#at which point madara would demand to know why out of all the things about hashirama that could've stayed the same it had to be THAT

[evilkitten3]

is this the part where i ruin my own post by telling you he wouldn't have stayed no matter what hashirama did and he knows that

hysterical to me that there's an actual panel of naruto where madara asks tsunade if she's related to hashirama by saying "you've got this guy's blood, right?" and pointing at his own boob. which has hashirama's face on it. like not a tattoo there's an actual face growing out of his tata and he's talking about it like it's an actual person instead of a chunk of flesh he used to fill the literal hole hashirama left in his heart. the story doesn't even take the time to acknowledge how insane this is.

do you guys think he like. talked to it in the cave? "hmmm today i think i will sit in this chair and wait for the rinnegan to happen. what do you think, hashirama? ....ugh you never contribute anything useful you lazy bastard"

meanwhile black zetsu's just oozing around watching him talk to his magic breast implant and wishing someone would hurry up and invent popcorn for it

[notsorryiml8]

why does minato get so much slander on this app by kakashi and obito fans?

Interesting question. I may not necessarily be hanging in the same circles of tumblr as you, so I may be wrong, but I haven’t seen a lot of Minato slander, especially from Kakashi fans. His fan base generally tends to be rather chill. However, if push comes to shove, Kakashi fans are passionate and will defend him through thick and thin. But I don’t see them typically intentionally tearing down or attacking another character, especially his sensei. Or maybe I just tend to only see and follow the “nicer ones”🤷🏽‍♀️.

Because most of what I do and focus on is Kakashi-centric, I don’t see a lot of Obito content, unless it’s related to Kakashi in some way with a little Madara thrown in from time to time, so I can’t really say much regarding that space, but even what I do see is more Obito-centric from his fans. I really don’t see the Obito fans that I do interact with going out of the way to bash Minato, either.

That all being said, I don’t want to invalidate you, as I know not all fans are angels - people are human. tumblr is huge and every light side also has a dark side, so I believe there may indeed be some fans out there who do slander Minato, as I’ve definitely seen some fans talk negatively about Kakashi and I’m sure some do the same to Obito. So, it would be unrealistic to not picture the same for Minato.

You don’t mention in what area or ways he’s being slandered, so I can only conjecture as to why and can’t really say why people do what they do, though as I’ve never seen the point in bringing another character down just to make your favorite look better.

Personally, as I can only speak for myself, I have nothing but the utmost respect for Minato and think he’s an awesome character. I think people forget how young he was. Kakashi became a jonin at 9 or 12 - verdict’s still out on that one - which means Minato was his and Obito’s sensei at 19 or 22. And in a war. He lost not one, but two of his students because he was so in-demand that he could only be in one place at a time. The amount of guilt he must have felt is immeasurable. And he kept going.

I will say, if anything, I have seen Kakashi and Obito fans erroneously, in my opinion, call Minato a “bad sensei.” I think for the Kakashi fans I’ve seen do that, they’re reflexively being defensive about Kakashi being labeled as a bad sensei for 20 years, like “Kakashi’s not a bad sensei! Minato was the worst, his students died!” I will say I have seen that. But again, it’s erroneous to say that for both. Due to their talents and demand, both were exceptional and exceptionally in demand. Minato in war and Kakashi because he was spread way too thin and was expected to be a sensei and simultaneously a one man team financing the village with solo S-rank missions.

As for Obito, again, I don’t really have an exorbitant amount of interaction with his fanbase. I’ve seen a lot of power scaling between Minato and Obito on other apps, which is not my thing because it can cause arguments, has potential to bring out the worst in people- people are passionate about what they like, and is inherently biased towards a person’s favorite character. But I don’t see a lot of that on here. If anything, even with that, it’s usually the other way around with Minato being praised for his abilities and Kakashi being “slandered” as the weakest thing that has ever existed compared to everyone else. I have seen fans defend Kakashi in that regard, but even then, they’re not insulting Minato.

So, all that to say, I’m not seeing a ton of slander, but do believe it exists. As a Kakashi fan, I think it may be that his fans constantly feel as if they have to defend him and some may get carried away and degrade Minato in the process 🤷🏽‍♀️? But can’t see the chilled out Kakashi-stans just hating on Minato for no reason. And for Obito fans, again, I’m not a huge Obito fan - I don’t hate him by any means; just not a major fan - so, don’t know much about his fanbase.

Any Obito fans or Minato fans or anybody else feel free to jump in.

[cooliogirl101]

Shisui stared at his cousin for a long moment.

“Run that by me again,” he said slowly. Itachi inclined his head forwards. 

“Certainly. You see, Shisui, I realized what we were doing wrong. We were trying to unite our family with Konoha without giving either side a reason to come together. And nothing unites two sides like a common enemy.” He paused. “The root of Konoha’s distrust towards our clan stems from the rumors that an Uchiha was behind the Kyuubi attack. We have no way of knowing if that rumor is true. However, it occurred to me that such a figure-- a rogue Uchiha that defected from the village years ago and bears a grudge against both the clan and Konoha-- would provide the perfect common enemy for the Uchiha and the rest of Konoha to rally against.” 

“Okay,” Shisui said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And where exactly does the fake kidnapping thing play into this?”

“Well, if a rogue Uchiha came out of nowhere claiming credit for the Kyuubi attack, there would no doubt be accusations that the rest of our clan was in cahoots with him. So it has to be made absolutely clear that he is not only an enemy of Konoha, he is an enemy of the Uchiha as well.” The corner of Itachi’s lips quirked up a fraction of a millimeter. “The kidnapping of Uchiha Fugaku’s two sons should do that quite nicely, don’t you think?”

“Two sons? Why the hell is Sasuke involved?” Shisui demanded.

“Because no one would ever believe that I’d take Sasuke out of the village willingly,” Itachi said calmly. Which...was probably true, Shisui thought. Itachi’s overprotectiveness of his brother was notorious. 

Shisui sighed.

“This is going to end badly, I just know it,” he muttered.

“Worse than our family going to war against the rest of Konoha?” Itachi asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Fair point,” Shisui acknowledged. “So how are you planning on playing this?”

Itachi tilted his head to the side.

“The two of us will take an afternoon off to spend training Sasuke at our favorite training ground. Luckily, it’s one of the most secluded in the village so there should be no unintended witnesses. You’ll claim that a masked figure with a fully evolved Sharingan appeared, claiming to be...hmm. Claiming to be Uchiha Madara.”

“What? When did freaking Madara become part of the plan?!”

“Just now, when I came up with it. Anyway, the two of us put up a fight but were no match for him-- which would make sense, considering it’s Uchiha Madara. Upon defeating us, he ranted about how weak and pathetic the current generation of Uchiha are, how even the Kyuubi attack wasn’t enough to push our clan to evolve. He then grabbed me and Sasuke, said something to you about how he hopes this will be a lesson to the Uchiha to get stronger, and disappeared.” 

“And you really think people will buy that?” Shisui asked dubiously. Itachi shrugged. 

“Your reputation is such that no one should question your telling the truth and your Sharingan is strong enough to convince people you were not put under a genjutsu. Hopefully that will be enough.” 

Shisui looked at his cousin for a moment.

“Where will you go?” He asked quietly. “The entire world will be searching for you, you know that.”

Itachi looked away.

“Someplace quiet, I think,” Itachi said, a distant look in his eyes. “Someplace no one would think to look for us. A little cottage in the middle of nowhere with a little garden, a few chickens, maybe a goat or two. That would be...nice.”

There was a quiet, bone-deep longing in Itachi’s voice that made Shisui’s chest ache. He cleared his throat.

“And how are you planning on disguising yourself?” He asked gruffly.

Itachi blinked, the wistfulness in his eyes replaced by a spark of humor.

“Don’t worry about that, I have it all figured out. What do you think?” He asked, slipping on a Henge.

Shisui looked at him. He looked exactly the same except his hair was white. 

“You look like Jiraiya’s lovechild,” Shisui said flatly.

Itachi didn’t even blink.

“Good. Then no one will suspect my true identity,” he replied serenely.

Shisui snorted. 

“Brat. So, just to be clear-- while you get to go gallivanting around the countryside with Sasuke looking like the Toad Sannin’s illegitimate children, raising chickens and whatnot, I have to stay behind and make sure this whole thing doesn’t blow up in our faces?”

Itachi smiled faintly.

“I trust you will play the part of the enraged, grieving, vengeance-driven family member appropriately, cousin.”

Man, Shisui had forgotten how much of an asshole Itachi could be at times. 

“That being said, I realize it’s a lot to ask of you, Shisui. If you’re uncomfortable with it, just say the word and the whole thing is off,” Itachi continued, expression sobering. “We’ll come up with something else, I promise.”

He’d forgotten how considerate Itachi could be also. 

“No, no, we’ll go ahead with it. It’s our best bet at the moment,” he said, reaching out to clasp Itachi’s shoulder. “Enjoy your break from Konoha, little cousin. You deserve it.”

It would be worth it, Shisui thought to himself. There was a ninety-five percent chance that this would turn out to be a spectacular disaster but it’d be worth it for the five-percent chance that it worked. For the chance that everything could turn out okay.

Itachi went still, causing Shisui to pause.

“What’s wrong?” He asked cautiously. 

“I just realized. I’ll finally get to fulfill my promise to Sasuke to spend more time with him,” Itachi said, something like wonder in his voice. “He’ll...he’ll like that.” 

Shisui felt that ache in his chest again. When was the last time he’d heard Itachi sound like that? Sound happy?

He swallowed, tightening his grip on Itachi’s shoulder. 

Yeah, Shisui decided. Definitely worth it. 

[leaderoffestivals]

Myriad of Colours and Flowers: Ch 7

Madara: Watch out, Kanata-san! We’re under attack!

Season: Autumn Author: Akira Character: Kanata, Souma, Madara EN Proof: @ryuseipuka​, blake

Souma: Hm~mm. I do not think that is the case, but then again, I cannot conclude with any certainty there is no conspiracy being put into play right now. 

In point of fact, I have heard that the Mikejima household is a veritable hotbed of suspicious activity lately. They seem to be in a state of great emergency over something, and it is said they have been leaning heavily on my family’s connections to acquire a stockpile of weapons and the like. 

Kanata: ‘Weapons’, you say… …. That is a very alarming situation, isn’t it?

Souma: I cannot stress enough that all this is just hearsay, in the end. My parents do not wish for me to be exposed to such dark affairs, so they take great pains not to discuss these matters when I am present.

Kanata: I am sure that must be the case. Your parents must wish for you to be able to keep on ‘sparkling’ brightly always; anyone would. 

But… Is that so… … There had been ‘something’ which I did not really understand—

—about why Mikejima seemed to be trying to keep everyone away from him these days. And apparently, he has been ‘distancing’ himself from Anzu, too. 

Could it be that is actually the ‘reason’ why?

Souma: What are you referring to when you say ‘that’?

Kanata: I am saying… What if there really is some kind of ‘conspiracy’ going on, and Mikejima, in order to block and crush that—

—No… In order not to let anyone else get caught up in that ‘conflict’—he has been keeping his distance from everyone because he wants to deal with it by himself... ... or something like that?

Souma: Well, that does seem to be what he is thinking of doing. 

Has he always preferred to take such actions on his own? Just like that time when he was tearing the religion asunder… I would have flown to his aid had he but called for me—however, to the very end, not a single word did he say to me. 

Kanata: No, if you had gotten involved, that would have only made things much more complicated, wouldn’t it?

Souma: Even if that were so… What would be the colour of my loyalty—what kind of samurai could I claim to be—if I could not be present at the scene when it mattered the most?

Kanata: I have never asked for ‘anything like that’ of you at all, though? 

But, I do understand your feelings well. I want to ‘assist’ Anzu-san in any way that I can too.

It seems there is a growing ‘need’ to have a ‘talk’ with Mikejima. 

There are still many ‘facts’ which are unclear to us, but I think Mikejima should have ‘some idea’ about what is going on. 

So. First of all, let us go find that ‘dummy’, grab him by ‘the scruff of his neck’, and make him ‘come clean about everything’ he knows. 

________________________

<A few hours later.>

Madara: … … … …

Kanata: Mikejima~!

Madara: … … … …

Kanata: Seriously?! Were you actually here all along? Anzu-san, Souma, and I—we ‘split our group up’ just so we could look everywhere for you, you know~?

I was just about to give up on the search, but then I decided to pay a visit to this ‘flower garden’ for the first time in a long while—just to make sure!— because I was bothered about the ‘flower petals’. 

I never expected to find you here at all, Mikejima. I wonder what the real ‘God above’ is thinking of sometimes~, to ‘set things up’ for such an unexpected ‘encounter’ like this…

Madara: … … … …

Kanata: Mikejima~? Can you hear me? We are not at the ‘bottom of the sea’ right now, so you should be able to hear my ‘voice’ clearly, right?

Madara: —— are you—

Kanata: Yes?

Madara: *Sigh* What are you even doing here~?

Kanata: Eh? Is it wrong for me to be here? It is true my family no longer owns this ‘piece of land’—Is our being here considered ‘illegal trespassing’ or something? 

Madara: … … … …!

Kanata: WAWAA~? Wh—why are you hugging me so tightly all of a sudden! Are you a ‘spoiled child’, to be demanding attention like this~?

Madara: —Keep your voice down!

Kanata: Fwah—? You—the one who is always ‘noisy and rowdy’!—you have no ‘right’ to say that to me— 

Madara: Watch out, Kanata-san! We’re under attack!

Kanata: Eh? EH? Under attack? By what? What is with this sudden ‘escalation’, it is as if we are in a ‘tokusatsu show’(1)—

—HYAAA!?

( Wh—wh—what is going on? All the ‘flower petals’ are flying into the air at once, and so suddenly too—

It is ‘beautiful’, but it is also very ‘unearthly’ because there is absolutely no ‘wind’ blowing at all right now? What is going on? Is, is this an ‘unnatural phenomena’?)

—————-To be continued——————-

Chapter  6 | Chapter 8

Translator’s Notes:

Tokusatsu (特撮, lit. 'special effects') is a Japanese term for live action film or television drama that makes heavy use of practical special effects. These shows often deal with science fiction, fantasy or horror. The most popular subgenres of tokusatsu include 

kaiju such as the Godzilla and Gamera series; 

superheroes such as the Kamen Rider and Metal Hero series; 

 mecha like Giant Robo and Super Robot Red Baron Madara and Kanata have been big fans of such shows since childhood. 

[cafeinthemoon]

Madara with s/o who’s secretly developing a new (and dangerous) jutsu 🔥

And finally we have the third Grandpa with is s/o doing dangerous things under his nose haha As I said before, each Founder’s part ended up too long so I divided the request in three and I hope the anon who requested it don’t get mad at me because of this XD Anyway, if you want to read what I wrote for Hashirama and Tobirama, you can click on their names 😉

Now let’s go to see Madara’s reaction!

Fandom: Naruto | Madara Uchiha

Symbols: 💗 | ◻ | ▶▶

As you can easily imagine, things are way different when it comes to Madara in such situation

Because unlike his partners who took some time to actually go after you and find out what you’ve been up to, he does it right at the first night

Okay, you use to went out every night for your personal training and that’s not strange at all, but that time he notices little differences in the process

An extra pack of ink tub and scrolls that you decide to put on your bag, a change of clothes (something you never carry with you in normal training sessions), extra medicine, these kind of things

Everything is pointing to two possibilities: whether you’re going to stay out for longer or you’re creating/perfecting a technique, and a complex one

Madara is not only an observant man: he’s curious, and unlike the Senjus the idea of invading your privacy is not enough to stop him from following you that night

It’s how he finds out you’ve been working to create a new jutsu

But you’ve created other jutsu before. Why would you have to hide the process of this one from him?

The only way to find out is to watch you perform it and understand of kind of jutsu you’re creating

At first, he’s content in doing it. He’s interested in your technique, as well as to see how far you can get with it

But at the end of the session, he notices you’re more tired than you usually get after training

The obvious explanation is in the jutsu: it is not finished yet, so the amount of chakra it demands is yet to be defined. But he’s confident that you’ll soon find a way to fix this

He’s careful enough to go back home before you so you don’t notice he was out

When you cross the door, he comes to help you since you’re exhausted. He does the basic stuff to take care of you: runs you a bath, washes your hair, change your clothes, bring you some food and take you to bed

He has done this before after you came back from difficult missions

He also avoids questioning you, so you never get suspicions

And things stay like this for the next days

However, Madara sees that your tiredness is increasing at each night, and contrary to what he thought, you don’t do anything to fix the problem of chakra control

Is it possible that you’re unaware of the problem? No, it can’t be. You’re smarter than this

And because he refuses to see that you are in fact unaware of it, he doesn’t interfere, and your bruises and waste of chakra get worse as time passes

(Still, the jutsu is progressing in its other aspects, so you’re hopeful about completing it in the next days)

One night, he finally acknowledges your failure and decided to intervene

And thank God he does that in time

Now the jutsu is almost complete, you are almost at the final stage of your work and making the final moves, but the possibility of this being your death is real and Madara can’t let this happen while he’s watching

When he leaves his spot and grabs you in his arms, stopping you from completing the hand seals, you are frightened

You weren’t expecting to have company, and once you look in his eyes you understand everything

He has been watching you all this time, and maybe in the previous nights, ready to take action in case things get out of control

But things are under control right now, so why did he do that?, you ask yourself right before passing out with exhaustion

When you wake up, you notice you are back in your room. Each part of your body hurts and the morning light enters through the window. You can’t even think clearly

Only then you realize that the amount of chakra consumed by your jutsu was something abnormal (and that you should have paid more attention to that)

After falling asleep and waking up again, you finally manage to remember what happened that night: you were about to do something really irresponsible, but lucky you, Madara was there and stopped you

You look around and spot him entering the door with some medicine

At the exact moment your looks meet, he leaves the medicine aside and approaches you

He sits by your side and puts his palm on your forehead

“Fortunately, y/n, the fever diminished during the night. It is probably the effect of the treatment I’ve been applying to your bruises”

You don’t reply. You just nod with the energy you got

“Some of them will heal soon. Others are more serious”

How serious?, you want to ask

“Serious enough to keep you on this bed for the next days and not even think of performing any jutsu during this period” he says as if he just read your thoughts

There are many things you want to say, you want to ask, but you sense this is not the time

You two just exchange a look that says everything: you will talk about what happened when you’re recovered

Madara is a practical and organized man when he needs to be

He chooses a good medical ninja to examine you as the first measure and makes sure their instructions are being followed

However he prefers to do everything by himself

Not that you find it bad, though: he knows you better than anyone, so he knows how to take care of you

If you need to leave the bed for a moment (because lying all the day can be tiring too), he takes you out of the room at the right time. If you just want to stay quiet and alone in bed, he leaves you there

He seems to sense any minor discomfort you have and act to diminish it: a massage to cease the tiredness in your muscles, a lotion to the bruises that are still burning, stuff like this

Finally you are fully capable of leaving the bed and the house without help

You’re not getting back to work yet, but now you’re able to have the conversation about the incident

You tell him everything from the start: how the idea of the jutsu came out, your reasons to take it ahead, your measures to protect yourself and why you didn’t give up despite the risk of the technique

You also explain that no, you never noticed the failure responsible for the unbalanced chakra consumption that almost killed you. You only noticed that when you were under the treatment, and were willing to tell this to him

Madara listens to you without interrupting. Indeed, he seems interested in everything you have to tell about this jutsu

At the end of your explanation, you understand why

He says he has been observing your progress with the jutsu since the first night, when he found out about your project, and that he quickly noticed the failure in it

However, he didn’t want to interfere and were hoping that you would fix the failure soon, which you didn’t. And that’s why he stopped you from finishing the technique

Here you see the difference etween being with Madara and being with anyone else: somehow you’re not surprised to know that you’ve been followed, nor angry that he waited to stop you in a crucial point. Instead, you’re willing to know what he has in mind. You never think of the present; it’s always about the future

“Y/n, at first I was just moved by curiosity about your secret project, but the more I learned from it, the more I wanted to know. Now that you revealed the ideology behind it, not only I find this jutsu of yours impressive, but I believe it would be a mistake not to finish it”

You hold your breath. But you almost died because of this jutsu ???

He smiles, guessing your thoughts

“I will help you to fix the failure. And then you will try the jutsu on me”

He states that though he can understand the theory behind the jutsu, there are some details he can only check if he experiences it on himself

You can’t help smiling

Yes, it’s a practical solution for a big problem, but it also points out Madara’s level of self confidence and enthusiasm. The proposal sounds like something only he would do, and this is so funny

Yet it’s your only chance to save your technique and make all your hard work pay off, so you accept it and immediately start to make plans

Of course it will take some days until you can go to the first session because you’re still weak

But once you get better, you will start to work

When the day finally comes, you are nervous, but determined

The first thing Madara asks you is to perform the technique and be prepared, because he will stop it at the moment when the failure shows

He wants to understand where exactly is the problem

You do this a few times until he finds it

You make a pause and he explains the situation. You say you noticed the nature of the failure too, but couldn’t find a counteraction for it

Well, Madara has an idea, and he tells it to you

It involves changing one or two hand seals and alter the way you manage your chakra at same moment

You try again following these instructions. It’s not that easy, but you do your best

And to your joy, it works

You try other times, and soon your body memorizes the procedure

You write down new notes on your scroll and revise them with Madara

At the end of the day, you are tired, but feeling rewarded. You also apologize for not asking for his help before, even though you already told him you wanted to prove your own value by doing everything by yourself

He says you don’t need to apologize now that the jutsu is finally completed, and makes you promise that you will always try your new techniques on him from now on

You laugh hard at this and do your promise

[animeyanderelover]

I'd love to see Hashirama with prompt 74. “As long as you love me everything is alright. You…you do love me, right?”

👍.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, delusions, clinginess, angsty stuff

Prompt 74: “As long as you love me everything is alright. You...you do love me, right?”

You remembered that there had been often times where you had wished that Hashirama would just calm down since he was often a lot to deal with. He was always so clingy and the amount of affection he gave you was nearly suffocating, not to mention that you hadn’t forgotten the incident with your clothes. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem in here. No, that all was terrible too, but could be ended by a breakup. And that was the worst in here. Leaving him would be as good as impossible. Not only was there the danger of the whole village being disappointed in you as well as having his furious little bro in your neck, but Hashirama himself could possess quite the threat. He was Hokage. He had power. He could ruin you and your family’s life if he felt like and even get away with it. As much as Hashirama was a sunshine and almost a bit like a child, you had catched up onto one thing at some point into this relationship. Hashirama had a dark side to him. Everyone had, you knew that. You had one as well. But it became dangerous when this dark side was able to ruin someone else like Hashirama was. Luckily he didn’t let this side out very often, it was rarely seen because around you he was always the loving and smothering husband. But that made it also so much more terrifying if this side of him came out. Because it was almost like witnessing a nightmare in real life when seeing this man getting serious and mad.

But you had never seen him like this. He seemed so...so discouraged. So hopeless. So small. You had expected that he would be depressed after Madara had left the village, the man he had considered as his best friend. The man who he had happily introduced you to, the man who he had always stood up for, the man who had betrayed him and had attacked him. You couldn’t even image how hard this must have been for him. And the comments from Tobirama hadn’t really helped at all. He had just scolded him that he should have listened to him before and that he had been right after all about Madara. You and Mito had to literally hit him on his head to snap him out of his lecturing speech and help him realize how devastated Hashirama had looked. You had often seen him sulking about something or being depressed over more childish things. But this had only lasted for a short while, not concerning you too much at the end of the day. He had always been able to get over those small things very quickly and go back to his more goofy self. And that was the thing that had you currently worry the most. He hadn’t gone back to his old self. Instead he had been those last few days after the incident more quiet and thoughtful than usual, causing you to worry yourself almost sick over him. But the most heartbreaking thing you had witnessed so far was how needy he had suddenly gotten. It wasn’t the usual clingyness, it was almost like a desperation, a desire to know that you wouldn’t leave him like his friend had.

