#butsuma would never have agreed to the villages

[silierepersonalblog]

//Tobirama's bio/verses/what not:

Tw: canonical mentions of child death (but nothing more), themes of death and loss, along with vague depictions of burnout, death idealization and implied suicide/self sacrifice.

Biography:

Born into the Senju clan he was the second youngest son of Butsuma, with two younger brothers (Itama & Kawarama) and an older brother, Hashirama. From an early age his father tried to mold his eldest son into becoming a proper head of the clan and while in theory his brother was to soft and kind Tobirama toughened up young in hopes that if he would draw some of their father's attention off of Hashirama. Though he never told his brother that out of fear that his brother would feel ashamed and guilty for it.

At some point he began to notice Hashirama began to sneak off, and for a time he managed to lie his way out of having to give their father any explanation. Taking any punishment that might come his way. That all began to change after the death of their younger brothers, and feeling slightly cheated by his brother seemingly being able to get away from their father's attention he followed him to find out what his brother was doing.

Eventually he learned his brother was meeting up with a Uchiha boy and upon informing his father he had his first clash of many with Izuna. Afterwards out of guilt for having hurt his brother he unintentionally dedicated himself entirely to making his brother's dreams come true.

Years a later his brother would take the role as leader of the clan and while Tobirama wasn't above pointing out his brother's faults more often than not if he wasn't busy with battles or trying to make sure his brother stays on track then he was taking the extra work upon himself.

The war would inevitably end start crawling to an end after his final battle with Izuna where he ended up delivering what should have been a fatal blow. And while the war continued on for a time Izuna's eventual death would be the final catalyst for the Uchiha clan to decide enough is enough and force Madara to ultimately agree to a truce with Hashirama.

During the founding of Konoha Tobirama found his workload triple as he found himself burning the midnight oil every night to aid his brother and Madara in building the foundations.

At some point along the way he ended up taking on students and teaching them how to become ninja along with creating a bond with many of the children in the village.

As time went on and the need to appoint a leader came around his brother had ultimately thought that Madara should become head of the village. While he opposed the idea due to his own personal grievances with Madara it was ultimately the fact he knew people wanted his brother to lead that led him to suggesting it being decided by the people out of worry that simply appointing Madara despite the many people that were against it would ultimately lead to the failure of the village.

Upon his brother being appointed and Madara's betrayal he continued to work tirelessly to further improve upon the village until his brothers death. After his brother's death it was noted that Tobirama did not handle it well, though he never told anyone exactly how he was feeling due the belief that as the new Hokage (whether he wanted to be or not being deemed unimportant) he needed to prioritize the village there for leaving his own pain well hidden.

War did eventually break out and that would ultimately lead to his death as he chose to sacrifice himself so his team could continue on, appointing Hiruzen. Finding something of a comfort in the idea of after so many years finally ending it all in something other than working himself to death.

Character Notes:

➢ While he is very good at hiding it, and to some extent doesn't realize how deeply it goes, Tobirama has willfully left himself with very little autonomy from his older brother. He isn't clingy by any means, exact opposite, and is happier being given room to breath and having his space at the end of the day he still lives to ensure his brother's dreams come true.

He has dedicated himself so deeply to being the voice of reason for his brother and being there to do whatever his brother might need of him (within reason) that he never really gave himself much room for independence. Even after Hashirama's death he took the role of Hokage exclusively with the intent of continuing where his brother had left off in refining the smaller parts of Konoha and creating new jutsu in hopes of when he was no longer around whoever would follow him would be able to continue to stabilize the village.

➢ After Hashirama's death Tobirama's personality gradually began to shift, becoming more dedicated to his work, seldom leaving it to do anything that didn't benefit the village and isolating himself from others. Eventually he would have reached his breaking point and anyone paying attention probably could have seen it coming unfortunately instead of reaching the point ended up dying after making Hiruzen Hokage in his stead.

➢ Tobirama is the definition of 'your scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should'. He himself only realizing this after creating Edo Tensei, and quickly going out of his way to forbid the jutsu. For what good it did.

Verses.

