#and no the fireball jutsu moment doesn’t count

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Itachi Uchiha’s relationship with Sasuke was not that of a normal, caring older brother but straight up parentification. It’s obvious Mikoto and Fugaku *constantly* left baby Sasuke in his care leading up to the nine tales attack, as evidenced by Itachi’s ability to get 3 (4?) month old Sasuke to stop crying and Itachi wearing a sling to carry Sasuke (you only do that if you would carry a baby for long periods of time). In this essay, I will

[laniuchiha7]

Jump Then Fall

The savory smell of breakfast drifts from the kitchen through the living room where Sasuke slowly begins to stir awake on her couch. He gradually sits up, rubbing his eyes in a daze, to hear the melody of her soft humming turn into a light giggle. Sasuke turns to look at her curiously.

“Sorry Sasuke-kun, but you’ve got some serious bedhead.”

“Hn,” he runs his fingers through his ebony locks.

She puts the remaining dish on the table, telling him, “anyway, breakfast is ready!” and takes a seat.

Sakura tells the man sitting across from her plans for the day, a surgery on a chunin, a few routine check-ups, lunch with Ino, research for the project she’s been working on for a few months. 

He’s only half listening to her words, rather focusing on her smooth voice and counting the freckles scattered across her face, making his lips pull into a smile at the idea of sharing this sort of domesticity with her for the rest of their lives. Sasuke doesn’t necessarily care where they end up so long as Sakura continues to stay with him, that’s all he wants.

There seems to be some hesitance on her side since his return, compared to when they were in their early adolescence, where she keeps him at arm's length as if she’s holding back. Sasuke assumes it to respect his preference for personal space, but he misses when she would grab his hand and pull him down the road while they walked, and the times when she’d sit so close he could smell her apple scented shampoo. The times when she would watch him with such awe while he trained or won a match against a strong opponent, almost as if she was performing the fireball jutsu herself, jade eyes shining and exclaims at how cool he is.

He can’t blame her though. All of the times she tried to remind him that he could rely on her, Sakura was often met with harsh words, refusing her support and love, and left by herself. Perhaps that’s what she’s doing now, he ponders, guarding her heart and waiting for the inevitable moment where he packs up his belongings and walks out the village gates again.

Only he doesn’t plan to leave, not without her at least.

Now that Sasuke is finally ready to make the jump, Sakura is the one afraid to fall. And so it’s his turn. Sasuke may not be able to proclaim his feelings atop the Hokage tower for all of Konoha to witness, nor does he think she wants him to, but he’ll show her in every way he can. 

Encourage her to jump then fall, where he’ll be waiting to catch her.

“Sasuke-kun?” He snaps out of his thoughts to find Sakura looking at him with concern written in her eyes. “Are you feeling alright? You seem a little out of it.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about something,” he responds, feeling the tips of his ears begin to burn.

“Oh? Care to share?”

He leans forward, motioning for her to come closer, like he’s about to whisper the secret he’s been carrying in his heart, and in a way he is. Sasuke lifts his hand and pokes the purple rhombus in the middle of her forehead with his pointer and middle finger, unable to hide his smirk as Sakura blushes.

“I’ll tell you next time.”

[bloodmage-fanfic]

Fight Club

Ship : Obito Uchiha x Kakashi Hatake Word count : 979 Trigger Warnings : None

"Quit going easy on me and fight me properly!"

That was the last thing Obito could remember before he was knocked out cold on the hard ground.

All day he had been asking, or rather begging, Kakashi for a sparring match and finally Kakashi put his book down and decided to humour the man. Obito was determined to knock Kakashi on his ass, he was finally going to win one of their matches. He had put everything he had into every punch he threw, every jutsu he cast, but still nothing seemed to hit the other jonin.

Frustration was always fast to take the Uchiha, especially when Kakashi was involved. He always felt judgement radiating out of his visible eye, he could feel that even though he had yet to lay a punch on the man Kakashi was holding back. That only annoyed him more. Red slowly creeped onto his face the more punches Kakashi seemed to dodge. He watched the boredom grow in Kakashi’s eye the longer the sparring match went on.

“You’re not even trying!” Obito had accused, missing another punch. “Take your hands out of your pockets and do something!”

Kakashi obliged, taking his hands out of the pockets of his dark pants. Obito took a jump back, waiting to see what the other’s next move would be. He watched as Kakashi reached into his back pocket, Obito getting ready to dodge whatever was about to be thrown his way. Kakashi slowly and carefully pulled his hand back out revealing… that damn book.

“Are you serious right now?!”

“Well, I took my hands out of my pockets and am now doing something, just as you requested. You really didn’t specify what you wanted me to do.” Even if Obito couldn’t see Kakashi’s face, he could tell he had a shit eating grin plastered on his lips.

With a loud and frustrated shout the Uchiha threw himself at the other man, fist raised with another failed punch. His feet slide across the dirt ground as Kakashi dodges with ease, letting out another angered grunt. If this is how Kakashi wanted to play he’d simply have to up the ante. Kakashi doesn’t bother to turn around to see what Obito has up his sleeve, and that’s exactly what he wants. Obito raises his hands, starting to weave signs before bringing his hand to his mouth and blowing a fireball toward the other.

Kakashi looks over his shoulder just in time to be engulfed in flames. Obito watches as Kakashi goes up in flames, and for a moment, he's absolutely ecstatic. He's finally managed to hit Kakashi, it only took an hour, but he's finally done it! His joy only lasts for a few short moments before a scream of agony comes from inside the fireball, pulling him from his celebration.

The realization of what happened hits him, he quite possibly just killed his partner in a petty little brawl. Before he knows it he's running toward the raging fire, not exactly knowing what to do. It's not like he could use water style, and God knows how cooked Kakashi was by now. He could feel tears welling in his eye as he skidded to a stop just outside the flame. He was just about to scream out Kakashi's name-

"What's the matter?" He could hear from behind him. "Got dust in your eye again?"

Obito froze, his eye staring into the flame. It was only a few moments before the 'Kakashi' trapped in the flame poofed from existence. The Uchiha slowly glanced over his shoulder, seeing Kakashi standing behind him, reading that stupid book.

"Wha- I-." He stuttered out, looking from the flame back to his partner back to the flame. "Seriously!"

He scrambled to his feet, jumping back as he pointed an accusing finger. "You're a giant asshole! You've been going easy on me this whole time! Quit going easy on me and fight me properly!"

He woke up on the ground after that, opening his eyes to see Kakashi sitting next to him, nose in his book. He let out a quiet groan, leading Kakashi to glance over with a small snort.

"Ah, finally awake, huh?" He closed the book, pocketing it once again as he turned to look at the other. "Why don't we stop this nonsense for now and go get something to eat? Your treat of course. Maybe a trip to see Rin if you're good, fix up that nasty bruise."

Obito slowly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, reaching up to touch the burning spot on his face where Kakashi had decked him. That was going to leave a bruise. He glared over at Kakashi before letting out a sigh, flipping himself to sit on his butt.

"I'm never going to win one of these, huh?" He asked, crossing his legs with slight difficulty.

"Perhaps if you keep at it you might, I'll be really sad when that happens. You know how much I hate paying for food."

Obito rolls his eyes, unable to keep a smirk from cracking onto his face. "Yeah. That'll be the day."

He watches as Kakashi stands up, brushing the dirt from the seat of his pants before he offers a hand to help Obito up. The Uchiha takes it, letting Kakashi pull him up from the ground.

This time when he sees Kakashi smiles under his mask, he smiles back. He can feel his face heat up again making Kakashi give a slight laugh as he places a hand on Obito's cheek, cradling it there for a second.

They look into each other's eye, Kakashi reaching to pull down his mask just enough to press a long kiss into Obito's lips. They linger for a minute or so before Kakashi pulls back, putting his mask back in place.

"C'mon, before you pass out again."

[kishillaa]

SSM21 Day 25: Culture

It was her watch turn, and even though she knows the real Kakashi is somewhere out there looking over them, and the one sleeping with his favorite orange covered novel on his face is a clone, she still wakes up for her turn. Sakura despite herself, is a light sleeper when they sleep in the wood, that's why she doesn't need Sasuke to wake her up for her shift.

It was supposed to be new year eve that night. Their team just inconveniently land themselves a faraway mission which get them to stuck in the middle of a thick forest on their way back. Supposed, they're not going to celebrate New Year that year.

Sakura's eyes roam around the places to look for Sasuke. His turn ended already, so he should be sleeping. She walked around their camping site, knowing Kakashi is watching her to find Sasuke. It was then she noticed a lit up area many feet away from their camp site.

She cautiously walk towards it, hoping to see Sasuke there, not someone else that could be an enemy. She was glad when she found Sasuke standing before a fire she could only guess he light it using his fireball jutsu.

"Sasuke-kun." She calls out softly, moving closer to him.

The said boy look over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, "Sakura. What are you doing here?"

Sakura smiles up at him, her eyes close, "Well, it's my turn to watch over. Why don't you go to sleep?"

He ignores her, and turn back to look at the fire, "It's midnight." He spoke after sometimes.

Sakura's gaze went to the fire before them, "Happy New Year."

Sasuke's hollow demeanour causes the tone of her voice sounded small, soft and calculative.

"Ahh." He doesn't elaborate as he continue to watch the fire.

"What do you do with this fire?" Sakura asked, knowing that fire brings something significant to the Uchiha clan.

"You jump over it."

"Jump?"

Sakura isn't sure if Sasuke noticed that he doesn't act like his usual self, because he is rather chatty as he explains, "A place will be chosen to accommodate the ceremony. There would be a deep hole, dig up a few days prior at the chosen location. The evening of the New Year Eve, we will gather at the place, bringing food of our own. The male adult–I'm not sure if the female is allow but I only saw the male Uchiha. They surrounded the hole and casted their own fireball into that hole. At the beginning, the fire won't light up because there weren't any wood to hold up the fire. But at the end, the fire stays."

"We jumped over it, many many times we want. Together with family, alone, with partner. I went over it so many times I lost count."

Sakura couldn't stop looking at Sasuke as he spoke, his eyes never leave the light up fire. He turns to her then, looking sorrowful, sad. Sasuke-kun is a child after all.

Sakura send him a soft reassuring smile, "It's your tradition."

Sasuke nodded, "It's part of Uchiha culture, the fire, this ceremony."

"Is it your clan way to celebrate new year?" The pinkette asked.

"More like the way we welcome the new year with family and friends. To cherish the supposed joyful year ahead." He acquired, as he lower himself, sitting crossed leg on the ground.

Sakura follows right after, bend her legs to the side, "That's so interesting. My family is small, just my parents and I. We don't have cultural and traditional stuff like this."

He didn't say anything.

"Do you still do that? After–" Sakura paused, doesn't know how to address the elephant in the room, "I mean after everything."

"I didn't." He replied, his voice small, just above a whisper.

"Why not?"

Sasuke shrugs, "It doesn't seem right."

"You mean, because there's no one else to do it with you?"

Sasuke gazes at her swiftly and stare at her for a few seconds, "It won't bring out the true meaning behind it. No family and friends to celebrate it with. No joyful year to cherish. It doesn't makes sense if I still doing it." and then he continues lowly, his eyes lowered to the ground, "It makes me feel dejected."

Sakura blinks her tears away. Sasuke-kun sounded so sad. And then, something inside Sakura snapped. She looks in Sasuke's direction, determination adorned her face. She abruptly stands on her feet, pulling Sasuke's hand to rise up with her.

"What are you doing?" Sasuke barked, glares at her menacingly.

Sakura just send him her close eyes genuine smile and gently pull him with her to walk up the tree beside them. Sasuke, even though protesting earlier, follow her. Walking on a tree has become like a nature for them since their land of waves mission just a little over a month before.

Sakura lead them to stand on the tree branch. Under them is a ground which is about a meter or so away from Sasuke's fireplace. "Is this height okay?" She asked, tightening her grip on his hand.

"We're not–" He paused as he glances below them. And even Sakura's heart responded to the look Sasuke is having; determined, mournful and longing.

"This is fine." He settles on.

"Great," Sakura chirped, "We will jumped to the other side. There's a branch there, or do you you want to go right to the ground?"

She blushes when Sasuke turn to look at her with such intense, she almost stop breathing. "Y-Yes?" She squeaks.

"We'll jumped onto the branch first, and then to the ground. And we'll do separately if you'd like." He suggested.

Sakura was nodding her head continuously, happy that he agreed with her idea. Happy that he include her in his tradition, "Okay."

"Ready?" Sasuke said, he looks excited, content, happy even.

Sakura couldn't help but feel giddy herself, "Yes!" She exclaimed. Their hold tighten in each others hand.

At Sakura's third count, they both jump simultaneously.