“Hey Hashi. What’s wrong?” Hashirama turned slightly surprised, slightly tired around when hearing your soft voice calling him. It was early morning, the sky still dark and most people would have still payed soundly asleep in bed. But not you two. When his gaze met yours he gave you a small smile. But it didn’t look like the ones he usually gave you. Of course there was still warmth and eternal love in it, but he also looked exhausted as well as if he was in pain. “Oh. Hey, darling. I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep. Go back to bed, it’s still pretty early.” You didn’t move, instead glancing with eyes filled with sadness at him. He looked so incredibly vulnerable as hunched over as he was sitting on the couch. Where was the once so energetic and always happy guy who you had so often a day called a moron because he had done something stupid? Where had that man gone? And when would he come back? You couldn’t just let him sit here and let him drown in self sorrow. You had to do at least try to do something for him. He had done so much for you too. So you slowly made your way over to the couch, slowly sitting down next to him. He didn’t react, instead staring with a hollow yet also sorrowful look in his eyes in the space, telling you what he was seeing right now before his inner eye could only be seen by him. You felt a small “pang” in your chest when seeing him spacing out like this, his eyes having lost the light they used to always have inside of them. How could you have ever thought of his personality as annoying and too much? Had you ever even considered that this might have been the reason why he had been even able to reach the position he was currently in right now? He had worked more than anybody else to establish the village and make peace with the other villages. His sometimes almost careless and easygoing looking attitude had given people always courage and hope.

But now he looked so broken, like a small child who needed protection. Or just someone who would be there for you. And if this person had to be you then you would damn well do it. Everything to get him out of his misery, the whole atmosphere in the village had already started to change and became more gloomy due to their leader being on his knees. You sighed worriedly, laying your hand on top of his. Hashirama didn’t look at you, but was quick to grab your hand and intervene his fingers with you, the pressure he put on your hand being only a bit too tight as if being scared that something might happen at the moment. “Hashirama,”, the tone you used reminded you of the one your mother used to use on you, strict yet gentle,”please look me in my eyes.” You had the feeling that he needed a moment or two before your words finally seemed to register in his brain and you almost thought that he wanted to avoid looking you in your face by the way he turned so incredibly slowly his head around to meet your gaze. He was ashamed, you could tell from the way he didn’t dare to look you in your eyes, always looking quickly down whenever he managed to look you for a short second in your eyes. You tried to give him some time to adjust, waiting patiently until he seemed to be a bit less tense than before.

“It’s not your fault, you know. I mean with Madara.” It wasn’t a very wise decision to mention his name like this, but you had to directly talk with Hashirama about this, even though he stiffened when hearing his name again. “No one blames you Hashi. Not the village, not your clan, not your brother nor Mito. And me neither. We all know you tried your best. The best might sometimes not be enough, but it’s the will that counts. You don’t need to be perfect or anything like this. It was Madara’s decision and you couldn’t have done anything to help him. I understand that it must be hard for you to live with the knowledge that your best friend turned against you and that you had to fight him. It’s a heavy burden on your soul and heart, but you aren’t alone with this. You have so many people in your life who are there for you. You just have to look out of the window and see the village, the people in there who are willing to help you. As harsh as it may sound, but you have to eventually let go of him. I don’t demand from you to erase those memories of of you and him together, but I ask you to accept that you couldn’t have done everything to stop him and to stop thinking that it’s all your fault. There are people who need you right now. So please stop being so sad and try to live with it. And if you aren’t strong enough to carry this on your own, I’m here for you just like your brother, Mito and so many more. Alright?”

Hashirama stared shocked at you, looking like he hadn’t expected you to say this. But only a short moment later the impact of what you had just said hit him. You had never seen him that emotional before which caused your heart to clench from sadness seeing him like this. You could see the visible hurt in his eyes, the feeling of not being able to do anything and prevent it from happening, the hurt of being betrayed from someone you had known for such a long time. The thing that made it even more bitter for you was that you also saw some of the emotions his eyes always used to hold for you when looking at you. The adoration and infinite love he used to have and still had for you. Together with his somewhat forced yet also thankful and sincere smile it let you feel an emotion that you couldn’t name, not knowing how to feel about the dualism of feelings displayed on his face. “As long as you love me everything is alright.” When saying this he suddenly crawled closer towards you, hugging your waist and laying his head on your lap. And you felt like your heart had just shattered in your chest, witnessing this complete action of utter desperation from his side. He had just come crawling to you like an insecure child needing comfort.

“You...you do love me, right?” You glanced down at him, looking at his eyes that begged you silently to tell him you did. What was this? Why was he doing this? Was he afraid that you would leave him too just like Madara did? Was that the reason why he was acting so needy right now? Did he need to hear that you loved him that badly? There were so many quest swirling around in your mind, but you put them all for the moment aside, focusing on the man clinging tightly onto your waist and tugging slightly on the fabric of your pajamas, wanting, needing you to answer his question. And how could you have said no to him when he was in such a fragile state like right now. “Of course I do, Hashi. I always will.”

[madaras-housewife]

Nighthawk

I’ve had this idea in my head for like 2 days and I wanted to put it on paper really badly so I wrote it on a whim. It’s poorly edited too so forgive me if there are any grammatical erorrs. 3 am vibes babyyyyy 

pairing: Madara Uchiha x reader

length: 1.8k

tw: none

It wouldn’t be too contrived to compare Madara to the weather outside. He was a storm; majestic, grandiose and powerful. And yet, there he slept next to you, in the same bed you had been sharing for a while now. Had it been two years already? Your mind was too foggy to think about something even as simple as that; or maybe the pouring rain was at fault. It was almost too loud for you to hear your own thoughts, but you still heard them, nonetheless.

Somehow, you wished the rain could drown them out, the way you knew your newly planted crops would be soggy by morning. What a shame. Madara was going to be so disappointed after pestering you about planting a garden and having worked so hard on it. He had several skills, ranging from diplomacy to combat, but gardening was not one of them. Nevertheless, he insisted that it would be healthy for your growing family.

 Even though your husband was near you, the abrasive feeling of loneliness filled your bones. It was always this way when it stormed, wasn’t it? Especially that night. 

You turned your head to the side, squinting your eyes, but the room was too dark to see the clock. Carefully enough, you stood straight so as not to bother your man and rubbed your dry cheek. The thought of sleeping was way past you and, if you weren’t already certain about that, you definitely were when a billowing thunder roared so closely to you, you felt it rock your body with intensity. Before realising it, you recoiled and stubbornly balled your fists. 

That night marked five years since Izuna had died. You only met him a few times, before you and Madara had become a couple. It often felt like the Uchiha compound was empty, as if it was missing something. Would it have been odd to say that you were missing someone you barely even knew? That was not quite right. In fact, you knew a great deal about the younger brother from Madara’s stories about their childhood, their squabbles and frequent conflicts regarding war. At one point, it started consuming Izuna’s consciousness, warping it into something dangerous, something that not even his elder brother possessed at the time; desire for conflict. 

Whereas you counted years, Madara counted every day, even though he would never tell you that. It was obvious when he called that name in his sleep, almost every night, in a meek, broken voice that sounded nothing like the man you knew. If anything, he sounded like a scared child who wandered alone in the darkness. Even when you hurriedly draped your arms over him and clung onto him, his brows never fully unfurrowed. 

Not even when he slept was he at peace. 

Without realising, you turned your body to his side of the bed. Madara was sleeping on his back, soundly, as small snores parted his lips. He hated snoring and he swore he would never sleep in that position again, saying that shinobi must have control over themselves at all times. You smiled and promised yourself you wouldn’t mention it when morning came. All you wanted was to bend down to give him a small peck, but instead, you settled for brushing the hair out of his face, caressing his face so gently that you barely touched his skin. Your husband would usually wake up at the smallest touch, since you knew him as a light sleeper, but on that night, he seemed to be more tired than usual. Even in the darkness, you could make out that the creases below his eyes were a tad more prominent than usual. Peace was… exhausting sometimes, to say the least. 

A flash of lightning cracked the midnight sky into two, brightening the room enough for you to see that he had a slight frown on his face. Your hand pressed itself against his forehead until you felt the tension slowly disperse. Now he looked rather calm and stress-free, as if a burden had been lifted from him. He seemed to have many of those these days and they piled up, almost forming a wall between the two of you. Deep within your heart, you wondered if that wall would become impenetrable, if you wouldn’t be able to reach him anymore. 

You truly wished Izuna had been there instead. Though it was nothing more than an oversimplified solution to the numerous problems you and Madara faced(when, in fact, it wouldn’t even be that anymore, now that his little brother had been gone for so long), you liked to think that he could make your husband happy, happier than you made him. The comparison felt silly, unfair and unwarranted. You even felt selfish for thinking such a thing. Despite rarely ever showing it, his stares had grown a little fonder and his hugs a bit tighter since he received the news, and it was your candle of hope during the grim days, when he chose solidarity over comfort, working all night long, going on missions only to separate himself from the village and the clan which had caused him so much pain. 

There would soon be another source of joy in his life and you wondered if you were up to the task. It was something that you had been ruminating over for months, but couldn’t quite put into words until now, though not exactly sure why. Maybe the chaotic life of inhabiting a shinobi clan had made it more difficult for you to truly look at yourself, to see what was inside. So instead, you chose to lash out at your husband again and again, until your anger poisoned him and all the patience he mustered for both of your sakes. But you were blessed with a headstrong man, who, in all that vast sea of insecurities and responsibilities, rarely ever mistreated your heart. Especially lately, when Madara had been sharing the same fears as you did. 

On the other hand, Madara didn’t take out his anger on you the way you did. He lets all his fury simmer, lets all his misgivings haunt him, until everything builds up to a tempestuous wrath which befalls him out of thin air. That was how he was taught, and it was one of the few lessons from his father, Tajima, which he didn’t reject. It was what his father had left him with, besides agonizing memories of war. However, when his last sibling passed away, it seemed as if all of Izuna’s own burdens were passed down, leaving him with double, maybe even triple the cargo(or maybe, you couldn’t really quantify suffering in mere numbers, the same way you couldn’t with words). 

Madara’s shoulders were heavier. You felt it every day, when you gave him the regular massage in the evening. What was it that you promised him on your wedding day? (It was hard to remember, now that so much had happened.) You promised him you would always be his pillar, so that he wouldn’t tumble when it was too dim to see what was ahead of him, (in reality, no one could ever see what was ahead of them; one can only row the boat facing backwards), but marriage wasn’t as simple as that. If love is controlling, then wedlock is a dictator. It demands a home, sex, patience, shared meals, babies, empathy and eternity.  

Another thunder roared mercilessly, making the earth quake below you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself, cradling your stomach. The disagreements had become too frequent, the scowls too obstinate and the distance between you too lengthy. How long would it be until you completely failed, until you wouldn’t be an adequate wife for Madara Uchiha anymore? Until you weren’t fit to carry his children? 

The rain now hammered the ground, like a deafening fusillade of bullets and, in a moment of insanity, you thought it was taunting you, mocking you. It was so loud that you didn’t even hear the raspy groan next to you, until you felt a hand on your forearm.

“Can’t rest?”. His dozy voice seemed to have pulled you out of your disquiet pitfall of thoughts. Without facing him, you shook your head. The lump in your throat was too thick to even open your mouth. 

Your husband then grabbed your shoulder and gently pulled you down, until your back hit the now-cold sheets. For a split second, you glanced at his face and noticed that his half-lidded eyes were locked on your belly, but as soon as he felt you looking at him, he stared back. When Madara noticed your pursed lips and glimmering eyes, he sluggishly crawled closer to you, turning you on your side until his chest was pressed against your back. Wrapping his arm around you, you heard him inhaling deeply into your messy hair. 

You eased into your man’s embrace. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. Now come sleep.”, Madara said. 

You meekly nodded, pushing yourself against his warm body, the worries gradually dissolving into nothing more than what looked like particles of dust, ready to be washed away by the rain. But when he didn’t hear you reply, he placed a deep kiss on your soft spot, the crevasse between your neck and shoulder. 

“You’re going to be a great mother, you know. I love you.” 

Could he have read your mind? You didn’t know, but you also didn’t care about the answer. You were at home, exactly where you needed to be, with the person you needed. In that moment, you realised that Madara was going to be a great father, too.

“I love you too.” 

Your husband always knew the right words to say; it was as if he could hear you even when you didn’t speak, mainly when you didn’t even want to. It might be that he just understood you that well. After all, he had a knack for reading people. Sometimes you would curse that talent of his, but it was in rare moments such as those when you were infinitely thankful for it, for it all.

It wouldn’t be too contrived to compare Madara to a storm. He was a majestic thunder in the sky, capricious, striking fear and admiration into your heart; a grandiose ocean which didn’t fall from the sky, but was driven, torrential, carving mountains and earth to his own pleasure, omniscient, poised; the powerful wind, howling loudly, as if yearning for a melody to sing his tune, bending trees and tearing houses in his way, almost seeking to outrun everyone else, until he felt forlorn. The floods were promised, the might of nature had already been unleashed, but there would be sunshine and warmth by morning.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Eden: ZERO

ZERO (here) / BLEACH / TWIST / REVERSE / DYE /  RED

Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it. - Haruki Murakami

+++

“You’re doing it wrong, you know.”

Those were the first words Madara had ever spoken to her. Arms crossed across his chest, over his half-buttoned shirt. Staring down at her with those arrogant eyes glinting bright red.

“Then show me how to do it,” she retorted. Unaware of how dangerous those words were.

A harsh wind swept through. Sakura squinted her eyes shut against the hair that blew into her face. When she opened them, the man stood just in front of her. Grinning with too-sharp teeth as he leaned over her. Those luminous eyes widened as he took in the golden light sputtering between her palms.

“What are you? 12? Don’t even know how to do basic channeling?” he asked, eyes darting back up to her face.

“8,” Sakura corrected him.

“Ah. Shit. Seriously?” His expression shifted. The furrow in his brows deepening as he squinted down at the magic twinkling and then dwindling in her hands.  Thumb on his chin, he leaned in a little closer to the sparks.

“Are you channeling through your solar plexus or your heart?” he demanded.

Sakura made a face. “My what?”

He sighed.

“Take a deep breath, through your nose. Like this.” And he demonstrated. Inhaling through his nostrils. He exhaled long and fast through his mouth. “When you breathe out, feel your abdomen move. Right here.” He touched his stomach.

Sakura watched him do it once more before she tried it herself. Breathing in deep through her nose. Exhaling through her lips.

“Now try channeling your magic through that part of your stomach you just felt,” he instructed.

Her eyes closed as she followed the steps. She gathered her breath, willing her strength into her palms as she exhaled. The golden sparks appeared again, but this time, they spilled from her palms, down her arms. They showered her clothes and the ground with bright lights before winking out of existence.

“I did it!” Sakura exclaimed. And when she lifted her chin to thank him, the man was gone.

++++

The world overflowed with magic. It clung to blades of grass and wafted off the smoke rising from chimneys. It lingered in the alleyways, mingling with the smells of food from all around the world. A melting pot of pastelitos, General Tso’s and doner kebab all in one.

Anyone who couldn’t perform magic bought it. And the more complex the magic, the more valuable it was. Simple levitation charms and giggle potions could be purchased in the same vending machines that sold soda. People walked out of salons with hair that changed color in the sunlight. Sleepy janitors on the night shift could twist a finger and let the mop work by itself as they took a quick nap. 

The city of Konoha was as old as it was busy. It wasn’t where Sakura had been born, but it was where she was now. 

She lived in one of the dorms at the Senju Institute. Many of the students there were children of non-magical parents and trained them to wield their powers. This program was, in essence, an orphanage, but no one liked to say that out loud.

There were many things to be grateful for. The Senju Institute fed her and kept a roof over her head. None of the teachers or fellow students were ever unkind to her. But a label seemed to hang over her head everywhere she went.

This girl can’t wield magic.

No matter how much she studied, how much she practiced, she couldn’t understand the lessons from the instructors. Who told her, “Follow your instincts” and “feel the energy”. Which meant absolutely nothing to her. Besides that odd encounter in the library, Sakura had never managed to properly channel magic before. And as her classmates learned to conjure light and summon orbs of water, Sakura found herself falling farther and farther behind.

Tutoring sessions with the teachers did nothing. So while Sakura struggled with the application, she threw herself into reading up on the theory. Because maybe there would be an answer in one of those big, dusty books in the library about what made her defective.

If anyone wanted to know how to do magic, Sakura could recite it without a thought. The irony was comical, in some ways. Although, Sakura didn’t find it very funny at all.

++++

“You can’t just show up whenever you want,” Tobirama griped, not for the first time, as he watched Madara peruse the shelves of the school library.

“Relax. Your brother said it was okay. Isn’t he in charge?” Madara said.

“Yeah. But I’m also in charge. And I hate you,” retorted Tobirama. Madara snorted. And then he found his eyes drifting past the shelf. Past the balustrade. Downstairs, he glimpsed a little girl sitting alone at one of the long tables. Her nose buried in a huge textbook.

“That girl,” Madara mused. And Tobirama turned to follow his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Ah. Sakura? Good kid. I feel bad for her,” he replied.

“Bad? Why?” Madara’s eyebrows rose.

Tobirama paused. He peeked over at the girl to make sure she hadn’t heard them before he leaned in a little closer.

“She seems to have the spark, but she can’t channel magic. Her pathways must be dead or blocked,” Tobirama whispered, hand covering his mouth. Madara’s mouth twisted, eyebrows rising.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

It was Tobirama’s turn to look surprised as he watched Madara cup his hands around his mouth.

“Hey! Kid!”

The girl’s head jerked up. Her eyes widened.

“You still remember this?” Madara asked. He held out his palm. Gold sparks flooded his palm, overflowing. Spilling over the railing. Down to the floor below. The girl nodded. She held up both her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lower lip.

“Feel where your breath is. Push the magic through there,” he reminded her.

Slowly, flecks of gold gathered at the tips of her fingers.

“Exhale. Push through your stomach.”

Gold welled up in her hands. And then it began spilling endlessly, bouncing across the tile. 

Madara turned to Tobirama with a smirk. “You know, Tobirama, sometimes telling people to just feel magic doesn’t work,” he rubbed it in. But Tobirama didn’t even see the expression as he hurried down the stairs to examine the magic. Sakura looked from Tobirama, up to Madara. Her face gold as the light from her magic bathed her expression.

Madara raised his eyebrows at her as he descended the stairs. 

“Hey. Try this,” he urged. And then he closed his fingers around the sparks. They spurted between his fingers before they began to lump together. Burning red hot, thrumming with energy. When he opened his hand, a smooth black stone glistened in his palm.

Tobirama sighed. “Come on, Madara. Even senior level students struggle with transmutation.”

The girl’s forehead wrinkled. She grabbed Madara’s hand, jerking it down to eye level. She scowled at the shimmering rock.

“How do I do that?” she demanded.

“Make the sparks. Breathe,” instructed Madara, snatching the orb away.

She took a step back. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she summoned the golden sparks to her hands once more.

“Now. Kid. The magic is moving quickly because all the molecules are moving fast,” Madara explained. He pointed at the sparks. She stared. “They’re all vibrating. Bumping into each other. All because it’s so hot.”

“It doesn’t feel hot,” she protested.

Tobirama sighed again, shaking his head.

Madara shot him a dirty look before he looked down at Sakura again. “Well, you’re not wrong, kid. I’ll get into that stuff later. For now, just believe me. It’s hot for the magic, alright?”

The girl continued to frown, but she slowly nodded.

“Then make the magic stop moving so fast,” he explained.

She blinked a few times. Then lifted her chin to look up at him. “So... tell the magic to cool down?”

He thought for a moment. And then Madara smirked. Hand on his hip, he nodded.

“Yeah, kid.”

She stared directly into the sparks. She sucked in another breath. And then she began to close her fingers, just as Madara had. As she moved her hands, she whispered to the sparks: “Cool.... it’s time to be cool. It’s not hot anymore. It’s nice and cool. Slow…”

Tobirama’s eyes bulged as the sparks slowly darkened. The magic began to swirl together in her palms, rippling back and forth with each of her breaths. Then, slowly, it gathered into a solid shape in her cupped hands.

“Show me what you got, kid,” Madara instructed.

As the girl opened her hands, the object between her fingers slipped out. Madara’s hand flicked. It rose in the air, sparkling as it rotated. It was a crystal with a pointed tip. Purple, green, and blue swirled together in layers, gleaming as light bounced off the surface.

“Huh. Fluorite. Good quality too,” he commented. When he flexed his fingers, the crystal began to spin in the opposite direction. But when he glanced at the girl, he saw that her eyes glittered even more brightly than the crystal she had created.

“I did that?” she whispered.

“Yeah. Impressive for your first try,” Madara replied. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the crystal flying over to her. She held both her hands out. It fell into her waiting grasp.

Smug, Madara turned toward Tobirama.

“See? Kid can do magic just fine. Pretty gifted, honestly,” he rubbed it in. Relishing the way Tobirama glared at him.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tobirama ground out.

“Can you teach me from now on? You’re a good teacher,” Sakura spoke up. Still clutching the crystal she had created.

Tobirama and Madara both looked down at her. Her eyes gleamed. Rubbing his chin, Madara considered this.

“Tell you what, kid. I’ll do you one better.” Madara grinned.

“Madara, no,” Tobirama was already protesting.

“You ever had your own room before, kid?” asked Madara, hand on his hip.

It had taken some persuading. As a student of the Senju Institute, Sakura was technically in the care of the school itself. Plus, Hashirama, its headmaster, wasn’t keen on the idea of just… giving a student away. 

Madara, however, was not above playing dirty. When he began rattling off a list of all the ways both brothers owed him, Hashirama finally caved.

Madara would take custody of Sakura. He would instruct her on the fundamentals of magic. When Sakura was old enough, and had developed enough of her skills, she would resume her studies at the institute.

As Madara watched her pack up her things, he looked around the narrow room she shared with one other girl. Her roommate had some photos taped over her desk. There were a few posters on her side of the room. A picture frame sat on her nightstand. All Sakura had were her books, along with a blue vase filled with fake flowers. The books she scooped up into her arms and dropped into her suitcase. She didn’t move to take the vase.

“Ready to go?” he asked as she set the suitcase on the ground. The things inside rattled around. Half-hollow. Half-filled.

Sakura nodded.

Madara’s home sat halfway across the city from the Senju Institute. The inside of his car was old-fashioned, but it was clean. The worn leather seats gleamed. He drove with the windows down, his hair whipping back in the wind.

“So… what do you do?” she asked.

Madara pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. His lips twisted to one side.

“I dabble. Been going by ‘arcanist’ for a while now,” he replied. When Sakura continued to stare, he laughed a little, teeth glinting. “I research magic and how to put it inside things. I also come up with spells to use magic differently.”

“Do I have to call you ‘dad’?” she then asked.

Madara wrinkled his nose. He waved a hand, as if shooing the title away from him.

“Nah. I’m Madara. You can call me that. Or ‘teacher’. Whatever. Just don’t say ‘old man’,” he answered.

Madara’s home didn’t look like much from the outside. But inside, it was filled with books, spell ingredients, and whatever other clutter he had gathered over the years. Candles bobbed in the foyer. Shoes floated into a closet as soon as they were off the feet. The welcome mat shifted colors whenever someone stepped over it.

It was also much too big. 

Sakura’s jaw dropped the first time she stepped inside. She backtracked onto the front steps. Stared up at the narrow apartment. Then stepped inside again, staring at how tall the ceilings were. 

“Extension magic,” Madara chuckled as he watched her dumbfounded expression. 

The next few days were a blur of learning the house’s layout and trying to absorb all the information Madara threw at her.

“There’s no real schedule. Eat when you like. We can do your lessons in the afternoon, so you can sleep in,” he said as he poured himself a glass of wine.

“What about school?” she asked.

“I am your school. There’s nothing at those ridiculous schools that I can’t teach you better at home,” Madara scoffed.

“What about math? Or reading and writing?”

Madara heaved a sigh.

“Kid. I got it,” he assured her.

Despite his attitude, Madara was a proper teacher. He waited for her to understand before he asked her to do. Whenever she asked for him to explain again, he did so. The technicality of Madara’s casting made a lot of sense to Sakura.

“Not like that. Spread your fingers. You need to leave space for the magic to gather,” he explained as  he nudged her hands. He stood with his feet shoulders width apart. As Sakura adjusted, he pointed down at his feet. She inched her feet closer together until he nodded.

“Now. Let’s try again. Remember, you need to break the bonds and remake them,” Madara reminded her. He waited for her to nod before he took a deep, slow breath. Sakura copied him, feeling the heat gather in her fingertips.

Madara never made her feel like she had when she had stayed at the Senju Institute. Deficient. Slow. Somehow less than the others who ran around with their hands shooting sparks in every direction.

