The quiet hum of crickets in the forest beyond the Senju camp was the only sound that accompanied Itama as he sat near the edge of a secluded clearing, the bark of a gnarled tree pressed against his back. Twilight was falling, soft shadows stretching long across the training field. His breathing was slow and steady, his eyes half-closed as he focused his chakra—listening, feeling, trying to sense the slow pulse of something deeper. The teachings of the rogue Senju still lingered in his body, like echoes guiding his growth in secret.
A low, deliberate step cracked a twig nearby. Itama opened his eyes.
Tobirama stood across from him, arms folded, expression unreadable as always. His white hair was damp with sweat from training or perhaps from watching—he was always watching.
"You're hard to find lately," Tobirama said coolly.
"I didn't think anyone was looking," Itama replied.
Tobirama's mouth quirked into something just shy of a frown. "Everyone's watching you, little brother. The clan whispers more now than they ever did before."
Itama looked down at his hands. He had no cuts on them today—no mission had brought blood to his fingertips. Still, the scars told their own story. "Let them whisper. I'm not hiding anymore."
"That much is clear," Tobirama said, stepping forward. He stopped a few feet away, eyes locked on Itama's. "But what isn't clear is what you're doing."
Itama met his gaze. "You already know."
Tobirama's silence answered that he did.
"I'm speaking of peace," Itama said, voice calm but steady. "I'm teaching healing. I'm trying to shift how we think. Even if it's small."
"And you think that will change anything?" Tobirama asked, his tone sharp, more frustrated than angry. "That healing some children and sharing soft words about a dream will convince clans soaked in blood to put down their weapons?"
"You said the same thing to Hashirama once," Itama replied. "You tried to warn him too."
"That's different," Tobirama snapped, then bit down on the sharpness in his tone. He inhaled slowly, gathering control. "Hashirama has the strength to force peace if he must. He can impose it with sheer power. His idealism is backed by might."
"And mine isn't?" Itama asked softly.
Tobirama studied him. "You've grown. You're stronger than you were. But you're not Hashirama. And you're not me. You've always been the dreamer."
"Dreams build the future," Itama said.
Tobirama's jaw tightened. "Dreams kill people. If they aren't grounded, if they ignore reality, they blind those who follow them. You don't think I want peace too? Of course I do. But I've seen what idealism without structure does. I've seen how it fails."
Itama stood now, facing his brother fully. The height difference between them was less than it once had been. "You think I'm blind, Tobirama? I saw comrades die. I've had blood on my face and in my mouth. I've watched a child choke on shuriken wounds. I know what war is. I know its weight."
"Then stop pretending there's a way around it," Tobirama said, voice dropping lower, more controlled, but no less fierce. "We're born in this. Shaped by it. Our enemies don't care about dreams—they care about domination, vengeance, legacy. You want to change that with what? Kindness?"
"With hope," Itama said.
Tobirama turned away, hands clasped behind his back as he looked toward the treetops. "Hope is dangerous. It makes people reckless."
Itama walked beside him. "Then why did Hashirama build this clan? Why did father push for unity? Why do we keep fighting if not for something better?"
Tobirama didn't answer immediately. The rustle of wind through leaves filled the silence.
"Because there's no other choice," he said at last. "We fight so we're not destroyed. We hold the line so others don't fall through. Peace is not a gift—it's a battlefield we must win, again and again."
"And I agree," Itama said. "But there has to be another way forward. We can't keep burning everything and expecting life to grow from ashes."
Tobirama glanced sidelong at him. "You've changed. That exile taught you more than herbs and chakra control."
"He taught me that rejecting war doesn't mean weakness. It means understanding the cost of it."
"You think the clan elders will accept that?" Tobirama asked. "You think Madara will? The Hyūga? The Kaguya? Peace isn't a treaty—it's a knife held at your own throat while hoping your enemy doesn't cut deeper."
"Then someone has to change the rules," Itama said.
Tobirama turned fully now, expression grave. "If you go too far, if your ideals start spreading, you may divide this clan. You'll split it down the middle—and that will destroy everything we've tried to build."
"I'm not trying to divide us," Itama said. "I'm trying to remind us what we're supposed to protect."
Tobirama's lips thinned. "You don't have the luxury of ideals without consequence."
"I'm willing to pay the cost," Itama answered.
"Are you willing to see others pay it?" Tobirama asked, stepping closer, voice low. "Are you ready to see children killed because you planted a seed of hesitation in a shinobi's heart?"
Itama's jaw clenched. "No. But I won't stand by and pretend the current path is just."
Tobirama stared at him for a long moment. The fire in Itama's voice, the clarity of purpose in his eyes—it reminded him of Hashirama. But it wasn't the same. There was a pain behind Itama's words, a slow-burning wound that had become purpose. That scared Tobirama more than he wanted to admit.
"You're not a child anymore," Tobirama said finally. "So I won't treat you like one. But understand this: if your ideals threaten the stability of this clan, I will oppose you. I won't hesitate."
"I know," Itama said. "And I'll be ready."
Tobirama gave a single nod. Not of approval—but of recognition.
Then he vanished in a blur of movement, leaving behind only disturbed leaves and silence.
Itama stood alone again, his breath steady, the conversation replaying in his mind. His brother had drawn a line in the sand. But Itama hadn't flinched.
In fact, for the first time since returning, he felt more sure of himself than ever.
Tobirama's warning wasn't just a threat—it was a challenge.
And Itama Senju was ready to face it.