Chapter Text
Izuna trades blows again with the strangest Senju he's ever seen. It's not the first time, not even the twentieth time he's gone up against the pale-haired teen but it is still no less strange. The Senju is much too fast and always has been no matter their age, and if it wasn't for his budding sharingan, he'd have difficulty keeping up. The boy is strangely pale even against Izuna's own pale skin and his eyes seem to mock Izuna's sharingan with their ruby colour.
And the strangeness didn't end there. The Senju never said a word to or at him. Never showed even the briefest flicker of emotions even if the blows Izuna lands must cause the other pain. Yet nothing - still no reaction - those ruby eyes just stare almost vacantly at him as if he wasn't fighting for his life.
Izuna dodges another swipe of a kunai while jumping back and forming hand signs. The fireball he forms is met with a ball of water sending up a cloud of steam. The other is on him again and he counters, panting with the effort of keeping up.
He lets out a growl as all he smells is blood and the scent of sweat.
No, his rival's strange thing is the damn bastard is scentless. Why and how is the bastard scentless? He knows of no one, beta, omega nor alpha that is. He could almost understand it if it was a cold day and the other was freshly washed but now they are both dripping in sweat and Izuna's hair is annoyingly sticking to the back of his neck whenever he stops moving for a moment.
He blinks as the world sways slightly beneath him, he must be more tired than he thinks, so exhausted in fact that he misses a step and a kunai slices through his shoulder.
“Fuck.”
It hurts but it serves Izuna right for allowing himself to be distracted in front of a dangerous enemy. They might still not be adults but they are shinobi and seasoned soldiers in this endless war.
Instead of thinking about the puzzle that is Senju Tobirama, he should be calculating his next moves and aiming to strike to kill, nothing short of that would stop his rival from moving and therefore continuing to present a danger to their clan.
Time blurs after that, and Izuna feels the way his body starts to become tired and slower, how he has to force his eyes, blinking, to not blur his perfect vision. His chakra levels are depleting steadily and while Tobirama faces the same troubles, he still manages to push his body in a way that should be unnatural.
How he can keep his stamina after hours of constantly trading blows and using ninjutsu time after time is another mystery that won’t be solved by Izuna today. All he knows is that one moment they are fighting close to each other, their katanas clashing and trying to maim and the other one Madara is calling off the fight, probably noticing Izuna’s struggle.
He has always been the big brother watching over Izuna, especially after their family was reduced to just the two of them.
Back at home, Izuna tries to make sure everyone is accounted for and those who need medical attention are directed to the healer’s ward, that their weapons are given to their blacksmiths for repair but throughout it, his body aches.
It’s annoying, Izuna thinks, to be an alpha.
The good side is the strength and the power to command since society tends to value them more. But the irritability, the annoyance at the smells of other alphas, the instinct to fight for dominance, even the sweet scents of other omegas, that are distracting, are all downsides.
Soon enough he gives up on his tasks, returning home to clean himself and prepare half heartedly for his rut.
It’s better for the clan if their heir isn’t out in the streets picking up fights after a battle anyway.
“You want me to stay with Hikaku?” Madara asks upon seeing his state.
“No, it’s fine,” he says but it comes out more like a growl.
Aniki just raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t comment on it. He lets Izuna head to his own bedroom and lock himself up. He hears Madara moving through their house and gathering his things to stay at their cousin’s home.
Great. Fucking great.
Izuna doesn’t even know why he’s annoyed and suddenly angry. It’s always better if there isn’t another alpha close by. He is way too aggressive otherwise.
Now he only has to spend a few days feeling miserable and horny. Another reason for the elders to pressure him to a marriage, in an attempt to soothe his instincts with a pretty omega to fuck his hormones away.
As if Izuna wanted that. He might be of age to marry but no one has catched his eyes ever since he presented. No matter that he has sniffed basically everyone in the clan searching for a scent that might be compatible with his own.
There was no one. All the scents - even the beta ones that are supposedly milder - annoy him. Omegas are fine as long as they aren’t that close, nor in heat.
He laughs to himself, a bit self-deprecating, as he gets rid of his clothes and starts to wash the dirty of the battlefield away, blood and mud tainting the floor and the rug he’s using. He must be the strangest alpha to ever live. What kind of alpha doesn’t feel enticed by an omega’s scent?
The same one that desperately wants to know the scent of his enemy, Izuna thinks bitterly. It is a secret he never shared with anyone. It is treason and he would never betray his clan like that but…
He can’t stop his mind from wondering, from trying, every time they battle, to sniff Tobirama. To try to-
He shouldn’t. He forcibly stops himself from continuing that line of thinking.
It’s his secret and it’s never coming out. Ever. He is the clan heir, he has responsibilities. He will spend his rut alone and feeling miserable and that will be all, and if by the end of it he feels aching for the company of a body that resembles his rival’s, he won’t utter a word about it nor his irritation.
A quick bath follows his washing and Izuna can’t relax, too worked up from the fighting. Too worked up from thoughts he shouldn’t entertain but can’t help himself from having despite knowing it is wrong.
He goes to his futon, to his half made up nest that lacks an omega’s touch, and tries to pretend he isn’t half crying for someone who he shouldn’t want and half angry at himself from his weakness.
And if Senju Tobirama’s name escapes from his lips as he comes, hand tight around his swollen knot, it is no one’s business but his own - after all, his home is empty and there’s no risk of aniki ever finding out.
-.-
There is nothing Tobirama hates more than their war against the Uchiha. Sure, he doesn’t like nor trusts them like his anija does - whatever it is that Hashirama sees in Madara.