The Senju school of magic focused on drawing upon emotions and imagination. And while their magic was strong, it was also volatile and ran the risk of turning destructive.

The Uchiha family’s knowledge of magic emphasized understanding the science of magic. What created it? How could it be channeled optimally? They were the ones who had discovered that wooden wands and staves are actually a poor conductor of magic. The discovery had led to the development of new casting tools that had filled up the family’s accounts faster than the banks knew how to handle.

As Sakura spent more time with Madara, the more she realized that magic wasn’t just about the spells. It was woven into the very fabric of reality. It changed the structure of objects and bent light. All she had to do was tug on a few strings to set things into motion.

“Water and fire are kind of alike, actually,” Madara said. He held his hand out, palm up. His palm seemed to glow for a moment before a flame flickered to life just above it.

And with just a little more effort, he changed the fire into water. The droplets danced together before he crushed them in his palm.

“Why?” Sakura asked.

“It’s all about the energy of the matter. If you change the energy, you can change the state of things.”

Sakura touched her hand to her chin. “More energy is hotter,�� she recalled him saying.

Madara nodded.

“But more energy can also be gas,” she went on.

Madara’s eyes crinkled a little, but he said nothing.

Sakura’s forehead wrinkled as she peered up at him. “Am I a water affinity?”

Madara nodded.

“And you’re fire?”

Madara nodded again.

“Can someone be good at both?”

Madara thought for a moment. “Your natural affinity is what you’ll be good at with little effort. It would be more challenging, but it’s possible to do both well,” he decided.

Sakura tilted her head

“What about earth?” she asked.

Madara laughed. He leaned back in his chair. “You must’ve driven those teachers crazy with all these questions.”

Sakura didn’t smile. She looked down at her feet. “They got mad when I kept asking…” she confessed.

Madara’s laugh cut off. He examined her expression. And then he ruffled her hair. “Aw, kid, don’t look like that. You can ask me as much as you like. Just as long as I’m not trying to sleep,” he assured her. And then he paused. 

“I mean... sometimes when I’m... ah whatever. Ask away, kid,” Madara concluded. Watching the dimples form in her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile in return.

++++

“Nice work today. Your basics are really coming together,” Madara commended her over dinner one day.

Sakura smiled around her bite of chicken. She was doing that more and more now.

“Next, we should take you to an appraiser. Your folks wouldn’t have brought you to Konoha if you didn’t have an affinity for dream magic,” Madara went on. He slathered a biscuit with too much butter, gesturing with his knife as he spoke.

Sakura’s smile faded a little.

“They did it once. At the Institute,” she admitted.

“And?” Madara prompted, cheeks stuffed with food. “What’s the verdict, kid?”

Konoha was famous for the art of dream magic. Unlike elemental magic, which most people could learn to use with the right training, dream magic couldn’t be learned. It was innate. Dreams, shadows, thoughts- those were all things that ran in the blood.

Someone had once thought to call those would could handle dreams dream casters. It was a silly name, but it had stuck. A low level dream caster could bottle a dream that already existed and sell it for profit. A more skilled dream caster could amend parts of a dream, or even piece one together from scratch. 

Sakura nudged a piece of broccoli on her plate.

“They never said.”

They had taken one look at the paper and sent her back to her room. The subject had never come up again.

“Those fuckers,” Madara sighed. His eyes widened. At the same time, Sakura’s head jerked up.

They stared at each other.

“Was that a bad word?” she asked.

Madara’s eyes darted to the ceiling. Then back to her. “Uh… yes. You shouldn’t say it.”

“Even though you just said it?”

“….Yeah.”

“….Okay.”

The test was simple.

Madara sent her to bed early that night. Reading the expression on her face, he mussed her hair. 

“Don’t worry, kid. It’s not hard,” he assured her. 

Despite all the questions swirling around in her head, Sakura managed to fall asleep. And as she found herself dreaming of a park on a sunny day, she spotted a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches. Madara lowered his round sunglasses with a smirk. 

“Well. Only dream casters can meet in dreams. Gotta make room for that in your lessons, I guess,” Madara mused, rubbing his chin.

When Sakura woke in the morning, she shuffled into the kitchen bleary-eyed. Madara stood flipping pancakes at the stove. Well, more accurately, he stood drinking coffee while a spatula flipped pancakes on its own. Madara turned his pointer finger in a circle. A glass flew out of the cupboard. The refrigerator door opened so a carton of orange juice would move to join the cup. 

“You ever get any training in dream magic before, kid?” Madara asked her.

Sakura shook her head as she watched the glass fill with juice. When she held both her hands out, the cup lowered down into her waiting grasp. 

“Good. Means I don’t have to undo any garbage they put into your head at that school,” Madara muttered. 

Nightmares were a common issue for dream casters. Especially in children. Who had an excess of magic with no way to use up the energy. The surplus magic seeped into their dreams. Twisting things into horrors that only a child could imagine.

Madara taught her not to fear. 

“You shape the dreams. They cannot shape you,” he told her. 

Each dream caster had a way of envisioning dreams. And a way to bend them to their will. 

Madara saw dreams as swirling black mists. When he casted, he sank into the endless field of mist, feet settling onto the soft black powder that coated the ground. He pulled the mists into shapes, sculpting them into people and objects. He could even sweep bigger sections into the skies and the ground. And when he channeled his magic, burning red for just a moment up his fingers, he filled the mist with color and texture. 

Sakura copied him, at first. 

But even as she learned, Sakura loved watching him bend her dreams. Twisting the nightmare shapes into harmless stuffed animals and pieces of furniture. He conjured ice cream out of thin air. He could even make stars appear in the sky where there had been none. It all felt so natural. And it was so easy to do it once she had seen him do it a few times. 

“Is it normal for us to have bad dreams?” she asked one night as he lit the incense in her room. The fragrance filled the air. Madara paused. And then he looked over his shoulder at her.

“In the beginning, yeah. Maybe it’s the cost of walking through everyone else’s dreams,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He lit the last stick of incense before he took a seat next to her bed. “But you’ll stop having them. Or you’ll learn how to make them good again.”

Her room was right across the hall from his. He had heard her wake up crying the first few nights in the house. So it had become part of the routine for him to check on her. He never said why. He didn’t really have to. And she didn’t thank him for it. Somehow she got the feeling that it would embarrass him.

“I wish I didn’t have bad dreams,” she muttered, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Madara smirked. “Same, kid. Good night.”

He mussed her hair before he got to his feet.

++++

“Alright. So.” Madara took a deep breath before he started.

“This is my little brother Izuna. That’s my nephew Fugaku. And those are his two kids Itachi and Sasuke. This is Obito, I think he’s a nephew. Or maybe he’s a cousin. Cousin’s cousin? Eh, whatever.”

He pointed to each face in the photograph as he rattled off the name.

“That’s too many people,” Sakura said. Cheek in his hand, Madara nodded.

“Family’s too damn big. Anyway, I’m the head, so you can be as rude or as nice as you want. No one’s gonna say shit to yo-” Madara broke off as he caught himself swearing again. Sakura scrutinized his expression.

“I’m not supposed to say that word?” she guessed.

Madara sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

And then she turned her attention back to the album.

“So… they’re my family too, now?” Her voice was suddenly tiny. Not like her at all.

Madara stared at her profile.

“Yeah, kid. You’re not alone anymore,” he answered. He rested his hand on top of her head. It was heavy, but she didn’t complain or shake him off.

It wasn’t difficult to get to know the other members of the Uchiha family. They came to visit often. So much so that Madara grumbled and threatened to kick them out each time they showed their faces.

But Madara’s too-big house started to make sense. All the spare bedrooms were perfect for when someone wanted to spend the night.

Shisui liked to crash on the sofa when he fought with his family. Itachi used one of the guest rooms when he wanted to study dream magic with Madara. And Sasuke was there the most often. When he needed a quiet place. When he just needed space from his parents. Because “they care about me, but they’re…a lot.”

None of them batted an eye when Madara introduced Sakura as their cousin. Shisui took to ruffling her hair the same way he did to Sasuke. Itachi reminded her about elbows on the table and offered to help her with her homework. Sasuke was just relieved to have someone his age around now. After years of Itachi and Shisui ganging up on him for being “the baby”.

The titles for how they were related to Madara were tangled and complicated. They called him “Uncle”, and Madara called them her cousins. And that was good enough for her too.

Sakura liked it when her cousins slept in the house. The proximity made it easier for her to visit them in their dreams.

In the early years, when her magic was still a tiny little sapling, she could only visit a dream that was very nearby. And that was almost always by accident. She would stumble into a place that wasn’t hers, baffled by the weight and shapes of things.

It happened the most with Madara, since he was usually nearby. And if he was irritated by her intruding on his dreams, he never let it show in his face. 

But as time went on, she began to wield her magic with more ease. And rather than falling thoughtlessly into dreams, she could imagine the shape of the entrance to the dream world. It was a worn wooden door, painted deep purple. There were vines crawling up the edges, spreading towards the keyhole. Which made no sense, because it always opened without a key at her touch.

Madara taught her about the portal that would take her to the Uchiha family’s dreams. It was a long corridor filled with ornate doors. Each one a different color and shape. And when she hesitated, Madara tugged her hand to pull her forward.

“Your door is here too,” he had assured her.

And Sakura blinked. “Mine?”

She memorized the shapes and colors of the doors she knew. Itachi, Shisui, Sasuke, Madara’s, and finally hers. The jeweled handles turning soundlessly under her fingers.

It turned out that even dream casters in the same family envisioned dreams differently.

Shisui dreamt of space. Each of his dreams was a different planet, swirling with cosmic dust. Nightmares were filled with storm clouds. Quiet dreams were barren moons that spun on in silence. 

On the nights when he worked, sometimes Shisui let her tag along as he cast together people and places into one planet. Crushing them between his palms as they rotated faster and faster. Until light shone between his fingers. And when he pulled his hands apart, a planet or a moon spun in place. A dream that he would then pluck out of space and file away for later.

Itachi saw dreams as a vast ocean. When he casted, he plunged into a deep ocean. He settled onto the soft sand at the bottom of the sea. Corals bloomed and seaweed waved in time to the current. And he pulled the fish and all the shells together, weaving them into a beautiful dream that could lull the most anxious heart to sleep. 

It was strange being where Itachi cast his dreams. Silence. Bubbles rising with each exhale, even as she breathed without a problem.

Sasuke’s was unusual, even among his eccentric family. He dreamt of a vast warehouse of boxes and jars. Sakura trailed after him as he wandered the aisles, grabbing things off the dusty shelves. Sometimes she even carried some of the things for him, listening to him mutter and sigh as he tried to find just the right ingredient. And then Sasuke dumped all these things into the giant vat in the middle of his dream space. 

It was fitting. Given how Sasuke liked formulas and order. Sakura sat to the side, watching as he brewed up a beautiful dream, more clinical and more calculated than those of his cousin or his older brother. But beautiful nonetheless.

With all of these influences around her, it wasn’t difficult for Sakura to discover how to cast dreams her own way. She experimented with different styles until she found one that just sang in her palms. 

When she entered her room in the dream world, she imagined fragments of dreams as colors and sounds. A little like Sasuke’s, these fragments lived in glass jars that lined the walls of the room. But when she popped the cork, sound spilled out of each one. Someone’s laugh. The honk of a car horn. People singing “happy birthday” off-key. 

When these fragments swirled together into a tapestry of colors and sounds. Thrumming warm between her fingers until they gathered together into a solid shape in her hands. At first, she made them take the shapes of smooth stones. But over time, she learned to turn them into crystals instead. Just like the fluorite Madara had first taught her how to make. The stronger dreams became more jagged crystals. While the softer ones became rounded gems that sat warm and curved in her palm.

And just as she liked to visit her family in their dreams, they liked to visit her too. Itachi, in particular, loved to sit on a cushion in the corner, his chin in his hand. 

“It’s elegant.”

Sakura turned to him, her hands still squeezed together. A snippet of laughter slipped through between her fingers. 

“What?”

“The way you weave dreams. It’s elegant. Just like Uncle’s,” Itachi clarified. He held his hand out. Sakura dropped the dream into his palm. It was a rose quartz, shiny and smooth. 

++++

Part of Madara’s deal with the Senju Institute was that Sakura was required to participate in the same exams as other students. So, once a year, Madara drove her to the school. He parked his car in the lot and waited while she took the exams.

Some of the other students recognized her. They whispered, nudging each other with elbows. Some snickered as they waited for a good show as she failed to conjure anything. Like always.

Instead, she recited incantations forwards and backwards. Her hands glowed as she filled the room with a rippling aurora. She conjured balls of light and turned them into water. The muttering and smirking stopped right away.

It seemed silly now. And she could hear Madara’s voice in her head. Imagine him slouching in a chair in the corner, acting like he wasn’t paying attention even as he advised her to straighten her posture. 

Breathe deep, kid. Magic starts with the breath.

Feel the heat gather in your stomach and pull it into your hands.

Water comes from your head. Imagine it spilling down your neck and arms. That’s the magic pathway you need to use.

The sputtering instructors tried to speak with her after. But Madara leaned on his horn. Everyone rushed to the windows to cast a glimpse of Madara poking his head out the car, one hand cupped around his mouth.

“Let’s go! Takeout’s getting cold, kid!” he called.

“Coming!” Sakura yelled back out the window before she hurried down the stairs.

And as Sakura got into the car, Madara always paused to glare up at the school. “Anyone give you any trouble?”

“No. It was fine,” Sakura always answered.

“Good,” Madara grunted as he backed out of his spot.

++++

At some point, Sakura couldn’t remember when, she stopped calling Madara by his name. Maybe it was around the same time, he stopped calling her “kid” or “squirt”.

It was odd, because that seemed like something important. So she should’ve remembered it.

But maybe it was because it had happened so quietly. So naturally.

One day, she looked at Madara’s back as he stood in the middle of the massive library inside their house.

“Papa.”

“Yeah?”

He didn’t laugh. As if that was what she had always called him.

“Can we go over that transmutation spell again? I’m still kind of lost.”

“Sure,” he replied, already descending the ladder with several books floating down after him.

++++

Before either of them knew it, years had passed. Sakura enrolled in the Senju Institute as a college student. She majored in Abjuration with a minor in Divination. When she graduated with full honors, Madara had barely batted an eye.

“Didn’t expect anything less from you,” he assured her as he took them out to dinner to celebrate. They clinked wine glasses together.

Four months later, she was back for her Masters in Magical Research. She commuted from home, like she had during undergrad.

“You know, you’re always welcome back here,” the headmaster liked to mention whenever they bumped into each other. Which was a little too often for it to feel like coincidence.

“No thanks,” she replied, barely looking up from her textbook, “I like where I am.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling as she pretended not to notice how the headmaster’s eyes narrowed.

“Tell that old man to go fuck himself,” Madara scoffed when she brought it up over dinner.

“Papa. Language,” she chided. She flicked her wrist. The pepper shaker glided across the table, into her hand.

“That is the right language for him,” Madara snorted.

Fourteen years had passed since she had come to live in that house. Her room still sat across the hall from Madara’s, all the way up on the top floor. In all that time, Madara had never once nagged her about staying up late at night. He didn’t complain about how she used all the hot water in the house whenever she showered. 

The closest they had ever come to fighting was when he had insisted upon hanging her diploma and her graduation portrait in the foyer. She thought it was embarrassing. Especially since Madara loved to brag about it anytime someone visited. He refused to let anyone inside until they made some sort of positive comment about the diploma. It made Sakura groan and put her head in her hands. 

“You hate it that much?” Madara had teased at first.

Lifting her head, Sakura wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t really say ‘yes’, though.

++++

“And this is where it all starts.”

++++

It was early in the morning on a Friday. 

Magic trembled in the air. Like a raindrop clinging to the underside of a gutter. Wobbling. Waiting until the moment that gravity would drag it down.

Madara rolled onto his side, his ears ringing and his ribs sore. He started when he heard someone exhale beside him. He didn’t remember bringing anyone home last night. He wondered what time it was.

“Papa. I need to borrow your scrying bones.”

He let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Sakura’s voice. Pulling the covers over his shoulders, he turned over again.

“Don’t you have your own?” he groaned. He felt persistent pokes to his lower back.

“Yours work better,” she insisted.

Madara didn’t respond. But after a long time, he heaved another sigh. He raised his pointer finger and flicked it through the air. The bottom drawer of his nightstand opened. A black velvet pouch floated up, landing in her hands.

“Thank you, Papa. I love you,” she said in a sing-song voice. She kissed the back of his head through the comforter before she pranced off. Humming as she rattled the dry bones together in the pouch.

“What’re you trying to scry anyway?” he asked, squinting as he pulled the comforter away from his face.

“I wanna know what I should wear on my date today,” Sakura yelled back from the other room.

“Oh,” Madara said. He snuggled back down in the comforter. Letting out a yawn, he closed his eyes again. Relaxing in the warmth of his blankets in the ear-

“Wait. Date?” Madara repeated, eyes snapping open again. The comforter tangled around his legs as he launched himself out of the bed. He scrambled to his feet, kicking the sheets aside as he hurried out of his room. Listening to the rattle of the scrying bones knocking together as she cast them to the ground.

“With who?” Madara asked. The door to her bedroom was wide open.

“A guy. We were in the same chem class last year,” she answered. She stared at the bones she had scattered across the rug. She nudged a couple of them with her pointer finger. Madara scowled.

“Hey. Don’t force the bones,” he reminded her.

Sakura’s lower lip jutted out.

“If you want a certain answer, you shouldn’t be consulting the bones in the first place,” he then scolded her.

Sakura pouted even harder as she turned around to stare at him. Madara flinched a little. He wasn’t proud to admit that he had succumb to those pleading eyes on several occasions.

“This is important to me, Papa. Don’t be mean,” she insisted.

Madara exhaled noisily, rubbing his hand through his hair. And then he flapped his hand at her. “Alright, alright. Keep at it,” he told her, crossing his arms across his chest. A proud smile crept across his lips as he watched the bones begin to glow a soft shade of gold.

Divination had always come easily to her.

Wisps rose from the blackened cracks in the bones. Sakura leaned in to listen to the whispers.

Eyes widening, she turned her head to look at her bed. There were a few different sets of outfits laid out on her comforter.

“Really? The red one?” she mused.

The bones hissed something else before the mist dissipated. Sakura stared down at them for a moment.

Beware of the dreams that linger, they had whispered.

“What?”

Sakura looked up to find Madara still in the doorway. He yawned as he stretched his arms over his head.

“You’ve got an eye booger, Papa,” she pointed out.

Madara rubbed his left eye.

“No. The other one.”

He rubbed the other eye.

Sakura scooped the bones up and dropped them into the silky pouch. She tied the string. Madara held his hand out. Sakura tossed the bag up into the air. It drifted to Madara, landing in his waiting palm.

“Do you have time for breakfast before your date?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s not until tonight. Can you make pancakes?” she requested, staring up at him. Madara grumbled, scratching his stomach. Sakura pulled on the bottom of his shirt as he shuffled past her.

“Go wash your face,” he sighed as he walked out of her room. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the bag of scrying bones flying back into their spot in his room. Bleary-eyed, Madara made his way down the stairs towards the kitchen.

They had breakfast a little while later. Sakura laughed when Madara almost poured maple syrup into his coffee. Madara snorted into his food when Sakura read one of her texts out loud. Sakura snorted too as he began choking on his food. They were both in tears and wheezing by the time they had cleared their plates.

After they did the dishes, Sakura glanced down at her watch.

“I’m gonna go to the shop first. I won’t stay out late,” she promised. She gathered her hair in one hand and pulled it off her neck as she searched for her phone. Madara froze. Sakura looked back when she felt his stare.

“What?”

Madara blinked hard. And then he smiled.

“Your phone’s in your hand, kiddo,” he pointed out.

Sakura looked down. She laughed. Madara did too as he went to pour himself another cup of coffee.

++++

The Uchiha family’s dream shop sat in a quiet street not far from Madara’s house. It was close enough that she could walk, although Madara insisted that she ask him or one of her cousins for a ride at night.

It was a little cramped. And they could more than afford to move into a larger space. But there was something charming about that crooked shop. About the way they had to scoot past each other on the narrow stairs.

The sign above the door was in the shape of a paper fan. The white and red paint was peeling. Shisui and Sasuke nagged Madara about upgrading to a neon sign every once in a while, but Madara had ignored them for years. And would, undoubtedly, continue to ignore them for as long as possible. 

The store was already open when she arrived. Sakura felt a faint hum in the air as she rested her hand on the doorknob. Bells chimed as Sakura stepped into the shop. The dreams sat on the shelves that lined the walls. They glowed white for a moment when she stepped inside. Then they faded back to their natural colors. Dreams about adventures were green. The ones about love swirled pink and light purple.

These dreams had been collected from other people. Friends, acquaintances. Sometimes just strangers who slept beautifully. Sakura dove into their dreams and took a part of it home with her. Gathering the threads of the dream matter in her hands like glistening threads as she walked. As long as she was careful, when she woke, those threads were still in her hands. She could slip them into jars with a hint of enchantment to stabilize them. 

It was one of the first things Madara had taught her outside of basic magic. This was the cheapest form of dream magic. After all, dreaming someone else’s dream wasn’t perfect. Details didn’t always line up. Names and faces wouldn’t make sense. But for most people and their budgets, this was enough.

“Hey,” Shisui greeted her, leaning against the counter and the register. Sakura waved at him as she shut the door behind her. She ducked beneath the mobile of colored ribbons and bells that hung from the rafters. 

“Is it just us?” asked Sakura, pulling her scarf off. She tossed it into the air behind her. Along with her coat. An enchantment caught them and pulled them onto the coat rack in the corner. The spell even straightened out her coat so that it wouldn’t wrinkle. 

Shisui tapped a pen against the counter. He tossed it and then stretched his arms over his head. “Nah.” He interrupted himself with a big yawn. “Itachi’s upstairs with a client right now.” He blinked a few times, obviously exhausted. 

Shisui rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Sasuke’s doing something at the lab. He’ll be by later to lock up.”

“On the third floor?”

“Yep.”

Sakura craned her head to look up as she thought. 

The customers who weren’t satisfied with buying prepackaged dreams were where they made the big money. Some wanted the dreams that were tailored to their specifications. Others had nightmares that they needed a dream caster to untangle. Both services required the dream caster and the client to be asleep at the same time. The therapy rooms upstairs provided the quiet space these clients needed. 

Sakura made a note to stay extra quiet as she moved around the shop. 

Shisui watched the counter, checking on sales and appointments. Sakura kept busy organizing dreams and taking inventory of what they needed to harvest. 

This was how most days at the shop went. They swapped out roles as their clients came in for appointments. Sakura’s gentle touch with both clients and dreams made her popular with children. Women almost always requested Itachi or Sasuke. Shisui was the most popular among their older clientele. 

Madara himself didn’t come to the shop much these days. He always joked: “Why would I? When I have you kids to make all the money for me?”. They only pulled him from his research when there was something the four of them couldn’t figure out on their own. 

On the nights that Sakura stayed late, there was almost always someone who would walk her home. Or Madara would drop everything to be there once she texted him. Hand on the back of the passenger seat. Grinning with those sharp canines that she had once found a little intimidating (how silly).

“Hey kiddo. Ready to go home?” was his corny greeting each night.

That night, Madara didn’t pick her up. She still messaged him to let him know that she had left the shop, Sasuke would be closing up, and not to wait up for her.

Izuna brought jerk chicken. I’ll pack leftovers for your lunch tomorrow, Madara replied.

Sakura sent him a series of purple hearts in response.

The date went well. Gaara had sat next to her for an entire semester. They had spoken a few times. Once, he had asked for a pencil. So it had surprised her when he had asked for her number, face turning so red he looked ready to explode.

Dinner was at a tiny Turkish restaurant. They sat at one of the counters by the window, a little squished as they bit into spicy lamb and crispy falafel.

“What are you doing now that we’re out of school?” she asked. She took a slurp of soda through her straw as she looked over at him. She laughed when she saw him struggling to swallow his food to answer. She handed him a napkin.

“Eat. It’s okay,” she giggled.

Gaara blushed again as he wiped his mouth. The thin paper stuck to the oil on his fingers.

“I’m… working at city hall. For public works,” he finally managed to say.

Sakura tilted her head to one side. “I’m not really sure what public works is in charge of,” she confessed.