Main Verse. v; i've got you brother (main verse) //

This takes place around the founding of Konoha and leads up to his death.

Canon Div. Verse. i am nothing but your tool brother (canon div. verse) //

Instead of attacking Izuna Tobirama paused and Izuna instead stabbed him, leaving him to die and if it weren't for Hashirama he would have likely died there. But he inevitably survived and through means he didn't understand by the time that he had healed enough to be brought up to speed with what was happening he was informed the war was coming to a close as the Uchiha clan proved to be as tired of war as the Senju's were.

Canon Div. Verse. v; mistakes of the past bring unforeseeable opportunities (canon div. verse)

After the war instead of the four Hokage returning to the afterlife for reasons unknown their souls were trapped in the world of the living. While not enthused about it, per say, he kept those thoughts to himself as he set about to find out why.

To those that asked he was 'simply curious' but in truth he was worn, tired and simply wanting to move on and allow those that surpassed him and his brother to continue on into the future.

AUs.

Genshin verse. v; dendrobrium lost in sumeru's forests (genshin verse).

Vision: Hydro

An oni born in Inazuma had initially been content to live a life of isolation from human society but was dragged into it following his brother. While he resented the humans that despised them he continued to preserve at his brother's behest and stubborn refusal to give up on his dream of living along side humans.

Eventually he began to adjust to life among humans, working as a fisher man and even going as far as to travel to Sumeru to follow his own dreams of learning more of the world around him.

He had eventually intended to return but the longer he stayed in Sumeru the more attached he became to the country, only finally stopping to realize what he had lost far to late upon losing contact with his brother due to the Sakoku Decree and upon hearing of the Vision Hunt decree worried deeply for his brother going out of his way to find anyway home.

As soon as the Sakoku decree was lifted he quickly returned home and began to search for his missing brother.

[instant-bull]

adding @oh-no-its-bird's reply tags because yeeess I agree!

I'm a sucker for autistic Tobirama, one of my favourite characters to hc as such (next to AuDHD Kakashi). I think it's a wonderful idea for him to have his fur collar as a comfort thing, I could imagine him brushing his cheeks against it, nuzzling to it, and, if irritated or lost in a thought, plucking at it delicately with his fingers.

Also, his chakra sensitivity could be an interesting sensory thing: since Uchihas have such a strong presence about them, their chakra signature must be quite strong, meaning Tobirama would walk around irritated and constantly hyperaware about an Uchiha in his proximity (which would be a problem after founding the village, since he's forced to spend time around them). Maybe he'd eventually warm up to it, that depends on a story you'd wanna tell.

Another thought I have is that I think Tobirama is very particular about food. His "fresh fish from clean Konoha rivers" is such a funny and snobbish little passage, but come to think of it, he'd be very susceptible to slight off-tastes and changes in his food. I'd imagine he was quite troublesome as a kid, Butsuma would never be able to have this boy fed correctly because he was such a picky eater

Here's a fun little headcanon for you guys;

Going with the half-Hatake Tobirama and also saying the Hatake have a mild kekkei genkai for really sensitive senses like the Inuzuka.

Tobirama missed out on the physical senses, but his sensing ability is actually so great specifically bc of how the Hatake bloodline limit manifested in him. He got all his sensitivity stats dumped into chakra sensing instead of the usual extra good hearing/smell/taste like the rest of his clan

Tho maybe he did also get a bit of sensitivity elsewhere, like taste or smthn. Something small and inconsequential that you'd totally not even know about till he mentioned it. Can also play interesting off any autistic tobirama headcanons if you want to write him as being overstimulated by smthn, or especially picky about food tastes and textures

[hitodama3]

Juubi Tobirama & Soul bond AU

Soul Bond Au Concept:

Everyone has strings coming from their hearts that connect to other people. They are connections of love. Though it can be any kind of love; romantic, platonic, familial, etc.

The more you love someone/thing the thicker and more visible the bond is.

In the past people thought these bonds proved you had a soul, because how could someone have a soul if they didn't love a single person?

They snap due to the death of one of the individuals with the bond, if one side betrayal the other in a way that hurts them so deeply for at least one moment they can not feel a single ounce of love for the other, or it will gradually split apart and snap if the feelings fading away over time.

