Author: Amaya
Editor: Aiko
Characters/Pairings: [Tobirama x Sakura]; [Madara x Sakura]; Senju Hashirama; Uchiha Izuna; [minor Izuna x Sakura]
Rating: Mature
Themes: Romance, Drama, Action, Adventure, Family
Warnings: This story contains depictions of violence and mature sexual content, and uses strong language.

Summary: She's an enigma who appeared out of nowhere with cracked armor and broken memories, demanding a place in a man's world with eyes a shade of green that brought the earth back to life. To most, they're the hue of a new spring growth, a beacon of hope that leads those astray back home. But when he peers into those eyes, he sees wildfires and journeys across time and seasons. And home.

Full Summary:
She's an enigma who appeared out of nowhere with cracked armor and broken memories. No one knew what to think of her—a woman who demanded a place in a man's world, with eyes a shade of green that brought the earth back to life after an unforgiving cold. To most, they're the hue of a new spring growth, a beacon of hope that led those astray back where they belonged.

But when he peers into those eyes, he sees wildfires, and journeys across time and seasons. And more importantly, he sees home.

A story in which Sakura finds herself thrown back into a time where legends thrive. She knows she's a kunoichi, she knows she has a mission—but what that mission is, she doesn't know.

Author's Note

Alright! I've been wanting to post this story for the longest time. I've always wanted to try my hand at a time travel fic, and plus, we could always use more Founders x Sakura stories, am I right? Just as a warning, this is my first time writing each of the founders as a main character, so I apologize if it seems a bit off at first. I'll try my best to keep the characters consistent and distinct!

Anyway, I don't want to keep you all waiting, so I present to you: Okinotayuu. Enjoy!

Chapter One || As Fate Would Have It

Okinotayuu— the alternative name for a short-tailed albatross (also known as an ahoudori);
a ballad telling the story of a journey of the time and seasons
from the point of view of a bird.

Sakura woke up running.

Or rather, she woke up falling. It was only a few seconds and wasn't much of a drop, but as soon as her feet touched solid ground, she started running. She wasn't sure how long she had been going for or even why. She just knew that she had to—that something was blatantly, abhorrently wrong and that she couldn't stay there.

Every bit of her hurt—burned—in ways she couldn't say she had ever felt before. The pain throbbed into her lungs, deep and warm, but not in a nice way, while her ribs constricted around them, preventing her from breathing comfortably. It felt as if a weight was pressing down on her chest, refusing to allow her to suck in anything more than a shallow pant. Her palms sting and her shoulders quiver, her heart clogs her throat like cotton, and her legs trembled with each step, threatening to buckle beneath her at any moment but she stubbornly ignored the agony that gripped her. Because if she's anything, she's persistent.

Just for a little longer, she promised herself.

Brambles bit into her legs as she tore through thickets of them, slicing at her already beaten pants and smearing blood beneath them, but as much as those, too, hurt, she doesn't stop. Not even when her vision became dotted with darkness or when her head felt light. She didn't stop running until her body finally, finally gave up on her, and by then, she hadn't realized her frenzied sprint had slowed into a pathetic stumble driven only by sheer willpower. Her right knee succumbed first, crashing against and digging into the soil, but her left still thinks she's running so it slid uselessly across the ground. Her head swayed.

Sakura shifted her left knee—the strong one—so her foot was firmly planted, then willed her limbs to obey her for just a little longer. Her body trembled, her muscles pulled taunt, and then tears obscured her vision. Vaguely, she's aware of the way her shirt clings to her skin, of the dried blood that had once trickled down the side of her face, and the concerns of a head injury should have bothered her more than it did, but it didn't. Brokenly, she fell back onto her bruised knees as they fought against her, subsequently drawing a frustratingly pained sob from her lips.

She couldn't stop. So she crawled.