Something lit up in his eyes. He sat up a little straighter as he began explaining. “There are divisions within public works. But basically it’s in charge of taking care of public buildings and facilities in the city. I work for the division that oversees the parks. I go out to visit them and check that they’re safe. Sometimes I survey people to ask what they think we can do to improve things.”

Sakura smiled a little. She leaned on her hand as she listened to him. And when he had finished, he glanced over at her. Suddenly small and quiet again.

“You really like your work, huh?” she commented.

He flushed bright red, all the way to his ears. But he nodded.

“That sounds really cool. What are you working on lately?” Sakura asked.

They stayed until the manager of the restaurant apologized and said it was time to close. As they stood on the sidewalk, Sakura puffed out a breath. It was getting cold at night. Her hands in her pockets, she cast a sidelong glance at Gaara. He was looking down at his phone.

“I’ll call you a cab,” he offered.

Sakura thought it over. And then she nodded.

“Sorry. I’d give you a ride if I had a car,” he added as he pressed some icons.

Sakura snorted. “I don’t have a car either. Can’t judge.”

He chuckled too.

And then as they stood waiting, Sakura heard him shuffle his feet.

“Uh… so… can I see you again?” he asked.

Sakura rocked back on her heels. She took a deep breath of the cool air. When she looked up at him, she was smiling again. “You’re cute. You have good manners. You have a job that you’re passionate about. I don’t see why not,” she answered.

His eyes widened. Sakura burst out laughing at the look on his face.

When the black car pulled up, Gaara opened the door for her. He waited for her to get into the back seat before he closed the door. And then he hesitated, fingers resting on the handle.

“Can you text me to let me know you got home okay?” he requested.

Sakura leaned out the open window. She reached out to tap him once on the nose. “Sounds good to me. Good night,” came her reply. As she rolled up the window, his fingers slipped off the door.

Sakura listed out her address to the driver before she leaned back in her seat. She caught the driver glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

“Good date?” he asked.

“Yeah,” answered Sakura with a smile.

Even though she had told Madara not to wait up, he was sitting at the kitchen table when she got home. She tossed her coat in the air. One of Madara’s spells caught it and draped it over a hanger. Just like the one that gathered her discarded shoes and slipped them into an empty spot on the shelf. She climbed the steps, rubbing her hands through her hair.

“Hi, Papa,” she greeted him as she walked into the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows and nodded before he returned his attention to his book. Sakura scrubbed her hands clean in the sink. The smell of the fruity soap filled the room. She rubbed her hands on a kitchen towel before she took a seat next to Madara at the round table.

“How’d it go?” questioned Madara. He slipped a bookmark between the pages before he shut the cover.

“Pretty good. He seems nice,” Sakura said right away. Madara pulled his glasses down, hooking them into the front of his shirt.

“Are you going to see him again?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but Sakura wasn’t fooled. Tongue between her teeth, she grinned at him.

“Aw, Papa. Are you gonna feel lonely if I get a boyfriend again?” she teased.

Madara looked disgusted by the very idea. “No. I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet again,” he retorted. Sakura snickered. And a smile touched Madara’s lips as he got out of his seat.

“I’m going to have some coffee before bed. You want some?” he asked.

“I wanna try the one Uncle Izuna brought last time,” Sakura called after him before she slumped over the table.

The kitchen always smelled like coffee. Madara probably drank more coffee than he did regular water. It was no wonder that his sleep schedule was all sorts of messed up. Coffee in the morning. Decaf at night- even though that didn’t seem to help. The kettle let out a whistle when it was ready. Madara poured the water through the filter into her favorite cup. The white one with red flowers.

“How was the shop today?” inquired Madara when he returned. Sakura inhaled the fragrant steam.

“How was the shop today?” inquired Madara when he returned. Sakura inhaled the sweet-smelling steam.

“A little quiet. I need to get more childhood dreams. I’m starting to run low,” she mused. She reached over to pick up his book. It was old. The green cover was peeling at the edges.

“What’s this?” she wondered.

“I’m looking at tracing magic in ancient artifacts. Kind of dry,” he huffed.

“You writing a new research paper?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you pick a topic you like more, Papa?” wondered Sakura.

Madara rolled his eyes. “It’s a request from someone I owe a favor to,” he responded.

Sakura wrinkled her nose.

Madara sighed. “Exactly.”

They chatted for a little while longer before Sakura began to yawn. She rubbed her wrist across her eyes. “I have to head to school in the morning to pick up some materials. I’m gonna go to bed,” she announced, getting out of her chair. She gathered both their empty cups to place in the sink.

“Night,” Madara greeted her.

“Good night, Papa,” she replied. Sakura gathered her purse and her phone. She squeezed Madara’s shoulder as she walked past.

++++

As the weeks went by, Sakura found herself quite busy. Whenever she wasn’t at the shop, she was busy working on her thesis. Sometimes Naruto and Ino wheedled her into taking a break. They got cheap pizza and sat eating on the curb. Or sometimes her cousins barged in with Vietnamese food and soda, completely ignoring how Madara glared at them as they stormed inside.

“I didn’t invite you,” he scolded.

“Nice to see you too, Uncle,” Sasuke called over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs up to Sakura’s room.

Sakura met Gaara a few more times. He really was very sweet. He always seemed embarrassed whenever he caught himself talking too much about his work. But it was nice hearing someone so excited about something. They went to see a movie. Another time, they just walked in the park, getting lost among the winding paths and trees.

“I really want to focus on finishing my thesis right now. I hope you don’t feel like I’m leading you on or anything,” she had explained once.

“That’s alright. I don’t mind waiting,” Gaara replied. And then he walked into a tree branch, making Sakura burst into giggles.

November turned to December. And suddenly it started to snow all over the city. As the white flakes covered the asphalt, Sakura browsed the library inside their house. It seemed impossible that such a huge room existed in the building. Of course it was. But Madara’s magic played around with the dimensions of the room to make it happen. It was an odd combination of light and heat that Sakura still struggled to pull off after all her years of practice.

Sakura pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. The silver wire frames had once been Madara’s, which, like many of his possessions, she had claimed as her own.

“What?” she called, leaning back on the ladder to peer at him. With a flick of his finger, Madara pulled the ladder down the wall of shelves, closer to him.

“I asked have you seen Shisui?” And he punctuated the end of the sentence with a sigh.

“Yesterday. At the shop. Why?” 

“His parents say they haven’t seen him since yesterday. Can’t get in touch with him either.”

“Maybe his phone’s just dead, Papa,” Sakura suggested. She pulled another book off the shelf, leafing through it. 

Whenever he wasn’t working at the dream shop, Shisui was usually doing magical research of his own. In particular, he was interested in how the position of celestial bodies affected spells. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear with his telescope and his spectrometer for a night or two. 

“That’s what I thought at first. But it’s been a full day and no one’s seen him,” answered Madara. He leaned against the rungs, his hands under his chin. 

In front of him was a shelf full of manuals on torture and human anatomy. Those were from some of his darker days as a younger man. His eyes flickered over to Sakura before he slowly waved his hands. The spines sparkled before they blurred. The letters of the titles swirled around, rearranging themselves into different words. Then he shot Sakura another look.

She was still looking through the shelf higher up. She hadn’t noticed anything.

“Either way, his parents are worried. Keep an eye out for him,” Madara insisted.

Sakura considered this. “Have you asked Itachi? He always knows what Shisui’s up to.”

Madara shook his head. “Says he has no idea either.”

There was a pause. Sakura pushed her glasses up again, lips twisting to one side. She pointed to a few books, which slid out of place from the shelves. They hovered in the air around her. 

“I’ll ask my friends and see if they’ve seen him around,” she finally agreed. Madara smiled up at her.

“Great.”

That same night, only much later, Sakura’s shadow fell across the threshold of Madara’s room. She knocked on the open door. Which was a little silly, given that he could see her. But it was an old habit. 

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve got a headache again.”

Madara pulled his glasses off. Sighing, he put the glasses, along with his pen in the book to mark his place.

“It’s because you overdo it,” he scolded, even as he reached his hand out for her.

Pressing his fingertips to her temples, Madara channeled energy through the thin skin.

“Take a deep breath.”

He pulled the magic, which had twisted and bunched up in all the wrong ways.

“Inhale.”

He tugged. The threads of energy shattered. Like a jar of marbles overturned. The little shining pieces scattering in every direction. Gold fluttered from her temples, fluttering off in little glittering pieces.

Sakura’s eyes opened in time to catch the list glimmers of magic dissolving into the air.

“Am I channeling wrong? I keep getting them a lot lately,” she wondered. Rubbing the heel of her hand against her temple.

“No. It’s a common issue, actually. When you walk dreams, the residue magic follows you. It’s just buildup. Regular clarification like this is all you need,” Madara assured her. Sakura frowned a little harder.

“Have they found Shisui yet?”

Madara leaned his elbow on his headboard. He heaved a sigh. “Not yet.”

“It’s not like him to just run off. I hope he’s alright,” Sakura mused, frowning too. Sakura looked up when she felt Madara pat her knee. 

“Things’ll be fine. They always are,” he said. 

Sakura searched his eyes for a moment. And then a smile pulled at her mouth. She nodded, sighing. “You’re right.”

++++ 

A week later, and Shisui was still missing. Along with Itachi, who had never missed a day of work before.

“Still no word?” asked Ino.

“Nope. Nothing,” Sakura replied. 

“Have they called the police?” Naruto wondered, leaning his elbow on the front counter of the dream shop. 

“Yeah. They even went to his apartment. Nothing. Passport’s still there. None of his stuff is missing. It’s just... poof,” Sakura listed, shaking her head a little. 

It really wasn’t like her cousins to disappear without a word. The police claimed that they were searching, but both Sakura and Madara agreed that it obviously wasn’t enough. 

“I’m sorry, Sakura. That sucks,” Naruto said. Leaning against her, he put his arm around her shoulder. Ino took Sakura’s hand and patted it a few times. 

“Thanks,” was all she could think to say as her friends did their best to comfort her. 

And while Sakura really was grateful, she felt worse for Sasuke. He hadn’t slept in days as he took to the streets in search of his older brother. She tried to go with him whenever she had time. And she called him on the nights she couldn’t, just to ask how things had gone.

Sakura even considered planting a dream in Sasuke’s room. Just to force him to get some rest. But she knew he wouldn’t like that. And he was so sharp that he might even spot it before it had a chance to take hold of him. 

“You doing okay?” Ino questioned.

Sakura blinked. She smiled. “More than everyone else, I think. I’m trying to be positive.”

Naruto’s forehead wrinkled. “Aw, Sakura, I love you and your big heart,” he sighed, squeezing her a little tighter. Ino wrapped her arms around Sakura’s other side. 

“Things will work out,” Ino reassured her. 

++++

That night, Sakura walked into her house to silence. It was New Year’s Eve. She had promised to be home early so they could watch the countdown together.

“Papa? You didn’t pick up so I just walked home,” she called as she stepped out of her boots. She leaned a hand against the wall for balance. Paused. Waited for Madara’s voice drifting down the stairs to her.

Nothing.

“Papa?” she tried again. 

Something about the quiet made her uneasy. She walked up the stairs, looking for a glimpse of silvery wings. There was usually a spirit around that she could talk to. But even the usual hum of magic that buzzed around the kitchen had gone silent. 

The back of her neck itched. Sakura scratched at it as she wandered through the house. Nothing in the living room. Or in the laundry room. 

She climbed the stairs. Madara’s study was empty. So was the second floor bathroom, where she sometimes found him sitting with a cup of coffee and chatting with the water spirits. 

The third floor was silent too. But something about the air felt off as she climbed the last steps. And there was an odd smell. Metal. Metal and something that made her head begin to pound.

The floorboards creaked under her feet. She peered into her room first. Her bed was still unmade. One of her drawers sat open with her laptop resting on top. The string lights that framed her window winked at her. Everything was just as she had left it that morning. 

Part of her must have known what she would find. She found herself dragging her feet. Blinking too much as she forced herself to cross the hall. To knock on the door that was ajar. Pretending that the huge pool of dark red wasn’t spreading across the white wood.

She could hear herself screaming. She couldn’t make herself stop. Tears filling and blurring her vision. She screamed and screamed until she could feel her ears ringing with the sound. 

++++

“Hey! Sakura!”

Her eyes flew open. She could see a dark shape hovering over her. She flinched away until she recognized the glasses hanging from the front of his shirt. 

“It’s just a bad dream,” Madara said. He snapped his fingers. An orb of soft light flickered into existence. Just enough for her to see that this was her bedroom. She could also make out his look of exhaustion as he sat on the edge of her bed. 

“You okay?” 

Sakura shook her head. She sniffed. Rubbed her face. Her palms came away wet with tears. Madara clicked his tongue. She felt him lean over her to pluck a couple tissues from the box on her nightstand. He pushed them into her hands. She sat there staring at them. 

“You haven’t had a nightmare like that in a while. Must’ve shook you up pretty bad,” he sighed. And then his hand landed on top of her head. He patted her hair a few times. Still a little clumsy, even after all these years. 

Sakura didn’t say anything. She stared down at her hands. 

Madara patted her head again before he asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

Sakura shook her head again. 

He sighed. “Okay. Let me go make some pancakes. It’s almost time to get up anyway,” he decided. He squeezed her shoulder before he got up. She could hear his bare feet shuffling against the floor as he walked. And then thumped their way down the steps. 

Sakura sat in a daze for another minute. It took her a few tries to get her mind to focus on anything. She blew her nose, wadded the tissues up into a ball, and threw them in the trash. Out of habit, she disconnected her phone from the charger and lifted the screen up to eye level. 

Friday, Nov 3.

A notification popped up on the screen to remind her that she had a date tonight.

Sakura dropped her phone. It bounced once on the mattress. She cast another wary look around her bedroom. And then she was scrambling off her bed, stumbling into Madara’s room. She yanked the bottom drawer open. Underneath a worn journal sat his bag of scrying bones. Sakura poured them out onto the rug right there. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Madara’s voice came from the doorway. 

Sakura tried to push her tangled hair out of her face. She gave a hiss of frustration before she yanked it into a bunch on the side of her head and held it in place. She took a long breath before she could gather her frazzled thoughts enough to channel magic into the dry bones. 

The black fissures in the bones began to glow. Voices hissed out through the brittle marrow. 

Beware of the dreams that linger, they whispered again. 

Sakura squeezed her eyes shut. She channeled a little more magic. 

The whispers chanted the phrase over and over again: Beware of the dreams that linger.

And as the voices began to fade, they left her with one more warning.

Do not give your heart away.

“You know, you could’ve just asked to borrow them.”

Sakura’s head whipped around. Madara stood there, arms folded over his chest. He tilted his head a little as he looked her over. 

“Go wash your face,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the bathroom. 

Sakura turned back to the bones. They sat limp and cold on the rug. She scratched the back of her neck, heaving a sigh. 

“Okay,” she answered before she scooped the bones up into her hand and dumped them back in the pouch.

++++

“And this is where it all starts again.”

[thefairyletters]

Could you answer this question? I went through a bunch of Sakura fics, many recommended by yourself (many good ones, thanks for your excellent taste!) but I also explored on my own, which is how this question spurred. I was wondering why so many ppl want Sakura to have wood release? &, because it's been a while so my memory's foggy, wasnt wood release sort of a bloodline thing? They had to infuse Hashirama's cells w/ Yamato for him to use it. It seems a little...I guess radical to give it to her? I LOVE Sakura, which is exactly why it kind of throws me off. I think she's already strong as is, & I think being able to utilize genjutsu & slug sage mode are logical expansions of her abilities, so wood release seems very...Idk how to put it but it seems like erasing Sakura. I'm discovering that I truly really dont think I like BAMF Sakura fics a lot bc it just doesnt read AS Sakura. It's like the author's are ashamed of her. Also I dislike when they use Strong!Sakura as a tag on ao3 bc she IS strong that HASNT changed & there's a canonical version of BAMF!Sakura in everything before the Pein arc. Everything after the Pein arc turned the entire series in a bad fanfiction for everyone in itself.

Thank you, I'm happy to know you enjoyed my recs!

That's a good question.

This is what I think makes Sakura badass ➡ here

I love Sakura the way she is, as well. Her development, however, is lacking not in terms of her personality but her skillset. She has impressive chakra control, monstrous strength and is one of the two frontline medics and one of the best healers in the world. She has impressive feats under her belt as well, two of the most remarkable include her byakugo seal and her fight with Sasori alongside Chiyo. But it pales in comparison to her teammates, including Sai and Kakashi. I don't mind that too, because her journey is different than others, excluding Lee and possibly Tenten. She isn't seen much involved in fights, her attacks are repetitive in the show, she isn't bestowed many techniques under her belt and her best moments are in games and novels. It is not her character's fault but Kishimoto who just doesn't use her strength and intelligence which he (and other characters) have mentioned she has.

She is genjutsu type – but has she ever performed one, or even gotten out of one easily? Whats the use of such information if Kishimoto doesn't use it?

She has near perfect chakra control – she should be easily able to perform many techniques and practice different elements, especially water, but earth style and cloning is what we mostly ever see her use.

She has good foundation in Taijutsu – and that should increase her stamina and therefore her chakra coils, and that in turn will ensure she is able to use many techniques.

Her medical and research skills are only next to Tsunade – and we wish to see her revolutionize the medical field which she has but in Borutoverse. That is time skip. That doesn't really relive you much.

She has resistance to mind jutsus, thanks to her inner personality – and theoretically she should be able to even evade strong genjutsus like she did Ino's clan technique (something never been done before) but Kishimoto only used that incredible ability once. ONCE.

She has massive chakra storage and exceptional chakra control and sensitivity – she should be able to master Senjutsu, a field which is all about chakra. Anything that has to do with chakra control is Sakura's playground.

She is more or less an unofficial poison expert – but we didn't see her playing with poison expertly (a poison that even Suna's poison experts failed to break) after Gaara's retrieval arc.

She is the smart and responsible one of team 7 – but Kishi often makes her look both stupid and selfish. We don't see her use her intelligence much. I hate that more than her lacking in the expansion of the skills.

She trained under a political leader – that itself makes her and Shizune great administrators and governors. So, out of everyone, Sakura is the one of the best Hokage material. Hokage is said to be the strongest fighter of the village but that requirement failed us when Tsunade became the fifth Hokage.

She has yin seal – the strongest seals one can make, in their own body no less. It also shows her expert control of her chakra. She can summon one of the big 3 summons. Sealing is more or less code that requires high intelligence and great chakra control that can be fused into the ink. As far as I can tell, she is one of the best candidates to learn Fuinjutsu.

With all these possibilities of her growth – because it is not something we make up but something Kishi has implied she has but never explored – how can one not exploit it? It doesn't mean one doesn't love Sakura for who she is but that its because they love her that they want to give her what she has the right to. She doesn't have to be expert at something to be powerful, just her putting her skills to best use is admirable as it is. I love Sakura for who she is and who she could be.

Now, onto the question as to why people seem to favour giving Sakura wood release, this are the following reasons that I think could be it:

Does it have to be bloodline limit?

Kishimoto gave Hashirama a unique bloodline limit that apparently cannot be inherited by any other Senju. That defeats the purpose of bloodline limit. What makes Senju clan so different? Without Hashirama in the picture, you cannot distinctly identify a Senju clan member aside from their strong chakras. Tobirama is identified for his water techniques. Tsunade has perfect control of her chakra that allowed her to exhibit monstrous strength and incredible healing abilities. How come wood release is a bloodline limit but is not passed down the line?

It is complicated because Tsunade is also renowned for her perfect chakra control just like Hashirama. So, some stories make Sakura a secret Senju clan member because of her uncanny resemblance to Tsunade and Senju clan in general. Pink hair can be a diluted version of Red (Mito) and her chakra control originating directly from Hashirama's lineage.

I personally don't like this because I love Sakura being a civilian child.

It's not a bloodline limit:

So, assuming wood release is not a bloodlimit but a very hard technique requiring precise chakra control and mastery of dual elements Earth and Water, then it is possible for Sakura to practice same technique because of her prodigious chakra control. By that logic, we can also assume that Tenzo inherited Hashirama's unique chakra control to use wood release. Because Orochimaru could have used Tsunade's DNA too if it was only about clan blood. So that rules out bloodline limit.

I love the idea of Sakura practising wood release because it is possible for her to do so. So if an author gives Sakura wood release that she hones with practice and control (ref. fanfic: Labyrinthine) instead of having been gifted with it, I'm digging it.

Nature chooses the wood user:

Naruto universe has many references to spiritual entities such as gods/goddesses, reincarnation and celestial bodies. It is conceivable to make nature an ethereal entity that has its own will. Sakura looks like the embodiment of spring with her petal hair and green eyes, and Hashirama can be compared to wood with his warm personality and appearance, these attributes can make them look distinctly attractive to nature. No other characters remind me strongly of nature than these two so I suppose they can be uniquely selected to be blessed this ability. Tenzo's abilities is the result of human experiment by Orochimaru who always cheats on nature so he is an exception.

I only like this because I like the idea of Sakura being Nature's child.

Most stories that I love don't give her a special edge and only give her more techniques under her arsenal. It is very rarely that I love an OCC Sakura who has a bloodline, a clan or godlike abilities.

After Pein's arc, Naruto turned into a joke. Everyone in team 7 (barring Sakura, Sai and Yamato) and long list of antagonists seemed to get power ups left and right. Sakura got hers in the last moment as a last ditch effort to reunite team 7 as one, a moment that felt so hasty that I couldn't take the show seriously at all. I was so disappointed with the whole war arc. I cringe just thinking about it. I sometimes think if it would have been better for everyone to just die with happily ever after in their mind. That would be tragic but a fitting end because Madara became too OP and Kaguya ridiculously so.

The reason people add 'Strong', 'BAMF', 'Smart' prefixes before Sakura is the reason why people add extra qualities to Sakura's character. They are not satisfied with how Sakura handles herself in fights and many base her fights with the one she had with Sasori. After that, did you see her actively participating in any major fight, barring her attempts to make a score on sidelines? Usually, these fanfictions also justify why she is Tsunade 2.0, something the Naruto failed to show.

By the way, many stories have BAMF tag for Shikamaru, Naruto and Sasuke as well. Are they not already strong af? They don't use Strong tag for them though, and that's because their fighting prowess is already seen. Shikamaru is not much of a fighter as much as he is a strategist and a leader. He is a cool and sly character. Naruto and Sasuke have flashy moves with flashy names under their belt with absurd power levels that puts them in god tier. Sakura has none of that – no signature move that is uniquely her, no clan to back her, no move with a name (barring game moves) – and she is seen useless because she is a healer which is a non-offensive, background job even if it is the most crucial and taxing job. It's significance is even more reduced when people point out how her work is futile because they are again sent to the fight/missions once they are up to go. Most fans only care for visual aesthetics, regardless of how rare and in-demand medics are because of the lack of qualified people who can muster and use medical chakra properly.

Sakura is more than just a healer but in canon she is more or less reduced to that. To make things worse for her, both Ino and Hinata are also shown to have healing techniques. They both also have clan techniques (vastly unknown) with them which makes them appear more 'useful'. Sakura is literally in the shadow of her mentor and her friends.

In Boruto, she is said to be the most powerful Kunoichi of her generation and quite possibly the greatest medic in the world but in Shippuden it is severely undermined. This is also why Boruto fans love Sakura but a bunch of Shippuden fans don't.

I mostly don't judge BAMF/Strong Sakura fanfictions, but I mostly avoid Anbu Sakura fanfictions if I can because I personally don't belive Sakura to be an Anbu material.

.

I want to add more, but I think I got my point across. Thank you for reading this far. I hope I answered your question adequately.

[alicia-kingdom]

Outsider

Straight from my new obsession, the tv series  “Outlander” only weirder and with less sense.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The mission went wrong, extremely wrong. Great! Another thing her father would hold against her.

It was a pretty simple mission, just recognition and search if possible, an old temple where rumors said people have gone missing, both civils and shinobis alike. The latest was a Nara woman and a little Yamanaka girl. While not entirely serious, they were part of Konoha, which means the search was on the list even if the Hokage didn't explicitly say so.

So...how a simple mission turns this fucking deadly? Well, it seems Konoha citizens weren´t the only ones going missing. A few Mitsu ninjas were giving the same orders, and of course, there had to be a fucking fight. God forbids a simple and peaceful encounter.