Sakura squeals as they both went up in the air. The cold air hit them causing the adrenaline pumped in their system making her excitement and giddiness intensify, adding the warm heat raises from the fire, and everything feels perfect. It feels weird, but fun and absolute exhilarating. Beside her, Sasuke even though doesn't screaming like she did, looking excited too. The almost un-Sasuke-like grin was plastered over his face looking at her, as she did. Too soon, they both landed on the next branch.

And then she was laughing, she doesn't know why she does, but she did. She laughs so hard that Sasuke had to support her before she falls, "This is so much fun!" She exclaimed.

"Again?" Sasuke asked, amused. And jump they did.

They were panting so hard, so very hard after their umpteenth time jump–neither care to count.

"This is so amazing." She exclaimed as she slid down the tree they use as their platform to jump and sat below it, wiping the sweats on her forehead. "I'd definitely do that again next year."

Sasuke sit beside her, panting a little better than Sakura. The look of calm and satisfaction masked his previously dull and sorrowful face.

"You remembered that this is Uchiha's tradition, right?" Sasuke reminds.

Sakura looks at him, "Yes," She sheepishly rub her cheek with her finger, "I'm sorry I enjoyed it a little too much."

When Sasuke didn't respond, Sakura tilted her head to the side, blinking her eyes, "What is it?"

Sasuke looks away, his usually pale face turns crimson red, "If other people beside Uchihas join the ceremony–" He paused, "It only means, they're marrying an Uchiha, and becoming one themselves."

Sakura blinks again, many many times in confusion before finally–finally–it clicked, and her face went bright red, "O-ohh."

Sasuke scoff–still blushing–and spoke, "Don't think too much into it. I'm the only Uchiha left, I can fix it to how I want it to be."

"W-Well." Sakura started, "I don't actually mind marrying Sasuke-kun." She mutters.

Sasuke let out a rough breath, frustrated with the raised in the heat on his face, "I told you don't think about it."

Sakura giggles, "Okay."

He tched, face reddened and turn away from her.

The next day, Naruto found his teammates, sleeping soundly against each other, leaning against the tree. Sakura has her head burried in Sasuke's neck, while Sasuke's face is nestled comfortably in her hair. Less assured, they were both pestered by Naruto all the way back to the village.

-

Sakura and his wedding was done in a rush, or so others thought.

It was however half true,

The marriage was actually quite plan. They were somewhere at North East having dinner when Sasuke asked, "Do you think you'll marry me?"

Sakura chocked on her meat hearing clearly what he had said, "W-Water." She demand, hands patting on the table, eyes brimming with tears as the meat, hard and a little sharp at its edges pained her.

Sasuke let out a frustrated sigh as he offer her his drink. He waited until she finished the plain water and calmed down, "Are you okay?"

Sakura shakes her head as she breaths, her cheeks tainted pink and then she burst out, "It's not something you should casually ask during dinner. I mean, it absolutely should be asked during a dinner. But not so abruptly, and while I was trying to swallow this rock hard meat."

"I apologise." The nerve this guy has.

Sakura huffs crossing her hands over her chest looking away from her lover, feigning a sulk, "You couldn't do it romantically, could you?"

"Sakura."

Sakura bite her lips as she returns her gaze over Sasuke, and let out her giggle at the warning tone Sasuke used as he said her name.

"Fine." She said, "I saw a courthouse while we went around this village earlier. We'll stop by tomorrow before we furthering our journey."

Sasuke looks at her, nodding and says his thanks by holding her hand up to his lips and kiss that skin of hers tenderly, lingering there for a few moments. He looks up then, seeing the tears in her eyes, the redness on her cheeks, "Thank you, Sakura."

The night after that, they stare at the signed scroll of their marriage. Their gaze linger a minute too long at the new name written in cursive writing,

Sakura Haruno-Uchiha

And that night, they jumped over the fire again, many many times to celebrate their new marital status, before they went tired and lay down on the grassy ground, star gazing up the sky.

There weren't any traditional clothes. Nothing his mother will fuss over if she's present during their marriage.

There weren't any grand extra-vagant ceremonial reception, that his mother would be stressing about but doing it rather fondly.

There weren't anyone else presence during their signing, which is fine for both of them.

Sasuke was born in an old clan, with many traditions and cultures and ceremony to follow. But all those died down, together with the other Uchihas leaving him to recreate them himself for the new generation.

The next time they found themselves jump over the fire was when Sarada was born. Karin is the witness this time as she watched the Uchiha family, cradling their precious child, and jump together over the fire for the best years ahead of Sarada Uchiha, cherishing hopefully the joyful life of hers.

[grimmjowkurosakidrake]

Fluttering down, fluttering love

Summary: Post Gaiden, Sasuke finds Sakura in the middle of an ill fated mission.

Length: 3501 words 

Relationships: Sasuke Uchiha/Sakura Uchiha, Sasuke Uchiha/Sakura Haruno

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: NSFW 

Disclaimer: This fic is a commision for the really kind @talesandwonder but really, the idea was so good that I couldn’t stop writting XD

If you want to commission me or any of the other wonderfull writers of @witcheswritings don’t hesitate to DM us!

Sakura will never stop being in awe of the sheer amount of safe places the Uchiha hold around the five great shinobi countries. There’s something to be said about a clan who expanded so far outside of their territory; Building strongholds, secret caves, and cabins deep in the woods around almost every single shinobi populated (or even unpopulated) territory.

This is where Sakura feels somehow estranged from the Uchiha clan. She’s never been outside of Konoha in a mission and thought about making arrangements so her daughter or other relatives could find solace outside the village.

She often thinks about taking Sarada on dates at her favorite dango place, she usually has a camera ready for any important moment in her life.

But she rarely thinks about helping her on missions, just like her own parents rarely talked with her about her own missions, back when she was a genin.

She’s not like Sasuke.

After marrying him, the Uchiha disclosed an entire map of the five great shinobi countries to her. It was an old thing, dusty and well loved, obviously a family heirloom passed to the boy only by merit alone of being the last Uchiha.

“The blue dots are safe places,” Sasuke told her, on a spring night in one of those lucky moments of their journey together when they could spend the night in an inn, change their clothes and take well needed bath. “The red ones are settlements of people who will help you when they see the Uchiha symbol on your back.” He murmured placing a steady hand on the newly embroidered mark on the back of her red shirt. “No questions asked,” he finished, whispering against her ear.

This information was supposed to be for her ears only, so she could be safe anywhere without worrying about being on enemy territory.

Because she was an Uchiha and the Uchiha kept their own safe.

It’s all thanks to this conversation that when she and Sasuke find themselves in need of hiding from their enemies, with her husband heavy and passed out on her shoulders as she tries to drag them both through the heavy rain and into the small cabin well hidden in the depths of the woods north of the land of water. Sakura doesn’t waste any time trying to find a hidden spot.

She already has every spot on the Uchiha map committed to memory.

The cabin is small, completely furnished but not properly stocked, the door is locked too, and Sakura doesn’t have enough chakra to hold her husband and break the door at the same time.

She’s strong enough, thought.

The medic-nin ends up kicking the door open, Sasuke barely wakes up at this, still in a feverish state but awake enough to smirk at his wife’s show of strength.

“Aren’t you glad that we found each other, wife?” Asks the shinobi, holding onto Sakura’s shoulder, trying to stand by himself but failing miserably as his wounded legs fail him.

They’re both drenched to the bone, sweat, blood and rain water mixing in dangerous concoction, putting them at risk of catching a cold, on top of everything.

“Yes,” She chuckles, kissing the side of his head before dragging Sasuke to the dusty, old bed waiting for them at the center of the small cabin. “I always love to reunite with you while being surrounded by rouge ninja, dear.”

She allows the dark haired man to sit on the bed as she limps and closes the door, struggling to perform a simple sealing jutsu on the entrance.

She’s almost completely depleted of chakra, having been fighting for more than an hour alone with more than forty rouge shinobi without a moment to breath or heal herself.

She has burn wounds all over her right arm and leg, her own left leg sensitive from two separated stab wounds courtesy of her enemies.

She hasn’t been able to heal herself properly, not with every single shinobi on her tail and well aware of her identity, with each one of them attacking her at the same time.

Sacrificing their bodies and their lives for the chance of taking down one of Konoha’s three neo sannin.

They obviously knew every single detail about her.

Sakura Haruno can heal herself from almost anything in less than ten seconds, her inhuman strength only paralleled by her quick strategizing in battle, and her chakra control a feat most shinobi twice her age could only dream for.  

Sakura Haruno, also. Would rarely mortally wound an enemy unless pushed to her limit. A deadly weapon with almost no body count to show for it.

When Sasuke found her, she was down to almost thirty men but he had his own tail of rouge shinobi behind him.  

He was already wounded when they found each other in the middle of their own fights. Sasuke, luckily, was not being followed by more than five shinobi and his chakra reserves weren’t low by any means.

He was never one to have mercy on his enemies. As the last of his clan (his family), and a former international criminal, Sasuke Uchiha was not one to rule out murder if it meant saving himself or his loved ones.

With a sigh, Sakura reaches the bed and helps her husband out of his cape and bloody clothes.

He’s bleeding from his right thigh from a katana wound in the form of an almost clean slash across it. He’s probably poisoned if the almost blueish complexion around the three needles still attached to his left shoulder have anything to say about it.

He also has a nasty bruise by the side of his face that could end up developing in a concussion if not treated immediately.

Overall, his injuries are definitely more pressing than her own and even if they weren’t, Sakura would never treat her own husband after herself. Rules of a medic-nin be dammed.

Sasuke of course, would love to object. “You should treat yourself first, Sakura.” He admonishes her as she makes a quick job of removing the needles attached to the shinobi’s shoulders. “My injuries can wait.”

“You’ve been poisoned, dear.” She points out as if it weren’t already obvious, “You definitely can’t wait treatment.”

Sasuke huffs as she opens her poison’s scroll, carefully removing the poison with the aid of a concoction she had stored away on a small vial. “I’m immune to most poisons,” he reminds Sakura, grunting as she injects him with one of her standard antidotes.

“That would make two of us,” she smirks, green soothing chakra oozing off her hands as she makes a quick job of healing the wound on his thigh.

When Sakura is almost ready with the both of them, just finishing with applying some salve on the burns on her arms, Sasuke speaks up. “You shouldn’t have come alone,” he growls from where he’s laying on the bed, still too sore from his injuries and blood lost to help her. “The borders near Rain are still full of rogue shinobi.” He adds, glaring at a blind spot near her. “No matter what Naruto or the other Kage say, the shinobi world is not a place of peace.”

Sakura is strong, but she’s human, a mortal just like him and even Naruto. But more than anything she’s kind. Completely different from anyone of their team. Where everyone at team seven decided to kill for a living, she choose to give life.

If she just killed those men, Sakura would not have been in any trouble, but his wife will never kill anyone if she feels that she doesn’t have to, most of the time she’s reluctant to even mortally wound her enemies.

For what she’s told him, even the death of what he considers a virtual monster: Sasori. Affected her as if the puppet she fought was a living, feeling person.

She felt for him, on his last seconds, cried for him after his death, and learned from him as much as she learned from his grandmother.

She’s a medical ninja at heart, stronger than most, but as far as Sasuke is concerned, Sakura should never have mission alone near the borders of a shinobi village whose culture still revolves around murder and senseless violence.

Sakura huffs, kneeling in front of the fireplace where there’s still some wood from who knows when, it’s a little bit green around the edges so it will be difficult to star a decent fire, but she can do it.

Deeply inhaling and accumulating her chakra at the top of her lungs, Sakura allows herself into breathing the fire her husband passed onto her as if she was his own blood. It was difficult to learn at first; she has to admit. Sakura is not compatible with fire ninjutsu, not even with air ninjutsu.

But people like Kakashi do exist and even if she can’t create a great fireball justsu of the monumental size Sasuke has achieved after years of training. She’s still able to produce enough fire to ignite the fireplace.

“It was supposed to be a recognizance mission,” Mutters the pink haired kunoichi, moving the wood around with the fire iron. “I was not even aware that the place was filled to the brim with rogue ninja.” She sighs, leaving the warmth of the fire to sit alongside her husband on the bed. “If someone told me that there would be shinobi around I would have concealed myself.”

Silently she touches her own hair, then, her forehead, tracing the small diamond tattoo that she earned with years of storing chakra even when her life was at risk.

“I’m not the most discreet looking kunoichi around.” She mutters.

Sasuke sits up on the bed, moving himself so he can be as near her as possible, then, almost in a wary way, the shinobi lifts his only arm, caressing her pink hair with great care.

“The borders of Rain had been invaded for more than a month.” Growls the Uchiha patriarch, not angry at her, of course not.

He’s angry with his Hokage, his best friend.

Naruto must have been aware of this fact. Sasuke somehow manages to be in more contact with the Hokage than with his own daughter and wife.

Even if he promised them to be around more often, to be more in contact with them.