The medic clutched at her side, biting back another groan that wheezed from her throat, vainly hoping the pressure of her hand would abate the rippling pain somehow, and in a way it did. Vertigo swayed her vision, blackening it once again, and when she opened her eyes, the trees were moving. They were bending over her, their branches reaching out, their gnarled tattoos twisting into grimacing faces. Mangled figures slunk from their shadows, canting their faceless heads in curiosity before disappearing into the deceptively calm breeze. Ghostly fingers sunk into her skin, stretching and tearing, reaching into her spine and plucking at them like the strings of a shamisen. She knew she was seeing things, but it doesn't make her any less terrified.

Sakura crawled for as long as her body was willing to put up with her, which really wasn't very long, until she finally collapsed against a hulking patch of bushes. It was more comfortable than the ground, but just barely. Rolling onto her back, Sakura crossed the backs of her hands over her brow to open up her shuddering airway then begins counting backwards from ten. She needs to calm down.

Not relax.

Calm down.

Separate the facts.

Understand.

Most of the sky was blotted out by the forest's verdant canopies, but from what she could see, it was midway into the evening. The stars were nonexistent, the skies painted in shades of lavender and cosmos, with a desperate streak of gray swimming across its vast expanse. Wildlife growled all around her, lively, with a few happy chirps from grasshoppers and the purrs of cicadas, the cooing of Chestnut Chickadees, as the life of day began to dwindle. The trees that surround her have richly pigmented red bark wrapped around their thick, perfectly round trunks while their branches were adorned with spiky, brush-like needles. Sakura reached for the trunk closest to her and idly scraped her nails across its body, easily chipping off large flakes that were feather-light in her hand. She brought the sample to her nose; it smelled dry, like dust on a summer day with a smidgen of earth—redwood trees, she determined. The familiarity comforted her, made her think of home, although she wasn't quite sure where home was.

Abandoning the tree sample, Sakura raised her hands into the air so she could examine them. Her skin was pallid and discolored with contusions, marked with faint gashes that still stung. Her hands were dry, her thumb in particular, calloused. Her fingers shake. Her nails are maintained but chipped, short and painted a light green with crescents of dirt trapped grossly beneath them. She isn't too sure what this observation tells her, but its relevant somehow. Her eyes traveled down to her wrists, along her pockmarked arms, then her hands glided over her torso where her belly twists away from her touch. With a bit of difficulty, she lifted the bottom of her dark shirt, where she found the gaps between her ribs to be stained with a grotesque maraud of colors that have no place on the human body. Lower than that, her skin is raw and weeping in various shades of pink and red, with an indigo bruise forming around the puckering laceration that carved into her waist.

Suddenly, disequilibrium caught up to her, amplifying the migraine that pulsated throughout her skull. Sakura drew her tongue along her dry lips but there wasn't enough saliva to wet them, and every lungful of breath stole more water from her body. Water, Sakura lamented, swallowing the leathery mass in her throat, I need water.

She tried to move but her body wouldn't even entertain the idea, making desperate tears sting as they formed along her lashes, lingering even as she blinked them away. She tried to summon whatever she could of her memories, probing her mind for any little detail regarding anything but found nothing. Nothing but blood—copious rivulets of it, splattered against stone and smeared against feverish, sun-beaten flesh. She saw faces frozen into rigid snarls and unaware gasps in a final, eternal lamentation into death. She heard the melody of a hundred sobs and a thousand screams, ringing like a nightmarish track that wouldn't break, even as she pressed her palms against her ears. And then the unmistakable scent of death floods her nostrils, seeping into her throat and taking root in her neck until she could taste it almost as much as the bile she forced down.

And then she saw a man.

Just flashes of him—of wild hair and glowing eyes, standing at the center of a crater with his arms outstretched and his nose upturned as he reveled in what must've been his work. She feels anger and sorrow and heartbreak, as if she can remember feelings better than faces.

