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Tobirama was dying.
Not from the gash of a kunai, or a sword slash. Not from broken bones, or a deadly jutsu. Not because of the genjutsu, fire or Sharingan of an Uchiha. (They were in fact not involved at all for once. It had happened during a fight with a Wind country’s clan.)
He had three days, maybe a week and a bit more if he used all the seals and jutsu he knew.
Poison. A slow-acting one, with no known antidote. But not so slow that there would be time to counter it.
His brother’s healing techniques would be useless. Tobirama would die before the horrified and despaired eyes of his last brother, and would leave him all alone. It might very well break Hashirama. (It had taken weeks and weeks for Tobirama to make him smile for real, after his brother’s deaths. Not that many had noticed, bar Touka maybe. Hashirama was very good at acting when he wanted to.)
Unacceptable.
He didn't regret the action who had sealed his fate. He would do it again in a heartbeat if he had to (if there was no other way). Someone had tried a sneak shot of poisoned senbons at his brother’s back, and he had managed to redirect them all away from Hashirama and his clansmen. Even if one ended in his calf. Hashirama hadn’t seen it and destroyed the responsible with the rest of their enemies.
And now, Tobirama was sitting in his room, awake in the middle of the night and searching for a solution.
For all his genius, he was far from an expert in healing, so inventing a new technique was out. His sensing was very good but while he could literally feel and see the poison slowly coursing his body, it could do nothing more than that.
But… Maybe modifying something he already had could be done.
A thought came to him like a flash of lightning.
Maybe… Maybe he didn't need to stay alive, as long as he stayed at his brother's side.
He had promised to stop the researches he had started so long ago after his little brother’s deaths. (He had been hit so hard by grief too, even if it didn’t show on his face like the endless tears of Hashirama. So he had tried his best to make things alright again. To get Kawarama and Itama back. And made it worse.)
Because it was amoral to use other people’s bodies and to take souls away from the Pure Lands.
But, with his better knowledge of seals, surely… He would be able to trap his own soul and self in his newly resurrected body ?
He would need many arrays, and a lot of tweaking of pre-existing jutsu. A safe place away from the Clan, and an excuse to stay alone so long unbothered. Probably a lot of sleepless nights.
He gave himself one week to do it. After that, it would become too risky (Tobirama would like to avoid dropping dead in the middle of research). That and he could feel the poison slowly degrading his body. He would need to finish before his hands trembled too much, or his eyes made the words on his scrolls too blurry to read them.
A race against time, death, and logic. A desperate gamble. A fool’s gambit.
Tobirama would succeed. There was no other option.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
He had left the Clan’s village under the excuse of a solo mission that could last from a week to months.
He had no intention to fail, but just in case… He’d leave a letter in a special seal, one that would only open after a certain amount of time.
(He gave himself one year. One year maximum to succeed and recover. After that… He didn't want to think about it.)
He had sealed everything he might need (and a few more just in case), from scrolls to medicine and food. Then, put his faceplate and armor on and a fur collar (not his favorite one, so it wouldn't be harmed in the experiences).
(He had several, more or less precious pelts from various animals, from snow rabbits to wolves. He took the ones he didn’t care much for in the battles and the best for formal affairs and when he was home. It had been gifted to him by his mother after all and he refused to let it be destroyed by carelessness.
(His brother would need something of his, a memento if he was to never come bac-. He shut off the train of thoughts. He had a lot of things to do.))
Then, he informed Hashirama of his leave, let himself be hugged (maybe he lingered a bit longer than usual, soaking in the warm and loving chakra), and bid him goodbye. He did the same with Touka, and told the children he taught he wouldn’t be there for some time.
(He went to his brothers and father’s graves. Prayed that they would continue to watch the Clan. Apologized that he would do his best to stay here and not rejoin them yet.
He was not particularly religious. But he was desperate.)
He left.
He didn’t shed a tear. He’d come back. No matter what.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
He was in one of his labs, far in the wild forests of Fire country, and away from everything. No one lived near, he had set this one underground lab as a sort of bunker, good in case of emergencies. Like now. (Shadows clones were truly one of his best jutsu, without them it would never have been possible to build it alone.)
It was fully equipped, and he had taken all his scrolls and seals experiments with him.
Two weeks had passed since he had gotten poisoned.
He was dead.
And yet.
He was still there. Walking. “Living”.
His body was cold, and if it was not for his naturally pale skin, the new teint it had taken in death would be a lot more visible.
The only splash of color, other than his red eyes, were the many seals tattooed all over his body, in red too, the same shade so similar to blood. (Ink for sealing needed chakra. And the best way to add some was with blood. He had to use a lot of power. The ink was bright red. Almost pulsating with it. Despite a heart that wasn’t beating anymore.)
They were not visible when he wore his clothes. With the exception of the three lines on his visage. (He didn’t mind. One for each brother. It fit.)
Tobirama had done it, had managed to revive himself, in a move that went against all the laws of nature.
It had taken one week (as predicted), to go through his old research, his new knowledge about seals, and the invention of numerous arrays to do it.
It hadn’t been painless. Far from it.
Between the feeling of the poison slowly coursing his body, his limbs getting more numb and shaking with every day, and the tattooing sessions, he had thanked his ability to power through the pain.
The final day, when his body and the big floor’s arrays had been ready, it had been an incredibly precise timing to do the transfer. (Once again, his clones had been a huge help.)
The process was incredibly complicated, but in simple words, he had trapped his soul the moment it had left his body in death, reanimated his body like he had wanted to do with his Edo Tensei project, and put back the soul inside. The multiple seals let his soul stay inside, instead of leaving, anchored it.
(He had no heartbeat. His skin was cold.)
But he could walk, and talk, and protect his brother again.
The poison had done his work and was dissipating (a perfect assassination tool, there would be no trace left in less than an hour now that it had reached his heart.)
… It didn’t seem like his appearance revealed anything, it didn’t show what he had done to himself. There were no cracks in the skin, and no black sclera like he had glimpsed the only time he had activated his (failed) Edo Tensei.
(He didn’t realize it yet, but his body was unnaturally still. He was breathing, but not out of need, just as a reflex from a time now lost, and sometimes would forget for minutes. He had no heartbeat. He was dead.)
(Oh, Hashirama. Poor Hashirama.
Your last brother died.
Far away from home, all alone. And you don’t know it. You are not aware.
You did not witness his last breaths, you did not hold his hand as his skin grew cold.
Your last brother, Tobirama, is dead.
But don’t worry.
He’s coming back.
Who will mourn for him then ?
Oh, Hashirama.
Will you ever find out the truth ?
See what he has become for you ?)