A snapped bond hangs like a cut thread from the chest for as long as the owner thinks about the other. If they move on the thread will eventually fade away from visibility.

The broken bond does leave a mark on your soul even if it has faded from view. The bonds branch our from the soul like strings from a yarn ball. So when they are cut they unravel a bit of the soul and leave a hole.

This hole cannot heal naturally even if the person moves on it can only be replaced, or over time the opening will be carefully patched over (if the owner truly moves on), but the hole on the inside will remain.

Broken bonds cause physical pain to the owner, so society places high importance on the bonds. Parents warn their children to be careful who they bond with because they have to be wary of broken bonds and the pain they cause, because eventually if you get to many holes your soul will unravel, and it kills you.

The cause of death due to having too many holes in a person's soul is called unraveling.

People don't care if you have less bonds but only if the ones you have are thicker to account for the lack of multiple bonds. It's uncommon for anyone to have less than three bonds. At least one really strong and two weaker ones. So people with less than three are judged heavily by society.

Those with many thick bonds are considered very loving and are looked on well by society.

Those with no bonds or broken bonds are considered soulless and are pariah, while those who only have broken bonds are looked at in pity or disgust because only those who have lost everything or are criminals should only have broken bonds.

Below is finally the Tobirama part of this post. ⬇️

Okay so now that I've spent an age explaining the bond concept here's the Tobirama part of the concept.

Tobirama as a child started off with the familial bonds like most children. He has six bonds: Butsuma, his Mom, Hashirama, Kawarama, Itama, and Touka.

He did not have thick bonds from the beginning with his father. It thinned, frayed, and snapped the first time he hit Kawarama or Itama.

He had a thick bond with his mother.

He had thick bonds with Kawarama and Itama. He would never admit to having a favorite but Itama's was slightly thicker.

He used to have a thick bond with Hashirama but since the river it started to fray over time before finally snapping the first time Hashirama told him he was nothing but a tool to end an argument.

Touka's grew thicker over time and by the time the clan war's are ending is his only remaining bond.

Tobirama never gained any platonic or friend based bonds because due to his coloring and attitude was isolated by his clan. Tobirama lost two agemate playmates this way. Parents driving them away from with frowns, grimaces, and whispers of demon. Leaving him with two holes in his soul.

Clansmen made a game of seeing if young Tobi would bond with them to break it on purpose. It started as an order from Butsuma to make him a better weapon then became a game. This occurred three times before he noticed the pattern and closed himself off because he now had another three holes in his soul.

Tobirama had gained five holes in his soul by the time Itama died at the hands of his clansmen and no longer trust them to make bonds. The breaking of his familial bonds except Touka leave him with ten holes in his heart.

For this AU ten is an extreme number and most people would have unraveled at this point, but Tobirama is stubborn and keeps going.

Tobirama gets two more from people he's gotten close to on missions he was unable to protect or save. With twelve holes in his soul Touka is heavily concerned for her 'brother', but he's sent out on another mission where he gets close to a child and develops a bond with them only for them to die, enemy-nin or illness you decide.

Tobirama knows after that last snap at unlucky number thirteen that he's going to unravel. He informs the elder council who give him one last suicide mission for him to die on and benefit the Senju one last time.

On that mission he encounters Kurama and impresses him. Kurama seeing the damage decides that finders keepers and if they can't take care of the pale kit then the kit is his now.

Tobirama gains a bond filling in the place of his father's bond.

Matatabi gets enlisted to go check on Kurama by the other bijuu since he hasn't been seen in ages, and is impressed by the kitten Kurama has adopted and decides to stay and help nurse the kitten back to help, because she doesn't trust Kurama to not kill the human kitten.

Tobirama gains a bond filling in the place of his mother's bond.

Overtime Tobirma befriends each of the bijuu and they fill in his bonds. Then the gods check on their children to see why they've congregated and see the human packed to the brim with thick familial bonds with their children. And decide what can they do but except his as family as well.

Here are the bond relations I imagine.