Her palms began to sweat as the memories overwhelm the rest of her senses, and her brow pulsated with a sharp pain that made her cradle her head. Her body felt even heavier than it had earlier, sicker, weaker, to the point that she didn't even bother fighting off the fatigue this time. She can't. So she did the only thing her body felt strong enough to do: she cried. She cried a river with ragged currents that flowed down her cheeks and into the wilted collar of her shirt, halfway curled into a ball with the bushes as her pillow, until she could cry no more.

Okinotayuu

The next time she woke up, Sakura was fully aware of the stiffness in her back and the burning in her wrists. Her vision was bleary at first, but slowly went into focus the more she blinked away her slumber until she could clearly see the man sitting across from her. He looked to be of average height and average build, but it was hard to tell with the dark blue armor that was draped over his body. He had shaggy hair that could have been either blonde or brown when properly washed, and blue-grey eyes sullied with fatigue underneath. The tear troughs on his cheeks were prominent, blending in with the scars pockmarked around his mouth despite hardly looking any older than her. He was hunched over his knees, twirling a knife in one hand, studying her with his lips set firmly in a thin line and his brows furrowed, as if he were trying to figure her out.

She wanted to tell him to wait in line, because she wanted to figure herself out, first, but she kept quiet.

He didn't say anything to her at first, just continued to stare. Nor did he offer to help her when she struggled to sit up. The wire that bound her hands together cut into her wrists in warning, but Sakura managed to sit up on her own after a stint of struggle. The moment she was upright, the blade stopped twirling and was pointed at her from across the burnt out fire pit.

"Who are you?" The man questioned, glaring at her from the scope of his knife. His voice was cold, gravely, sounding the way a pick sounded when chipping at ice.

Her lips parted but the words died in her throat. What is her name? Her brows knit together as she searched her mind for something—anything—until finally something struck her like a slap in the face. Her tongue tried to wet her lips as she rasped out, "Sakura."

The stranger clenched his jaw. "Sakura what?"

She doesn't know. She doesn't know and that terrified the shit out of her. Her mouth moved but nothing more than a confused stutter came out. The stranger didn't seem to like that. He jumped to his feet, stabbing the knife into the log he had been sitting on, then crossed the short distance between them before she could process what was happening. He fisted the front of her blood encrusted shirt and roughly yanked her to her feet.

"Sakura what?" He demanded again. "Who are you, woman?"

"I—I don't know!" She squeaked, but she was more angry than scared of the man, even when he began to shake her. Her sight blurred with his manhandling, making her stomach twist more uncomfortably than it had before but her ire overpowered her urge to retch. "Let me go!"

She thrashed in his hold, glaring and bucking until she finally managed to tear herself out of his grasp by stomping on his foot and shoving him with her shoulder. He swore as he released her, shoving her in the process, and without him holding her up, Sakura collapsed to the ground. She scrambled to her knees and tried to crawl towards the knife he had previously abandoned but he reached it first. He tangled his fingers into her hair before she could move away, pulling her against his knees, then ripped the kunai from the log to position it below her chin.

"This is the last time I'll ask: who are you?"

As soon as the point of his kunai dug into Sakura's throat, she stilled. Fear thrummed in her veins, coaxing a quiver but she fought it off as best as she could. "I already told you, I don't know!" She spat, ignoring the tears that pricked at her eyes. "I don't know anything!"

The man let out a displeased sneer, tired eyes warily scanning the forest before returning to her. "You're no Uchiha. Definitely not a Hyuuga. Yet you're running around carrying some quality weapons. So what are you? A Senju? Nobushi? Speak, woman!"

Growling, Sakura twisted around and sunk her teeth into the muscle of his thigh as hard as she could, and didn't let go even as he screamed and belted the crown of her head with his knuckles, then kicked at his ankle. His leg buckled and his grip of her hair loosened just enough, and as soon as it did, Sakura jumped to her feet and began to run, ignoring the pain in her scalp as he stubbornly ripped hairs from her head. With fear lapping at her back, Sakura sprinted as fast as she could with her hands still bound behind her, ducking the low hanging branches and leaping over outcropping roots. Instinct told her to veer, to move in an erratic pattern so she cut through the thicker brush despite it slowing her down.