After his short detour in Konoha, when he had an ill fated meeting with a Sarada that didn’t recognise him just like he didn’t recognise her. Sasuke quickly came back to the road, asking Naruto to take better care of Sarada, and informing him that he would be coming back more frequently, if only to start training his daughter as she deserves.

But this past month, Sasuke has only been able to keep correspondence with the Hokage, too apprehensive about his falcons being intercepted by the enemy for him to reach out to Sakura.

It seems that Naruto didn’t have any reserves about exposing their ex teammate to the rogue ninja as himself.

“I’ll have a talk with Naruto.” Finally, concludes Sakura, resting her head on his shoulder. Even if she’s at least a little bit mad with herself for having to be saved by her husband once more. She knows that Naruto didn’t give her enough information.

Sasuke has been giving him information for over a month,  without sending falcons to even her, Naruto should have at least told Sakura to conceal herself.

“That will make it two of us,” he mutters, holding her tight from across her waist. “I can’t believe that idiot.”

“I should have been prepared anyway,” Sighs Sakura, accepting the warm comfort of her husband’s reassuring weight so close to her. “I know the peace treaty doesn’t mean anything more than politics, that I shouldn’t go out of Konoha without concealing myself.”

“It’s not your fault.” Mutters her husband, kissing the side of her head, “You fought with your life for that treaty to be made. You are war a hero, there’s no one more prepared than you.”

“That can’t be true,” she smiles kindly at him.

Sasuke is well known across the shinobi world for being cool and almost, borderline cruel. There’s been more people than Sakura can count warning her about the former criminal. But he is kind to her, he is kind to his daughter.

Sometimes maybe too kind.

There’s something to be said about a merciless murderer who’s able to feel love, who’s capable of kindness.

There’s a lot to be said about the woman who falls in love with him. Always ready to love everyone but herself.

Sasuke sighs “I’ll speak with Naruto.” He concedes, there’s not a lot to be argued when Sakura feels that she has something to prove. “There were at least five A-rank shinobi in the group you fought alone, it’s not your fault when you didn’t even know that you were supposed to fight.”

“You’ve never needed to be briefed before entering enemy’s territory.” She mutters, “you’re always prepared, and so are Kakashi and Sai.”

“You are a medical ninja.” He reminds her, “no matter your rank, you’re always supposed to be part of a team. Especially when dealing with so many powerful ninjas around the area.”

Sakura smiles “Sasuke-kun…” she sighs.

“We will talk with Naruto.” He smiles at her reassuring, “he needs to be reminded of his duties as our Hokage.”

“How did I get so lucky?” Asks Sakura facing him. he smiles at her words as she lifts her hand, carefully moving the hair covering his left eye. “Ino would never believe me,” she laughs.

“Don’t go out ruining my reputation.” He kisses the side of her lips. “I won’t start being nice to anyone out there. Just you.”

Sakura smiles, kissing his closed mouth as he moves away from her face. He grunts but answers the kiss in kind when she holds the back of his neck with one hand and buries her fingers on his hair with the other.

She moans a little when Sasuke licks her bottom lip, and eagerly gives entrance. It’s only when he bites her lower lip that she separates from him.

“You’re hurt, dear.” Admonishes Sakura moaning as Sasuke kisses her neck, licking a long strip from her clavicle to her chiselled jaw.

Sasuke only smirks as an answer. “You’re a really good doctor, wife.” He growls, biting the lobe of her ear.

He plays with the hem of the mesh crop top she wears underneath her qipao long shirt, drumming his fingers against the center of her chest from underneath it, waiting for her to act, as he kisses her deeply.

She barely hesitates before moving him aside with a gentle push on his own naked chest, making a quick job of taking off her top.

He smirks holding her by the waist when she gingerly sits on his lap. “I am a good doctor.” She whispers in his ear, caressing the prominent bulge on his boxers with a firm, steady hand.

Sasuke groans at the feeling, urgently kissing the top of her breasts with wet, open mouthed kisses, lifting his hips and uselessly trying to rut against her hand as she presses her thumb against his already erect cock. “Sakura.” He groans, playfully biting her right nipple.

“What?” She smiles, slowly caresing the sides of his memeber, playing with the head of his cock where a wet patch is already staining his underwear. 

There’s a heated glint in her green eyes, clearly amused by his neediness. By the way he groans when she moves away from him in order to take off his boxers.

“Don’t tease.” He growls holding her neck, then her waist again. Forcing her body underneath him.

“I’m not.” She pouts, lifting her back from the bed when her husband trails barely there kisses from her quivering throat to her stomach.

He easily takes off her pants whith Sakura’s help as she lifts her hips and opens her legs at each side of him.

The lace and silk boy shorts she usually wears undermath her mission clothes are already wet when he kisses the underside of her tights, it doesn’t mean Sasuke will stop there.

Sighing deeply, Sasuke licks a long stripe across her entire clothed sex, holding her clit on the inside of his mouth until she’s burring her fingers on his head and interlacing her legs behind his neck, the talons of her feet digging on his spine.

She hastily removes her fingers from his head to take off her underwear herself. This is what he’s been waiting for.

For Sakura to forget his own pleasure in favor of hers. To overlook him completely as she grips him by the neck and holds his face against her pussy. Forcing him there as Sasuke licks her insides, moving his tongue inside of her core in quick, broad thrusts.

There’s no forcing him, Sasuke loves being here; in between her legs as she moans and demands for more. But the feeling of her manicured nails digging on his scalp, the pain on his back as her legs kick against his skin.

That is the feeling that keeps him rutting against the bed, gasping for breath as he’s not able to hold his owns growls and moans of pleasure at the edging feeling of the barely there pressure of the bed against his cock.

Sakura comes for the first time like this, thrusting hips against her husband’s face, screaming with Sasuke’s mouth holding her clit as his tongue flicks around it without stopping. Not even when she let’s go of his hair or when her juices drip from his neck jaw to his collarbones.

Even when her body falls heavily on the bed, Sasuke lazily kisses her labia to his heart’s content, enjoying her little tremors and gasping moans of over-sensitivity.

“Sasuke-kun…” Sighs Sakura breathlessly holding his jaw. “Stop.” She commands when he tries to fight her grasp on him. “You’re still hurt, honey.” Coos her wife incorporating on the bed and caressing his lower lip with her thumb.

Her voice is soothing but her eyes are burning as she forces him on his back. She kisses him sweetly when her hands grip his cock.

Sasuke can’t help but moan from the depths of his throat as she slowly lowers herself on his member, enjoying the burn and the feeling of finally being full after so much time apart.

With a triumphant groan, Sakura’s hips align with his own “Sakura.” He groans, griping her waist as she bends over him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her knees bending at the sides of his hips.

“It feels so good.” Moans Sakura, her arms resting at the sides of his face, her hips moving without a warning. “I’ve missed this,” she moans against his open mouth.

Slowly, her hands move to the sides of his neck, her tongue peaking out of her open, red lips making his own mouth open up on instinct, gasping when they meet in the middle.

Her hands move to his chest, using him as leverage to rise heavily onto his hips, setting a breathless pace over him. “You’re...” gasps Sasuke, his hands moving to her core, his thumb running small, quick circles on her clit. “So tight,” he moans moving his hips alongside Sakura’s, “so warm.”

There’s warmth coiling at the bottom of his stomach, pressure on his entire chest and his hands moves erratically on her clit. “Sakura!” he screams, unsteadily thrusting into her even when he knows that he should pull out.

She doesn’t respond, her body falling on top of him as her inner walls constrict against his cock and her legs close against him. Sasuke holds her with one arm, embracing her through her moans and quivering espasmodict thrust of oversensitivity, thrusting mindlessly inside her, before coming.

“Sasuke-kun!” Moans Sakura one last time, his grip on her entire body and the warm feeling of her husband filling her, too much for her to remain silent.

There’s a mess of fluids in between them as they cuddle breathless in bed, Sakura’s pink hair tickling the top of his nose.

************......... ************ ************......... ************ ************......... ************ ************......... ************ ************......... ************

The morning after, Sasuke finds Sakura drinking tea with a warm cup of coffee resting by her side. She’s naked from the waist down, her qipao shirt open and resting over her shoulders.

“When are you coming back to Konoha?” He asks, taking the coffee and kissing the top of her head.

“Sarada is on a mission for two weeks.” She answers, smirking “You think we can take down this invasion by then?”

Her smirk is almost feral with confidence, her eyes sharp, just like they were yesterday when she had him on the palm of her hands.

This is the woman he married, Sasuke thinks as he grabs his Katana from the mess of clothes they left las night.

A warrior to her core; confident and strong.

[fallen-wolves]

HERE HAVE SOME FEELINGS ABOUT KISSING:

Hashirama’s first kiss is not with Madara. It’s with a girl that gets cut down two weeks after by a Hatake. Her name was Kumiko and she taught him how to put battle braids in his hair. They were young and silly and he thinks the only reason their lips ended up pressed together was because one of them - maybe her but maybe not - must have seen some older cousin kissing in a dark corner. 

(Teenagers always think they’re so sneaky. Even ones that have blood caked under their nails and violence folded into their skin.)

Kumiko is his first kiss but she is not the first body he carries back to his clan lands, lifeless and cold. 

(And isn’t that a sad commentary on the state of things? He saw his first body before he was even aware that people outside of family kiss one another.)

In comparison, Madara’s first kiss is with Hashirama - by their river when they’re both so hopeful and arrogant to think they’re the first ones to ever want to stop the killing. Madara was holding way too many flowers - the green ones were poison, except when boiled and mixed with the red ones, then it was a paste for lessening gum pain; the pink ones were good for seasoning with fish; the blue ones were good for easing cramps during a woman’s monthly bleeding; the hard, tall pale blue ones were for pain when mixed with the foxfire grass and peonies; and the misshapen yellow ones were just pretty - and Hashirama was rambling about how to tell which berries where good to eat and which weren’t and Madara feels…

Well, a little hot because even under the trees the sun is unrelenting and the air is sticky with humidity and he’s wrapped in bandages under his yukata and wearing forge boots. He’s a little annoyed, too, because Hashirama is just talking nonstop, not even pausing for questions, and even though Madara doesn’t have any, what if he did, Hashi, what then you idiot? But he’s also happy in the soft way he usually associates with Izuna, the happiness of just being around someone important to him. (He used to get this feeling whenever Seiji learned a new word or when Ryouta would run up to him with his newest bird, crying out in excitement at whatever new trick he taught it - aniue, look what I did!) He takes note of the way that the sun is starting to drift down in the sky, knows he’s going to have to go back soon, and can’t help but wish that he could keep this moment forever - stretch it until there’s no end in sight, just them alone in the woods together, like this. 

Madara stumbles over a fallen log, catching himself before he drops anything, and then Hashirama is there and…

Kissing isn’t what Madara thought it would be - it’s not like he hears his older cousins whispering about when they’re all supposed to be cleaning or learning their kanji. It’s not wet or hot, it’s not like the fireball jutsu, and it doesn’t make his stomach leap like he’s in freefall. It’s just Hashirama’s mouth on his and somehow that’s even better than all of those things? He keeps his eyes open, not wanting to look away from his friend, counts his eyelashes and moves his lips clumsily against Hashirama’s, learning from the other boy. 

And then it’s over and Madara is staring at Hashirama, knows his eyes are wide because Hashirama’s nose is starting to turn a little red and that’s the cutest thing Madara has even seen, even cuter than when Izuna used to fall asleep with their mother’s massive hawk summons and wake up covered in feathers and hair a mess because Katsu would groom his hair as he slept. 

“Sorry, I thought...Sorry, was that too much?” Hashirama says, reaching up to thumb at the side of his nose and Madara has never wanted his clan’s dōjutsu more than right now because he wants to be able to remember what Hashirama looks like, right now, for the rest of his life. 

“It wasn’t too much.” Madara says quietly and he thinks he should be doing something else right now. Should he lean forward and kiss him again? Reach out and hold his hand? Would that be too much? Can Madara touch Hashirama’s face now? Pet his hair? Can he trace his fingertips across the planes of Hashirama’s face, to memorize for when he burns through his eyes and can no longer use them, as all the elders tell him will be his fate? Can he follow the lines of Hashirama’s veins until they reach his heart and ask if he can keep it safe?

Is that too much? Is it enough? 

“Oh, oh, good...that’s...that’s good.” Hashirama says brightly and his ears are turning red and then he smiles and it makes Madara’s throat go dry and his knees straighten, like he’s prepared to do something that will get his father furious with him and the elders whispering. 

Hashirama is Madara’s first, second, fifth, tenth, and even twentieth kiss. He goes back to the compound clutching his haul of herbs and flowers, of bushes and berries, dazed and giddy and almost drunk with hashirama, hashirama, hashirama thrumming through his chest. 

