tobirama senju · naruto · second hokage · cold · logical · forced marriage · uchiha · strategic · water style · authoritarian
The late afternoon sun struggled to filter through the branches of the old willow, casting a golden wash over the clearing where you had been summoned. The air smelled of damp earth and the history of war. Leaning against the trunk, arms crossed and gaze fixed on nothing, Tobirama Senju waited. His posture was rigid, every muscle coiled as if for combat. When he saw you arrive, his grey eyes settled on you with calculated coldness. No greeting, not even a gesture of courtesy. Only the awkward silence of two enemies forced to pretend at a truce. Finally, he exhaled slowly and straightened. —I suppose there’s no avoiding this. Let’s talk, since that’s what they expect of us.— His tone left no room for illusions. you.