Something pricked the back of her neck, screaming at her to jerk to the right so she did, just narrowly avoiding a kunai whizzing past her; it embedded itself into the trunk of a tree in front of her. Pain began to take hold of her again, taunting her perception with vertigo but this time she knew she couldn't allow herself to give in to it. She wouldn't.

Soon, the sounds of wildlife began to shift. The scurrying of rodents and the rustling of trees were accompanied by a low burbling that spoke of rushing water, so she decided to chase it with the hope that it would eventually lead to, well, anything. She burst through the treeline, skidding to an abrupt stop as she found herself facing a wider than anticipated river.

"Shit," Sakura breathed, chancing a look back at the forest. She wasn't sure if she lost her abductor or not, but she knew crossing the river with her hands tied like that wouldn't have been the best idea. It was too wide of a girth, and the currents were too fast but then again, did she really have a choice?

Stopping meant captivity. Running meant survival.

Survival, captivity, subjugation—she felt like a wild animal running around like this, and a part of her screamed: you are one.

Beryl orbs scanned the riverbed and the verdant canopies of the towering mountainside on the other side of the river, searching again for something, anything, but there was nothing but moths and dragonflies and her. Deciding the forest was her best chance, Sakura whirled around just to collide with a body. She shrieked as her captor's hands bore purchase in the shoulders of her vest and tried to pull away but he held her tight and threw her to the ground.

"Annoying little bitch!" He snarled, bringing the flat of his foot down on her side. Wheezing for breath, Sakura turned as best as she could while still bound and kicked at his legs, striking him in the same place she had bitten him. He swore, crumbling over her. She tried to crawl away from him again, kicking at him and screaming out a mixture of words—"get off of me!" and "somebody help!"—but he pulled her back to him by the ankle and straddled her to keep her in place. She bucked and thrashed beneath him, ignoring the blood that began to unfurl at her wrists and the pain that stabbed into her shoulders, until she turned over onto her back. She rocked her body forward, slamming her brow against his jaw without a shred of hesitance, earning another curse from the man.

When he reared back onto his hackles, clutching his bleeding nose with his palm, Sakura slipped one of her legs out from under him and delivered a powerful, desperate kick to his midsection that sent him tumbling back. The man recoiled from the pain, eyes fogged with tears and hands flooded with blood, giving her enough time to clamber to her feet. She didn't get very far, however, as she found her escape blocked by the appearance of another man.

He was quite clearly a seasoned shinobi. He towered over her, intimidatingly so, with his arms folded across his armored chest and his shoulders tensed. He peered down at her, his expression serious but not unkind, a crease between his furrowed brows and the corner of his lips down turned just enough for her to see a hint of a frown. His complexion was warmly tanned, his nose and jawline well defined—strong, with very few traces of boyhood—while enviously long, black hair flowed over his shoulders. In contrast to the harshness of his frown, he had the softest eyes. They were a hickory as rich as the earth's soil; stained with the same auburn color of the redwood trees that surrounded them.

But more importantly than all that, his eyes were kind, and they were familiar.

She knew this man, and yet she didn't at the same time.

Praying to the Gods for mercy, Sakura scrambled to stand before him and bowed her head, hoping that by making herself appear even smaller than she already was, he wouldn't consider her a threat. The tears fell freely now, and she knew she wouldn't have been able to stop them even if she tried.

"Help me, please!" She pleaded, gazing up at him, pressing against his chest. He peered down at her with an expression nearly as blank as stone, silent, hesitant, but then looked back up at her captor a moment later. Instinctively, Sakura moved even closer to the stranger with the familiar face, and he allowed it with a curious gleam in his eye but didn't speak of it. Instead, he took two steps forward, moving to stand directly in front of her, to block her from the man that was slowly rising to his feet.

