His little brothers had loved kumquats and loquats, two very different fruit which nonetheless had very similar color and thus very similar associations - good luck and prosperity, golden fruits dripping from branches like jewels, nourishing the clan from late winter through summer. Hashirama was a fruitfly, hardly able to name his top five favorite fruits let alone only one, but he had always had a fondness for apricots, and Tobirama has more memories of bright orange apricot juice dripping down Hashirama's chin than he can count.

Tobirama perches in the limbs of a tree overlooking the Memorial Stone, rolling his own favorite fruit between his hands, and as he takes a bite of the deliciously, perfectly ripe peach, he considers that - though the symbolism of his brothers' favored fruits didn't match at all to too-short lives - the longevity of the peach matches well to he who has outlived all of his immediate family and half of his clan.