What is wrong with men and their need to prove superior? Was it so hard to just ignore one and another?  

Oh! but that's not all! May the heaves fall upon them for wishing a little bit of normality. While Mitsu ninjas were dangerous, they weren't entirely hostile towards them...but then Iwa ninjas had to come, and...well...they couldn't miss the chance to kidnap the useless and weak Hyuuga ex-heiress, Hyuuga Hinata.

"I do hate that" thought bitterly Hinata. Her whole life those words follow her without mercy. Useless. Weak. Scared.

Well, know what?! FUCK THEM ALL! SORRY FOR BEEN HUMAN!!

She was tired, her chakra was almost nonexistent and her body arched like never before. Those Iwa-ninjas sure give honor to their village name. Hard as rocks. She had to hide NOW. She can't fight but she can't surrender either.  She was in her last wits and that annoying vibrating sound was just making her more annoyed. What the hell was that anyway? Somehow, that sound was annoying and disturbing...but it felt like it was calling her. Demanding her to reach for it.

Well, today she did not care for prudence or shyness. She is tired, hungry, sleep deprave, menstruating, and annoyed. That was a VERY bad combination for a Huuyga. Actually, that was a very dangerous combination for ANY women.

Sending her inner sweet voice straight to hell, she followed that annoying sound.

Why?

She may have many reasons as she may have none of them.

This may be a mistake just like the solution. After a few minutes of search, she found a strange circle of rocks. Huh? She has never seen those before. These rocks were located on top of a hill, tall enough to see all the land surrounding her, and yet have enough trees to keep her hidden from Iwa. If she ignores that sound, then this could be the perfect place to hide.

But again, her eyes keep her chain to her clan. If she was any other person, she personally would give her own eyes to this god-damn ninjas. Maybe this way she can find her so much desired freedom.

This place was truly beautiful, around the hill, purple flowers grow without restraint. They were free, giving the place a more peaceful aura. The perfect place indeed. She kneeled to touch those lovely and curious-looking fowers. They were so funny, looking like taken from a fairytale. Those told by her mother a long time ago, wherefrom a flower a small creature appeared to be your companion, your friend, your guide and, the face of your true soulmate. A soul center. Ah, such fairytales she still remembers, wishing so much she could find her own, to have someone loyal by her side, tide to her by her or his own wish and not by her father's orders. Have evidence that she was worth something to someone out there. That she was loved.

Of course, everything was just a fairy tale. Life was cruel and hard. Everything must be earned, nothing is for free.

Suddenly, she felt a strong grip on her arm, forcing her to turn around and her body slammed hard against one of the rocks. Damn, that hurt like hell. She was truly getting tired of been shoved off and slam against shit.

"So, this is where you were, little princess". said one ninja from Iwagakure. He had red hair, blue eyes, and a nasty scar that runs from his left ear all the way to his right eye. She could tell, a little more and he would have lost his eye. "So much trouble to find you...such a shame, such a beauty had to go to waste. If things were different, I would certainly...enjoyed you a little more." said creepily the man, his smile lewd and his blue eyes shining with raw lust.  

They had fought a fucking Ninja War side by side, and yet these greedy bastards can't get the fucking message of peace. His hand touched her cheek sweetly but his hands were hard, like all ninjas, including hers. That hand personally offended her.

Out of nowhere, a chilling and cold aura appeared, surrounding them, suffocating them. Sending shivers down her spine. This thing, this sensation...was killing intent, demand blood be spilled but not her blood. It sound funny, but it seems this...thing was angry at the man and not her.

Fight. Demand. Survive.

What?

Fight. Demand. Survive.

She doesn´t get it.

Fight. Demand. Survive.

Fight. Demand. Survive.

Fight. Demand. Survive.

FIGHT. DEMAND.SURVIVE.

In a second, her body felt so full of energy and adrenaline, her mind wild as a lion, hungry for freedom, for power, for recognition.

She was Hyuuga Hinata. From the Hyuuga Clan. Daughter from Hyuuga Hikari. Sister of Hyuuga Hanabi, the Hyuuga Heir. Byuakugan Princess. Descendant from Hamura, the Shinigami.

She fought and survive the Fourth Ninja War. She was acknowledged by Uchiha Madara himself (not important he acknowledge more Naruto's impressive usage of Kurama Chakra than her own power, but still counts).

She REFUSES to let a lowly iwa ninja hurt her, touche her. She DEMANDS respect. She WILL FIGHT.

From her hands, the huge amount of purple chakra surfaced, forming lion-shape fist. Her famous gentle step: Twin Lion Fists. She attacked without mercy, she will show no mercy.

So surprised by the killing intent on the air, the man did not stand a chance by the wild chakra Hinata had been knocked down by a simple hit. Once assured the man was unconscious, her body fell to the ground, on her knees. Suddenly, all her adrenaline and energy disappeared...it was as if she just borrowed it and now she had to give it back. Well, at least she was sure this man would not cause trouble for another 48 hours, enough time for her to recover a little enough to tide him up later. She allowed her body to rest in the stone wall, she was truly tired.

Sleep, my moon. I will watch for you.

That voice again. This time it was warm and soft, secured and kind. Well, she was going made by exhaustion. Another thing for her father to have against her. This time, she did as ordered, her stubbornness locked away again. She had more things to worry about. She felt her body relax, her breathing even out slowly and her eyes closing. She could swear she saw another figure coming towards her. Maybe it was her team to rescue her, or the man's team to kidnap her. At this point, she doesn´t care.

So tired, she could swear she felt a warm, soft hand touch her cheek with kindness, like if she was made out of glass.

Sleep my moon, soon we will meet again.  

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[nightofthemeteor]

Falconry/Bonsai

(Also here on AO3)

“Tobirama, can you come help me with something?”

“What?” came the disgruntled answer from down the hall.

Hashirama stuck his head out the door. “I need you to take a picture for my Instagram!”

He could hear his little brother stomping down the hallway, so Hashirama returned to his table and picked up a pair of pruning shears, considering the lighting in the room and the best angle to take a photo. A moment later, Tobirama walked into the room, saw Hashirama, and immediately turned around and walked out.

“Hey! Come back!”

“No way,” said Tobirama, without turning around. “I am not taking a picture of you in your underwear.”

“I’m not in only my underwear!” Hashirama protested. “I’m wearing a shirt!” Granted, it was the shortest shirt he owned, and it did leave a substantial strip of skin bare, but still.

“Can I ask,” Tobirama said witheringly, stopped in the doorway but without turning around, “Why you’re posing for a half-naked picture to put on your gardening blog? Don’t tell me you’re that desperate for exposure.” He was forced to turn around for this last part, because he had to raise his eyebrows at Hashirama to make sure he got the double entendre.

“Very funny, Tobirama. No, it’s not for more followers.” Although that could be a nice side effect, come to think of it. “It’s a…” Hashirama knew there was a word for this, if only he could remember – “Thirst trap!” he announced, proud of himself for getting the terminology right.

Tobirama wrinkled his nose. “Please never say that again, Anija. Do I know the person you’re posting this for?”

“Nah – I just met him yesterday! I ran into him on the subway as I was bringing home this very bonsai.” Hashirama affectionately patted the pot containing his newest leafy charge, a lovely boxwood tree rescued from the back shelves of a garden store on the other side of town. “I’m telling you, Tobirama, this tree is good luck!”

“Are you out of your mind, Anija? You gave your Instagram handle to some random stranger on the subway, and now you’re posting – ” Tobirama made a vague, sort of circular gesture to encompass Hashirama’s general state of undress “ – for him to see? I’m begging you to have just a shred of common sense.”

“No, this guy is fine, I promise! I have excellent judgement about this sort of thing.” Tobirama crossed his arms and gave him a flat look that said, Your judgement is terrible and we both know it. Hashirama sighed. “If you help me, I’ll buy you that expensive, iced coffee you like,” he wheedled.

“Two coffees,” Tobirama snapped. “And when you end up with some creepy stalker, I’m not going to help you.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Hashirama shoved his phone into Tobirama’s hands before he could change his mind and struck a pose next to the boxwood, shears in hand. He’d just finished pruning the tree, in fact – this picture was to show off his handiwork with the bonsai, too. The guy on the subway - Madara, he'd said his name was - had asked about it, after all. “Is the shape of the tree still good from that angle?”

“It’s fine,” Tobirama sighed in exasperation, and then, apparently resigned to his role, added: “Maybe turn it clockwise a little.”

Hashirama complied, spending a few more seconds arranging the miniature branches. “Did you get your exam marks back yet?” he asked, to keep Tobirama occupied while he fussed with the tree.

“Just got my mark for organic chem,” his brother replied, lips pressed together in an angry pout. “One point away from perfect. I swear, that TA was just trying to find some excuse to take marks away; he was a huge asshole to me all semester, just because I pointed out his synthesis problems had more than one correct solution.”

That explained why Tobirama was even grumpier than usual. “Well, you must have done an excellent job, if this TA could only find one point to take away,” Hashirama tried, in an attempt to mollify him; Tobirama’s stony expression remained unchanged. “Plus, the year is over, so you’ll never have to deal with him again!”

That got a grudging half-smile out of Tobirama. “Yeah – at least there’s that. Are you ready, Anija? I want to get this over with.”

---

The picture was…it was…different from the majority of Hashirama’s posts. Madara had been stalking his Instagram for the past half hour – was it really stalking if the guy had given him his handle and invited him to look for updates on the bonsai he’d been carrying? Probably not, right? – Madara had been looking at his Instagram for the past half hour, and it was all innocent pictures of trees, flowers, and houseplants, meticulously cared for and clearly thriving. Occasionally, Hashirama’s smiling face appeared in the background of a photo, or his hand showed up in a close-up to showcase some clippings, but there was nothing like…that. Broad shoulders in a loosely draped shirt; smooth skin over taut muscle at his stomach; sharp hipbones leading down to –

“What are you looking at, Nii-san?”

Madara jumped, fumbled his phone, and dropped it onto his chest. “Izuna! How many times do I have to tell you to knock?”

“Oh, it was porn? Sorry,” said Izuna, sticking his face obnoxiously through the crack between Madara’s bedroom door and the wall.

“It wasn’t porn,” Madara replied reflexively, before realizing that not only was he now going to have to provide an explanation, but he sort of had been looking at porn. Almost. “It’s this guy I met yesterday,” Madara mumbled at his phone. “I'm on his Instagram.”

“You met someone?!” Izuna exclaimed in delight. Madara sighed – there was no keeping his little brother out of his business now. Sure enough, Izuna threw open his door the rest of the way and bounded over to sit next to Madara on the bed. “How did this miracle occur?”

“It was…kind of accidental.” Madara wasn’t exactly the sociable type, and he certainly didn’t strike up conversations with strangers on public transit – in fact, he usually did his best to maintain a menacing aura so that people didn’t talk to him. But yesterday, after staring for probably a solid five minutes at the impressively muscled forearms of the guy standing in front of him, Madara had realized even those muscles might get tired of holding an entire bonsai tree, and he should probably offer the guy his seat. The man had accepted the offer with a very genuine-sounding thanks, and then had proceeded to flash Madara an implausibly sunny grin, gesture to the bonsai in his lap, and say, “Trees-ed to meet you!”. The line was so terrible Madara hadn't been able to let it go without comment, and before he knew what was happening, he’d been talking to the guy for twenty minutes and had acquired his Instagram handle.

“Well, can I see a picture?” Izuna demanded.

Madara winced, rapidly weighed his options, and reluctantly unlocked his phone to show Izuna the picture he’d been looking at. Izuna, shockingly, didn’t comment on the nature of the photo, but squinted down at it and said, “Hm…I think I know that guy.”

“You do?”

“I’m pretty sure I met him on campus one time, when I was waiting for your lab to finish. He was waiting for someone too, so we chatted for a few minutes. Nice guy.”

With sudden, dawning horror, Madara asked, “Was he hitting on you?”

“No, no! Nothing like that. I think he’s just a friendly type of person.”

Well, a man who flirted with anything that moved – or worse, Izuna – would have been a crushing disappointment, but a ‘friendly type of person’ was nearly as bad. Hashirama had given him his Instagram handle and told him to watch for a post with an update on ‘his’ bonsai, and said bonsai update had included a half-naked Hashirama. Madara had nearly dared to interpret that as interest…but if Hashirama was just a ‘friendly type of person,’ Madara could have been reading the cues entirely wrong. Perhaps their conversation yesterday had just been a fun way to pass the time, and the photo was intended for somebody else.

As if reading his mind, Izuna said, “You should ask him out for drinks or something.”

“I followed his Instagram,” Madara announced, “And that is exactly the number of moves I am willing to make. I’m busy, you know – I can’t go chasing all the time like you.” Just one of many excellent reasons to save that picture for his fantasies and never meet the real person ever again.

“You just finished marking all your exams,” Izuna countered. “I know you’re not that busy. Come on, Nii-san, be reasonable: when are you ever going to get another chance like this again?”

“Thanks for that, Izuna,” Madara muttered. Who said he was even interested in dating, anyways? Relationships were messy, confusing, and time-consuming; not at all worth the hassle –

Madara’s phone buzzed. Instagram message from Hashirama: Hey, sorry if this is presumptuous, but do you want to meet up for drinks sometime?

Madara stared at his screen. Then, disbelieving, he held out the phone for Izuna to read. A stunned moment of silence, and then Izuna shrieked, “You have to go!”

Well, maybe this wasn’t quite as complicated as Madara had feared. Izuna was right; he wasn’t that busy. Pursing his lips in concentration, Madara typed out a reply.

---

Tobirama had been completely wrong, as it turned out: Madara was neither a creep nor a stalker. He was a grad student with an acerbic tongue, passionate opinions, and a lovely embarrassed blush. Hashirama had become so absorbed in the conversation he’d completely forgotten to order more drinks, which was seriously unlike him – although, since he’d made up his mind to pay for the date, it was probably for the best.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Madara remarked abruptly, somewhere around hour three or four.

“You mean existentially?”

“Literally here, in a bar, having drinks with you,” Madara clarified. “I mean – my younger brother is convinced I’m incapable of socializing. He was probably planning to set me up with one of his friends from…art school…” He leveled a suspicious glare at Hashirama as he said these last few words. “He didn’t put you up to this, did he? What’s he paying you?”

“It wasn’t your brother,” said Hashirama seriously. “It was the bonsai.”

“The bonsai paid you to take me out for drinks?”

“The bonsai brought us together.” Hashirama raised his glass; Madara followed suit, looking a little bemused but playing along, nonetheless. “To the bonsai!” Hashirama announced. He drained his glass, surreptitiously watched the way Madara’s throat moved as he drank, and thought. Tobirama would definitely judge him for thinking it, but though Hashirama barely knew Madara, he felt an immediate connection to him. He didn’t want to lose this opportunity.

“Madara,” he said. Madara looked at him with his dark, expressive eyes, shadows from his hair falling across his face, and Hashirama bit his lip. Careful, he thought. “I really am glad you’re here, in this bar, having drinks with me.”

Madara flushed again, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red; Hashirama wondered if he could make Madara flush anywhere else. “I’m glad, too,” he said, low and a little shaky, as though he was unused to saying things like that.

Hashirama immediately abandoned his caution of just a moment before and said, “Do you want to get out of here? We can go to my place – my brother won’t be home.”

“Yes,” said Madara. “Yes, definitely.”

---

Hashirama had the bonsai – Madara’s bonsai, the one he’d toasted that evening – set up in pride of place in his bedroom. That should have prompted Madara to suspect Hashirama had planned for this to happen, and make him annoyed at Hashirama’s confidence. He should also have been a lot more panicked when he looked at Hashirama’s face, sleepy and content, with his previously immaculate hair tangled on the pillow, and felt a tug somewhere under his sternum. Instead, he looked at that bonsai on his way out of the room and thought, Thanks.

Hashirama’s apartment wasn’t very large, considering it housed two people, but it was still annoying to search for the bathroom in an unfamiliar place. Madara had been sure Hashirama had told him it was down the hall on the left, but now he was in the entranceway. He was about to retrace his steps and try again when he heard a key jingling in the door.

“Hey, Anija, I just came back for – ” The man in the doorway spotted Madara and froze. Madara, too, had frozen in horror, because even in the dim light he’d immediately recognized Hashirama’s brother.

“You!” yelped Senju Tobirama.

“No,” Madara said, backing up a step. “Absolutely not.”

Tobirama pointed an accusing finger at him. “I was supposed to be done with you!” he hissed. “You took off that one mark on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Oh, because you think all your solutions are perfect, do you?” He’d certainly acted that way all through that torturous organic chemistry class.

“Tobirama?” came Hashirama’s concerned voice from the hallway.

“Tell me you’re not sleeping with my TA, Anija!” Tobirama practically wailed, and suddenly, Madara’s annoyance at the appearance of his least favourite student was replaced with pure schadenfreude.

“I’m afraid he very much is,” he said, before Hashirama could reply. “So you’d better get used to seeing a lot of me.” And to his great satisfaction, he watched Hashirama’s face brighten in delight, and Tobirama’s drop in utter horror.

[raendown]

First entry for @madatobiweek this year! Today’s story is for the prompts magic au and de-aged.

Companion art for this story found here!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 10,519 Rated: T+ Summary: All the magic he could possibly want at his fingertips and yet he can't stop one big brother from meddling. Forced in to revealing both his heart and his deepest secret, in the end Tobirama is happy - and happily plotting revenge.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Small Problems

“What do you mean you don’t know how this happened?”

“I’m not sure how else to say that so you can understand it.” Tobirama was aware of the dryness in his tone, aware that was one thing that never failed to rile this man up, but in a situation like this he simply could not be bothered to modulate himself. 

Not when the brother who should have been two years older than him sat across the room with rounded baby cheeks, chubby little toddler legs, and a face he hadn’t seen since he himself was about five years old. What on earth his brother had been doing to land himself in such a predicament was uncertain but the two remaining adults both understood one thing without having to voice it. 

They needed to right this wrong before Mito returned from visiting the Uzushio Temples or there would be hell to pay. 

“Haven’t you memorized basically every damn book in the entire library here?” Madara demanded. “Take a look around! You could say which ones here have spells in them that could do this!”

“I have read many of them, not all. I would need another hundred years at the very least to merely skim the entire collection.” Not that he hadn’t been giving his best shot at doing so. Almost every spare moment not spent bored in council meetings or crafting charms for gullible tourists to buy was spent with his nose in whatever books he could get his hands on. If not for Hashirama occasionally dragging him out of his study he might not eat some days. 

“Ugh. What even is the use of you?” His companion crossed both arms and turned his head away, dark hair swaying forward until it almost concealed the way his eyes traced back over to watch Hashirama very intently pluck at a loose thread on the cushion underneath him. 

To be fair he did make for an adorable sight. Despite reverting to an age when he had once sported an abominable bowl cut his brown locks remained as long and smooth as ever, long enough to give the effect of a permanent cape draped over tiny shoulders. His fingers were clumsy, tongue sticking out one corner of his mouth in concentration, and the look in his eyes was about as vapidly thoughtless as any seven year old had ever been. Whatever nonsense he’d been fiddling with had well and truly brought him back to childhood. 

“Anija?” Tobirama kept his voice soft since he’d already discovered that speaking sharply led to even easier tears than normal. “You said you can’t remember what you were, ah, playing with. Do you remember anything at all?”

“I remember Tobi! Up! Up!” It was disgustingly hard to resist the cuteness of a tiny Hashirama holding out both arms with a beaming smile. 

Madara stared at him when he inevitably capitulated, snagging the miniaturized man under both arms and hauling him up to rest on one hip. “I never took you for a softy, Senju. You like kids or something?” 

The tone was clearly meant to be a mocking one but the sneering laughter cut off at a calm nod from the one he was trying to poke fun at. Even as a child himself Tobirama had adored taking care of other younglings. Children were uncomplicated, innocent, and they never judged unless they were taught to do so by an adult. None of their endless questions had ill intentions. Sometimes he very seriously considered taking his brother’s frequent suggestions to get out of the house and take up a second job as a teacher of some sort but the thought of not having an out for the times when he just couldn’t concentrate around his latest obsession always brought him back down to reality. 

When Hashirama began to babble he listened at first, hoping his question was actually being answered, but it only took half a sentence for him to recognize the usual nonsense and tune it out. He looked to Madara instead with a contemplative expression. 

“How do you feel about children yourself?” he asked, unsurprised when the man narrowed both eyes suspiciously. 

“Don’t hate ‘em, I guess, why?” 

“If you want me to figure out what part of this mess caused my older brother to become my younger brother then I’ll need some time to dig through it all. Can you watch him? I won’t get anything done if I have to constantly pull balls of paper out of his mouth and drag him away from things that could hurt him in this state.” 

Watching those dark eyes widen and fill with horror was one of the simpler pleasures in life. “Me? Watch tiny kid Hashirama? Have you lost your entire mind!?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be his best friend?” Tobirama snorted. “One would think you knew him well enough to keep him entertained for a day or two. Or is childcare too much of a challenge for one such as yourself?” 

That had exactly the effect he suspected it would. Madara spluttered and grumbled about how he was perfectly capable of watching one child for a few hours, how hard could it be, and other such nonsense. Amusing as that was, Tobirama did his best not to laugh. He truly wouldn’t get anything done with Hashirama underfoot and being obvious about his amusement would only send the very sexy bane of his existence storming away with no offers of help. 

Honestly if the man weren’t so attractive both in mind and body Tobirama would have drowned him in a water sphere years ago. As long as he drew all the moisture out of the room afterwards it would be the perfect murder. No way to trace it back to him. But of course he had never lowered himself to fantasize about shutting that infuriating mouth up before - murderously, amorously, or otherwise. Wanting anything from someone he argued with so frequently would be a futile exercise and Tobirama was nothing if not a practical man. His time was better spent buried in books as he had been for the past two centuries. 

If he learned enough about the world sometimes he wondered if it would make it all feel less lonely. 

“Does he even know who I am?” Madara’s capitulation was as easy as that, although he made a point of not verbally agreeing, which was just like him. It was a good point, though. Tobirama hefted the child on his hip and cleared his throat.

“Anija? Do you remember who this is?” he asked.

“Maddy!” 

“Yes. That’s exactly who this is.” Tobirama’s lips spread in a shameless smile. “Maddy.”

The sounds of spluttering from across the room were music to his ears, doubly so when the teasing hadn’t even really come from him so he couldn’t be blamed for it. Just for that he resolved to be a little less angry when everything was back to how it should be. Only a little though.

“You’re going to go play with Madara for a while, alright? Be good for him. And use your manners.”

“We’re not going to play,” Madara groused. He seemed to regret it immediately when Hashirama began tearing up. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, but the tears had extra impact when spilling out over chubby cheeks, big brown eyes even wider than normal when set in such a tiny face. 

“B-but I wanna!” he cried, chin wobbling dangerously. 

Madara backtracked wildly even as Tobirama stepped across the room to hand over the man-child. “No no! Of course we can play! I have lots of board games at home and a pack of tarot cards you can read and I think I still have some kid-friendly runes in one of the cupboards. Kagami likes to play with those. That’s good, right? Please stop crying.” 

The way he took Hashirama’s small body in both hands like a sack of potatoes spoke to a certain inexperience with kids and yet once Hashirama finally quit producing tears and giggled at his best friend’s high pitched tone Madara looked much more comfortable, enough that when he set Hashirama on one hip the motion was as smooth and thoughtless as any full time parent. It did ridiculous things to Tobirama’s insides. Attractive, intelligent, and apparently decent with children. If it weren’t for the fact that he just couldn’t see it happening he might have been tempted to pursue something that would definitely end up terrifying everyone around them. 

Unfortunately he had many times gotten the impression that Madara did not find displays of intelligence as arousing as he did - usually seemed more annoyed by it than anything else - so the thought was set aside just as it had been every other time it showed up again. While the other two whispered together about how they would fill their time for the rest of the day Tobirama looked around the room and tried to decide where he would start first. He’d initially found his brother buried under the small mountain of scrolls and tomes in the eastern corner of the room but it was all too possible that he’d simply knocked some things over in his struggle to understand this new body. Still, it was the only lead he had and it wasn’t any better or worse than starting somewhere else. 

“Right.” Cracking both wrists in preparation, he turned to lift one eyebrow at the co-conspirators giggling away by the door. “I should get started if we want him back to normal before the next meeting of the Magic High Council.”

“We’ll get out of your way,” Madara took the hint, thankfully. 