Tobirama has come to a point where he thinks he’ll never get it. It used to bother him and even make feelings of being unwanted and jealousness arise inside him. Now it is just a bruise in his heart that has never managed to heal and he learned how to live with it.
But lately, it isn’t anija’s pleas for peace that have been bothering him. No. If the Uchiha knew how much he desired peace, how he wanted to end this pointless war to finally have time to dedicate himself to other tasks that aren’t related to it, he thinks that they would have already signed a treaty.
Instead, it is Uchiha Izuna that makes him wary.
The black-haired boy has been acting strange lately. Even more than the usual Uchiha antics - their typical way of being dramatic and all emotion and very little rationality.
It has been a few seasons since they’ve come of age and presented their secondary genders. Not that Tobirama has any designation to present with, he made sure of that. But Izuna did, turning out as an alpha to no one’s surprise. The thing is, he has been eyeing Tobirama weirdly ever since that.
Tobirama can smell curiosity, the way Izuna’s chakra is not all aggression even if he makes a show of pretending otherwise. He can see the way Izuna’s eyes analyse him, trying to figure out why he’s different.
It brings a smirk to his usual sharp features, to think that he makes his rival out of balance like this. This last time it earned him a few well timed landed blows. What makes him even more satisfied is knowing Izuna won’t ever discover the reasons why he doesn’t smell of anything.
He forgets it, leaving his thoughts of Izuna aside in favour of focusing on helping inside the healer’s ward and treating their wounded. In one way or another, this can’t continue the way it has. Fighting the Uchiha had been relatively fine during their father’s reign over the Senju.
Now, their finances are suffering and provisions for winter have been delayed to a critical point. Hashirama, for all of his outward dumb personality, is well aware of the difficulties they’ll suffer if nothing is done about it.
Their trade routes will soon close off, the roads too dangerous to travel during colder months and their allies will be busy with their own preparations. In order for the Senju to survive, at least a truce should be reached between them.
Negotiations with the Uzumaki, while almost finalized, won’t be concluded until after winter. Only then, hopefully, their clan will be able to obtain a respite from all the damages war has done to them.
Ideally, Tobirama would run dangerous missions during this time of the year in order to gather supplies and money. With the Uchiha attacking constantly, this hasn’t been an option and it shows on their finances.
“You know, sometimes I think you were born angry, Tobira,” Hashirama tells him as he is cleaning his hands after seeing to their most critical patients. “What has gotten you scowling?”
“Winter supplies,” he answers quietly.
“Ah,” Hashirama says but doesn’t add more.
They both know how critical their situation is - among a few others - and Hashirama has tried, but no progress has been achieved.
Silently, they both retreat from the healer’s ward and head to their shared home. Tobirama’s head swimming with tiredness and an invisible weight of worry that makes his shoulders stiff and a headache pulse behind his eyes.
“Have you thought about something?” He asks Hashirama inside the privacy of their home and seals that don’t allow sound to carry. “I can’t think of anything else.”
Truth is, he is disappointed in himself. For a supposed genius, he hasn’t been showing much propensity to intelligent solutions lately. It seems that war has consumed all his thoughts. Keeping up with Izuna in the battlefield has drained his ideas and left him devoid of any other brain cells.
“I have,” anija says, but he sounds tired. They both sit together, still dirty from the day and battle they had, to share tea, “but I’m afraid you won’t like it.”
“We’re desperate, anija,” he replies, the warmth of the tea comforting against his cold fingers, “as long as it is reasonable, I can’t object,” then he lets a small smirk form on his lips to show he’s joking, “too much.”
Hashirama doesn’t smile back and that, more than anything, sends alarms to his mind. What idea of his brother can be so unusual that it makes him completely serious?
“I think,” his brother says, very slowly while looking intently into his eyes, “that we should propose a marriage between our clans.”
Tobirama almost spits out his tea. Hashirama doesn’t comment on it and waits for him to compose himself before continuing.
“Maybe they aren’t willing to enter a treaty with us because there’s no guarantee that we’ll follow it. They don’t have any way to know that we don’t intend to break it off. So perhaps an arranged marriage could provide what the Senju clan as a whole cannot.”
His mind rushes with the possibilities of it, calculating the odds of it actually working.
“It won’t work,” Tobirama replies, too quick, too soon, before having all his thoughts processed. Hashirama waits for him to explain himself. “It won’t unless it’s someone high profile among us. Otherwise there’s no guarantee either way.”
Hashirama nods, and now that Tobirama pays attention, his brother looks ashamed.
“Oh, you meant to offer me,” Tobirama concludes, “me or Touka. But I doubt Touka would do well inside an arrangement like this, so it falls to me.”
“I…Would you do it?”
He knows what Hashirama is asking here. His anija wants to know if he can place duty above all other things, if he can leave love and his clan behind for a marriage that will be, most likely, full of hatred.
It’s not like they have many other options. The way things are going, this is probably their only solution - that is, if the Uchiha accept, or else they are back to square one.
“I’ll do it,” he answers.
“Tobirama-”
“I know, but what other choice do we have? It’s not like any of us are winning this war and it is only draining our resources.” He says, rationality taking over. “I’ll do it. Just- Let me write the proposal and terms. We can talk to our elders in the morning and then you can send a summon to deliver it to Madara.”
There’s an unhappy frown in Hashirama’s face now. Tobirama understands that his brother doesn’t want him to sacrifice himself, even if he had been the one to propose it in the first place.
“I…Alright. Let me see it first before we call a meeting with them.”
He nods, already starting to get up. He needs to wash himself and change clothes, then he has work to do - a treaty to write that will hopefully achieve at least a respite through winter for the Senju.
-.-
To be continued…