Chapter Text
Kakashi lived his life plagued by moments of wrongness. Being the only child in a dead clan. Watching the Senju dwindle. Watching the Uchiha massacre. Even every meeting with Hiruzen Sarutobi. It plagued him with a soul deep feeling of being wrong. In the wrong place, in the wrong time.
Being told to stay away from Naruto, the cub he was supposed to look out for, practically his brother, hurt. It felt so so wrong that it wracked him with paranoia and fear for the kid that he had to take endless missions out the village or risk doing something stupid. Like running away with the child.
Still he watched from a distance. Seethed and lurked and made sure everyone knew not to touch the pup despite never being able to be there physically.
Hiruzen, it seems, finally takes pity and assigns him the cub as his genin alongside the last Uchiha. Something in him is soothed by the prospect of being near Naruto again, for all that the boy is infuriatingly bright and hopeful and naive.
There's potential there. So much raw potential. He's just... Been taught the wrong things, is what his genius mind realises. Because the kid does the same form over and over again, practiced with the same tenacity he throws into everything he's given. It's just... The wrong one. His mistakes aren't made from sloppy inconsistencies. Just malpractice.
For once he eagerly writes his report, thoroughly detailing his observations before handing it on time to the disbelieving chunin who, if he remembers, is also Naruto's history and homeroom teacher. He waits for a reaction as the chunun skims the form, watched with dark satisfaction as horror and anger burn in his eyes.
"I sincerely apologise for this happening under my nose, Kakashi-san. It seems Mizuki did more damage than just selling village secrets. I'll forward this to the hokage and we'll re-evaluate the remaining academy students. Thank you for bringing it up to our attention."
Never let it be said that Kakashi doesn't appreciate good work ethic. For all that he's spent so much time lost in his grief, he appreciates people who know to get the job done.
"I'll be on my way then," he answered not unkindly.
-----------
Sasuke doesn't quite understand. Everything in his life feels wrong. His vision feels wrong. Slimy. Like his looking through the world through a foggy film even though the medic nin had repeatedly assured his conerned parents that he's got 20/20 vision as all Uchiha do.
And his brother. His precious brother who he feels so fiercely protective of. Except it's always tainted with a feeling of wrongness. That he should be the one protecting Itachi. That he should be the one hiding his brother away from the world.
He remembered spending way too much time worrying over his brother, a soul deep fear burning in his heart that one day, one day Itachi isn't coming back.
Except he does. Itachi comes back home. Over and over again until the day that only Itachi could ever come back. Not that he would. Not that he could.
Loneliness and hurt and betrayal sat in his heart, burning but familiar. Like old grief that slots into place, welcomed by his weary soul that never knew anything else. It's wrong and painful and so achingly cold and empty but it's also right.
Then he gets lumped in with team seven. Gets dragged into insanity and ridiculousness by the blonde idiot that he kind of wants to punt into the Naka river and deliberately antagonise.
That their teacher has the sharinggan clarifies why he's in this madhouse of a team for all that Kakashi's mere existence makes him bristle like and angry cat.
-----------
Naruto has always loved plants. He doesn't know why but he's always taken care of as many plants as he can. From the first pot that jiji brought him to, eventually, the dying plants that the Yamanaka were all too happy to send his way.
They had been nice enough, polite enough when answering his questions when he first tentatively came over to the flower shop to ask. He hadn't wanted to let Ukki-san die, the idea seemingly so heartbreaking to him, and was pleasantly surprised when he was met with polite curiosity instead of outright derision.
Plants made him happy and a niggling at the back of his mind told him they were happy with him too. He could feel it. Almost like they welcomed him when he walked into the room. Almost like they were sad to see him go when he left. When he wasn't training he sat with his growing collection of potted plants, relishing in the feeling that he was wanted.
When he was assigned to a new team he was tentative but hopeful. He's heard stories from jiji. Of how teams supposed to grow strong. To be family.