(The universe is truly cruel that it chooses none of those times to give him the sharingan. Instead, his clan’s dōjutsu comes crashing down upon him later, when Hashirama becomes Senju Hashirama and it hurts so much he curls in on himself in bed that night and thinks he might actually die from it. His heart doesn’t break so much as shatter and pierce him with all the pieces - what a fool he had been, to take it out of its careful cage and give it away so freely? Hasn’t his other brothers taught him anything?)

[robininthelabyrinth]

Eyestealer 5 - ao3 link

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama (mostly gen, hints of other relationships later)

Summary: Hashirama really doesn’t approve of the thoughtful way his father looks at his younger brother’s bright red eyes. He’s sure it doesn’t mean anything good for anyone.

He’s right.

——————————————————————————————

Butsuma is right about this much: Hashirama does fight Madara, and Tobirama does keep killing Uchiha.

But Tobirama doesn't listen to Butsuma the way he used to, his heart broken by ‎the realization that he'd never earn his father's love not because of any fault in himself, but because of something his father himself inflicted on him, and that has a significant effect in a way neither Butsuma nor Hashirama ever realized.

Tobirama is the soul of the battlefield.

The Senju never really respected their leader's younger - now youngest - son the way they do Butsuma, for his ruthlessness, nor did they revere him the way they do Hashirama, with the crushing power of his Mokuton, but they've learned to trust Tobirama in a way they don't trust either other. Between his sensor abilities and tactical genius, Tobirama is able to look at any situation and ‎figure out how to turn it to their advantage.

He doesn't prioritize saving lives the way Hashirama does; his eyes are fixed on the mission objective, on victory, and to Hashirama's bemusement that is what his clan's shinobi and kunoichi apparently want. They die, yes, leaving widows and widowers and orphans behind, but they die with bloody teeth bared in smiles of pleasure, escaping to the Pure Lands with songs of triumph on their lips.

The elders and powerful of the clan all hate Tobirama, but the regular soldiers follow him first.

‎And so when Tobirama turns to his brother for confirmation of his orders, rather than his father, it is Hashirama's will that ultimately triumphs over the battlefield - his strategy, his objective, his terms.

His army.

Hashirama notices. Butsuma – doesn’t.

Hashirama notices that, too.

He’s careful not to oppose Butsuma too openly‎, counting on his father's arrogance and disdain for his second son to blind him to the truth, but under his careful guidance and Tobirama’s brilliance the battles become less bloody, the butcher's bill less steep, the slaughter less likely to spill over onto bystanders.

“No more dead children,” he tells Tobirama one day, when Tobirama finally hits double digits. In Hashirama’s opinion, Tobirama is still a child himself, round-cheeked and baby-fat, but he’s already a general. "I can't stop both sides from sending them out, but...no more."

Tobirama frowns. “He won’t like that.”

Hashirama doesn’t say anything. He won’t push, not when it comes to Butsuma; he doesn’t pay the price for that, not the way Tobirama still does.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tobirama finally says. “But you might not like it.”

He’s right, Hashirama doesn’t like it – sticking the heads of child-killers on pikes? really? – but it works: the Uchiha are extremely freaked out by the unusual savagery of the tactic, which results in morale among the Senju being higher than ever, and that, in turn, means that Butsuma couldn’t get volunteers for a child-killing mission of his own even if he held people at sword-point.

It works.

Honestly, Hashirama is mostly just surprised that the mere presence of dead bodies, of which they have all seen far too many, is enough to cause such an effect on the Uchiha, and he says as much to Tobirama.

“It’s not the corpses, it’s the crows,” Tobirama replies, nodding in the direction of the heads, on which a fairly large number of crows have indeed come to rest. “I’m pretty sure the Uchiha burn their corpses to make sure no one steals the eyes.”

“Burn?” Hashirama asks, wrinkling his nose. The Senju prefer burials, but then, they're primarily a clan of doton users, for all that they're famed for their thousand skills, while the Uchiha are katon users; he supposes it makes sense. “And anyway, what has burial customs got to do with crows?”

“Crows pick out the eyes of dead men,” Tobirama explains. “The Uchiha are sensitive about things like that.”

Sure enough, the next time Hashirama’s on the battlefield with Madara only a swords’ width away, his (former) best friend glares at him as if betrayed and says, poisonously, “Heads on pikes? Really?”

“Only the child-killers!” Hashirama protests, thinking secretly that he and Madara are really quite delightfully similar when it comes down to it.

“What do you mean, only the –” Madara goes quiet for a second, thinking, or possibly just for enough air to cast that stupid fireball jutsu his clan is so famous for. “Your side stopped killing children around the same time.”

“It would be a blow to morale to do otherwise,” Hashirama explains, virtuously cribbing from Tobirama’s solemn and significantly more extensive explanation. He side-steps another katon and half-heartedly throws some roots to grab at Madara’s feet; they miss, of course, though they do make Madara hop like a particularly graceful rabbit. “The statement is only effective if we have moral superiority.”

“And by limiting the punishment to just child-killers, you make it unappealing for anyone in my clan to agree to those types of missions, too,” Madara says. He sounds begrudgingly impressed. “Who on your side thought of that, anyway? Not your father, that’s for sure.”

“...Tobirama,” Hashirama admits.

“Isn’t he ten?”

It’s shortly after that battle that the Uchiha start calling Tobirama the White Demon.

“Congratulations,” Hashirama says solemnly when they find out that the moniker has spread to other clans like the Nara or the Yamanaka, both of whom should really know better. He pats Tobirama on the back. “You’re a scary story parents tell to scare their children.”

“I’m ten,” Tobirama says through gritted teeth and an extremely bemused expression.

“Very scary,” Hashirama says, and pinches his cheeks.

“And I bet all the history scrolls are going to say that you’re the nice one...”

Hashirama does still fight, and quite seriously, against other enemies, and Madara does the same, and their reputations grow to the point that no one even questions why the two clan heirs continue to duke it out with no result – everyone just assumes they’re keeping the other away from the rest of the clan.

Madara might also think that, actually, Hashirama’s not sure, but either way their fights slowly start resembling more and more the sparring sessions they used to have by the riverbank. They never go so far as to shout encouragement for each other’s jutsus, of course, but there’s something of the same feeling.

After a while, Izuna starts making a point of targeting Tobirama on the field, sword against sword. Hashirama worries first that Tobirama is about to slaughter Madara’s last living brother, but they seem fairly evenly matched.

“You’re not going to let him kill you, are you?” he asks, his hands glowing green over a shallow slice in Tobirama’s arm, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “I mean, I don’t want him to die, either, but if you need me to…”

He doesn’t want to, he desperately doesn’t want to, Madara would never forgive him –

“No, Izuna’s a good opponent,” Tobirama says. “He’s got a great defensive strategy, particularly in close combat.”

Hashirama looks at him.

“I can direct the battlefield any time I’m at a distance, then focus on him when I get close up without worrying about stray casualties,” Tobirama clarifies. “He’s defensive – the Uchiha trained him to guard Madara’s back, not strike out on his own. I might not be able to kill him, but I’ll be fine.”

Hashirama still worries.

That worry probably saves his life.

He’s not anticipating it when Madara suddenly goes back to attacking at full gusto, reeking with deadly killing intent that has a strange almost desperate edge to it, but he’s been holding at least a dozen roots back in reserve just in case he needs to incapacitate Izuna and when Madara hits him full force he squawks and throws them in between them as a shield.

He sees Tobirama blur with speed – his little brother is ridiculously fast, notoriously so even among shinobi, and that’s not a trait associated with the Sharingan, Butsuma – to try to come to help, because he’s probably been worrying about Hashirama as much as Hashirama’s been worrying about him, but Izuna’s blocking him, trying to harry him away from them.

Hashirama flickers his chakra in one of the patterns he and Tobirama established early on – all well here, continue fighting – and Tobirama twists back to focus on Izuna, much to Hashirama’s relief. Distractions in a battle field are a very bad idea.

Yes, yes, he knows he’s a hypocrite.

“What’s happened?” he asks, throwing himself to the side to avoid Madara’s next strike, and unlike his usual dodges he really does mean throw. “What’s wrong? Is everyone okay?”

“Are you insane?” Madara hisses. “You can’t ask me – we’re not friends! We stopped being friends long ago!”

“It’s only been a few years...”

He probably deserves it when Madara goes for his head next.

“Seriously,” he says when he next has a moment to breathe. “Who’s dying?”

He means it as a joke, but Madara looks grim and his eyes flicker ever-so-briefly to the west.

The west, where Tajima and Butsuma are fighting.

“Oh, no,” Hashirama says, meaning it. “I’m really sorry to hear that; I know you don’t get on with him that well, but that can’t be good for your clan.”

Yes, he knows they’re his enemies. But they’re still Madara’s clan, and he can still be concerned about them on Madara’s behalf, no matter how much Madara scoffs at him for it.

“Seriously,” Madara says, mockingly imitating Hashirama’s earlier question. “Hashirama, when did you go insane?”

“Some months before I met you,” Hashirama says honestly. “I had a very bad night.”

Madara gives him a weird look.

“A very bad night.”

Madara almost looks like he wants to ask, or express sympathy, and even though he doesn’t actually do it Hashirama’s counting that as a victory.

Tajima ends up pulling through whatever illness was causing Madara and Izuna such discomfort, and they go back to their almost stalemate for a while.

The next time Tajima begins to falter, though, and Hashirama’s watching for it now, things get bad again.

Madara and Izuna both throw themselves into the fighting, for better or for worse, and then they’re gone for an entire week – Tobirama suggests and leads several very successful covert raids for supplies the second Hashirama tells him they need an excuse not to openly fight the Uchiha until their two strongest fighters are back on the field, and he doesn’t even ask any questions – before returning.

This time, Madara wears the colors of the Clan Head.

Also, and this is more important to Hashirama, his Sharingan eyes are now pinwheels.

“Hey, so, what’s that called?” Hashirama asks, finding that he has to escalate to Sage Mode to stop Madara’s newest – significantly stronger – onslaught. “Oh, and my condolences.”

“You’re so weird,” Madara tells him, but his tone is more long-suffering than anything else. “Also, how long have you been able to do that?”

“As far as Butsuma knows, today,” Hashirama says, a little dryly. “In actuality – a month or so?”

Madara actually stops fighting for a second, peering at him. “Really?” he asks dubiously. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better about the fact that you’ve apparently been taking pity on me?”

“Why would I take pity on you?” Hashirama asks, putting his hands on his hips. “You’re halfway to kicking my ass a good half of the time! If I didn’t get a head start on Sage Mode, you would’ve been able to kill me.”

“That’s the point. We’re at war, you idiot.”

“You still haven’t told me what your new eyes are called,” Hashirama says, because they’re not going to get anywhere retreading that old ground. “Is it still the Sharingan when it’s a pinwheel instead of flecks?”

“Please stop admitting that you look me in the eyes,” Madara says with a groan. “Just – stop. It’s embarassing. To you, mostly, but also to me. And it’s called the Mangekyo Sharingan, not that that’s any of your business.”

“Oh, is that what that looks like? We have some art. It’s – bad.”

Madara pauses again, probably thinking of Hashirama’s extremely underdeveloped sense of artistic appreciation (for some reason, Madara doesn't agree with Hashirama's conclusion that stick figures are as complex as art needs to go) and extrapolating from there about how bad exactly the art is. Then he makes a face.

“Yeah,” Hashirama says with a sigh. “That bad.”

“Just fight me already,” Madara says, but it sounds almost like surrender, and the rest of the battle is mostly Madara trying out cool new attacks while Hashirama blocks or dodges and shouts irritating color commentary.

(Hashirama’s just glad he doesn’t try the black fire the Senju scrolls they’ve uncovered tell about; Tobirama’s already told him that if Madara ever summons that he won't hesitate to use his black water to counter it, and that would be the end of everything.)

After the battle, though, he’s feeling particularly light-hearted. Madara, Clan Head! It’s a heavy duty that falls upon his shoulders, especially since he’s only seventeen, but despite everything he said about picking family over peace, there’s a chance that maybe he would be open to –

“- peace talks,” Butsuma says. “"We can have a delegation ready to go by the end of this week."

Hashirama gapes at him.

He knew Butsuma had started noticing his growing lack of control over the Senju clan - it began with Tobirama's army getting accustomed to looking to Hashirama because Tobirama does, and, once his approaches started getting results, their admiration spread even to non-combatants - but Hashirama still has nowhere near enough support in the clan to launch an effective coup and seize power.

And while Hashirama has been able to effectively leverage his growing popularity into a certain measure of influence over clan policy, enough to counter some of Butsuma's worst instincts, ‎Butsuma himself has always been his enemy, not his ally.

Why would he suddenly be agreeing to one of Hashirama's most dearly held dreams now?

Tobirama very minutely turns his face to the side, a deliberate shift that no one but Hashirama would realize was him shaking his head, warning caution, but Hashirama is filled with bubbling hope too strong to repress. He never cared if he was the one who reached out the first hand for peace‎ or if the credit went to someone else, as long as peace is ultimately reached.

