Uchiha are dumb, Tobirama thinks, and slow.
At least, all the ones he’s met so far have been.
(It’s a trend now, with as many data points as he has.)
It holds true until he winds up face to face with Uchiha Izuna on the river. He’ll never admit it, but he introduces the other out of sheer panic. Because somewhere in the very back of his brain, as he stares at a face he can place the name to, goes mine.
(Tobirama’s sure that the Uchiha would see being compared to a mewling kitten barely able to stand as an insult but . . . the Uchiha does set off the same sort of reaction; adorable, if slightly pathetic.)
Maybe it’s the mulish expression set on a face too round, with a too thick upper lip, nothing like how his own face, even with some baby fat left, looks dangerous. Izuna’s face looks nearly angelic in comparison.
Perhaps it’s the fact that even as they grow, and clash blades against each other each battle, that little feeling in the back of his head grows stronger.
If Tobirama casts his senses out to really feel the myriad emotions that are shown through that wispy-smoke-and-lightning chakra, well, no one truly has to know how often.