"Senju," Her captor spits, unsheathing the sword fastened to his hip. The man beside her does the same, but much slower, as if he were reluctant. Sakura shivered as the icy fingers of her captor's intent mockingly stroked at her cheeks, urging her to put more distance between them. Her ally, having noticed as well, tightened his grip on his sword and lowered into a defensive stance.

"I have no qualms with you, brother," He began, slowly, his sword glinting ominously in the moonlight. "But if you don't return your sword and leave, I will."

"I'll return my sword when you return my captive," Her captor shot back, his glare flickering to Sakura with revived wrath. For a moment, she feared the Senju man would deliver her, but that worry dissipated quickly when he made no move from his position.

"I'm afraid I cannot honor that; not if your intention is to harm the Lady more than you already have."

"Spoils of war," The other man chided, clicking his tongue. "You should know of those better than anyone, Senju."

The atmosphere grew uncomfortably thick with suspense as the two men glared at one another, but neither moved, not even an inch. "I'll give you one more warning," Her ally growled, his eyes narrowing warningly and his tone like ice. "You're too close to Senju territory. Leave now. Go home to your wife, hold your children. We'll fight another day if you're so inclined. Otherwise, I'll strike you down now, and there will be nothing left for your wife and children to mourn. You will be my spoil."

Sakura watched with wide eyes as the man remained rooted in place, seeming to think those words over. His nose was scrunched, his lips curled back into a snarl while he glared at her with as much hatred as he could muster. But he quickly straightened his stance and slid his sword back into his scabbard, spitting his curses into the dirt. "I'll remember this, Senju." He remained for a moment longer then retreated back into the woods, facing the pair, and didn't turn his back to them until his form had disappeared completely into the darkness of the trees.

The man standing before her let out a breath as he too relaxed his stance and returned his katana to it's scabbord. He observed her over his armored shoulder, smiling in a way she swore to have seen before. And Sakura couldn't help but admit he looked much more attractive with a smile. "Are you alright?" He asked.

Gone was the harshness of his voice, replaced by something tentative. It made Sakura slump with relief, tensing again for the briefest moments when he drew a kunai and turned her around to cut the wires at her wrists. She rubbed at them whilst murmuring her thanks, then hurried to the edge of the riverbank and dunked her hands below the water, cupping as much water as she could in her palms then brought them to her lips. The water was frigid, numbing her fingers further than they already were, but was much appreciated in her throat even if it tasted of minerals and fish. Hands reached out for her after she had her fill, settling on her shoulders, softly pushing her away but firmly gripping her shoulders all the same. At first, Sakura panicked and tried to worm away from the mysterious stranger but he tightened his hold.

He took her small hand in his much larger one, not quite forcefully, but not totally gently either. His thumb brushed over her the inflamed, bloody skin, massaging away the pain as best as he could. Then he carefully stepped into the current without care for his pants, where he held her hands under the water, using his own hands to scoop water higher up onto her arms. Once the blood had been cleaned away, he ripped away the lower portion of his shirt, then tore that scrap again in half, to wrap around her wrists.

"There," He announced, tying off the ends of her makeshift bandages. "It isn't the most ideal covering, but it will keep your injuries from worsening."

Pulling her hand free from his and realizing she had never replied to his question, Sakura bowed as lowly as her injuries would allow, wincing noticeably as she did. "I...yes, thank you...for everything." Her voice was more of a croak than anything, making her wince.

When the man grinned at her with the intensity of a thousand flames, Sakura released a mighty breath in relief. "Of course! It would be cruel of me to turn a blind eye to a woman in need," He assured. "Will you be alright to travel?" She nodded stiffly, hesitantly taking his hand again when he stood and offered it to her. He brought her to her feet, positioning his free arm around her waist to help her away from the river. Sakura flinched when she put weight on her foot, floundering into his side but he patiently steadied her. "Would it be too much of me to ask the name of the woman I saved?" He suddenly asked, his smile still in place. "My name is Hashirama."