“Don’t forget to feed him. No sugar though, he was a demon whenever he ate sugar at that age.” 

“Got it.” 

Hashirama whined but Madara was already turning to leave with a little extra bounce in his step to distract the tiny body on his hip. 

Although he did his best not to be obvious about it Tobirama watched them until the door closed behind his favorite pair of mischief makers. Only after their voices began to fade down the hallway did he turn and cast a weather eye over the messy study. How his brother got anything done in here was beyond him. Every inch of him itched to clean up, mourning briefly that he hadn’t been born with an affinity for air magic. With air he could have simply waved his hand and called the spirits to help him tidy the room without so much as moving from this spot, could have spent his hours in the library calling books to him without getting up, but alas he had been born with a connection to water instead. 

The pile where he started took more than an hour to sift through and at the end he found nothing but the tear stains left by a confused young-again toddler. It probably wouldn’t have taken him half that long just to look at all the book titles and determine whether they were a likely culprit but his instincts demanded that he organize as he went, sorting the books in to categories by subject and gathering the papers that seemed to go together in separate piles as well. Several of the scrolls were unmarked and those he set aside for later. Messing with unknown, possibly magical artefacts was a mistake he’d made several times before. Now was not the time for a repeat. If the rest of the chaos around him yielded nothing he would look in to the unmarked items with due caution and only after advising someone else to come check that he wasn’t dead afterwards. 

From there Tobirama began to move around the perimeter of the room, going through each new spot of chaos with a fine toothed comb, leaving order in his wake when he moved on. It saddened him to know that all this effort would probably be ruined in less than a week after his brother was free in here once more. 

Beneath one pile of debris he discovered a couch and under a different one he found a table. In one pile after several hours of labor he found some books that he had loaned to his sibling and never gotten back, told they were mysteriously lost somewhere. From now on anything he loaned this idiot would be tethered to a tracking rune and carefully monitored; then the first time Hashirama tried to say something was lost he was going to go dig it up out of this trash heap of a room and commit violence with it. 

Maybe he would even let Madara watch. The man did always seem like he could use a good laugh.

Over half the room had been torn apart and rebuilt in to piles of satisfying organization before Tobirama finally unearthed a clue as to what his brother had been messing with. Bundled under a few tomes about interdimensional flora trades he found one that he himself hadn’t read yet, though he remembered mentally noting it for a future subject of interest. Age manipulation was one of the few subsections of time magic he had yet to turn his attention to. His last experiments in those areas had led to tears from several of their neighbors and angered Kawarama so badly his youngest sibling had refused to speak to him for a whole year. Not truly such a large portion of their extended life spans but he’d felt the loss all the same and no matter what others thought he was capable of learning from his mistakes. Even if the mistake he interpreted was not being sneaky enough with his research. 

There were probably at least a dozen other ways that Hashirama might have landed himself in the state that he did but finding materials specifically to do with age regression magic in his possession was fairly damning evidence for that possibility. Just in case, Tobirama took a moment to pause and look around the rest of the room. One corner that he hadn’t yet gotten to was an area he very rarely saw his brother digging in to and had thus left it to be dealt with last. Now he looked a little closer and noticed that several piles of nonsense had all been very carefully arranged to give the appearance of being the same old stacks of garbage while concealing a cleared area in the very center, a suspicious little set up if he’d ever seen one. Tobirama set down the thick Treatise on Age Manipulation: Techniques of the Elemental Nations and padded his way across the carpet on silent feet as though if he made too much noise he might startle away whatever lay in the hidey hole before him. 

As soon as he poked his head around one tall stack of paper he was frowning deeply, more suspicious than ever. In the very center of the mess, hidden from sight at any other angle but the one he was looking from, a small area had been cleared out to set up an obvious workspace. He remembered when they were little and Hashirama had been so fond of building himself little forts or secret hideaways where he could practice with the natural magics in his blood, making games out of pretending to be some Master Enchanter conducting secret experiments. 

Fun as it was to think back to such innocent times from two centuries before, not even the nostalgia of childhood was going to save Hashirama from his wrath if it turned out the idiot had done all this on purpose. With a deep scowl scoring lines in his forehead to match the tattoos on his cheeks, Tobirama slid carefully in to the cleared out space and hunkered down, pulling several open notebooks towards himself to read through his brother’s familiar handwriting. 

His fears were proven disgustingly true in but a few pages. Judging by the typically scatter-brained notes, it seemed that not only was this not an accident but that Hashirama had actively sought out this brand of magic for the specific purpose of regressing himself to a toddler. Why he wanted to be seven years old again was not mentioned in the initial notes and so Tobirama read on with a headache already forming from clenching his jaw too tightly. 

Two more notebooks of terribly organized outlines and vague descriptions of eighteen different experiments granted Tobirama no more clarity on the situation, although he did pick up enough crumbs of information to piece together a decent knowledge of the subject matter. His temper was barely contained by the time he worked his way down to the final notebook. Fascinating as he had always found it comparing the theories of one spell to another, he needed to figure out which one had actually been used that morning in order to properly reverse it. Truly a regrettable restriction. 

Well, regrettable from Hashirama’s point of view, probably. He was the one who would suffer the wrath of an angry water mage until Tobirama had worked out the frustration of this moment. 

The last notebook left unread sat open to a random page that Tobirama smacked his hand down on in a temper. Dragging it towards him across the worksurface made the distinct sound of crumpling paper as he did so. Instantly mired with an instinctual scholar’s guilt, he very carefully lifted the book to peer underneath and assess whatever damage he’d just done. 

A lone sheet of parchment fluttered back in to place where he easily identified it as a letter. The frown that already might as well be permanently etched in to his face deepend at the sight of his own name at the top. Why in the many interdimensional worlds would his brother need to write to him? They lived right next door to each other! Setting the notebooks aside, he used both hands to smooth out the rest of the letter and held the edges down so he could skim the contents. The moment he reached the bottom his eyes snapped back to the top for a more careful read through since clearly he must have hallucinated what he thought he’d just read. 

Nothing changed. Tobirama’s hands were shaking with rage as he read through his brother’s words for a third time like they might somehow change in to something less stupid. 

Dear Tobi

If you’re finding this then my plans are in motion! You will be very proud of me, I’m sure, for how carefully I conducted my experiments and research. Just like you! 

Watching you and Madara dance around each other the way you have been for half a century is starting to get ridiculous. I really hate seeing both of you so lonely but you both refuse to do anything about it so I decided to do that myself. You’ll thank me, I promise! 

The spell I’ll be using will bring my body and mind back to when I was a child - but I guess you’ll already know that when you find this. Don’t worry for me, I still have all my memories. But there is only one way to break the spell and bring me back to normal. All you have to do is say a few simple words. Easy, right? I hope so because the words I chose for my release incantation are words you should have said a long time ago. 

You have to ask Madara on a date! Isn’t that fun? I told you that you would thank me later! You can’t just say any old words, though, you have to say it exactly like this: “Madara, it would make me very happy if you would take me on a date tomorrow.” You deserve to be pampered. He should be the one taking you out and treating you nice!

I can’t wait to see how happy you’ll be when I’m back to normal!

Love, Hashirama (the best big brother in the world)

The sound of crumpling parchment filled the air around him, fingers clenching in to the letter with white-knuckled rage. Happy was not even close to any of the feelings chasing red hot through his blood. After he managed to get this idiot back to his usual height Tobirma was going to punch the man right back down to the ground. Stagnant thought it may be, his love life was his own damn business.

His first instinct, of course, was to tear his way through the final notebook in search of which exact spell his brother had ended up using. Almost every curse and rune and incantation that had ever been crafted could be broken or cancelled out by something if a man was desperate enough to do something stupid - and Tobirama was fairly desperate not to get backed in to such a ridiculous corner. Of all the hills he’d been prepared to die on over the years this probably ranked among the pettiest and yet that knowledge did nothing to stop him from slapping the notebook back down in a rush of fury when he discovered what he had most feared. 

For a very stupid man Hashirama did have his moments of evil genius. All the notes appeared to be there just as they had been for the rest but here the letters were blurred with some sort of privacy seal, visible only to Hashirama’s eyes. The only thing keeping Tobirama from whipping the entire thing across the room was knowing he would feel compelled to go clean up whatever mess his little hissy fit might cause. 

Dragging both hands down his face, he leaned back in what small space was available and tilted his head back to look up blankly at the ceiling, wracking his brain for a way to get around this. He knew dozens of counter-enchantments that could be attuned to different spells but of course Hashirama had known those would be his answer. Without knowing how to attune them he could end up hurting the idiot before he had a chance to murder him properly and that was far from what he wanted. Revenge would be sweet - but deliberate. 

It couldn’t hurt anything to go home and do a little research of his own to see if there was some solution that might not be occurring to him in the panic. He had salvaged dozens of seemingly hopeless experiments over the years long after something appeared to be impossible, he wouldn’t know until he tried. With any luck he might stumble upon some hidden nugget of information to save the day and prevent him from making such an utter fool of himself in front of Madara by asking questions he was fairly sure he already knew the answer to. No need to expose himself like that. He’d been lucky in his experiments before, there was no reason to think he might not be lucky again.

Except for perhaps the fact that fate was often a bitch like that, abandoning him when he needed her most. 

There was nothing really to pack up since none of the materials around him would be very useful so it only took a moment to squeeze his way back out of the little fort before he could head for the exit. Concentrated as he had been on the task of figuring out what the fuck was going on, his brain had rather easily filtered out the muted sounds drifting over from the other end of Hashirama’s ridiculously oversized home. Thanks to some rather clever seal work designed by Mito the inside of the house was nearly three times as large as the outside, new rooms and wings added on whenever Hashirama took a fancy to some new hobby or another. Until he was intercepted halfway to the front door Tobirama hadn’t realized one of the newest additions was a nursery. 

“Play!” Hashirama’s tiny voice demanded with childish imperialism. “Tobi play!” 

“Get back here you miniaturized tree! How the hell do you move so fast- oh.” Madara froze in the doorway, arms outstretched where he had clearly been attempting to capture his runaway charge. 

“Having fun, are we?” Tobirama murmured. He tilted his head down to see two wide brow eyes staring back at him as though he’d hung the very stars in the sky. It’d been years since any of his brothers looked at him like that. Some small corner of his heart melted instantly, fingers twitching with the need to pull this tiny figure up on to his hip for a good cuddle. 

Madara straightened up and cleared his throat. “You don’t need to check up on us, you know.”

“Up!” 

“Not now, Anija.” Absently patting the man-child’s hair, Tobirama lifted one eyebrow. “I was on my way to look a bit deeper in to our options for this rather unorthodox situation. My own laboratory is much better equipped for such research so if the two of you would excuse me. Anija, please let go now.” 

Hashirama’s bottom lip wobbled dangerously. “No. Tobi has to play!” 

Difficult to tell at the best of times, it was even harder to figure out if his emotions were real or put upon with such an earnest and tiny face. He hadn’t lost his memories, after all, only his emotional and mental maturity. Which wasn’t all that great to begin with but Tobirama had been given enough lectures on the subject not to mention that anymore - at least not where sensitive ears might carry his words to a vengeful Mito. 

“I can’t stay and play, Anija, I need to work on getting you back to normal.” And planning his revenge, of course, though he refused to give any hints of that. Surprises were supposed to be fun, or so he’d been told. 

“But Toooobiiiiii!” Hashirama’s pudgy fingers curled around his leg in a stubborn embrace. “I already said how! I wroted you a letter! Play!” 

“The correct word is ‘wrote’,” Tobirama corrected him out of sheer habit. He may not have accepted any of the teaching positions offered to him over the years but there would always be an educator buried somewhere in his heart. 

Nodding furiously, the limpet clinging to him faithfully repeated his correction. “Wrote! Now come give me piggyback rides? Madara’s really good at them but his hair is all slippy and I keep sliding off!” 

Listening to the strange mesh of adult language and the childish need to bastardize grammar was bound to give him a headache in less than five minutes. Hashirama’s pronunciation was perfect, it was clear he was aware of every mistake in his sentences, so Tobirama was left to conclude that it was all very deliberate. The undersized nuisance was acting as childish as he could to play it up. He had to be. Nothing else could explain how he remembered writing that letter but ‘didn’t remember’ how to properly communicate as such. 

Even worse, it was working. Tobirama could feel his resolve weakening with every tug as Hashirama pulled insistently at his fingers. In his current state he had next to no strength and barely a fraction of his usual body weight, there was really no reason he should be able to pull a fully grown man around, and yet Tobirama found himself shuffling forward in half steps anyway. As an instinctual defense against his own stupidly soft heart he made sure to roll his eyes heavenward in an expression of great suffering. From the quiet snort that Madara let out he could guess that his efforts were wasted. So much for all-consuming rage.

As he allowed himself to get pulled in to what looked like the aftermath of a tornado Tobirama quickly revised his plans. He would allow himself to be distracted for ten minutes or so, just enough time to appease Hashirama, then he would head home as planned and see if there was anything helpful to be gleaned from his personal library. 

“Maddy helpeded me build a tower!” Hashirama scurried over to show him the wobbly structure made out of wooden rune blocks, imitations of the stones and charms Tobirama himself often peddled for money. Not exactly work to be proud of but it was fairly easy income and quick fingers meant he could produce them fast enough to give himself lots of time for the research he was truly interested in. Pride was all well and good until it got in the way of his experiments. 

“It’s a very...tower.” Try as he might Tobirama couldn’t bring himself to compliment that architectural monstrosity. 

“He worked very hard on that,” Madara pointed out.

Tobirama turned to level him with a flat stare. “I have my own hard work to be doing right now.”

“Awww but you haven’t even given me a piggyback ride yet!” Abandoning his tower, Hashirama toddled over to strike an admittedly very cute pose. “Stop trying to run away, little brother!”

“Which one of us is little right now?” he snapped back. 

Madara didn’t even bother to stifle the bark of laughter that jerked his entire frame, although he did turn his face away to let out a long bout of snickering. Being mocked by him was nothing new, that was pretty much the basis for most of their interactions, but it still wasn’t pleasant to realize he was acting so childishly in front of the man he had such unfortunate feelings for. Tobirama just barely stopped himself from crossing his arms; that would have really driven the nails down in his coffin. 

Instead he appeased himself with a pointed glare down at the little body dancing from side to side near his feet. He’d sort of forgotten just how fidgety his brother had been at this age. Of course, the years hadn’t really dulled the habit all that much, just enough that he was able to pass for a semi-respectable adult for short spurts at a time. 

“One ride,” Tobirama offered stiffly. “I will take you once around the room and then you will let me leave. Do we have a deal?”

“No! You have to play with both of us!” 

“What on earth led you to believe you have any sort of bargaining power here?” 

Daring to produce a sunny smile, Hashirama giggled in his face, clearly unaware of the massive hole he was digging for himself by the minute. Vengeance would be sweet once he was returned to a mental state that would understand the sort of tortures Tobirama had in mind. 

“If you don’t play with me I’ll tell Maddy what I wrote in the letter!”

Tobirama had never snatched a child off the ground so fast in all his life. Doing his best to ignore the curious and increasingly irritated questions from Madara, he settled his brother across both shoulders and began trotting about the room. When Hashirama demanded it he even gave a very flat neigh. If they had been alone, if this were any other child on his back, he would have had so much more enthusiasm for play. Normally he loved kids. With Madara doubled over in the corner and both hands wrapped around his stomach to contain the mirth it was a little harder than usual to lose himself in the joy of youthful innocence. 

Once around the room was deemed far from enough when he tried to stop. All it took was one glance over at Madara for him to set off again with barely a grumble. Mortifying as this was, making the other man laugh was preferable to letting him catch his breath enough for curiosity to set in again. He must have heard something about the letter. Or maybe he hadn’t and the spirits had for once decided to have mercy and allow Tobirama to escape this room without embarrassing himself with the one thing he would never recover from - his feelings. 

For perhaps a whole five minutes he was allowed to have hope. Hashirama directed him like a little general on several laps around the nursery before dragging him over to the blocks and demanding he help make an ‘even betterer’ tower. With his guidance the results were at least structurally sound, if not entirely practical. He wasn’t so sure how necessary it was to have so many rooftops. After playing with the rune blocks Hashirama cheerfully announced that he wanted to play dress up and that, unsurprisingly, was where Tobirama drew the line. There were many things he would do to save himself from the fate his brother had chosen to be his doom but putting on a fashion show for a toddler and a man with the power to burn memories in to his own mind was not one of those things. Just the thought of whatever monstrosities might be hiding in this home, waiting for his tortured form to be stuffed in to them, was enough to turn his stomach. His brother was not known for any sort of fashion sense. 

“Alright, that is enough,” he declared, standing up to brush imaginary lint from his pants. “You asked that I play with you and I have. Now I will be going-”

“But you didn’t play with Maddy at all!” Hashirama’s tiny legs fluttered him across the room to hang off his best friend’s sleeve.

“I don’t think he’s all that heart broken about it,” Tobirama pointed out flatly. 

To his horror, Madara chose that moment to feel a little mischievous. “How would you know? Maybe I’m just torn apart inside with despair that you could possibly think to leave me out of the fun. Come now, Senju, stay and play with me too!”

“Oh! We could have a sleepover!” Clapping both hands to either side of his face, Hashirama’s eyes practically glittered at the very thought.

He wilted sadly when Tobirama shot him down with a short, “No.”

“Whyyyyy!?”

“Because I have work to do.”

“No you don’t!” Hashirama stuck his tongue out. “You just want to go and read a bunch of books a-’cause you’re trying not to ask Maddy-”

“FINE!”

Both of them stared at him with wide eyes for such an unexpected outburst. Madara’s eyes quickly narrowed again in thought, a dangerous expression. The man may have been famous for his manipulation of fire magics but only because there were so few people who had witnessed just what those dangerous eyes could do and lived to tell the tale. And as much as Tobirama knew that should have sobered him with fear he could only mentally sigh at the warm burst of intrigue that bloomed in his chest. 

Clearing his throat, he did his best to smooth away the panic from his expression and coached his voice to more normal, less panicked tones.

“If you absolutely must then you may have your...sleepover.” The word came out through gritted teeth.

“Why do I keep picking up hints that there’s something you don’t want me to know?” Madara asked.

“Because there is something I don’t want you to know.”

The offended squawk was amusing, at least. Madara always had this way of bristling like an angry hedgehog whenever they traded their usual insults and that, Tobirama realized now, was probably the origin of his downfall. He couldn’t help it if his poor taste thought it was cute to see an already wild man made even wilder as his hair spiked up and his cheeks puffed out with indignation. 

Before his thoughts could run too far away and bring any sort of damning color to his face Tobirama followed tiredly along with his little-older brother’s instructions to set up the room for a good old camp out. In a magically expanded mansion like this one there were a dozen or so futons to choose from. Hashirama picked out the ones he declared the cushiest and conducted his two temporary slaves to drag them through the halls, hemming and hawing with all his seven-year old eye for decorating, demanding they rearrange things four times before it was perfect. If he were honest it looked completely the same to Tobirama in each iteration but he knew better than to say so. He wasn’t looking for a three hour lecture on home decor from someone whose voice had reversed to prepubescence. 

When all was about as perfect as he wanted it to be Hashirama threw his tiny body in to the very middle of the mess and began squirming around with all four limbs flailing. Irritating as the situation might be, that was still an adorable sight that forced Tobirama to hide a smile. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to wait at least until the little idiot fell asleep before he slipped away to hit the books. He just hoped that whatever spell had shrunk his brother would not have any adverse effects with lengthy exposure; it would be just his luck to finally have everyone back to their correct age only to discover that he had accidentally saddled himself with a man forever stuck in the mind of a child. 

Not to mention that Mito would have his head for that. 

He wasn’t the only one who seemed suspiciously okay with the proceedings. As unselfconsciously as though he were entirely alone, Madara straightened to pull off his outer robes and reached back to sweep the great mass of his long hair behind him. While he listened to Hashirama chatter excitedly about the bedtime stories they should tell he separated his hair in to three sections and began to braid the lot of it in to a thick rope. It was entirely unfair how much more approachable he looked without all that snarled black wire bristling around his head. 

Tobirama looked away before anyone could catch him staring. He occupied himself instead with fussing at some of the blankets, turning the edges down and pulling them in to place a little better. Presumably Hashirama would be sleeping in the center and even at his full size he somehow managed not to hold on to any body heat during the night. All the blankets around them might feel excessive but they were probably necessary.

In an effort to relax himself he allowed his body to flop down over the mess of bedding, grateful when his head landed at least somewhat over a pillow. There would be no escape until little eyes had fallen asleep so he might as well get comfortable for now and since he had no long hair to braid or extraneous outer layers to remove there was nothing to do but consciously loosen the muscles in his body until he felt himself all but melting down in to the futon. Someday when this nursery was occupied by actual children he was pleased to note that they would undoubtedly be quite comfortable with soft beds, tasteful decor carefully chosen for a soothing atmosphere, and so many spells layered together for climate control he didn’t think it was even possible for one to grow cold in this room - unless you were Hashirama. A good place to raise children. 

Crude as it was, his plan of waiting until Hashirama fell asleep to make his escape sounded perfectly fine right up until the tiny traitor passed out sprawled over his lap in the middle of a story he used to recite for their younger brothers. As soon as Tobirama realized what had happened he fell silent with a baleful glare.

“What’s he done now?” Madara asked with a snicker. “I thought the whole point of telling him stories was to make him fall asleep so what’s with that look?”

“I didn’t mean for him to do so on top of me.” 

“Guess you’re trapped here with us, then.” Strangely enough, he didn’t look all that upset about it for a man who’d never seemed particularly enamoured with his best friend’s little brother.

Heaving a deep sigh of resignation, Tobirama closed his eyes and prayed to the spirits of water for patience. This was exactly the sort of situation he did not want to be in. He’d been stupid enough to admit that he was keeping something from Madara specifically and now here he was trapped in place at the other’s mercy. If he wanted to move he would risk waking Hashirama who was even more likely to simply blurt out his secrets than he was to reveal them on purpose. With despair he noted that it seemed Hashirama’s plan would be coming to fruition after all, the bastard. There didn’t seem like a way out of this now. If he woke Hashirama and left his Anija would simply tattle on him but if he stayed here Madara’s relentless personality would not stop until he had the answers he knew were being kept from him. 

Staring back at the expectant grin watching him like a hawk, Tobirama could already taste defeat heavy on his tongue. He wasn’t going to get out of this without making a fool of himself. At least, he consoled himself, it wouldn’t be all that hard to avoid the man for a decade or so and by then either his feelings would hopefully have faded or Madara’s memories would have.

“Anything you want to fess up to while we’re stuck together?” 

“You,” Tobirama snarled, “are not stuck anywhere. He’s not even a little on top of you.”

“I forgot how cute he used to be - in a dorky sort of way. The lack of bowl cut is a definite improvement.” Already sitting with his legs crossed, Madara folded himself a little tighter so he could lean down and inspect the small sleeping face between them. 

Tobirama did his best not to track the movements of that thick braid or think about how much he wanted to unravel it loop by loop with his own fingers. It took a sizable chunk of self control but he managed to meet the other’s gaze once Madara finally sat upright again. “After a prank like this one I am tempted to recreate the bowl cut while he sleeps. He deserves to be laughed out of town.”

“Oh come on, he’s just trying to get you to open your mouth as far as I can tell. So why don’t you just make your confessions and then everything will be fine, ne?”

“Go to hell.”

“Been there, done that, won the throne.”

“Ugh.”

Even that was enough to spawn some very interesting pictures in his mind, images of this man in dark robes lounging on the throne of hell, which made Tobirama glad that he had more self control than most. Otherwise having his brother spread across his lap would have suddenly become twice as awkward. 

“Go on then, putting us both out of our miseries now would save a lot of time and badgering,” Madara said. 

“And yet I still find myself reluctant to say anything,” Tobirama shot back. 

“It must be extra embarrassing then; I’ve got to know!”

With a scowl he turned his head away and declared, “No, you don’t.”

“The more you protest the more curious I become,” Madara laughed. The truth of the statement brought one of Tobirama’s hands up to drag tiredly down his face. 

“Right. I should have expected that. Would the reason why we’re in this situation satisfy you? That sounds like a decent compromise to me - and brother is always whining at the two of us to compromise more.” It wasn’t as though they didn’t get along at all but they were both possessed of cantankerous personalities that led to bickering more often than not. Hashirama hated it but Tobirama was often grateful for the way his feature naturally affected a scowl, neatly hiding the fact that he actually enjoyed their verbal spars. 