If Butsuma has finally realized that peace was inevitable, that Hashirama will offer it regardless as soon as he was dead - a realization perhaps triggered by Tajima's own death? - and wants to get ahead in order to ensure that he can include robust terms in the negotiations, Hashirama will take it, and with great joy.

"How do we know the Uchiha will not kill our ambassadors on sight as they approach?" one of the elders is asking.

"We'll send them under flag of truce," Butsuma says. "We've never done that before; they'll be curious. A small party, no more than three individuals, and‎ at least one will be of sufficient importance that they will be convinced of our good intentions."

"I'll go," Hashirama says at once. He doesn't think it's likely - he's the heir, after all, and their Mokuton prodigy, not to mention even he knows that he’s frankly awful at negotiating when it’s for something he really wants  - and sure enough, everyone is shaking their heads.

Butsuma has a little smile on his lips, though, and Hashirama feels the first shiver of concern - he looks smug and satisfied, laughter behind his eyes at Hashirama’s small gesture in support of his idea, as if something is going right.

Tobirama always feared that expression most of all, and usually for good reason.

"No," Butsuma says, raising his hands for quiet. "Not you, Hashirama, but your brother's presence will be just as persuasive."

Hashirama's heart sinks, hope curling into fear in his belly. Butsuma treats Tobirama decently enough in public, especially since he figured out his second son's sway with the soldiers of their clan, but he's never truly valued him.

And while Tobirama would be Hashirama's own first pick as ambassador, with his self-control and poise and ability to always consider his options before acting, Hashirama is terribly certain that those are not the qualities Butsuma is thinking of.

Butsuma has always thought of Tobirama, first and foremost, as disposable.

But then, that would mean - the peace talks -

"An ambassador of such high rank would require them to treat him with respect," Butsuma says. "Gathering all the strongest members of their clan together at the welcoming feast - and that is when we will destroy them all.”

Some of the advisors look uncomfortable at the thought of using peace talks as a cover, but many of the elders are as vicious as Butsuma, and they’re already nodding.

“How, though?” one asks with a frown. “They won’t weaken their outside defenses –”

“The strength of a wall doesn’t matter if the attack comes from within,” Butsuma says, and there’s an ugly sort of anticipation in his voice. “An explosive seal tied directly to the user’s chakra, magnifying the effect many times over...the entire compound will be caught in the blast. Even those who survive the initial blast will be weakened, allowing our forces from outside to come in and pick them all off. We will leave no survivors.”

Hashirama is frozen. Horror wells up within him; his mouth tastes like ash, and he can see it, that’s the worst part, he can see it – it’s not a bad plan, not really, not with the Uchiha weakened and uncertain after Tajima’s death, not with Madara as the new clan head; Madara, who unlike Tajima would allow the ambassadors to pass through the compound gates, and all because he would believe without a second’s hesitation that Hashirama must be behind the delegation –

“Abomination,” he says, his lips moving without his conscious decision. “This plan – it is an abomination.”

Some of the leaders are looking to him, but not enough, not enough, he’s beloved by the majority of the Senju but their clan is no democracy – it is the elders and the powerful whose voices matter, and they support Butsuma.

Dogs, each one of them, baying for blood that they will not need to lift a finger to obtain.

“The Uchiha will not be so easily deceived,” one of the elders says, ignoring Hashirama entirely, obviously dismissing his objection as nothing more than the wistful dreams of an idealist the way he always does. “They will search our ambassadors before they permit them to enter, much less invite them to a meal. How can we hide the seal well enough to get it through their gates?”

Butsuma smiles. “Do not trouble yourselves; I’ve already thought of a solution to that,” he says. “We’ll put it in the one place an Uchiha will never think to look.”

He glances over at Tobirama, who he still thinks of as his – his tool to use, not his son, never his son, never beloved and all because of what Butsuma himself inflicted upon him – and his smile widens.

“We’ll paint the explosive seal onto Tobirama’s eyes.”

Hashirama doesn’t actually remember moving.

It’s as if the whole world goes white, then red, and it’s fury he feels, fury unlike anything he’s ever felt before, all the hatred he’s ever had for Butsuma suddenly filling him from head to toe – how dare Butsuma do something like this, how dare he pervert Hashirama’s dearest dream and seek to use, seek to kill, Hashirama’s most precious person in the process; how dare he use Hashirama’s friendship with Madara to destroy him and his clan; how dare he treat Tobirama like trash that finally has a use but only in its destruction; how dare he –

When Hashirama comes back to himself, his hands are covered in blood.

He’s lunged across the table, the wood of the floor and wall and chair – dead wood, of the sort he’s long pretended he doesn’t have the ability to control – all springing to life with sharp spikes to pin Butsuma in place, and he’s – he’s –

He ripped Bustuma’s eyes out of his head.

What has he done?

“Kill him,” Tobirama says.

Hashirama looks at him blankly. Doesn’t Tobirama realize – he just – the Senju clan will never accept a parricide as their leader, never; Hashirama will never be able to extend to Madara the hand of peace, he’ll be lucky if he escapes without being executed or banished –

Tobirama’s eyes are spinning pinwheels. He’s removed his lenses, hands moving as quick as the lightning he can summon, and his hands are knotted into fists on the table before him as if he is under some terrible pressure.

“Tobirama...?”

That’s when Hashirama realizes that no one else in the room has moved.

Their eyes are fixed on Hashirama where he kneels on the table before the moaning, wounded but not-yet-dead body of his father, but their eyes do not see.

Their eyes shine red, with black pinwheels.

Genjutsu.

“I won’t be able to block their vision for long,” Tobirama says, and he’s gritting his teeth with the strain of it. His chakra is strong, not weak as they’d always thought – it was only ever the presence of the ever-draining Sharingan that hid it away – and they’d figured out a way for him to borrow some of Hashirama’s when he needed extra, as he does now. “Kill him, now; then remove your wooden spikes and go wash your hands. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Tobirama,” Hashirama says, helpless. He’s the older brother; he’s supposed to be the one caring for his brother, not the opposite way around. And what does it matter, anyway? He’s a parricide, he’s never going to be Clan Head, and now Tobirama’s own succession will be in question because of what he’s done to help –

“I can’t kill him,” Tobirama says. His voice is as stern and calm as ever, but Hashirama knows his little brother and can see how much he’s feeling right now; he’s overwhelmed with emotion, far too many all at once for Hashirama to decipher. “I can’t kill him, anija; I still love him. So you have to do it. Now, Hashirama.”

Hashirama reaches out and snaps his father’s neck. He doesn’t laugh the way he thought he would.

“Now go.”

Hashirama goes.

When he comes back, the elders are all on their feet, all yelling, their eyes clear once more, and only Tobirama is still kneeling, his eyes closed to conceal the truth hidden under their lids.

“Hashirama-sama!” one of them bellows, grabbing at his arms – it’s the one who ignored him earlier, who asked about how they would hide the explosive seal to get it through the gates. He’s never addressed him as Hashirama-sama before in his life. “He has to be imprisoned at once!”

“I – what?”

He?

“Your brother! After you stormed out, Bustuma explained his plan to use Tobirama as a vessel for the explosive seal, and Tobirama murdered him where he sat!”

After he –

Oh.

Of course.

Genjutsu is the art of weaving illusions so real you can’t tell the difference between them and reality – so real that if you time it just right, you can overwrite a person’s perception of what happened right before their own eyes.

And Tobirama knows, just as Hashirama does, that the Senju will never accept a parricide as their leader. He used his Mangekyo Sharingan to trade that reality for a new one, using a skill he hasn’t touched since he was a child – a skill he swore he would never use again.

He broke that vow for Hashirama’s sake.

Hashirama looks at the scene before him with new eyes.

Butsuma’s head – with its missing eyes and snapped neck, damning in their tale of what Hashirama did – is missing, blasted away, probably with one of Tobirama’s water dragons, because Tobirama might have loved his father too much to kill him but he has never cared about what happens to corpses, no matter how once-beloved.

Hashirama had called the plan an abomination – he’d been too horrified to move, yes, but he could see a world in which he wasn’t, a world where he leapt to his feet and stormed out of the room. He can see the elder still asking the question he asked and Butsuma answering the same – he can’t see Tobirama rising up in fury, casting his most deadly ninjutsu on an unprepared man, much less on his father, but the elders can, and have, and that’s what matters.

Hashirama will be clan head after all.

“– execute him," the elders are shouting, "Exile him, imprison him –”

“No,” Hashirama says, and his voice silences them all. They’re not accustomed to seeing him be stern and solemn. “There will be no punishment.”

“You can’t be serious!” one of the other elders shouts. “He murdered your father!”

“My father went mad,” Hashirama says. “He must have, to have proposed such a plan. To pervert the laws of hospitality and truce like that – the Senju would never be trusted again by anyone. Our allies would desert us, our patrons and clients would abandon us, and the rest of the world would unite together to destroy us rather than permit the existence of a snake who would use the flag of truce as a weapon.”

They fall silent again – a guilty silence, this time, for having let their lust for Uchiha blood overwhelm their reason.

“To have even suggested such a thing is madness,” Hashirama continues, looking at each and every one of them. “To have proposed something that would lead to the destruction of our clan is unforgivable. It is treason, pure and simple – treason to our clan, treason to the laws of humanity itself. And the punishment for treason is death.”

The room is deathly quiet.

“My brother performed nothing more than his duty,” Hashirama says, and the lie tastes like ash on his tongue. “He executed a traitor. That it was our father is – unfortunate, yes, but I will not punish someone for doing their duty. He will not be imprisoned, he will not be punished. I say so not as a brother, but in my first act as the head of our clan. Is that understood?”

It takes a long moment, but they nod. First the ones he’s already lured over to his side, the ones who have already invested themselves in his eventual ascent; then the ones who wavered between the sides, uncertain who would prove more persuasive; and finally even the ones who supported Butsuma, realizing at last that he is gone, he is no more, and the world has changed.

Each and every one of them nods.

Hashirama has won.

He will be the next clan leader.

“Take my father’s body and prepare it for a proper burial,” Hashirama says, even though Butsuma deserves to be thrown from the compound walls and left for dogs to feed on. “And if you are to speak of what happened here, you will speak of it as I have: as treason, as madness, as justice. Now go.”

They go.

When they are at last alone in the room, Hashirama looks at his brother, still kneeling, his eyes still closed. There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes: he still loved his father, even after everything, and Hashirama killed him. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t just mean for the genjutsu – for Tobirama violating his own oath, which not even Butsuma’s most dire punishments managed to get him to do – but for what it means. Tobirama doesn’t believe in peace, can’t even imagine it, would never pursue it if he were named clan head, but for the sake of Hashirama’s peace he will let his name be spat upon, tainted forever with the name of parricide that should rightly hang on Hashirama’s head.

“For you, anija,” Tobirama murmurs at last, still not looking at him. “Anything.”

How could Hashirama promise him anything less in return?

[crystallized-shadow]

Day 14 Pairing: Hashirama/Madara Rating: E Word count: 2168 Prompt:  “Are you jealous?”

Warnings: Rough, extremely possessive behavior, choking, Madara gets bound by Mokuton, and Dark Hashirama

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Madara could feel eyes on him all day, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to feel that way in the village; everyone always felt the need to keep an eye on the volatile leader of the Uchiha Clan. Writing the feeling off as some idiot waiting for him to snap, Madara focuses back on the man sitting across from him, the leader of the Hyuga Clan. He couldn’t stand the man, but for the sake of Hashirama’s dream, Madara had agreed to meet the man for lunch to discuss a possible marriage between their clans. It would never happen, none of his clansmen could stomach the way the Hyuga treated their branch members; family was too important to Uchiha to ever marry into a clan willing to brand any family member the way the Hyuga did. Madara remains polite through the meal, not counting the slight twitch of his eye the longer the Hyuga talks, but they both leave with a clear understanding that Madara won’t ever agree to a marriage between clans.

Since it’s Madara’s day off he decides to see if Izuna wants to train with him. He finds his littler brother already sparring with Tobirama, but the two quickly decide seeing who can hit Madara the most is a much more entertaining training method. Tobirama and Izuna make a scarily effective pair and Madara finds himself having more fun than he’s had in a while, it was so rare for him to be able to really get into a fight. After just barely dodging a Grand Fireball, Tobirama glances at the setting sun with a slight frown.

“Weren’t you supposed to have dinner with Anija?” He asks and Madara’s brows furrow in confusion for a moment before his eyes widen almost comically.

“Fuck!” Madara barely spares the two a look as turns and quickly leaves, tossing a hasty “see you tomorrow!” over his shoulder. He makes it to Hashirama’s house in record time, hoping his partner won’t be too mad at him.

“Madara,” Hashirama mutters, a relieved smile settling across his face as the Uchiha walks into the living room, looking pretty ragged, “are you okay?”