Grandmentor: Susanoo (Water god)

Grandmother: Ameratsu (Fire goddess)

Grandfather: Tsukuyomi (The *Actual* moon god)

Godfather: The Shinigami

Annoying Aunt/Uncle: Shukaku

Mentor: Isobu

Friend: Son Goku

Brothers x 3 to replace Hashirama, Kawarama, and Itama: Kokuo, Saiken, Gyuki

Excitable cousin: Chomei (wind chakra)

After getting bonds with all of the chakra beasts Tobirama becomes a pseudo Juubi. Closer to the wolf form we all headcannoned before learning about the god tree shenanigans.

While Tobirama is getting a new family, back in Senju and Uchiha land. When Tobirama was sent out on a suicide mission the council sent Touka out on a year long mission because they knew she'd become rabid if she found out what they did. Hashirama unable to run the compound as efficiently without Touka and Tobirama loses ground against the Uchiha. Supplies, contracts, and shinobi start dropping without the two their to manage it. Hashirama asks the council about their whereabouts and is told they are both on long term critical missions.

The good thing about the Senju loosing ground and numbers is the Uchiha gain it. So that the two clans are more on equal terms and relaxes the Uchiha into agreeing to a cease fire. The Uchiha have spies in court that have seen Touka so they know where she's been for a year, but no one has seen Tobirama so they assume he's dead.

Once they start planning the village Madara offers his condolences for the death of Hashirama's last brother, and oblivious sub!optimal Hashirama states Tobi's not dead and goes to grab his soul bond and notices it gone, pats around his chest frantically and doesn't find a snapped soul bond, only for Mito to tell him confused he doesn't know that his bond with Tobirama snapped over a year ago.

Hashirama is horrified, and finds out about the suicide mention and Tobirama's unraveling from the elders, and frantically goes searching for him.

Only to find a healthy, happy, choke full of soul bonds Tobirama surrounded by gods and monsters that are pissed about his prior treatment.

And this could all be shortened backstory for a very lovely Tobirama x (someone but we all know I prefer Madara or Indra).

[mira--mira]

When and why do you think Madara gave up the dream of the village, or did he have it in the first place? Since its implied that Hashirama tired to make peace the second he became clan head only for Madara to refuse him until Izuna's death. Why do you think it took Madara so long to agree when he dreamt of it with Hashirama when they were young. Or do you think that he was just humoring Hashirama when they were young and never had that dream?

Ooh I have a lot of thoughts on this! Okay, so first of all I whole-heartedly believe Madara and Hashirama shared the same dream when they were young. I’d even argue that Madara started to have it first. In Hashirama’s flashbacks (which my god, I wish we had Madara’s perspective on that so much) to me it seems like he’s frustrated with the fighting and the war but can’t quite vocalize the idea of peace. It’s when he meets back up with Madara and Madara tells him to trust someone you need to know their guts and presents that as the unlikely but ultimate way to make peace that Hashirama latches onto the idea and then they develop the idea for the village specifically together until it becomes their dream, and once Madara abandons it, becomes “only” Hashirama’s.

As for why Madara didn’t agree immediately when he became clan head, I have different two different theories, and a whole lot of realisitc overlooked complications. The first and most bitter theory is at this point in the overall narrative the��‘Uchiha are genetically pre-dispositioned to evil’ theme has picked up steam and the reincarnation reveal is right around the corner. To make Naruto’s ultimate triumph of ‘winning Sasuke back to the side of good’ the most meaningful, Hashirama and Madara (and Asura and Indra before them) had to fail by the narrative design. Naruto is the child of prophecy and the reincarnation of ninja jesus, he’s the Most Special right now. None of this is helped by the fact that we don’t get Madara’s side. We don’t know why Madara refused peace. If that was explained, if Madara even referenced it in his fight with Hashirama I would be less bitter and more inclined to believe there was actual narrative weight in that decision. But it’s not and while I love part 1 baby Naruto with all my heart, ever since the child of prophecy plot point was brought up and all throughout the war arc I am most happy when we are not following him because the world bends to accommodate him as the mc more than usual at the detriment to other characters.