“Sounds entertaining, at least!” 

“Hmph.” 

Entertaining the other was the last thing he was after, no matter how deviously attractive Madara looked when he was bent over with laughter at someone making a fool of themselves. Right now his biggest concern was mitigating the damage. With that in mind he shored up what little courage he had left the matter and cleared his throat.

“In a stroke of brilliance that I was unaware he possessed - and will happily beat out of him later - Anija located a spell that requires an incantation to break. He chose a certain phrase that he would like me to say, something he has made the decision on my behalf that desperately needs to be said out loud no matter my personal feelings on the matter.” Tobirama took a deep breath in an effort not to get himself riled up. “In short, I am under duress to make confessions I would rather not. Does that satisfy you?” 

“Not in the slightest,” Madara declared with a grin. 

“You cannot be serious!”

His companion fell back in to the bedding with a bark of laughter. “If anything I’m even more curious. So he won’t turn back in to an adult unless you say whatever he set as the decantation?” 

“Mn.”

“Would just be easier to get it over with, wouldn't it?”

“Not really.” Tobirama studied a spot on the wall without actually seeing it. “One doesn’t just say things like this without expecting the consequences to be remembered. You do, after all, have quite the long memory when it comes to mocking others. Not so much when it comes to important dates.”

“I forgot his birthday one time! One time!” 

For a moment he breathed a subtle sigh of relief. Madara seemed content to be distracted by going off on a rant about how it should be completely forgivable that in several hundred years he had only missed one of Hashirama’s birthdays, too deep in his studies to see the way time marched on around him. It was a state that Tobirama could more than sympathize with, although that did nothing to stop him from throwing it in the man’s face whenever he needed a good distraction. 

To his poor luck, however, today his foolproof distraction failed him at last. Madara’s rant ended after only a handful of minutes when he snapped his jaw shut with a suddenness that clacked his teeth together. A curl of his top lip slowly blossomed in to something downright evil looking. 

“Something you don’t want to say to me but Hashirama thinks that you should.” He cackled softly under his breath. “Oh this promises to be so embarrassing. Perfect! I have to know!” 

“No, you don’t,” Tobirama said again.

“I really, really do.” 

A growl slipped out between his teeth as he gnashed them together. “What would it take to convince you to just drop it?” 

“More than you could ever afford,” Madara answered promptly. 

“Would begging help?” Tobirama’s voice carried a note of mounting desperation. 

Yet still Madara shook his head, expression filled with malicious delight. His toes were practically wriggling with it. If it weren’t for the visual comparison spread across his own lap Tobirama might have been tempted to call the man a child for looking so pleased over something so cruel. 

Why, in the name of all things holy, did he find that so attractive? Clearly there was something wrong with him. 

“I’m afraid you just talked yourself in to a corner by piquing my interest even more. Which means that you have two options.” Madara held up his fingers in a V shape. “One, you tell me whatever this gift wrapped blackmail is yourself. Two, I wake Hashirama up and we hear it from his mouth instead.”

Tobirama stared at him with his heart sinking in his chest because the man was right. He had only two options and of those two he knew which one would feel worse. Saying the words himself was going to end in pain - for more than just himself if his plans for revenge had anything to say about it - but cowering in the corner like a shy child ashamed of his own feelings while someone else exposed his vulnerabilities? Just the thought of standing back and letting that happen made him shudder. It took several tries drawing breath deep in to his lungs but eventually he was able to force his chin up, shoulders square. He held Madara’s gaze for all of three second before his eyes skittered away of their own accord to stare at the wall instead. 

“Madara,” he breathed, “it would make me very happy if you would take me on a date tomorrow.”

“W-what?”

“AH!” The booming baritone of Hashirama’s voice was startling after an afternoon of listening to his seven year old squeaking, almost more of a distraction than the way his body returned abruptly to its usual size with a rending crack that echoed off the walls. When he sat up he did so with the clumsy movement of a new faun learning its own legs. “Did I fall asleep? How did the story end? Why does my voi- oh! Oh brother! You must have asked him! I’m so proud of you, I can’t wait to hear how your first date goes!”

Shoving his giant lump of a brother off, Tobirama ignored the indignant whine as he surged upwards to his feet and stormed towards the door. “Don’t hold your breath. The answer is no.” 

“You said no!?” Hashirama exclaimed, turning to his best friend who sat very still with a poleaxed expression. 

“I didn’t say anything…”

“He never said anything, Tobi. How do you know what his answer is if you don’t let him speak?”

“Easy.” When he paused at the door to look over one shoulder he could meet neither of their eyes. “There was never a chance he would say yes.”

Without waiting to hear a response from either of them he turned back to the door and left, down the hall and through the many twisting corridors of his brother’s stupidly large home. Drafting seals in his mind to cancel out the magic expanding the inside of Hashirama’s house was so much easier to think about than the fact that he would probably have to avoid Madara for the next couple of decades. The man did have a long memory. There was really no guarantee he would ever forget but hopefully the shine of mocking Tobirama for his feelings would have faded away by the time he allowed them to talk again. 

His nose wrinkled against the cold when he finally managed to find his way outside to the cobblestone streets of the capital city. Council meetings; he’d forgotten that all three of them sat together on the Magic High Council. That would make it infinitely harder for him to avoid conversing with either of those morons but he was sure he could find a way. Maybe he could design a rune that would remove his voice for a while.

No, that would make it difficult to sell his wares when he needed money. Not to mention that many of the spells he spent his time researching required incantations. He would have to think of something else. 

It wasn’t exactly a long journey to his own modest home next door, although with his head lost in the swirl of dark thoughts it felt like it took forever to get there. Stepping in to the ring of fae-fire light illuminating his front step brought with it the familiar shiver of wards scanning him for ill intent and he was glad to have his attention pulled back to reality. Thinking about Madara wouldn’t do him any good. It never had before. Tomorrow he could lock himself away with several notebooks and brainstorm some underhanded method or another to minimize the contact between them until he could meet the other man’s eyes again but for now the best thing would be to just get some sleep. 

The house was dark and Tobirama didn’t bother to turn on any lights, familiar enough with his own layout not to need them. Living by himself as he had for so long meant that he really felt no desire to expand the inside as his brother had. What need did he have of more space? He already had more rooms than he knew what to do with, filling most of them with books and the results of failed experiments, so the thought of adding more felt ridiculous.

Even without light enough to see it Tobirama could feel the comfort of his living room the moment he stepped inside. Well worn carpet buoyed his steps on his way to collapse down over the threadbare couch. Not many things in his house had been replaced in the past couple of centuries. Impressing the rare guests who entered was far less important to him than the precious memories attached to every item here that had been with him through discoveries, achievements, and heartbreaks. He gave the cushions underneath him a chance now to help him through one more of the latter as he stretched out on his back to stare up at the shadows on the ceiling. Would that he could turn his mind off. To not think any thoughts for several hours would be a wonderful boon at the moment but sleep felt as far away as the ocean.

A good thing, as it turned out. The spirits of water only knew what sort of reaction he might have had to being awakened by the sound of booted feet storming in to the room and a violent hand smacking the light switch without looking. Despite knowing exactly who had invaded his home - he knew those footsteps, would always know the pattern of that confident stride - Tobirama pulled himself in to a sitting position where he could glare down his unwanted guest. 

“I have never understood,” he growled, “how you always bypass my wards.”

“Don’t need to. They let me in just fine.” 

“They shouldn’t!”

“Why the hell not?”

Shifting forward to the edge of his seat, Tobirama pointed back down the hall. “Get out. I have better things to spend my night doing than being mocked by you - like figuring out what loophole you’ve found that keeps letting you in here.”

“They’re intent based, aren’t they? I get in because I have no intent to harm you in any way.” In deliberate ignorance of being asked to leave Madara stepped further in to the room. Somehow he managed to look both his usual confident self and oddly hesitant, arms folded closely to his chest.

“Like hell you don’t. It’s not just physical harm they’re supposed to guard me against. Just leave. I don’t want to listen to whatever-”

“Just let me talk!” 

Sitting down while the other hovered menacingly over him felt like weakness, like offering himself as bait, so Tobirama stood to fold his own arms with a frown. “I’m sure I don’t want to hear whatever it is you came here to say.”

Whether that be mockery or some kind of apology for not returning his feelings he really didn’t want to listen. Both options would hurt equally as bad. It was something he had observed long before falling prey to the same thing himself; beings like themselves with lives extended by the magic in their veins tended to harbor their pains much deeper and much longer than the humans with more natural lifespans. He’d been in love with Madara for so long it was hard to remember when he first decided to push it all down and simply forge ahead. Learning to let these feelings go was going to be even harder than learning to ignore them had been. 

“I think you do. But first I need to know; did he make you ask me that because…”

“Don’t make me say it,” Tobirama said quietly, looking away. 

“So you do... Then you meant what you said to Hashirama? You really think there’s no chance at all that I could ever say yes to you?” Madara took another step forward only to pause when Tobirama took a step back in answer. 

A glare probably wasn’t enough answer so he forced himself to say, “Obviously.” 

“W-What do you mean ‘obviously’? That’s not- Like hell!”

“Either make sense or leave. Actually, just leave. Now.” Tobirama took a step back with the intention of turning and walking away. His bedroom was much more heavily warded than the rest of the house, he would be safe in there from whatever the hell was going on.

He froze when Madara blurted out, “I would have said yes!” 

“I...beg your pardon?”

The particular shade of red currently spreading across Madara’s face was one Tobirama had long ago learned to associate with an impending explosion, generally one of words and almost always directed at himself. Some part of him braced for impact out of sheer habit even as the rest of his body hung loose with shock and his thoughts ground to a stuttering halt. He watched Madara fidget and held his breath.

“What? Don’t look at me like that. You like me, I’m allowed to like you back!”

“Since when!?” Tobirama demanded. Then, because that didn’t feel like enough, he also spluttered his way through, “How? What? Me?”

“Of course you! It’s always been you! You’re the only one who knows how to properly yell back at me, you’re so smart already and you still spend every day lost in your studies, you’re more attractive than I know what to do with; who the hell wouldn’t say yes to all that?” With a toss of his head Madara scoffed and tried to stand casually as though he weren’t blushing redder than his own family crest.

Tobirama could only stare. “I don’t...what?”

By the determined expression on the other’s face Tobirama figured he should probably turn tail and run when Madara began marching across the room towards him. As luck had it, he was still too deep in shock to do anything but stand there like an idiot until his collar was bunched up in a pair of fists. 

“Fuck it,” Madara snarled. “Neither of us was ever any good at words anyway.”

Despite all the clues laid out so neatly in a row for him Tobirama’s first thought when he was yanked forward was that he was about to be headbutted, a ridiculously mundane attack considering how much magical power they both wielded. Nothing could have possibly surprised him more than Madara’s lips crushing against his own in a kiss that began as brutally as their clashes ever had only to soften, taking and taking and then suddenly asking, exploring, reaching out with a question he could finally understand. It took several heartbeats for him to respond through the shock but when he did-

Oh, when he did. Centuries of yearning coalesced inside him and faded away to dust as he slid his fingers in to midnight hair and tilted his head for a better angle, a deeper kiss. Madara sighed in to the affection like he too had been waiting much too long for this moment. The feeling of that strong body pressed against his own was like finding the other half of himself and finally finally coming back together again. Tobirama held tight and prayed that none of this would disappear when he woke the next morning. 

“Was that clear enough?” Madara asked him in breathless words, quiet as though he didn’t want to disturb the moment. 

“I will have a lot of questions,” Tobirama warned him. “Later. Just- again.” He was grateful that his incoherency made sense to the other, pulled in for another kiss that felt like learning how to breathe for the first time. 

They could have made their way to the bedroom, to the couch he was still right next to, up against the wall or anywhere really. It was late and the day had been filled with more emotions than either of them were accustomed to dealing with in such a short time span. Still they remained where they were. Even when the kisses began to fade and the desperation in their movements settled in to the confounding knowledge that this was truly happening they stood where they were, wound together with their eyes closed and their cheeks pressed against each other in silence. Tobirama breathed in the scent of smoke and ash, closed his eyes, and smiled. 

Maybe he wouldn’t kill his brother after all. It was possible - unlikely as it sounded - that Hashirama had been right in the end. And as much as Tobirama protested the methods used to force his words in to the light he was self-aware enough to know that he would never have said them otherwise, too wrapped up in his own interpretations to see the truth. 

Another deep breath and Tobirama admitted to himself that he should probably thank his brother. Without interference he might have never had the opportunity to feel the beat of Madara’s heart against his own, the way their chests pressed together with every synchronized breath in. His eyes cracked open but it was only to crinkle at the edges with a smirk as evil as he had ever been accused of being. Thanking Hashirama could come after the revenge he was equally owed. A few smiles, a day or two of playing nice, and he was sure he could weasel out of the man which spell he had used to reverse his age. Tobirama was patient. Locking his brother in that limited body for a week or so would be so much sweeter after Mito came home and he could leave the idiot to her lack of mercy. Only after apologies had been given on bended knee would he relent. 

“You’re thinking something evil,” Madara’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Your fingers always twitch when you do.”

“Sorry-”

“I like it. You’ve always been a mean son of a bitch and that’s part of what I like about you. Share whatever evil thoughts you have in your head?”

Tobirama bit his lower lip to keep himself from laughing, curling tighter around the body in his arms as he whispered, “Stay.”

“Always,” Madara whispered back. “I always meant to stay.”

It seemed like it should be impossible to have everything he wanted handed to him as easily as that but Tobirama was hardly going to question it. He questioned enough in his research. All thoughts of giving thanks or revenge could wait until after he’d spent at least a few good hours memorizing the way it felt to finally hold this man in his arms. 

Pressing their lips together again was more of a rush than any magical discovery had ever given him, dusting his cheeks with a pleasant warmth, and Tobirama decided that he was happy to stand here for the rest of time if it meant he never had to do anything but trade gentle kisses just like this. It felt like the events of tonight had gone by so fast he wasn’t entirely sure how any of this had happened but that was alright.

“Always. I like the sound of that.”

[jhaernyl]

So my ninja taxes are predicated on a handful of concepts, one of which is a big straying away from canon bc I cannot rationalize why Konoha works the way it was if we don't change Hashirama and Madara's motivation for founding the village.

If they really had started their village So That Children Would Not Have To Fight And Die then there is no fucking way that Konoha would have ended up the way it did, not even from the beginning. 

Children would not have been allowed in the field, full stop.

My reasoning, instead, went that Hashirama and Madara looked at how hard life was for their older relatives, the ones that got injured too much to fight again but didn't die, the ones that went blind or deaf and had to be cared about from the rest of the Clan and possibly thought themselves a burden on the other members of their nomadic society, respected "Elders" who weren't necessarily old but who couldn't fight anymore and who dealt with a slew of PTSD complications that might have barred them from even interacting with children and teaching them, further making them feel inadequate or who possibly left the Clan to go into civilian careers where they could settle down in one place, get more or less regular medical care as needed and thus sort of 'left' the Clan behind.

(As a side rant I would like to add that the reason why Madara and Hashirama wouldn't focus on the 'children shouldn't be soldiers' is because that while child soldiers definitely do happen in the real world, in the contest of the Naruto framework it didn't make sense for the time Madara and Hashirama were in to send children as young as the manga told us they were to fight against full-grown adults the way the manga depicted them doing.

I can buy the occasional genius being put into battle way too young (cough Tobirama cough) as long as it came with other factions being anything in the range from impressed-but-somewhat-disapproving to downright appalled at the age the kid was thrown into the field but not it being a systematic thing, because the infant mortality rate would be too high and unsustainable so I think it would make more sense, especially given their ages when they meet, if Madara and Hashirama older brothers died rather than their younger ones.

Hashirama and Madara are supposed to be SEVEN YEARS OLD when they meet and yet somehow both of them are the eldest of their siblings, with Tobirama being the second eldest to Hashirama and Izuna being somewhere around Tobirama's age supposedly, and both have already lost three younger brothers to battle against the opposite faction? Huh huh, sure Kishi, whatever you tell yourself to feel edgy.

No, it makes more sense to me that they were middle children who both became Heir because their older siblings either died or were crippled too bad to continue fighting and that was followed by frustration/rage/depression/sense of being rejected / feeling of uselessness in relation to their war-like Clan whose tradition and Leader Are In The Field kind of leadership demanded an able-bodied shinobi to lead them and that shaped them and informed their ideas for and dreams of an ideal village where that wouldn't be the case and where their younger feelings shouldn't have to feel that was going to be the end they were going to one day meet unless they died in battle.)

So Hashirama and Madara looked at that and they went "That's not what I want for my brother/cousins/uncles/aunts/relatives / etc." and so their dream was to create a place where a shinobi would be supported (the way many self-made shinobi at the time weren't, unless they joined the Clan and, as said above, even joining a Clan didn't necessarily protect them in the long run, depending on their specific situation) beyond his or her or their utility in the field, where they wouldn't have to leave the Clan and their support network to settle somewhere safer, (Tobirama, in the background: where their health and minds could be looked after so that they would not snap and go insane and have to be mercy killed.)

Which allows for the focus of the village to be on a very Japanese-appropriate taking care of your Elders who have already contributed to your society and can still have more to contribute in the way of teaching young ones without having to die in the battlefield or feel themselves become 'burdens' (which they aren't but they might still feel like) and reducing the weight of care on the families by having a support system to person and families be something organically built into the Village’s structure, in more ways than taxing but also through the taxes levied.

It also allows for a spiralling effect being present towards having more people and time to devote to training the young and thus, especially once the Ninja Wars happen and create that sort of constraint on society, leading to younger graduation classes because that can happen as a slippery slope kind of situation where no one means to send young kids into battle before they are ready but if you are sending the older teens and adults into battle, then the younger kids can take over in-village missions that would otherwise be given to adults, right? And if they are doing in-village missions, why not missions right around the village, not too far from it, with their jonin sensei coming along to ensure their safety? They are not being put at risk, they are just being helpful to the system while still being safe.

And that slides into 'well they can do missive runs to safe places on safe routes, we are not putting them in danger, they are just covering for the kind of thing that the adults are too busy with the war front to do' and then slowly and slowly inch down until it becomes 'bring cargo to the back of the lines, far away from the front line, so that we are sure it gets there safely and then they can help the adults escort the wounded back, reduce the number of people we have to discharge from duties where they are needed and there are still enough adults around that it’s safe enough.'

As I said, a slippery slope. 

Starts small and over time it gets normalized and slides down inch by inch.

Back to topic, the focus is on looking after those who get injured and/or need to retire means that two of the main taxes being levied are the Injury Insurance Tax (IIT) and the Invalidity, Old Age & Survivors Tax (IOS) which works like the national funds do in Italy.

It's something that you invest in, just in case you will need it later. Almost all ninja end up needing the IIT funds, at some point during their career, while recovering from injuries and being unable to run missions (thus reducing the stress on ninja on the monetary side and sometimes making life easier for the medics, because patients who know that they will get paid while they work to get back to 100% are patients who might be less likely to book it out of a window at the first instance) and all ninja who are not on a suicidal bend and actually looks forward to managing to make it out and retire can look at the IOS as a support system that will one day help take care of them, should they be too damaged / too old / not able to be around children to make out a living by having a profession/teaching children, etc.

The IOS being something that they have put money in during their service to the village, this also avoids the mental trap of being seen as a charity because it's not you accepting charity from someone else. It's you reaping the reward of that money you sacrificed for so long and set aside exactly for this specific occurrence.

It's not a handout but rather one of your rights that you are expecting/requesting/demanding to be granted to you as promised, so it skips quite a few mental traps that might otherwise prevent them from accepting the help they are being offered.

There are fixed percentages for how much you get taxed depending on rank because the higher you get, the more money you make and the more danger you are exposed to so you both can afford to be taxed higher and you are undergoing higher risks, so you are more motivated to invest into taxes that will give a return when something happens.

Clan ninjas are especially invested in the system and joined under the clear assurance that the village would look out for them if they look out for the village and have a higher investment in wanting their retirees to be supported and looked after properly since that was one of the reasons Konoha got founded to begin with and they were attracted to the security it was supposed to offer.

They get taxed an extra on the IIT and an extra on the IOS in all categories because living in a Clan gives you all sort of advantages that people outside of a Clan don't have and thus you are expected to have the funds to be able to afford that extra and being part of a Clan you have plenty of people around you that are benefiting from the system which goes to show you that it's worth investing in it.

Everyone pays a not indifferent amount of their paycheck to the village in general, upfront, and that amount of money is part and parcel of being part of the Village.

The Village provides for you in many ways, including allowing you to be part of the village and take their missions at all along with things like the free healthcare, but for the village to be able to afford to provide for you, the Village needs the funds and so your missions get taxed and what you get taxed on is fed back into the natural circle of the village's economy.

That is especially important during wartime when funds are going to be depleted way faster than they would normally be and a lot of missions you would see during peacetime fall to the wayside / cannot be taken on by you so you wouldn't see an income from them so you have to be offered a different kind of Wartime Paycheck if you are deploying in the field on the frontline in one long stretch rather than on a mission-back-to-Village-have-time-off-to-train-and-relax-and-get-some-TLC-get-another-mission-back-to-Village-again-etc. basis.

So every ninja pays a specific tax amount to the Village and then Clan ninja give another cut to their Clan because of societal obligations to your Clan and because the Clan provides for you and all Clans pay a general tithe to the village in the form of being taxed based on the number of members they have, the space they occupy and what percentage of whatever it is they produce (poisons and antidotes for the Yamanaka, medicines for the Nara, preserved food for the Akimichi, insect-related products for the Aburame, etc.) gets handed over to the Village to be used for everyone (the rest they keep to store or sell as they prefer).

Being part of the Clan is a privilege and a duty and part of it is contributing to the Clan, which is both a remnant of before the Villages were formed and how the Clan maintains their specific level of independence from the Village. Some Clans will ask more of you, some Clans will ask less and leave more in your pocket, it depends from Clan to Clan.

It's not all detractions, tho, though there are a few more that go to hit non-Clan, non-Clan-affiliated ninja. The Village provides you with basic kits and as they get depleted you can just go to the quartermaster and get refills issued without paying. If you go out to shop, you get discounts (calculated monthly based on medium earnings, the family of origin, living situation, taxes paid, quality material, economical support you have or don't have, etc.) on goods that you might need to use as a ninja and, if you are from a Clan, you get discounts within your own Clan or allied clans.

Orphans, especially ones without Patrons to look after them who are still underage or who are of age but do not yet have a trade to fall back on / are unable to be at least chunin ranked, are given a base monthly stipend and then they receive extra money on top of that basic stipend depending on their needs. Food needs, training material needs, age, family situation, your rank, how long have you been your rank, clothing needs as identified by the wear and tear of your gear as witnessed by your rank's quartermaster, if you need feminine hygiene products, etc.

On top of a basic food allowance, there are also extra food categories are organized based on whether you are pre-pubescent, pubescent or adult (the amount of food a growing kid vs a growing teenager vs an adult needs varies), what kind of diet do you need for your, for civilians, apprenticeship or, for ninja, training and development.

Are you focusing on your physical skills rather than your chakra skills? Non-chakra intensive diet. Are you working with a lot of Jutsu / genjutsu / training to expand your pool of chakra? Chakra-intensive diet. Are you doing both? Okay, file for both. Your sensei needs to confirm and vouch for your request.

Depending on what you are doing, who your sensei is and what he has you doing and what brand of skills you are focusing on (which influences which kind of foods you will need), the 'very chakra-intensive' / 'very non-chakra intensive' and the 'extreme chakra-intensive' / 'extreme non-chakra-intensive' diets are something you might need to apply for.

Someone like orphaned teenager Maito Gai would definitely hit the 'extreme non-chakra intensive training diet' category because he is doing extreme taijutsu training but given that he also needs to develop and train the amount of chakra necessary for summoning, he'd also be able to apply for 'very chakra-intensive training diet' whereas someone like Kurenai, who is a genjutsu mistress and relies less on her physical abilities, would go for the 'extreme chakra-intensive training diet' box possibly with a side of 'chakra-intensive training diet' if she's keeping up with something more than the barest levels of physical conditioning.