She hesitated, unsure whether or not it would've been wise to give her name so freely, but she eventually relented. "I'm Sakura."

Hashirama gently squeezed her hand, and the small gesture was oddly comforting. "A lovely name," He complimented. "I understand that these are trying times so please don't misunderstand my intentions, but where are you from?"

The rosette stopped walking at the question, forcing Hashirama to still beside her. Ah, yet another question she didn't know the answer of. How annoying. Her eyes drifted to the man at her side, wondering if he would react just as roughly as her captor had when she truthfully answered that she didn't know. But something in the gentleness in his features promised that he wouldn't. Meanwhile, Hashirama watched as Sakura's brows knit together, how she canted her head to the right and pursed her lips, and then finally, how she glanced at him with such uncertainty that he felt the need to squeeze her hand once again.

"I apologize," He began. "I just wanted to know where to escort you. I understand if you wish to protect your clan's name."

Pulling herself from Hashirama's grasp, Sakura waved her hands defensively. "Oh no! Its not that! I just," She paused, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. "I-I don't...know where I'm from. I don't remember much about anything, actually. I remember running, and then I fainted, and woke up to that man pointing a knife at my throat."

Hashirama quirked a brow, but didn't appear all too upset much to her relief. "I see," He hummed thoughtfully, drawing one arm around his chest and lifting the other to stroke his chin. At the same time, he scanned over her form, taking in the rather masculine attire she donned as if with understanding. "At first glance I would've thought you a civilian," He paused to chuckle, either at his statement of her almost affronted expression, she wasn't sure. "But you don't carry yourself as one, so I assume you're a kunoichi."

"Yes."

The answer slipped out without a beat between them. It came so naturally to her and felt the closest thing to comfortable to admit, and the fact that she at least knew that about herself with such confidence could have made Sakura beam with satisfaction.

"You must have hit your head pretty hard," Hashirama deduced. "You'll need a healer to tend to your injuries otherwise you'll hurt yourself more than you already have. Unfortunately, the nearest village is quite a way's away from here, I'm afraid. A few day's out."

Sakura deflated at that. A few days? She had nothing with her but the clothes on her back; she couldn't survive a few days out in that forest, especially with that man with a grudge against her lurking about! She didn't need to be a kunoichi to understand what danger she was in.

Having caught the dip in her shoulders, Hashirama tapped the hand that was draped over his shoulder reassuringly. "Luckily for you, my clan is known to have the best healers in all of Hi no Kuni," He boasted, the pride clearly evident in his tone. He began leading along the river once again, mindful of her injuries and her limp.

"Will that really be okay?" Sakura asked, uncertainty playing upon the notes of her voice. "I don't have anything to pay you with."

She was so startled by the abrupt laughter from beside her, that Sakura flinched away. The Senju propped his hands on his hips, posing even as Sakura continued to cling to him, and he bellowed out, "Nonsense! Don't worry yourself over things like that! I'd offer to heal you myself but I'm afraid my abilities are limited to myself. I haven't quite perfected the art on others yet, and you look like you're in dire need for rest."

It was as if her body had been waiting for those words, because the moment they left Hashirama's mouth, her knee folded under her and her head lolled. Hashirama lowered to the ground with her, slowing her descent by carrying most of her weight. Sakura tried to stand up again, only to cry out before her wobbling legs could take even a fraction of her weight. Hashirama's eyes widened briefly at the display, before lidding halfway. He didn't wait for her to refuse, tucking his arms under the bends of her knees and the flat of her shoulders, then straightening.