Now for a not bitter theory, with the scraps were given and a lot of guessing lol. Madara’s decision not to accept peace immediately once he becomes clan head, should narratively tie into why he broke off his friendship with Hashirama in the first place. We know the river confrontation happened, but we don’t know how the Uchiha discovered was meeting Hashirama, or their reaction to it. Personally, I love good dad Tajima, but realistically I think his reaction would be similar to Butsuma’s. Madara would be threatened with being labeled a traitor to the clan. However, the real crux for me would be Izuna. Izuna is Madara’s main priority from what we can tell. If Tajima suggested, or threatened, that Madara’s meetings with Hashirama would directly lead to Izuna’s death...I can see that being a greater fear for him. Neither Madara or Hashirama would want to be banished from their clans but the knowledge that his friendship with Hashirama was the cause of his brother’s death would be the single worst outcome for Madara. Cue the actual river confrontation, with Tobirama and Izuna clashing and then both dads trying to kill the other’s kid that was Madara’s worst-case come true. I don’t think he went into the confrontation with the intention of breaking his friendship with Hashirama. They both tried to leave early to prevent the confrontation after all. But when it happened and Madara was faced with that...he did the only thing he could think to do to protect his brother even at the cost of his own happiness. The agony of that choice was the Sharingan moment for me. From there it gets blurry but the way I see Madara is he felt he couldn’t go back on that decision and he internalized it. He made it and getting close to Hashirama again, listening to him and accepting peace, would still ultimately lead to his brother’s death. This could explain why after Izuna died, he gave it one last go and when he was defeated ultimately accepted peace. His worst case had come true. Izuna’s dead and, in a twist of fate, he died because Madara chose to not to accept Hashirama’s friendship when he could. 

The above is kind of my “main” theory, directly from canon explanation. It gets complicated by other ideas that weren’t addressed at all, but would reasonably come up if the narrative was focused on this time rather than Hashirama’s entire backstory being just that, a backstory. We know the Uchiha and Senju had been at war for generations and the overall terrible conditions of the Warring State Period as well as how ninja clans were hired as mercenaries...beyond that...there’s not a lot. A major consideration to Madara not accepting peace should be the political climate. Were there multiple daimyos (I ask this because the Warring States period was analogous to Japan’s Sengoku period and there were multiple daimyos fighting for power. Who would have the money/need to hire multiple clans to fight against each other if there was just one?) was there just one? Madara is the leader of a clan but he can’t just decide to do things if it would possibly jeopardize the Uchiha’s ability to work, get paid, and eat. Then you have the politics of the clans themselves. There were Uchiha defectors and they were at least willing to accept peace, but we get no indication about the clan’s changing attitude towards the Senju or peace. After being grievously injured, Izuna was still against it. There could have been a group that was completely anti-peace and a group that was pro-peace and how would Madara reconcile with that especially if he wasn’t a beloved leader? I do think Madara as clan head could make the decision ‘we’re making peace with the Senju’ but then forcing two enemy clans to cohabitate that hate each other...even if they were tired of war Madara would be risking his clan’s wellbeing on Hashirama’s word. I think Madara could believe Hashirama but the rest of the Senju? That’s a different question altogether and raises it’s own concerns. 

The concept of making peace and creating the village is a complicated matter, much more so than two boys declaring they’ll be the strongest so everyone has to listen to them. I really think this point in the narrative just kind of...had to exist with the way Kishi wrote the story esp with the upcoming Indra/Ashura parallels. Realistically there would have been a lot of reasons Madara couldn’t immediately accept peace even if he wanted to. These could have been hinted at, but because I think the ultimate goals of the backstory was 1. to lay out Madara’s villain origin and 2. to hint at Hashirama failed where Naruto will succeed and all of this has to be delivered as quickly and effectively as possible, those other possible reasons weren’t explored. I would have liked a line or two of dialogue between Hashirama and Madara about this, especially whenever Madara mentions Konoha isn’t his dream and ground it in realistic obstacles rather than ‘space alien goddess’ will manipulating him for x amount of time’ but...you know.

