Chapter Text
The Nara Forest had once been a place where you had to tread with care. You never knew what lurked in the shadows—what clan might strike first, or whether a wild animal was stalking you.
That time had long passed. Now, this part of the forest was open to villagers, a place to walk and spend a peaceful day. You still had to be cautious—forests don’t forget their nature—but it was no longer a place where you expected an ambush. It was beautiful.
It had always been beautiful to Hashirama, even when it was enemy territory. Maybe it was his Mokuton. Or maybe it was just him—he always felt calm here. And perhaps that’s why he had chosen this place for the conversation. To help him stay calm.
He was standing by the river when Madara arrived. Hashirama didn’t turn to look, but Madara knew he’d felt his presence. And yet, there was no acknowledgment—no word, no glance.
That alone told him something was deeply wrong.
The silence broke with Hashirama’s voice. “You know,” he said, low, “I’ve never been a good brother.”
Madara didn’t answer, but something in his stance shifted.
“I don’t think I ever will be,” Hashirama continued. “I’m a clan leader. A Mokuton user. And now… Hokage. I can’t put my Otōto first. It’s always the greater good before him."
His voice was rough. Resigned.
“I can’t change that.”
He stared at the stream. Took a breath.
“There were so many times I sent Tobirama on missions he shouldn’t have returned from. The odds were too low. The risk too high.” His voice wavered—but only for a second. “But I sent him anyway. Because he was the best we had. And even if it shattered my heart… there was no other choice.”
He turned to Madara then, eyes meeting his with quiet intensity.
“You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”
Madara didn’t reply. But he listened. Closely. Whatever this was, Hashirama was trying to explain something that mattered.
“I’ve never been able to put him above the clan. Or the mission. Or the village. I just… can’t.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, gaze sharp and steady.
“That’s the cost of being a clan head. A leader. And now, as Hokage, the weight is heavier. It’s not just the clan anymore—it’s the whole village. Families. Children. Lives.”
“My choices ripple out. They touch lives I’ll never even meet. One mistake could destroy everything we’ve built.”
Hashirama looked at Madara as if willing him to understand.
“I can’t shield Tobirama from the burdens of duty. But I can protect him in the ways that remain to me. I can send him with backup. I can train him well. I can hand him a cup of tea when I know he hasn’t slept.” He smiled faintly, a memory flickering across his face. But it faded quickly. “I can check his wounds. I can watch over him from where I stand. And I can make sure that anyone who harms him—clan or not—is stopped. And judged. According to Konoha’s law.”
He paused, voice quiet.
“I can't protect him as his older brother. But I can as a Hokage. Do you understand me?”
Madara held his gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly: “No. I don’t.” His voice was hoarse. “But I think something happened to Tobirama. While you two were in the Daimyō’s lands.”
A beat.
“Yes,” Hashirama said softly. “Something did.”
Madara’s eyes narrowed. “Was it another village? An ambush?”
Silence.
“Hashirama—was it someone from Konoha?”
Hashirama hesitated. “Do you know why I’m telling you this?”
Madara’s voice sharpened. “Was it someone from the village?”
Hashirama looked like he didn’t want to go on. But he did. Firmer now. “I asked you for peace, Madara. More than once. I begged you to listen. But you kept following your brother’s counsel. You chose to be a good brother first, before being a good leader.” His expression hardened. “That choice nearly got Izuna killed, remember? If I hadn’t treated his wounds in time, he would’ve died. He didn’t want my help. He refused it—because he hated peace.”
Madara’s jaw clenched.
“You never cared what the clan needed. Or feared. I’m not saying this to accuse you. I’m telling the truth. Because our friendship deserves that.”
“I chose to be a good brother,” Madara said, in a mirror of Hashirama’s tone. “It’s not my fault you didn’t."
He knew it was a low blow. He knew how deeply Hashirama loved Tobirama—even if he never understood why. Tobirama is a bastard. But Hashirama adored him. Still, Madara didn’t like where this was heading.
Hashirama flinched, but didn’t respond right away. The silence between them grew dense. Cold, like the forest. “You’re right,” Hashirama finally said. “Our priorities were different. But they’ve changed. Just look around.”
He gestured at the forest, the calm that surrounded them. “We’re standing in the Nara woods, alone. No armor. No weapons. No fear. That isn’t a miracle. That’s something we built. With pain. With change.” He smiled—genuine, proud. A peace earned, not given.
Madara allowed himself a small smile. He was proud, too. There was still much to be done, but this—this was a beginning. But he wasn’t naïve. “What are you trying to say, Hashirama?”
The smile vanished. Hashirama looked tired now. Defeated. He spoke softly. “When I was a child… after my brothers died and we were discovered … my father sent me away to train. I was gone for months.” He closed his eyes, remembering. “I don’t know everything that happened in that time. But when I came back, Tobirama… he wasn’t the same.”