"I-I'm sorry! I can—"

"It's alright Sakura-san," Hashirama interrupted. "You can rest. You've had quite a day, it seems." She made to protest, but he quieted her once again with a smile that was so full of warmth, that it shook something within her. He didn't say anything, but the words he meant to convey were clear, so Sakura reluctantly allowed her shoulders to relax into his embrace.

"Thank you, Hashirama-san."

Okinotayuu

Hashirama glanced down at the woman in his arms. She had fallen asleep some time ago—or perhaps, asleep was the wrong word. She lost consciousness. Pity swelled in his stomach as he took in the bruising on her arms and the decay that scented her. He wondered what she had to have been through for such injuries. She admitted to being a kunoichi, which most women would never do. Kunoichi weren't exactly rare; with the way this war was going, more and more women were unfortunately being forced into the lifestyle, but he had never come across one so quick to embrace her title. Because it was arguably more dangerous to be a woman caught in the field, most of them either donned the appearance of a man, denying their gender when provoked, or maintained an appearance as normal of a woman could get and claimed the title of civilian.

But this one—Sakura—both dressed like a man, and openly acknowledged her femininity. And she was almost too quick to trust him. Not that he wasn't a friendly person or anything, but it was certainly unexpected. She stood out too much to walk in a crowd or hide on a battlefield, what with her hair that intriguing shade of pink.

How peculiar was that? He had seen pink hair before, but it was always dark, teetering towards red and never a shade reminiscent to flowers.

Not to mention, her clothing was rather odd. She wore a matching set of navy blue pants and long sleeved shirt. The material was stretchy and breathable, so light weight that it almost felt like a second skin when he fingered it, but was sullied with splatters of mud and blood, and torn all over. Over that, she wore a strange forest green vest that seemed to be plated between the seams, but oddly light for armor. In any case, it was a wonder she was still alive, living like that. He supposed she was just lucky he happened to be patrolling the area when he heard her, otherwise Sakura would have met a much crueler fate. Which reminded him: he would have to increase security to the area, considering how close her abductor had been to his home.

Hashirama tore his perusal away from the rosette to take in the path before him. The gates surrounding the compound came into view, as did the two guards that stood sentinel before them. Holding the woman in his arms closer, more firmly, to his chest, Hashirama strode past the guards who greeted him with nodding heads and curious glances. Once inside, he breathed a sigh of relief. The easy part was nearly over. He ignored the weight of the rest of his clansmen's stares, which only grew heavier the further into the compound he walked, stopping only once he felt the unfortunately familiar pulsation of his brother's chakra not too long later.

"Anija!"

Plastering on a grin, Hashirama slowly turned to his brother. "Tobi! How are you, my brother?"

Tobirama eased between the bodies that had begun to crowd them, his scarlet eyes narrowed into a displeased glare. "What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, crossing his arms. He nodded his head in the direction of Sakura. "Who is this?"

Already aware of the oncoming argument, Hashirama turned to the closest man he could and gestured for them to take Sakura's sleeping form. "Bring her to Chizue-obasama, please," He politely murmured, smiling in thanks when the young man gingerly accepted the rosette and stalked off. Once Sakura was out of his arms, Hashirama began making his way to the main house of the compound, his fingers already working on the knots for his shoulder plates. He didn't need to spare a glance behind him to know his brother was following at his ankles. "Sakura-san just needs someplace to recover for a few days, is all. Some food and water will do her some good."

"Absolutely not."

"Brother, she's injured," Hashirama argued. "You should have seen her when I found her."

"How unfortunate for her," Tobirama deadpanned, drumming his fingers over his forearm in an attempt at reigning in his irritation. "You shouldn't have brought her here. She's an outsider."

"She's a nice girl once you talk to her," The elder of the two chirped, seemingly unaffected by the bite in his brother's timbre. He even went as far as to wave a hand in dismissal. "I'm sure the two of you would have plenty to talk about once she wakes up!"

"She does not belong here."