“Tobirama and Izuna have scary good teamwork,” Madara admits with a shrug, “I was having so much fun I lost track of time.”

“I haven’t seen all day and that’s all you have to say?” Hashirama asks with a frown, making Madara blink in confusion, “just because it was your day off doesn’t mean you had to avoid me at lunch.”

“Oh,” Madara chuckles as rubs his neck, he must have forgotten to share his plans with Hashirama, “I had lunch with the Hyuga clan head.”

“Why?” A dark aura falls over Hashirama, but Madara either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“He wanted to discuss marriage–” Madara doesn’t even manage to finish his sentence before Hashirama grabs him by the throat and slams him into the wall. “Hashi?” Madara coughs in surprise, Hashirama rarely got rough with him, even he Madara wanted him to.

“I can understand you wanting to spend time with our brothers,” Hashirama mutters as he steps into Madara’s space, standing close enough that their chests brush, “you’ve always been a whore for a good fight.”

“Hashi!” Madara groans, squirming a little as the taller man forces him onto the very tips of his toes. “I’m not a whore!”

Hashirama tightens his grip, cutting off the rest of Madara’s protests with ease. “But to ignore me to discuss marriage with that Hyuga,” Hashirama practically hisses as he lifts Madara completely off his feet so he can look straight into the other’s eyes, “you are mine!”

Madara chokes, the force of Hashirama’s chakra and words driving the air from his lungs. He knew he should correct the misunderstanding, if for no other reason than to settle Hashirama’s nerves, but to see his partner tossing around his power like this…by the sage it was arousing. He lived for the moments when he could drive Hashirama to toss aside his goofy persona and show that darkness all child soldiers possessed. So instead of trying to reassure the Senju, Madara instead manages to gasp out “are you jealous?”

“You. Are. Mine.” Hashirama bites off each word like its own sentence, hating that Madara would dare try to fight his claim. Tossing the Uchiha to the ground, Hashirama glares down at him. “Say it!”

Madara rolls with the impact, landing in a crouch as he rubs his throat. For a long moment he just pants, but then Madara meets Hashirama’s eyes and smirks. “Fuck you.” He doesn’t see the blow that sends him crashing into the opposite wall, but he certainly feels it. Madara can’t even react before the wood around him comes to life, coiling tightly around his torso, too tightly and he feels the arm Izuna had managed to strike during their training break.

“Bad choice Madara,” Hashirama growls as he slowly walks over to the Uchiha, allowing the twisting snake-like tendril of wood to wrap around the other’s neck; best to have a quick way to stop any pesky fire jutsu and Madara always looked good with something wrapped around his neck. Coming to stand before the kneeling man, Hashirama grabs a fistful of Madara’s hair and harshly yanks his head up, smirking at the whimper that action earns him. “I won’t allow you to leave me for that Hyuga.”

“I’m not yours!” Madara spits back and it hurts his heart to say those words, he really does love Hashirama but the thought of snapping his control like a twig has the Uchiha nearly drunk on endorphins. As he’d thought those words break something inside Hashirama and the other’s fist slams into his face with surprising speed, breaking his nose.

Hashirama’s chakra flares with his anger, the wood around Madara tightening in response and the Senju hears several crunches as the other’s bones break. Instead of feeling bad Hashirama smirks darkly at the sound, Madara had brought this on himself, and crouches in front of the bound him. Dragging Madara forward by his hair, Hashirama crashes their mouths together and swallows Madara’s pained noises. Biting Madara’s lip hard enough to make it bleed, Hashirama pulls back just enough so he can look into Madara’s eyes. “You won’t be walking away from me.”

Madara shudders at the words despite the pain of his newly broken bones; it’s not like he hasn’t had multiple broken bones before, so this is manageable so long as he gets a distraction soon enough. “You don’t have it you,” Madara mutters with a bloody smirk and that has Hashirama slamming his face into the floor.

“Do you think I won’t kill you?” Hashirama growls as he presses Madara harder into the wooden floor, placing his free hand on the back of Madara’s neck and squeezing it for good measure. “I will if you insist on leaving me.” He’s not sure what the muffled noise Madara makes is, but he ignores it he uses his Mokuton to keep the Uchiha pinned. Hashirama moves behind Madara and rips the other man’s pants off before using a few roots to help Madara keep his ass in the air like a good boy. Shifting his pants just enough to free his aching cock, Hashirama grabs Madara’s hips in a bruising grip and thrusts in.

Madara screams, Hashirama’s too big to take without prep, but not all of it’s from pain, a small part of him relishes in reducing the usually caring men to a beast like this. The Uchiha cries out as Hashirama starts to move almost instantly, not giving him a chance to adjust at all, and he knows he won’t be walking anytime soon. “Hashi-!” Madara whimpers, a choked sob cutting off the rest of his partners name. As much as he loved the rough, domineering Hashirama that took whatever he wanted because it let Madara know he was desired, he needed a soft touch right now, just to know the other man still loved him.

“Say it,” Hashirama growls, leaning over Madara enough so his lips brush the other man’s ear as he speaks, “you are mine!” When Madara doesn’t immediately agree, Hashirama shifts the angle of his thrusts, just enough that he starts nailing Madara’s prostate as moves one hand from the other’s hip to start stroking his half-hard cock.

“I’m yours,” Madara mutters breathlessly, knowing it would be suicide to push Hashirama any farther when he’s already this pissed. Hashirama’s movements are becoming easier now and with the hand stroking him, Madara is able to focus on the pleasure, thrusting back into his lover’s thrusts, driving the other men that much deeper.

Hashirama groans loudly, those words alone almost pushing him over the edge, but he’s determined to get Madara off first. Yanking his head back at what has to be a painful angle, Hashirama claims Madara’s abused lips is a messy kiss, quieting his whimpers and pleas for more. Feeling his end fast approaching, Hashirama trails kisses down Madara’s jaw and neck until he finds that one sensitive patch just under the wooden tendril still wrapped around his neck. Biting down on that spot, Hashirama increases the speed of both his thrusts and the hand stroking Madara.

It’s all too much for Madara, Hashirama is taking advantage of all his sensitive spots and it’s too much. He comes with a mangled attempt at Hashirama’s name and goes limp as the other continues to thrust into him, unable to do anything against the pleasure electrifying his nerves. Just before it teeters over the edge of too much, Hashirama slams in deep as he reaches his orgasm, muffling his cry of Madara’s name against the man’s shoulder. Hashirama remains bent over Madara, panting for several minutes before he carefully pulls out, causing the Uchiha to bite back a whimper.

Hashirama flops onto his back, panting as he tries to get his bearings back. The burning need to claim, mark, dominate is finally sated and Hashirama just wants to enjoy the moment, until he hears Madara’s choked whimper of pain and horror crashes over the Senju. He bolts upright and his eyes widen at the state Madara’s in. The Uchiha is still bound in his Mokuton, thick roots bound tightly around his chest and neck in a way that Hashirama is sure prevents him breathing deeply enough to catch his breath, while more roots are wrapped around Madara’s legs, keeping them spread wide open and his ass in the air. Hashirama watches the blood and cum drip out of his partner before he finally forces his eyes to look at Madara’s bloody face. “Madara,” Hashirama mutters as tears fall from his eyes, he couldn’t believe he’d hurt one of his precious people in such a way.

“H-Hashi…” Madara pants, a note of confusion in his voice as his hazy eyes meet Hashirama’s watery ones. He just barely stops himself from flinching when he sees Hashirama’s hand move, but if the way the Senju jerks his hand back is any indication, he wasn’t very successful. “’m sorry Hashi…” Madara mutters, because he needs Hashirama to know that.

“This wasn’t your fault!” Hashirama snaps as he quickly, but carefully removes all the roots from Madara’s form. He is unable to hide the wince he sees the odd angles both of Madara’s arms hang at, easily recognizing the telltale signs of broken bones. Shoving his guilt aside, Hashirama gently lays Madara on his back despite the low whine it earns him, and lays both hands, now glowing green, on the battered man’s chest.

“It was though…” Madara chuckles weakly, moaning in relief as he feels the soothing healing chakra wash over him. Hashirama ignores Madara’s words, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and Madara just lets himself drift as he is healed.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Hashirama repeats after he’s done healing Madara, who just sits up with a sigh.

“I knew you misunderstood my words,” Madara admits, unable to meet Hashirama’s eyes, “but instead I pushed you farther without thinking about how you would feel after; I’m sorry.”

“You said those things on purpose?” Hashirama mutters faintly and Madara nods. “Dammit Madara!” The Senju exclaims with a frown, “you know that springtime makes my urges go haywire!”

“I just…” Madara trails off, nibbling on his lip nervously before he finally steels himself and meets Hashirama’s eyes, “I wanted you to lose it.”

“W-why…?”

“You’re always too nice Hashirama,” Madara sighs, “and I love you for it, but I like to see your dark side too. I like to know your love for me can drive you crazy and it’s a huge turn on when you toss your power around so freely.”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me that?” Hashirama asks, startling a little when Madara glares at him.

“It’s embarrassing you asshat!”

Hashirama just laughs and pulls Madara into kiss; if he uses his chakra to press down on Madara’s protests, well the Uchiha doesn’t seem to mind.

[darquedeath4444]

Of Fate, Chance and One More Time

Chapter FOUR

Fate had done them a favor. Now, Team Seven had another four hundred and ninety nine favors to collect. Fate owed them more than Tsunade had ever lost in a single gamble, which was still a lot.

However, Naruto was feeling extra grateful that day and decided to count this one favor as two. The moment he stepped into Ichiraku, he was forced into a bone-crushing hug, chakra and all. It took everything in him, from his ninja training to his experience in the war, to not cry out in pain.

"Sa-Sakura-chan!" He whimpered. "It hurts." He was instantly released, the arms around him replaced by a worried hand on his forehead.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry. You're aren't hurt, right? No broken bones?" Sakura fretted.

Naruto shook his head, half to comfort his teammate, and the other to try and get rid of the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. If they were formed due to the bone breaking hug he had gotten, or from happiness at seeing his teammates, he wasn't sure.

"If you were so worried about broken bones, why did you hug me with chakra?" Naruto asked, rolling his neck to make sure that, yes, his bones weren't broken.

Sakura smiled at him sweetly, a smile he had come to be wary of. "I was just making sure. If you couldn't survive a hug of that level, you certainly weren't our Naruto."

Naruto decided not to point out the flaws in that statement. What if him-but-not-him (Basically the NOT time traveled Naruto) had died due to the sheer force of the hug? He didn't think the before him would have survived current Sakura's non-chakra hugs either.

"Hn. Dobe, are you crying?" 

Ah, there. And that may have been the reason he was trying to get rid of the tears.

Naruto scoffed, rubbing his eyes. "You wish, Teme."

Sakura smiled at them both, then hugged Naruto again, this time without chakra. After a second, she reached out and dragged Sasuke into the embrace as well.

Sasuke's cry of annoyance was cut off when Sakura slammed his forehead against Naruto's. "Oops, sorry." She didn't sound sorry at all.

And that was the reunion of Team Seven.

After watching the nostalgic scene of Naruto wolfing down bowls of ramen, Team Seven sneaked into the Forest of Death. Having lived through a war, sneaking over a fence unnoticed was no biggie, and that was probably one place no one would think of looking for them.

No one brought up the past or the future. They simply enjoyed the freedom of running around for a while. They soon came across a nest of huge leeches, where Team Seven didn't even glance at each other before they threw themselves into said nest, tearing through everything in their way.

"THIS IS US!" Naruto screamed, slamming against a leech with his forehead, sending it flying. "AND WE'RE AWESOME!"

Sakura cackled evilly. She crushed a leech with her hand, stared at the mess, and threw it at Sasuke, covering his slick hair with leech guts.

Sasuke yelped at the unexpected attack. Gooey stuff ran down his neck and into his shirt.

"Sasuke! A leech spat poison at you!" The pinkette called.

Sasuke finally calmed down and casually kicked a dead leech at Sakura, who smashed it with a foot, sending more leech guts everywhere. "Haha, very funny,” he scoffed.

Sakura huffed while Naruto just stared. He forgot all about the leeches and tiptoed over to Sakura and began rapidly whispering into her ear.

Sakura's eyes became serious and she nodded. Naruto's eyes widened and they both simultaneously turned to look at the annoyed Uchiha.

"What?" He snapped.

Naruto whispered into Sakura's ear again.

Sasuke stomped over to them, leeches completely forgotten. "What?" He repeated.

"We were just saying that...maybe you're not Sasuke," Naruto began seriously.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow and turned to Sakura, only to see that she looked just as serious. The kind of serious he would see when Sakura was working on a surgery.

"Because the Sasuke we know doesn't smile, doesn't laugh, doesn't tease, doesn't...doesn't..." Naruto tapped his head thoughtfully.