Hashirama and Madara’s relationship was well developed and great, but Naruto suffers the mot imo when realistic longstanding problems come up, especially if they’re problems caused by historical events or the current socio-political climate. The biggest evidence of this is...what were the great shinobi wars about? Why did they start? What were they fought over? When did they end? What were their consequences? It’s...surprisingly hard to answer these vital questions and “why didn’t Madara immediately accept peace?” ultimately falls into the same category for me. 

This is all from Madara’s perspective and tbh I could write a whole thing about why Hashirama was so gung-ho about immediate peace and the pro/cons of that but this is already way too long lol.

[ancharan]

look im sorry okay im sorry but its time for another au

SO

no art rn bc im actually still at work BUT what if tajima and butsuma didnt bring izuna or tobirama to the confrontation on the riverbank? what if they both got KILLED (or succumbed to their wounds whatever) on the riverbank instead, because their powers were so evenly matched? what if madara took tajimas eyes (much like my crack headcanon that madara will bite anything put near his mouth my other crack headcanon is that the uchiha clan has an instinctive tendency to steal the eyes of the corpses of their loved ones because how else did they figure out the eternal mango sharon-gone)

hashirama and madara pull a simba and flee, fearing the repercussions from their respective clans, and now theyre both hiding out in the woods together and they grow up as outcasts and they both still want peace but have absolutely no way to achieve it 

like, tobirama agrees w/ hashiramas dream, always had, but would never act on it bc he thinks its impossible, pie-in-the-sky! so even after hashirama disappears, he might try to go about making it come true - contacting other clans, proposing alliances, trying to make the village a reality - but ofc he cant because 1. it’s tobirama, the man has the personal magnetism of a porcupine in a hurricane, and 2. the uchiha clan, not headed by madara, is so not on board with this

so hashirama and madara, seeing all the fighting going on from what amounts to the sidelines, come to the decision that the only way for there to be peace among all the clans is if everyone was united under one leader thats right babey we goin qin shi huang in this bitch 

and then when they turn 16 they both trade their right eye because it just makes sense for both of them to have access to a power like izanagi - they can revive the other one if they fall! they can both memorize new jutsus! - and the rinnegan comes as a complete fucking surprise bc madara in this universe never saw the uchiha tablet, so he has no delusions about hypnotizing the moon or whatever the plot of naruto was

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4747 Chapter: 37/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 37

“I’m bored.”

Tobirama lifted his gaze from the book he’d been lost in for the past – actually he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He found his husband staring back at him with a baleful glare and crossed arms, hunched deeply in to the opposite end of the couch and knees bent to dig his toes in between the cushions they both sat on, thick socks disappearing under the wrappings around his calves.

“Are you sure you’re not just cold?”

“Of course I’m cold! Stupid weather taking a stupid dip. If it gets any colder it won’t need to snow because the air will just freeze on its own!”

Rather than point out the ridiculousness of that statement from a scientific viewpoint Tobirama set his book aside with deliberate movements and reached down between them to free his husband’s feet. Ignoring all protests he drew them in to his lap and curled both of his hands around the chilly toes he could feel even through such thick woolen cloth.

“If you moved around a bit instead of sitting still I’m sure you’d feel warmer,” he suggested. Madara turned his head aside to stick his nose in the air.

“Yeah, well, you’re over here. So.”

“So?”

“So shut up! Maybe I don’t want to move around!”

Tobirama smiled and closed his hands a little tighter when he felt the toes in his grasp wriggling a little. Most people probably thought him to have a cooler body temperature, what with his affinity for water, but he’d found over the years that he weathered the cold much better than most perhaps because of that. Sharing a bit of his body heat wasn’t a massive hardship really. And if it gave Madara a reason to stay here at his side that was all the better.

Not, apparently, that the man needed any more excuses. He seemed prepared to hang around even without thinking of any sort of good reason to and Tobirama was pretty okay with that.

“Would you perhaps like to do something together?” He was polite enough not to laugh when Madara perked up, tensing in that way that said he’d been offered exactly what he wanted but wasn’t ready to admit he wanted it in the first place.

“It would have to be something fun. And something that would actually keep us warm, not just strolling around the marketplace. Or drinking. Hashirama's suggestion is always drinking.”