At that, Hashirama's smile faltered, nearly delving into a sigh, but he swallowed the disappointed breath before it could escape. His younger brother had always been wary by nature, and he understood every possible reason as to why, but that didn't mean it exhausted him to no end at times. Arriving at their shared home, Hashirama slipped his arms out of his chest plate and pauldrons while simultaneously toeing off his sandals. "It's just for a few days, until she can walk on her own," He promised, setting his armor down against the wall.

"You cannot take in every stray that happens to walk by," Tobirama ground out, while also removing his shoes and setting them neatly against the rack. His intonation was rough with ire

Hashirama frowned deeply at his brother from over his shoulder. "Tobi, she isn't a dog," He admonished, finally furrowing his brows in annoyance. "She's a kunoichi."

The vexed expression Tobirama wore morphed into a more petulant one to go with his rigidly tight form. He dug his nails into his bicep and turned his head away, his upper lip curling slightly with the remnants of a snarl. "Which is exactly why she shouldn't be here." He followed his brother into the tea room, dropping elegantly into his usual place despite his mood while Hashirama sparked a match to light the fire pit.

For a while, Hashirama didn't respond to his brother's last statement. He merely prepared a pot of tea and closed his eyes, sighing deeply as he recalled hearing Sakura's screams from the forest. He had seen her fight her captor off, her movements purely desperate rather than properly conditioned, as a kunoichi's should've been. She was so weak, so scared, and that shinobi in the forest clearly held little to no regard for honor if he was fine abusing women, kunoichi or not. It sickened him.

"She was attacked," He finally said, softly.

Tobirama having caught the notes in Hashirama's voice, allowed a slash of sympathy to flow into his words, but remained otherwise stoic. "Yet another reason she shouldn't be here. If someone is after her, her presence puts the clan at risk."

"Would you have me leave her?" Hashirama shot back, his tone now growing heavy with challenge. "Bound with wire? Bleeding at the wrists? She hadn't had water in days, let alone food, Tobi."

Tobirama met his glare fiercely, nose scrunching slightly with the beginnings of a grimace as he felt the atmosphere around them shift with the tails of Hashirama's declining mood, but he held his tongue. They remained in silence for a long time, conveying the rest of their conversation to one another without words, until Tobirama finally adverted his eyes. Hashirama's expression softened at his brother's acquiesce, as begrudgingly as it may have been. As caustic as his brother was, Tobirama ultimately was a kind man in his own capacity.

"It is just for a few days, Otōto. Let her sleep away her pain, get some food in her belly. Once she's able to walk on her own, we'll send her off," Hashirama amended, pushing the tea cup forward.

The younger of the two grunted in response, then unfolded his arms. He took his tea cup into both hands and blew lightly against steam that danced along the rim, but his scarlet eyes did not leave his brother's. "Very well," Tobirama relented. "You'll do as you wish, anyway."

Hashirama's features softened again, brightened actually. "Wonderful! I knew you'd come around, Tobi!"

Before Hashirama could go on to spout whatever nonsense he would no doubt babble, Tobirama interrupted. "However, if she is to be residing here for a period, regardless of how short, she should be properly questioned."

"If that is what will put your concerns at rest," Hashirama conceded, nodding resolutely. "But do go easy on her. She's clearly been through enough of an ordeal without your questioning."

Tobirama huffed and turned his head to the window, urging his chakra to sink into the ground without thinking, spreading the peripherals of his senses as far as he could. "You're too soft, Anija."

To which Hashirama guffawed. "And you, Otōto, are a little too rough around the edges!"

Author's Note

And that's chapter one! I'm not too sure how I feel about the end, and I've been awake for the past 52 hours, so I may revise it later, but other than that, I think it's going pretty well. Tobirama is still taking some time for me to get used to so hopefully I'll have his character more refined as the story goes on. Let me know what you think!

Also, for those of you who are following my story Kamen, I'll be uploading later tomorrow (or...today, technically?) because I'm falling asleep as I type this. Thanks for reading!