"Doesn't grin," Sakura chimed in. "I was thinking of that-"

"Okay, guys." Sasuke raised both his hands, and the back of his mind told him that that action wasn't 'Uchiha Sasuke' either.

Sakura and Naruto looked at him expectantly.

"...hn."

"That's more like it!" Naruto exclaimed. Sakura slapped Sasuke on the back so hard that he crashed into the ground. The Uchiha gritted his teeth and slowly stood up, ready to chew them out, only to find that they were both gone.

"Those idiots!"

"Oooo, Sasuke-kun! What happened? You're soaking wet! Do you want to come to my house? I have spare clothes-"

He had been forced to bathe in the lake before heading home. What would his mother say if she found him covered in blood and leech intestines? He didn't have any extra clothes or anything, so he was walking home in the clothes he had been wearing before. At least then, he could make up an excuse about falling into the river. Maybe he could say that he was practicing the fireball jutsu and he lit himself on fire by mistake and he jumped into the lake to extinguish the flames?

Sakura and Naruto's idiocy must have rubbed off on him.

"No." Sasuke shoved past the girl fawning over him, cringing. When one was around, there were a lot behind it...

"Oh, it's Sasuke-kun! He's soaking wet! Maybe he'll give me his shirt!"

That voice was so...

Sasuke wondered if 'annoyance' counted as an emotion strong enough to awaken his Sharingan.

There stood Sakura and Naruto, is his oiroke no jutsu, making googly eyes and pointing at him. It was Sakura who had called out, catching the attention of all Uchiha Sasuke fans in the area.

It must be a former-fan girl thing because she got the tone and the pitch just right.

All the girls in the area turned to him like they were in some sort of trance.

Sasuke wanted to scream. HE WAS FIVE GODDAMMIT!

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sakura and Naruto slip away into the crowd as more and more girls (Was that a guy standing there, drooling?) gathered around. He tried to push the girls away to go after his teammates (So he could murder them), but more replaced them. They grabbed at his hair and his shirt.

They did not just sic a horde of fangirls at him.

Okay, he had left Konoha and abandoned them. He had tried to kill them on more than one occasion. He had gone with Orochimaru. He had done things that would put him on the list of most terrible friends ever. Still, not even he deserved this.

He was going to kill them, and at least this time, he would have a proper reason.

Chapter FIVE>

<Chapter THREE

[luna-orlha]

Title: Bones beneath her feet Chapter: 15 - Dust and Shadow: Part 4 Fandom: Naruto Genre: Action ; Adventure Ship: - Word count: 3090 Triggers(s):– Rating: T Additional Tags: Rebirth, SI/OC Summary: She had died only to be reborn into this world as Kakashi’s younger sister. The world where peace was a mockery and the hopes and dreams of their children living their lives out was a big sham. Perhaps this was her penitence and retribution. 

Ao3 | FFn

“Shisui-kun?”

A hand falls on Shisui’s shoulder, jolting him out of the war in his head. He takes a slow breath, forcing his hand to steady and inks the brush again on the suzuri. Painting in his parents’ names onto the dragon stone is so much harder than he ever imagined. They were chuunin. They survived the Second Shinobi War and the Third, only to die in a meaningless massacre. They were supposed to die in flames and blood; that is how all Uchihas go out.

Shisui breathes through his mouth, sending chakra through his limbs, forcing his trembling arm to stop shaking enough to paint in the engraved words. Painting in the darkened names on dragon stone with red ink will be the final act for the Uchiha registry. After this, his parents will be officially dead.

The brush sweeps dark red ink onto the kanji. Uchiha Hadashi, Uchiha Tansui. Underneath their names, he writes their last rank as elegantly as his hands would allow him. He attempts to set the brush on the holder, but his hands are jerking so much that they miss the holder. The brush rolls off the small foldable table and across the cold stone to stop at Izumi’s foot. Izumi grips his shoulder briefly before reaching over to clear the ink tools.

He bows one last time.

And here the Uchihas lie, the ruins of the once glorious clan, consumed by their love and hatred.

His eye is hot when he stands and squares his shoulders.

Goodbye, Okaa-san, Otou-san.

The wall of dragon stone, once filled with pale names, is now lined with red ink. The wall should not have been red yet. There were four hundred and thirty Uchihas and now there are thirty-two.

Shisui steps out from under the temple. The sky is gray and dreary. Instead of a multitude of black-haired people, he can see blobs of blond, brown and even blue as the teams make their way around the compound, scrubbing the walls and tiles of any blood and fixing the broken windows and doors. There is a jounin slowly running through his hand seals in the middle of the street, coaching his genins on how to use a water jutsu. A tall blond gets it quickly, even if his water hose jutsu is tiny and falls flat really fast. The look of pride and excitement on the jounin and genins reminds Shisui of Haguchi teaching the twin terrors.

“Snake, ram, monkey, pig.” He folded the tiny hands of the five-year-olds into the correct position.

“Haguchi-kun! Are you sure about teaching the terrors the fireball? We don’t want our houses being burnt down in the middle of the night,” Inabi snickered, elbowing Shisui.

“I’m sure that’s why we’re all taught how to remove air from fires, or did you not learn that?” Shisui sniped back, returning the elbow into Inabi’s stomach.

“Make sure you aim at those two idiots on the roof, okay?” Haguchi told the five-year-olds who both nodded solemnly. “Now, tiger to finish and breathe in-”

Shisui yelped, throwing himself to the side as the two fireballs sailed towards them.

“That’s my prodigious daughters! Now give tou-tou a high-five.”

Shisui forces himself to look away. There’s still Sasuke to teach. Between Itachi and him, Sasuke will be very well looked after. He leaps onto the rooftops, forcing his swirling red eye back into its dormant black state.

Sasuke would be fretting for him now. Ever since Shisui had gotten back from the hospital, Sasuke had been clingy and afraid to let him out of sight. Shisui doesn’t mind it. There are times when he wakes up in the middle of the night, thinking that it had been all a dream. Lying there, listening, only to realise that there was only silence where the sounds of night had once filled.

There is no more Uchiha night market, no off-duty Anbus passing over their roofs to sit down for late night supper before heading home, no quiet murmuring from the apartment next door or his upstairs neighbours having loud sex.

Shisui used to hate it. Now he would give anything for those noises back.

“-we can take rotating shifts… none of us needs to give up being on the active roster-”

He catches part of the conversation as he sidles down the pipe and through the window. Sayami is sitting at the study table clutching her head. With Itachi still out of Konoha until further notice, Sayami is the current acting clan leader. He doesn’t envy her.

“What is going on?” he asks, crouching on the window ledge. Thankfully, none of the remaining adult Uchihas blame him for not stopping the massacre. These were the same few that had spoken loudly against the coup after all.

“There… needs to be an adult in the house at all times. Five year olds shouldn’t be left alone,” Kashira tells him.

“Mikoto-sama wanted to be the one, right?” He flicks his eyes across the room. Kashira and Sayami scrunch their faces at his words. “What is it, now?” he hisses angrily. It seems like every time he comes back to the compound, there is more drama. As sudden as it appeared, Shisui crushes the ‘maybe it would have been better if they were all gone, after all’ thought with a large stick.

They have gone through too much to have regrets now. And Fuuko…

He’ll have to deal with that right after dealing with this. Shisui jumps into the chair, his sandals landing loudly on the wooden floor. Truthfully, he almost missed the chair. The whole single eye thing is still giving him issues, but he’s not going to let anyone know.

“Mikoto-sama… san, is going to return to the force,” Kashira tells him. Apart from Mikoto, there really isn’t anyone else better suited at the moment. Sayami has to deal with the politics and the reshuffling of the KMP, Kashira has to handle with the finances, Izumi would be filling much of the gaps as one of the last few Uchihas in KMP and they most certainly aren’t going let an outsider look after the children.

“Did she say why?”

The two exchange looks, the same looks he has seen on Genma and Raidou. They are hiding something from him, all of them were. “What? What is it that you’re not telling me?”

Sayami runs a hand down her face. “Has anyone told you about… Fuuko?” The edge in her tone makes the hair on Shisui’s neck rise. Then without any preamble, Sayami continues. “In the Root base, Mikoto exercised her rights as spouse to the Uchiha head, as well as former heir and killed Danzo. However when they returned back to the compound, Danzo had sent his Root to kill the Uchihas. The children… are all that Fugaku-sama managed to protect. Someone else needed to take responsibility for Shimura Danzo’s death. Apparently it isn’t good for the village to find out that a respected council member had done such a thing. And since the Uchihas are too valuable in the council’s eyes…”

She lifts her eyes to meet Shisui’s, the heart in his chest clenching so tight that Shisui finds it difficult to breathe. “-So they picked Fuuko,” Shisui finishes her sentence. “And Mikoto-sama… she wants to go back into the force to stop it? Can she do it in time? When- When… when’s the execution?”

“Tomorrow.”

His face goes still, suppressing his emotions behind his anbu training. “Do we have a plan? Or are we just going to let her die and be a sacrifice ‘for the greater good’?”

Sayami reaches out to grip his hand. “Shisui-san, we know how you feel about her. We’re not going to just let her die. We’re going to send her to Madara-sama.”

Shisui inhales too quickly, choking on his saliva. “Madara-sama? What in the kage’s mind are you thinking? By the Yomi, Madara-sama is a fiction! He’s dead! Sending her to Madara-sama is as good as sending her to find a dragon! They don’t exist!” He wrenches his hand from her hand, chair scraping loudly on the floor as he paces the small kitchen.

“We have proof that he is still alive,” Sayami tells him evenly.

“Yeah? Like what? The scrolls in his handwriting? His thumbprint? I could forge all of that.”

“Haguchi has met him before.”

He scoffs. “That’s even better.” Shisui shakes his head, choosing to hold his peace. “So then what? How are we going to get her out? What are the plans?”

Her shoulders sag at his words. “I’m not part of the planning. You’ll… probably have to ask Kakashi-san. All of us are being watched. It’s better for us to appear apathetic to her plight.”

“Appearing apathetic.” Shisui laughs, a single, mirthless sound, completely done with the conversation. He’ll save Fuuko himself if he has to. He has already lost his parents, he’ll be damned if he loses his girlfriend too - even if she doesn’t remember them being together.

He jumps back onto the windowsill and pauses. “I’ll do it,” Shisui says loudly to no one in particular. “I’ll stay at home to look after the kids.” He shrugs, cutting off their protests. “There’s no use trying to hide it. I can’t fight with one eye at the moment. Whether I choose to stay here or not, I’ll be on medical leave for at least four to six months.”

Regardless of whether he chooses to stay or not, Shisui knows he’ll be marked as unstable and be put up in the unaffiliated shinobi childcare centres for therapy anyway. If he’s going to look after children, he might as well look after the clan’s.

-/-/-/-

Inoichi is pouring tea when Kakashi slips into the Yamanaka head’s personal greenhouse. As a show of respect, Kakashi has never snuck into clan houses. Since Shikaku had instructed him to not be seen however, stealth is the only way. He slips down the sides of an overgrown bush, his feet barely brushing against the numerous plants as he sidles up to the Yamanaka Head.

“Yamanaka-san,” he greets. The subtle stiffening of Inoichi’s shoulders tells Kakashi that he has startled the blond.

“Kakashi-kun.”

Kakashi winces inwardly at the words. Even half a decade later, his sister’s genin teacher still addresses him like he’s a little boy. He watches Inoichi poke at the small charcoal stove before setting the pot on it again. Inoichi and his lithe, graceful movements could put many female shinobis to shame. He is an undercover expert, Kakashi reminds himself. Inoichi, who so deceptively poses as a nice, kind shinobi, is an A-rank undercover expert who has zero failures on his mission log.

Inoichi procures another cup just as Shikaku enters the greenhouse, ambling through the narrow path. There is a sheath of paper tucked under his armpit, the sheath of paper that Kakashi can guess contains evidence of another big player. His sister’s execution is tomorrow and he’s busy doing this. Safe in a secured place, Kakashi gives in to his want and grips the tanto hidden on his thigh. Fuuko will be fine, he consoles himself. There’s Genma and Anko, and Gai and… and…

“How is Fuuko’s death sentence appeal coming along?”The words end up being sharper than Kakashi expected but he’s not all that bothered, even when Inoichi flinches. They picked his sister over any other solution, the rage roars in him.

“It’s coming along as well as it can be,” Shikaku replies. “Given the situation we have found, it’s not much wonder why the appeals had failed.”

Inoichi reaches for the papers, sipping his cup of tea. As he reads, his face pales at where Kakashi knows Shikaku has marked out the number of missing graduates. His hands flip the papers, his eyes darting across the words, his lips thin and set with horror, surprise then regret.

“Is this…?” Inoichi starts. “Can we…” he tries again, then snaps his mouth shut.

“What about traitors in your team?”

