeting place for the official alliance between Cloud and Leaf villages now levelled by forces well beyond a common shinobi’s understanding. Tobirama was no common shinobi, but there were limits to his powers and he had reached them today. So had the Second Raikage. The man had died doing what Tobirama had done as well, keeping those under their protection from harm, sheltered from the relentless attack of the Cloud’s own rogue special forces.

When the Leaf and Cloud shinobi attending the ceremony had made it out, Tobirama and A both had turned what remained of their strength against the Gold and Silver Brothers and the shinobi following them.

What followed had been utter destruction. What had saved his life was his own shadow clone performing the Edo Tensei, a technique that used so little chakra it simply went unnoticed in the heat of battle. The Second Raikage would surely forgive him for using him like this, but his own, former underlings’ obsession with fighting him, even reanimated as it was, was what let Tobirama get away in the end.

His vision was swimming in and out of focus, there was blood rushing in his ears and his fingertips were growing numb. His armour and clothing was hanging in filthy, torn shreds on him, he had lost a lot of blood, and there was too little chakra left in him to try and heal. Tobirama’s hope was Riko and her stamina and endurance despite her wounds.

If she did not make it, Tobirama would die with her.

[mizunokami]

From Hell With Love

starter for @menokami, next chapter of the Tobizuna origin storyline

The first thing he grew aware of were the birds. The wind in the trees above. His senses spread out and found a forest pond, not too far away.

Tobirama’s conscience slowly returned to him, allowing him all these nice, serene impressions before confronting him with reality.

His hands, bound intricately to prevent him from using seals. His back pressed against the rough bark of some large tree. Even his eyes were blindfolded. Tobirama’s breathing picked up instantly as he tried his muscles, straining against the bindings. Nothing.

He tried to keep quiet even though fear crept up his neck. It wasn’t just that he was bound here, he also couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, who had taken him and left him like this?

Tobirama forced himself to calm down. What was the last thing he did remember? Breakfast with Hashirama. His brother leaving. His own armour, putting it on. The forest flying by. Then, nothing.

Someone must have gotten him good, he must have ran into a trap, but so close to Senju grounds? If this was the pond he thought it to be then they were on neutral territory, who would...

Tobirama wrestled a finger free, just one, and pressed it against the tree behind him. He might not have his eyes, but that wouldn’t keep him from seeing who was around him.

His sensory net spread out through the tree into the ground, stretched further and further.

[sennokami]

@menokami

“Now that I’m clan head, you should call me nii-sama.”

[sennokami]

Armistice Letters

starter for @menokami

The moment he emerge from his room, he was taken away to write his letter to his clan. Madara penned it under Hashirama’s watchful eye after pointedly assuring him that he could manage it alone, thanks.

His script came out shakier than it normally did, with several ink splotches, but it was legible.

Izuna,

I’m alive. The Senju haven’t touched me and my wounds were treated. I’m writing to warn you against taking any rash actions. You know what happened last time.

The writing grew a little sloppier as his eyes strained. By the end of it, Madara nearly had his nose pressed against the paper to see what he was writing, holding his hair back one-handed so it didn’t cover anything.

Hashirama has told me our clan have Senju prisoners. Do not harm them. Accept his peace offer. Do not attempt to change my mind. I speak as both your clan head and your elder brother -- this is for the clan.

Madara