Sasuke was... Hurt. The last of a clan well known for obsession and melodrama. He doesn't remember where he's heard it from but he's pretty sure someone's said that to him before. But Sasuke, who already comes from a clan prone to insanity, really needed therapy, from what Naruto could see. And a part of him yearned to befriend the kid. To, for some reason, drag him to a nearby river and toss rocks with him, which is ridiculous as he's never thrown rocks before but it felt... Right. Confusing but right.
Sakura was even more difficult to understand. A civilian girl. Someone whos parents taught her to dress prettily and eat daintily instead of how to hold weapons and the family kata. Not that Naruto had been taught family kata. He thinks.
Instead he has what the academy taught him which feels all sorts of wrong in his soul but he's been taught to follow with sharp reprimands before and he'd much rather not be thrown out of the academy. Maybe he can ask their jounin sensei for help?
And that's another thing. Their sensei felt... Safe. Familiar. Warm and soft like protection and faith. Like he's unwavering and would always be there for him. Which is all sorts of odd and it's a task and a half to act normal and not lean against their sensei like some weirdo after every exhausting training session.
Wave comes and they're caught flatfooted. Sakura is too green, his own reflexes too slow for his mind, Sasuke almost dies and Kakashi fights to chakra exhaustion twice. It lights a fire under Naruto who burns fiercely with the need to protect this new group, this budding family he's found and make sure they survive long enough to grow together.
Then the dreams start coming, the more time he spent with team 7. Echoes and flashes that linger till he's dragged awake and vanishes just as quickly like sand through his fingertips.
He wonders if it's the onset of madness. The dreams that haunt him, never quite bad but not good or fantastical either. Instead it felt... Real. Warm and solid down to his bones. Haunting him with afterimages that don't quite match. Shadows that cast over his teammates when he isn't looking. Knowledge that he shouldn't have but does as he goes through life, correcting years of misinformation.
It was like waking up. A slow and steady march, pushed by the anticipation building in his chest, fed by the excitement from the plants around him. Like the forest was holding its breath.
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
"Focus, Naruto" Kakashi reminds him, voice gentle even as one of his legs strike out to hit the blonde square in the chest. He laughs because that's just like his brother, and then breaks as the tentative balance that held his brain in limbo crumbles.
He doesn't get up when he lands. Tobi... Kakashi.. Kakashi's kick sent him flying back towards the tree line and where normally, he would twist mid-air to lanch himself back from one of the trees that ring their clearing, he instead flies.
He lands in an undignified heap but none of that registers because his world just... Shifts. Twists the wrong way. It got pulled sideways and underneath, turned inside out before righting itself like nothing happened.
"Naruto?" Kakashi... Tobirama's voice drags him out of his thoughts and just like always, his pragmatic brother cuts through the panic and excess that is Hashirama's brain and pulls everything back into sharp focus.
"I was right..." he manages to croak dazedly. He's torn between hysterical laughter and panic and fretting but the heavy hand that settles on his cheek grounds him. Pulls him back to the present as mismatched eyes bore into his.
It makes him snort, the twisting sharinggan, and the irony of it. He shakes his head, attempting to clear the fog and focus himself and judging by the familiar, fond amusement in the silverette's eyes, the instincts and underlying awareness is there too.
He gambles. And wonders. And hopes. And softly, shakily, he calls out a name.
"Tobi?" he coaxed, tone instinctively taking that concerned lilt he knows his brother has heard a million times before. "Tobirama? Do you remember me?"
The eyes in front of him glaze over. They blank for a few moments before blinking away the fog. His brother's brain has always been a thing of wonder. His capacity to collect, sort through and absorb information was unparalleled and it always leaves Hashirama with a proud sort of awe.
"Anija" the voice croaks before Tobirama throws himself in his brother's arms. It's different, now. For once in their lives, the silverette is broader, larger and he engulfs Hashirama in warmth and safety and home. When he pulls back, there are tears in his eyes and a tremor in his hands that grasp the younger one's. "I'm not leaving you again. I... Can't."
"What's taking so long..." a very familiar gruffness comes and Naruto, Hashirama, can't stop the way he chokes from that very familiar chakra.
"Madara..."