Plus depending on what kind of things you are doing, you might qualify for more than one category of the same type. Let's say you are Minato and you are working on fuck off giant Jutsu (extreme chakra-intensive) but you are also working on finicky, control-based sealing work that requires a different use of your chakra but is also exhausting in its own way (chakra-intensive) but you also need to work your ass off on your speed and reflexes (extreme non-chakra intensive) to keep up with your in-development Jutsu technique without getting disoriented / splatter yourself against trees along with the general physical training you do (non-chakra intensive).

Depending on what your schedule is and what you are doing, you will eat different quantities of food and you will need different types of food as well so if you can convince your sensei to sign off on it, you just apply for whatever you think you need the most or you go big or bust and try to apply for all categories if you think you can get away with it.

And then there's the housing tax if you live in Village housing for ninjas (with the expected wear and tear for being somewhere ninja lives and thus often needing repairs that are given to you free of charge because you are already being taxed for occupying a ninja-specific living space with all that comes with it).

There’s also whatever you (if you are an orphan) owe to the orphanage and/or academy (calculated based upon the resources spent to house and feed and clothe and wash and train you accordingly to your potential). 

A lot of the housing thing and owed-to-orphanage/owed-to-Academy debts are predicated upon whether or not you have or not a Patron or a Clan sponsoring you or relatives who might not have been able to take you in (due to age of the relative or other issues) but could help pay for your upkeep and studies and if you do have someone which kind of person they are, what kind of agreement is in place and what kind of economical support they have been able to give you.

Aaand I'm going to stop there for right now because I've been typing about taxes for an hour and a half and I need a break XD

[icouldrun]

Rewriting the Uchiha Massacre and Itachi’s Story

First, I just want to say that Itachi is one of my favorite characters of all time and I was actually very sad when he died. I think the plot twist where he was actually good all along made sense… to a point. There were some weaknesses to it that made it fall a little flat and the build up was kind of there but had to be reexplained later which made the story a little weaker. There are a few ways I think Kishimoto could have done it to make it a little more consistent and a stronger plot line.

1) Up until Sasuke killed Itachi, most of the Uchiha Massacre was shown only from Sasuke’s pov, and given his age and trauma of the event, it made him somewhat of an unreliable narrator. This is great from a storytelling perspective, because it gave flexibility to the story when going to other points of view, such as Itachi’s of that night and leading up to it. Sasuke’s memory of his family is as the second son to a prestigious clan that is somewhat cold (mostly Fugaku) but still a superior clan of Konoha.

Sasuke is understandably partial to remembering it as a good place that Itachi destroyed that night. He’s romanticized his family life, and this was done further in filler episodes later in the series. The Uchiha were understandably upset with their treatment by Konoha, but like the Hyuga clan’s treatment of the lower branch family members, the Uchiha likely had skeletons in their closet. Sasuke hasn’t looked underneath the underneath, as Kakashi might have urged him to (nobody has really, regarding the massacre) and like others, believes Itachi simply snapped one day and killed their entire family. Sasuke had some clues sprinkled in front of him leading up to the massacre, but no definitive or solid reasoning to believe Itachi was anything but a psychopath.

2) One of the major problems with the Naruto universe is its use of child soldiers put into situations where it’s kill or be killed. Rather than try to change this or address it as a major problem, villages are proud of prodigies who excel at combat and mastery of jutsu. The narrative presents child solders as the norm throughout the series, but with some hints that perhaps it is a cruel and very wrong practice. Haku and Zabuza, the first major arc of the series end with Zabuza confirming that shinobi are weapons, but the flaw in their design is humanity.

Itachi, according to the narrative was a kind child who was at his heart a pacifist. The problem was that he

1)      Was a prodigy from a young age

2)      Was born into a clan that valued this superiority of combat

There was never any question about Itachi maybe not becoming a shinobi. There was no choice for him in this, and he was rushed through the academy and graduated way too young. One thing that pisses me off about both the Japanese and English voice work for Itachi is that the voice actors sound way to mature in Sasuke’s flashbacks. He was 13 but sounded like a full-grown adult and it throws off the scenes to me. Just my opinion.

His introduction in the manga he appears very young, and like Sasuke but very tired and even colder. 

3)      There were very corrupt people in charge of Konoha and who, as far as we know, were never held accountable in canon for their involvement with the Uchiha Massacre. Danzo and the 3rd Hokage died, but Koharu, and Homura are not held accountable for their involvement with the Uchiha, and whatever else they’ve been involved in.

Itachi continued to help these people even though he owed them nothing. People use this to justify Itachi as noble, but it comes off as a little weak in the narrative. Especially since it doesn’t appear that he really fed much information to Jiraiya or any other confident. It makes his time in that Akatsuki seem less as a double agent and more just hanging out until the narrative needed Sasuke to have a purpose after killing Itachi.

4)      Itachi should never have been a hero, and probably not a villain either. Rather, he should be an example of the major problems in the shinobi system. We should have been able to look at Itachi and the other examples as further emphasis on how deeply flawed the villages and shinobi really are. Itachi had a major following from the beginning and served as a major antagonist with a lot of depth and mystery surrounding him from his first introduction in Part 1.

Rewriting the Uchiha Massacre

Itachi doesn’t want to be a shinobi, but there’s not really any choice for him in the matter. Show the struggle, show him wondering what a regular life might be like during his early years, but squashing that down by the time he makes Anbu.

There’s discontent between the Uchiha and village, but Itachi’s not really involved at the start. He doesn’t want to be, and his family wants him to focus on reaching his full potential.

Shisui is very committed to the Uchiha cause and becomes Fugaku’s right hand in many ways and tries to get Itachi into the fold. They’ve always been close but there’s a rift between them when it’s clear Itachi doesn’t support the coup or doubts its ability to succeed.

Anbu is brutal and its methods and practices demand absolute compliance from members. Itachi struggles but eventually cracks under the teachings. He’s a machine, more or less.  

On a mission though, some of his humanity shines through and he fails to carry out an order right away. He’s immediately put into reconditioning and even faces punishment at home for insubordination. At some point, he starts crying and either Fugaku or somebody in Anbu calls it pathetic.

The Uchiha are putting the final touches on the coup plot when Shisui is taken by Anbu for questioning on what’s going on. He manages to escape, but Itachi (fresh from reconditioning) is ordered to kill Shisui before he can return to the compound and tell the others that Konoha is on to the plot.

Itachi kills Shisui and it’s framed as a suicide, but the work is sloppy *hint hint.

Hiruzen and the others decide to stop the Uchiha but can’t just slaughter one of their most famous clans without reasons.  They call Itachi in and order him to go through with the massacre. Still recovering from reconditioning (and maybe a little brainwashing from the Anbu) he shows almost no reaction and goes to carry out his mission.

He goes through it without much trouble, until he gets to his parents. That’s when it starts to dawn on him what he’s just done and how he obeyed orders without a second thought. The perfect shinobi but at the cost of everybody from his clan.

I’d keep a similar death of Mikoto and Fugaku as in canon, as it makes sense that they’d rather die with the clan than live having failed to stop their son or the truth of the coup come out.

Sasuke comes in, and Itachi falters again and realizes he can’t kill Sasuke even if it’s a part of his orders. He struggles with it for a minute and considers taking Sasuke and running away before Sasuke realizes Itachi is the killer and begins to freak out.

Itachi knows they’d be hunted if they left together, and that Sasuke can rebuild the clan stronger and better than before. To do that, he’s got to become stronger than Itachi, which is why he tells Sasuke to hate him and become better.

Itachi’s use of the Mangekyou Sharingan on Sasuke during the massacre was really fucked up even in canon and doesn’t really get explained in a satisfying way. Since the Mangekyou is a rare form of the Sharingan and a mystery outside the clan, he might have used it to traumatize Sasuke so deeply that the elders in the village were satisfied that Sasuke wouldn’t be a threat to them. He hates Itachi and not Konoha at this point. They’re not on his radar and that should be enough to satisfy them to let Sasuke live and rebuild a prestigious clan down the line. Any love or questions he might have had about the massacre are wiped away because of his reliving of the massacre over and over.

Itachi leaves, slowly feeling the weight of what he’s done. He’s about to go to the Hokage office to report, when he’s stopped by Madara. Rather than go to his own execution, he’s offered a chance to improve the world and end the current and failing shinobi system.

Itachi joins the Akatsuki. I honestly think he’d be a little suicidal in the first few months after the massacre but would slowly begin to accept life as missing nin. It’s somewhat liberating for somebody who’s been held down his whole life.

Understanding liberation, he wouldn’t interfere with Sasuke’s choices or repress him in any ways, including stopping him from leaving the village.

At this point, Itachi is a villain, or an anti-villain depending on how you look at it, but I think it would give a little more weight to his decisions and overall storyline.  

[leaderoffestivals]

Secret Service: GLOBALISM Chapter 6

Jun: Well, putting that aside. The local idols in Kyushu were desperately searching for Mikejima-senpai.

They didn’t know where he was, so they decided to carry out a raid on an inn that caters exclusively to ES idols.

Season: Winter Author:  Akira Characters: Kohaku, Jun Proofed by: gigi (EN)

Jun: To catch you up on what has happened—yesterday, a group of idols who were total strangers showed up uninvited at our place. We’d never seen their faces, or even heard of the names of anyone in that group before—

And the reason why, well... Those guys were locals.

Kohaku: What do you mean by “locals”?

Jun: I guess they're what you’d call underground idols? They’re mostly active in Kyushu.

Kohaku: Underground idols... Are they locked up in an underground prison or something?

Jun: Nooo~, it means that they’re amateurs. Ever since ES was established, it's been harder to see them around.

I’m pretty sure that there are people like that all over the country, and they’ve been watching with frustration as the idol industry gets swept up by ES.

Kohaku: Yeah, I know. As part of Crazy:B, we tend to be involved with people who don't get their chance to be in the spotlights.

These are the poor souls who didn’t manage to ride the big current of the mainstream, and ended up all washed up and gasping for air in some dimly-lit cesspool.

Crazy:B has been getting some positive publicity lately, but we don't just forget that we all started out as birds of the same feather. That's why we've taken the liberty of fighting on behalf of these kinds of folks.

Making a point loudly to the indifferent ones. “Look at me properly. Don’t just ignore me. I’m right here.”

Jun: Yes, I know exactly how it feels. I tried to do the same thing as part of Lilith (1), so you guys have all of my support.

Kohaku: That's right. Jun-han feels like he’s from this side of the tracks.

Jun: Haha. It would surprise ya, but even in Eden, everyone but Ohii-san grew up with a dark and troubled past

No one really says anything out loud, this is just from me putting the bits and pieces together to get the overall picture—

Instead of living in the stink of your own sad past and begging for sympathy, you take action to conquer the world on your own merits and become a great enough existence that no one will mock you ever again...

Well, that’s what Eden stands for.

Kohaku: Is that so? Who’d have thought that Eden, at the top of the idol world, and Crazy:B, from down at the bottom, would have started out from similar places?

Even though we’ve got different approaches, and we're both in different spots right now.

Jun: Yes. That's why, as fellow members affiliated with CosPro, we may offer to help each other.

Kohaku: Ko ko ko ♪ Double Face is affiliated with NewDi, though? Wouldn’t that make us the enemy?

Jun: How are you guys considered the enemy? We’re all idols affiliated under the umbrella of ES in the end. That’s the official stance, more or less.

And by making use of this connection… We, Eden, are helpers of Double Face now.

Kohaku: ? What d’you mean, exactly? You guys are helping me look for Madara-han, sure enough.

And you fellas did get me to Shikoku, which is where Madara-han is supposed to be...

Jun: That's not what I meant. Anyway, the local idols from Kyushu who visited us yesterday, they were all, well—

Just like Sakura-kun, they were all looking for Mikejima-senpai.

Kohaku: For Madara-han?

Jun: Yep. I don't know in detail what the circumstances were, but they were all demanding to meet with Mikejima-senpai with the most homicidal looks on their faces.

The situation was pretty terrifying, I’m not gonna lie~ Quite a few of them were holding onto a buncha stuff that looked like they were gonna be used as weapons.

Kohaku: What in the world did you do to earn so many grudges, Madara-han…?

Jun: Grudges… No, it didn’t feel that way.

Anyway, they've been active as underground idols in Kyushu for a long time, but they didn't know much about ES's style.

Kohaku: That’s to be expected. After all, ES has only been established for less than a year, so its influence hasn’t spread all the way to the rural areas quite yet.

Well, up until SS began, an’ idols from ES began moving all over the country and standin’ out in the public eye...

Everyone’s become aware of the temperature difference between us and the locals now.

Jun: Yeah, well. For us, we've been holed up at the inn all this while, so we weren’t really aware of what was going on on the ground. A frog in its well knows nothing of the sea (2), after all.

Well, putting that aside. The local idols in Kyushu were desperately searching for Mikejima-senpai.

They didn’t know where he was, so they decided to carry out a raid on an inn that caters exclusively to ES idols.

Kohaku: A raid, you’re sayin’?

Jun: They couldn’t get into the inn by normal means at first, so they pushed their way in and overran the compound by force, yanno~. And, count us unfortunate, Ohii-san and I were the only ones there when they carried out their rampage.

The other ES idols had left the inn earlier to go all out on their activities in order to clear their qualifying rounds~

So, we who were staying behind for rest and relaxation, ended up being the only ones there to deal with them.

In the end, we managed to get the Kyushu group to leave peacefully after taking the time to try and listen to their situations. Ohii-san is surprisingly good at that kind of thing, y’knowーthe art of socializing.

And that was when the Kyushu group all started saying, "That wasn’t the deal.”

Kohaku: “That wasn’t the deal”?

Jun: It seems that everyone in the Kyushu group had been invited by Mikejima-senpai to team up and participate in the SS qualifying round together.

Kohaku: Huh? What the hell’s that all about? This is the first I’m gettin’ wind of any of this!

Jun: Then, in the end, instead of performing with them as Double Face as intended, it seems he went out alone on stage as MaM...

Nobody really knows how that came about, though.

But… It’s undeniable that Mikejima-senpai was seen on national television performing a guerilla live in Shikoku. (3)

Kohaku: I see. So that's what the local idols in Kyushu meant when they said, "That wasn’t the deal.”

Mikejima Madara, ya dunderhead! You went around giving people the idea you were gonna carry out idol activities with them in Kyushuー

And thanks to that, you’ve got the Kyushu group all confused and lookin’ for answers, and attackin’ a nearby inn meant for ES idolsー

Jun: If you just look at their behavior, they all have the same objective as Sakura-kun. They're all looking for Mikejima-senpai.

Kohaku: What’s going on? I mean, what’s Madara-han's objective here? Why’d he ask the idols from Kyushu to take part in the qualifying round with him?

Jun: Who knows… The Kyushu group’s full of hot-blooded energy, but they're bad at speaking so it’s hard to understand them.

The dialect is pretty harsh, and when they’re excited, it’s next to impossible to figure out what they’re saying.

Despite all that, Ohii-san seems to be able to somehow carry on a conversation with them. I think he’s negotiating with the Kyushu group and rallying them to some sort of action now.

Kohaku: Everyone’s just going around doing inexplicable things on their own, and I don’t have a clue about what the hell is going on anymore.

This is real frustrating! There's definitely something going on, but I just don't know what it is.

It feels like I'm insidiously sinkin’ down into a bottomless swamp.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Previous | Next 

Translator’s Notes:

In 2018, ES! During the Saga period (Rainbows, Ba-barrier), there were hints of a 3rd unit, Lilith, made up of Eve (Hiyori, Jun) and Hidaka Seiya. - shorturl.at/kAEIT - shorturl.at/euKU9

Japanese proverb, Chinese idiom. This idiom is used to describe a person who has a limited experience of the world due to a sheltered, protected environment.

A map of what’s happening where to explain things a little better (hopefully)

[cafeinthemoon]

The Senju brothers finding out their little sister is going out with Madara 💥

Lately I’ve been into family drama and such, so when anon requested this I couldn’t say no lol Btw thank you, anon, for this scandalous incredible idea 😘

In this scenario/list/idk we have the Senju brothers finding out their younger sister and Madara are seeing each other. As you might expect, the news provoke different reactions in each of them, but the main point is how she will deal with this situation.

So I’m gonna shut up now and leave you with this:

Fandom: Naruto | Senju Brothers

Warnings: none, just a heated argument and a looong list ahead

Symbols: 💙 | ◻ | ▶▶

Hashirama

Being Hashirama and Tobirama’s younger sister, of course you and Madara were known to each other, but being more than just a friend to him wasn’t in your plans… until now 😳

You used to admire and respect each other, not only because of the alliance between your clans, but mostly because you both were worthy being praised. Plus Hashirama has always been talkative about his best friend’s qualities, which slowly transformed the way you saw the Uchiha leader, but you only noticed this a few weeks ago

During a meeting/party/whatever at your brother’s house, Madara and you spent more time than usual talking to each other. Turned out that you discovered many things in common beyond the fact that you two were shinobi, including your views on life, politics, etc.

If Hashi noticed something, you couldn’t tell, but it was strange that during all the time you were there together he didn’t come to join you (not that you complained about it)

You and the Uchiha saw each other a few times on the next days, and the feeling of familiarity between you only grew. You weren't sure of how to call it. You were fond of each other, but saying that you were just friends didn’t seem to be enough now

You both agreed that it was too soon to name it as a date or something, so you didn't tell anyone, not even your brothers

You wanted to be sure of your own feelings before making a statement. Were you still friends? Were you really in love? Was it just a crush, a superficial attraction? You wanted to understand what was going on

During this time, Hashirama didn’t make a comment or anything that suggested that he was aware of this situation, so you were a bit surprised when one day, he came to talk to you about it

“So you and Madara are engaging in a secret romance and you dared leaving your big brother out of this, y/n? Where did you learn such behavior?!”

“Don’t you really know?”, you smirked

“Excuse me?!”

“Am I the first person in this family to keep secrets that involve Madara, Hashi?” 😑

THE REDNESS ON HIS CHEEKS WAS PRICELESS LMAO

Hashirama was your elder brother aka the person who has been taking care of you since your parents left this world, so not only his worries were valid, but he also had the right to know, so yeah, he was a bit disappointed that you didn't tell him first

Now, I think his feelings about this were not as plain as some can imagine. In fact, he had a mixture of contradicting feelings and ended up talking about them more than demanding an explanation from you

On one hand, he was happy because he loves you both, so finding out that his little sis and his soul brother might have started a relationship was exciting 💖

On the other hand, he was worried because you were even younger than Tobirama, while Madara was not only older but more experienced than you and he knew his friend’s flaws better than anyone else

However, Hashi was an understanding person and was willing to listen, so you explained your feelings and your reasons to him, as well as part of your conversations with Madara, pointing out that making things this way was a mutual decision, for the best of you two and the people you knew

He pointed out that despite not calling your meetings a date, you two were already thinking as a couple 😏

You blushed and asked him to keep quiet, at least for a while

He promised you he would not say anything, but not before hugging you tight and crying about how his lil sis was growing up so fast saying how much he was happy for you two 💓

Tobirama

Prepare yourself to get your ass smacked and burning for an entire week lmao

Okay, so as you can easily imagine, it didn’t take much effort from Tobirama to find out that something was going on between you and Madara

It wasn’t that you two were reckless, it was just that your second brother was not stupid an observing man (and tbh how hard it must be to keep a secret from a smart sensor shinobi, uh?)

Unlike Hashirama, who took some time to connect the dots, he noticed small changes in your routine and behavior since the start

Why have you been so quiet, distracted lately? What has been occupying your mind? You were spending more time alone and/or out, and (yeah, he noticed that) you weve more concerned about your looks and manners than usual. Of course you were up to something 

Besides, you’ve suddenly became too defensive towards Madara and the Uchihas in general. Anything Tobirama said that sounded slightly negative about them was promptly refuted by you. You seemed to have a deeper understanding of their ideologies now, as if you were having long conversations with their leader

So, it was with no surprise that you saw the storm coming ⚡

One day, Tobirama came to your room without warning and just by looking at him you knew he figured it out 

How did he find out? Hashirama and his big mouth, probably. Or did he follow you and saw you two together? Well, he could have simply traced your chakra and once he sensed Madara’s close to you, the riddle was solved. But did it matter now?

His first words: “What is it?”

You don't need an explanation: you little sis + Madara Uchiha problem™ + maintaining your privacy keeping secrets from him

And now you were a brat possessed with the Uchiha evil, and not just with any Uchiha evil but with MADARA’S Uchiha evil 🔥🔥🔥

There was no way for you to have a normal conversation in the current circumstances. You had a heated argument, and I’m sure you’re capable of imagining what it means to have a heated argument with Tobirama

“Tobi, listen to me, I-”

“No YOU listen to me you brat possessed with the Uchiha evil”

Your brother didn’t even let you speak. He stated that not telling anything to your elder brother was not only wrong, but some sort of betrayal, then started remembering serious sh*t from the past when you were so young that you couldn’t even carry a sword the right way and everything you’ve already heard from him countless times before

But now you were done with his incapacity of simply listen, so you just stated that your elder brother Hashirama already knew it and that it was you who asked him to keep it a secret just for a while

“Hashirama is our leader, and if he knows and approves it, that’s enough for me and that should be enough for you too!”

“Hashirama is too soft with you, and this is why you behave like this!”

“Like this how? Living my life without asking for your permission? Is that what you mean?”

“Being unnecessarily connected with a man with whom we need to be careful in our treats, that’s what I mean. Our elder brother purposely ignores the fragile spots of this alliance and you know it, so there’s no excuse for your attitude!”

“Speaking like this about our ally could be considered some sort of betrayal, Tobi. If I was you, I would be careful!”

“Why? Are you going to tell him in your next date?”

“GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

“Yes, I’m getting out and having a serious conversation with our brother about this!”

“Tobirama, the war is over! We all have to move on, whether you like it or not! So instead of wasting your time with something that’s none of your business, you should go and live your life as well!”

Yes, you lost your temper, and you only realized it when your brother fell silent and lowered his tone

“You are right, lilttle sister. But let me tell you something. My way to show that I care about you might not resemble Hashirama’s, but my feelings towards you are not less deep than his”

You were heartbroken after he left, yes, but you had to stand your ground. Tobi could be very controlling if he was given space to, so you had to learn to deal with this early in your life. In this point you were better than Hashi, who was too easygoing for his own good, so you felt like you had to be strong on your resistance for both of you, otherwise Tobirama would dominate every aspect of your life without even realizing. You loved him as well, but your decisions didn’t have to always gravitate towards him

Still, you weren’t proud of your words about the war. That was a sensitive matter for Tobi. Despite his silence about it, you sensed he was offended. You knew you went too far 💔

The conclusion

Later, Hashirama came to mediate the conflict, and he had some words for both of you. When Tobirama and you found ourselves in the same room, you were about to start a new argument, but your eldest brother elevated his chakra and demanded you to be silent, bc now it was his time to speak

“Brother, I understand you are worried about our sister and I am sure she acknowledges your efforts to protect and guide her, but that doesn’t give you the right to interfere in her decisions regarding her own life. She’s right to remind you about our alliance with the Uchiha clan and to say that we need to move on. If moving on means starting a relationship with Madara in her case, things are what they are. It is her life, not yours. And do not think I haven’t talk to her about this. Y/n is no longer a child, Tobirama. She’s aware of the challenges of maintaining such connection with the Uchiha leader”

“Little sister, I understand that our brother’s way to express his worries uses to irritate you. It happened many times when you two were little. But that doesn’t invalidate the honesty of his intentions. He loves you and cares about you as much as I do. Besides, I’ve already talked to you about thoughtless mentions of the war. That was a though period for all of us, which includes your brother. You were not with us at the battlefield, that’s true, but you weren’t immune to the dark consequences of what happened at it. You mourned our siblings with us, but you were too young to understand everything that was involved. That was not Tobirama’s case. He doesn’t talk about it, but he has his reasons for that, and this must be respected”

Hashirama left you two hoping you would be capable of getting along again, which eventually happened, but at its own pace

The next day you found Tobirama working at his desk. He already acknowledged your presence, but that didn’t discourage you. You hugged him from behind and said you were going out to the river, and he could come with you if he wanted to fish. His first response was a groan

“Is there more people coming with us?” = “Is there any possibility of Madara showing up?”

You kissed his bristly hair

“No. Just us. I promise. And when we get back, I’ll cook fish for you”

Your brother’s next groan meant many things at once, “I agree”, “Thank you” and “I apologize” being some of them 😜