His voice slowed. “Our father turned him into a weapon. A perfect, obedient tool. During the day, Tobirama followed every order. He fought like a machine. He was the perfect son, for a man who only valued survival and war.”
Madara’s expression faltered—just barely. He knew what Hashirama had endured. He had simply never thought about Tobirama. But the things he did know about the man made him wonder… made him worry about what exactly their father had been so proud of in what he had turned Tobirama into.
Tobirama is an asshole. But maybe… maybe he’d just been forced to become that way. No joy, no life—just the shinobi path. A man who only knew how to fight.
Hashirama hands trembled. “But at night… when everyone else was asleep… he’d come to my room. Not always. Just when he was sure no one would notice.”
Madara’s expression faltered—barely. He hadn’t imagined Tobirama like this. The White Demon. But now, the pieces clicked in uncomfortable ways.
“He’d hug me. Apologize for things he’d done. Ask me not to hate him.” Hashirama swallowed hard. “He was just a kid, Madara. And he was broken.” He struggled for breath. “I wanted to protect him. God, I did. But every time I tried—every time I spoke up—the punishments got worse. He hurt him to hurt me” He looked away. “So I stood still. And told myself: one day, I’ll build a world where he’ll never have to hurt again. Where he can be free. Just himself.”
Silence.
Then Madara asked—quietly, afraid: “What happened in the Daimyō’s lands?”
Hashirama didn’t speak. “You know your priorities have changed, right?” Madara asked. “You’re one of Konoha’s founders. A pillar—even if some still mistrust you.”
“What happened to Tobirama?"
Hashirama looked to the river. “Promise me first.”
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll be a good leader. That you’ll choose the village—just once. That tomorrow, when I do what I must… you’ll remember I stood here, asking for justice.” He turned, eyes filled with pain. “Because what’s coming—it won’t be revenge. It’ll be me, holding back. With everything I have. Because I’m a leader first, before I’m a brother. And the only reason I’m here now… is because our friendship still matters to me.”
Madara’s voice cracked. “I understand, Hashirama.”
A pause. A deep silence in the forest. The kind that makes you lean forward, bracing, because something awful is about to happen. He hadn’t expected this.
“Izuna has been raping Tobirama.”
Madara reeled back. “You’re lying—”
But Hashirama didn’t flinch. He raised one hand. Let Madara feel the truth and fury in his chakra. “No,” he said quietly.
“Izuna’s been blackmailing him since the last battle. That night, after I healed him—when peace was finally in reach—Tobirama went to him. He begged him to let you sign the treaty. And offered himself in exchange.” His voice broke. Just slightly. “Since then, Izuna has been torturing him. Again and again. Threatening to destroy the peace if Tobirama refused. He used your love for him as a weapon. Against the village. Against peace. Against my brother.”
Madara shook his head slowly. “You’re wrong. Izuna—he’s a man of honor—”
“I don’t care,” Hashirama snapped, voice trembling. “The evidence is there.”
Madara’s face was unreadable now. Silent. Hashirama looked down at his hands. They still trembled, though nothing touched them.
“On the way back from the daimyō’s lands, we were ambushed,” he said at last. His voice was quiet. Uneven. “Tobirama got caught in a genjutsu. It confused him. And in it… he thought I was your brother.”
A pause. He breathed in slowly, holding back the storm inside him.
“Do you understand what it meant—to hold my brother in my arms, terrified, begging Izuna to stop?”
His voice cracked open as he shouted it, like he needed Madara to understand— Not just the truth. But the weight of it. “He told me everything. After.”
He took a moment to continued leaving again the killing silent “And like I said. I’ll never be able to choose my brother over this village.” His breath hitched. “But I will seek justice. Because Izuna didn’t just break Tobirama. He threatened what we’ve built. He threatened Konoha”
He inhaled again. The forest was so still, it hurt.
“You should be grateful I came to warn you.” His voice was hoarse now, low. “To give you a choice. To decide what kind of leader you want to be. Because make no mistake— I will protect Konoha against everything.” This was the voice of the Hokage. The God of Shinobi.
His voice was calm. And furious. “I won’t judge your decision. I just want you to understand what peace has cost—before you throw it all away for someone like your brother.”
“You don’t have the right—”
“I do.” Hashirama’s voice was quiet. Cold. “Do you think I’m not holding myself back right now? My brother has been abused for over a year. And I did nothing. I looked away. Just like I did before.”
“Izuna couldn’t—”
“But he did,” Hashirama said. “And he’s still doing it.” He stepped back. “I’m not asking you to stop being a brother. I’m asking you to carry the weight I’ve borne for years. To choose your people over your blood. Just once.”
He turned away. “I won’t judge whatever decision you make. But I hope you understand mine.”
A pause.
“I’ll return for him in the morning.”
After he left, Madara stayed alone in the dark.
And the forest was quiet.
Once more.