The words haunt Kakashi. He has spent twenty-eight days agonizing over the Council’s decision to use his sister as a scapegoat. Why? Why his sister? In the aspect of bloodline versus bloodline, the Hatakes were equally as powerful as the Uchihas, considering the ratio of prodigies had been ten out of ten for the Hatakes.

“Shikaku theorizes that it’s because Danzo has a good reputation.”

Kakashi looks up, surprised when Inoichi speaks. Apparently he had spoken this thoughts aloud. “If the village finds out that Danzo had a secret army, and that the amount of brainwashing these children had undergone, the question of how reliability of the others in power and there would be chaos.”

“Why not say that Danzo died from a heart attack? He’s old enough to. Or any other reason. Why pick one of the last two Hatakes? Any other reason would have been fine.”

They drink the tea in silence, the pot clattering as Inoichi refills the cups. He pokes the fire a little more and suddenly Kakashi swears loudly. “Of course,” he mutters.

“What? What is it?” Inoichi asks.

“It’s a well-known fact that Fuuko is Shisui’s girlfriend. Fuuko had guessed that Root had infiltrated Anbu. She had known Kusari Akito was Root. That meant she is a danger to their plans. Then Fuuko attacked Danzo’s base-”

“Troublesome,” Shikaku grumbles, slouching deeper into his chair. “Whatever Fuuko found out, it’s big, so they decided to have her executed in order to get rid of her. Whoever is this next big player, he’s highly positioned.”

Inoichi folds his hands on the table. “Well that proves that there is another player about. What?” He asks defensively when Kakashi and Shikaku gives him a look. “Did need to consider that the Council might simply be utterly inept.”

Inoichi does have a point. Even without the whole Danzo thing, Koharu and Homura never did much to inspire faith in their capability.

“I suppose, considering Koharu and Homura’s usual stances, we could consider them prime suspects as the next players,” Shikaku says slowly.

“Do we have any theories on what their motives are? It seems stupid, sabotaging your own village.” Inoichi taps the papers with his finger.

“I have seven,” Shikaku admits. “But I think only one is likely.”

“Only seven?” Inoichi lifts an eyebrow.

Shikaku sighs. “Troublesome. The other four are too unlikely to seem even probable.”

The bantering between them makes Kakashi ache for Fuuko. He hasn’t been much at home lately and when he’s actually home, he’s usually too exhausted to even haul himself into bed. Still, it doesn’t stop himself from noticing the not there presence of Fuuko. There is no smell of eggplant in the evenings, no miso bubbling on the stove in the mornings. There is no grousing of his choice of natto on his morning rice. Kakashi wakes up to an empty, dusty apartment.

“So?” Kakashi asks, interrupting their banter. He has to hurry. “What is the likely theory you have, Nara-san?”

“They did it for power, more power than a Hokage can offer. They weren’t even interested in being a Hokage.” Shikaku pauses, then decides to plough on with whatever ominous plan he comes up whenever he clasps his hands that way. “I think we should proceed with plan B, with some minor adjustments.”

-/-/-/-

In the end, Shisui is unable to find Kakashi or anyone who could possibly know of the plans to free Fuuko. Kakashi wouldn’t roll over simply because Hokage told him to. Kakashi would fight to free Fuuko, Shisui thinks. Whichever plan Kakashi would enact, Shisui would be right behind him.

He sits in the trees, in the private meeting grounds for only chuunin and up shinobis. He sees unfamiliar shinobis prepare a stage that could only be used for one thing. Cold, black dread churns in his stomach. What if things had gone wrong? He hasn’t been able to find hide nor hair of anyone who could possibly know the plans - like they had gone dark, or worse, been captured.

Time ticks. Shisui casts his chakra sense out as far as he can. He’s no chakra sensor but sitting in the approximate middle of the meeting grounds should bag him something. It doesn’t.

There’s no Genma, no Gai, no Akito or even Suzuki, Subaru and Toyota. Of those three brothers, he would have expected at least one of them to turn up. And the Uchihas, none of the Uchihas turn up. Had this been a straight-up execution, Shisui wouldn’t be here too, but why isn’t any of them here to stop the execution?

The Anbu guard encircle the small procession. He can see the shock of silver hair as Fuuko steps out into the sunset. Her face is paler than he ever remembers her having, dark circles outlining her eyes. Shisui shifts his eyes across the courtyard, his red sharingan spinning, taking in every movement of the small crown, desperately trying to guess the plan. He watches the Kurama step onto the stage. A death by jutsu - he hadn’t seen that for a long time, not since the traitor during the Third Shinobi war.

Shisui waits and waits, waits for a signal, waits for a sign. He sees the Kurama cast hand signs, hand signs his sharingan deciphers and catalog. It’s the first part of the death by jutsu - the endless sleep. It is followed by a second part where the endless sleep will be filled with nightmares.

He leaps, chakra propelling him through the air. His sharingan morphing from its three tomoe to a six star as he lands, casting an area wide genjutsu onto the crowd. He knocks the first guard with his sharingan even before he even turns. Shisui sweeps the second off his feet, stabbing fingers into pressure points and knocking the guard out. He’s too late to stop the first part, but he’s in time to stop the second.

How could Kakashi have let Fuuko be killed, killed as a traitor?

The idea that Kakashi abandoned Fuuko baffles Shisui. He’s probably held up, Shisui thinks. The next two guards aren’t so lucky and he’s forced to gut one and stab the other in the shoulder to stop them. No one from the crowd has broken from the genjutsu and the Kurama just stands there, hands lying limply on his side. Not wasting time to figure why the Kurama didn’t fight, Shisui picks Fuuko up and leaps for the trees.

He’s not going to lose another precious person.

 Notes: I just wanted to say that I've been sick since the beginning of the year and have been steadily getting worse. I'm sorry if my updates are a lot slower than what it used to be. I'm really trying to make it regular and weekly. I've been advised to take a break from stuff. Being the stubborn mule that I am, I refused to quit in the middle of an arc. Fortunately or unfortunately for you guys, the next chapter will be arc's finale. 

I will be taking a 1 and 1/2 months break after the next chp. So if you guys have any questions about the plot or characters, do take the time to leave a message. I will answer as much as I can without spoiling the plot.

[crystallized-shadow]

Day 11 Pairing: Izuna/Kagami Word count: 1317 Prompt:  “Shut up and kiss me already.”

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

“Madara-sama?” Kagami mutters as he pokes his head into the older man’s office, hoping he’s alone.

“What do you want brat?” Madara asks without looking up from the document he’s reading in his thankfully empty office. Kagami hesitates for a second before he finally steps into the office and shuts the door behind him. This catches Madara’s attention and the clan head finally looks up. “What have you done now?”

“It’s not what I’ve done,” Kagami huffs as he flops into the chair in front of Madara’s desk, “but what I want to do.”

Madara regards the young before him for a moment, making Kagami fidget slightly. “What or who?” Madara questions, smirking when Kagami flushes a deep red. “Must be who, then.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean…” Kagami stammers, much to Madara’s amusement.

“The only person who doesn’t know you have the hots for Izuna is Izuna himself.”

“So, you’ll help me then?” Kagami asks hopefully and Madara rubs a hand over his face, muttering something about Izuna being too old to need his help with this shit, before he finally nods. “What do I do?”

“Prove you’re stronger than him,” Madara states with a shrug and Kagami frowns.

“But I’m not,” the younger Uchiha pouts.

“You just have to make him think you are,” Madara says, his smirk vicious, but Kagami finds himself listening intently to the plan.

It takes a week for Kagami to get everything ready, but he knows he needs to make each step look as natural as possible, so he doesn’t make his target suspicious. It certainly helps that no one would ever suspect sweet, innocent Kagami of using such an underhanded technique. When everything is in place, Kagami invites Izuna to spar with him on the older Uchiha’s day off; it wasn’t uncommon for the two Uchiha to spar as Izuna was the second-best fire user in their clan and Kagami still needed a lot of practice.

“Did you want to just practice your jutsu or actually spar?” Izuna asks as he and Kagami travel to one of the less used training fields; there was a mostly unspoken rule that anytime Madara, Izuna, Hashirama, or Tobirama wanted to spar they had to use the fields farthest from the village for safety reasons.

“I was hoping for sparring,” Kagami says with his usual grin, “I’ve got a few new jutsu I want to test out against you!”

“Oh really?” Izuna asks with a smirk, clearly interested in what the younger Uchiha has learned. The two make it to the field and take their stances across from each other.

“I’m going to win this time,” Kagami promises and Izuna chuckles at the brat’s confidence.

“If you’re so sure of yourself, let’s make this more interesting then.”

“Oh?” Kagami raises an eyebrow, schooling his expression to a curious grin instead of the victorious smirk threatening to ruin his plans; Madara was right, Izuna couldn’t help but raise the ante when he was sure he would win.

“Loser has to do whatever the winner says for the entire day.” Izuna declares and that was even better than what Kagami was hoping he would say.

Going with the plan, Kagami hesitates for a brief moment, like he’s suddenly doubting his skills before he finally smirks. “When I win, you’re dying Sensei’s hair pink.” He states, chuckling at the flicker of panic that crosses Izuna’s eyes; Izuna had already made that mistake once and it clearly wasn’t something he was keen on repeating.

“The first thing you’re going to do when I win is give Mads a haircut,” Izuna shoots back and Kagami winces at that, Madara would kill him if he tried to touch his hair.

The two stare at each for another moment and then in the blink of an eye they meet in the middle of the field, their swords clashing. Their swords stay locked in place for only a few seconds before Kagami easily pushes Izuna back, much to the older man’s surprise. Kagami doesn’t give Izuna a chance to ponder his sudden strength, he just continues to take swings at him.

Izuna is forced to stay on the defensive, either prying blows or dodging them all together. It hadn’t been that long since he’d last sparred with the younger man, so when had Kagami gotten this much stronger than him? Kagami’s next blow costs Izuna a couple of strands of his hair, but he is able to get some distance between them by forcing Kagami back with a decent sized fireball.

Kagami can’t help but grin as he easily dodges the jutsu, when Madara had said the drug would mess with Izuna’s chakra control he hadn’t realized it would be this effective. The younger Uchiha sends his own fireball back at Izuna, smirking at little when Izuna comes away singed. Getting behind Izuna before the other can react, Kagami manages to draw the first blood of the fight.

Izuna winces as he feels the blade cut his side, hastily kicking Kagami in the chest and then jumping back. Unsure why he’s having such a hard time fighting Kagami of all people, Izuna activates his Sharingan. Only to go rigid in shock when nothing happens. Izuna barely notices when a blade is pressed to his throat or when Kagami tells him to yield.

“Izuna,” Kagami mutters, his lips ghosting over the shell of the other man’s ear, “do you yield?” There is a long pause before the older Uchiha finally nods and Kagami lowers his sword with a grin. “I win then!” Silence meets his statement and he frowns, forcing Izuna to turn and face him. “Izuna?”

“Something’s wrong with my Sharingan,” Izuna mutters, still in shock, “I…I need to go talk to Aniki…”

“Your Sharingan?” Kagami repeats before his widen slightly and he chuckles.

“It’s not funny Kagami!” Izuna snaps, glaring at the younger Uchiha, “this is serious!”

“It’s only temporary,” Kagami promises, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “I was very careful with the doses so you should be back to normal in a couple days.”

“Doses…” Izuna repeats as his eyes narrow, “Kagami did you drug me!?”

“If I say yes are you going to hit me?” Kagami quickly takes a step back when Izuna raises his sword again. “Don’t be mad, I really needed to win!”

That stops Izuna short, suddenly reminded of a very similar situation. “Kagami, do you like me?” Kagami flushes scarlet as his gapes at Izuna like a fish for several minutes, making Izuna sigh. “Did Aniki help you with his?”

“How did you know that?” Kagami mutters, wondering why Izuna would suddenly jump to that conclusion.

“Because I helped Tobirama do the very same thing to him,” Izuna admits with a sigh and Kagami’s eyes widen at that. He’d thought Tobirama and Madara had gotten together after…

“Wait, didn’t they get together after Madara-sama was nearly caught by bloodline hunters?” Kagami asks and Izuna winces, which tells him everything he needs to know. “You nearly got your brother killed!”

“I know that!” Izuna snaps, glaring at Kagami, “he wasn’t supposed to take a mission, but he was bored and took a mission without either of us knowing.”

“I can’t believe you helped drug our clan leader!” Kagami laughs, ignoring the way Izuna huffs and crosses his arms over his chest in a pout.

“I’m leaving!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Kagami chides, grabbing Izuna’s arm and pulling him close. “I won,” Kagami purrs against Izuna’s ear, “you have to do whatever I say for the rest of the day. Unless of course you’d like me to tell the whole village you can’t keep your word?” Kagami gently tugs on Izuna’s earlobe with his teeth, grinning at the way Izuna’s breath hitches.

“Shut up and kiss me already.” Kagami is more than happy to follow that demand, claiming Izuna’s lips in a passionate kiss.