“Yes and have I recently expressed my gratitude that you deny him?” Tobirama shuddered. One drunken escapade per year was plenty for him. He was the last person who would ever think to tell someone else what they were allowed to do with their body and their time but the thought of Madara crawling in to their bed smelling of a brewery the way he knew he must have the night he did the same, it was not a pleasant one. He found himself awash with gratitude all over again that Madara had taken care of him so well the next day.

Grumbling indistinctly under his breath, Madara took his feet back so he could sit up properly and gaze out the window. “I don’t really want to go outside,” he said, “but I would if we could spar. That’d certainly keep us moving around enough to stay warm – and we can always dress in layers.”

“If we have a proper spar with chakra you’ll be warm from the first jutsu. Or have you forgotten your own element?”

For a moment Tobirama smirked thinking the dumbfounded expression on the other’s face was a reaction to his comment. It took another look for him to see the slowly building light in the dark eyes he loved so much. That was a look he knew well, though it didn’t always spell good news for everyone around them and sometimes it meant he needed to duck and cover right quick.

“We’re married,” Madara blurted and Tobirama paused.

“Yes,” he agreed slowly. “We are.”

“So you’re an Uchiha now.”

“Mn, that’s what you tell me.” The Uchiwa fan he carried between his shoulders never felt so light as the moments when he was reminded of the easy acceptance between them now.

Leaning over to bump their shoulders together, Madara gave him a warning look before going on. “Come on, I’ve just decided how we’re going to stay warm without getting bored.”

“Oh you’ve decided, have you?”

“I have.”

“Well thank you, your highness, for making that executive decision on my behalf.”

Tobirama was already laughing before Madara glared at him and he figured he deserved the hands that bunched in his sleeves and pulled roughly on them, dragging him to his feet.

“You offered!” Madara insisted and he decided to let his husband win this one.

Since apparently he had annoyed his way out of getting to know where they were going he opted to follow Madara's lead and not add any extra layers than a jacket to ward off the chill as they marched out the door. He thought he had a pretty good idea considering which direction they were headed but Hashirama had been after him lately with the ‘innocent until proven guilty’ concept so he decided to wait before making any accusations.

Ten minutes later he smirked to know that his guess was right as they arrived at one of the exclusive Uchiha training grounds, the same one where he so often trained with Kagami. Since Madara usually preferred to use the training grounds outside the village where he and Hashirama could cause as much destruction as they wanted without terrifying the civilians Tobirama thought maybe he would have the advantage here, familiar as he was with the terrain and its uses. Between them only he would know about the softer dirt in the eastern quarter of the field and the badger holes dug in to the north sitting empty and ready to trip up unsuspecting people.

“Right, so, I know you think we’re going to spar,” Madara began and Tobirama blinked at him. Not such a good guess after all. “I’ve got something, uh, different in mind. You can use fire release.”

“I can use all five elemental releases,” Tobirama interrupted him.

“Yes we all know that, you big show off, that wasn’t my point. I was thinking…”

Tobirama valiantly held off on making some kind of distasteful joke. Clearly there was something going on in the other man’s head that he wouldn’t be able to guess at but what he could tell for sure was that it seemed oddly important and so he held his silence, waiting patiently.

“I want to teach you the Grand Fireball Jutsu.”

“What?” His jaw didn’t quite drop but it was a close call. “Isn’t that a protected clan jutsu?”

“Yes and you are a part of this clan so it’s only right that you know it.” Madara continued on despite the deep red color rising in his cheeks, ignoring the matching heat spreading over Tobirama’s entire face. “As an Uchiha you have a right to all of our clan secrets and that includes knowing our signature jutsu. Honestly I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get around to teaching you. If you…want to learn?”

“I would be honored,” Tobirama told him with complete sincerity.

Those were the only words he had in him but they were enough. Nothing could possibly have expressed how touched he was by this gesture. With the amount of times Izuna had thrown the matter in his face or the even more bountiful number of times Madara had assured him on it Tobirama had never felt so much like he belonged, so accepted. He met his husband’s warm gaze and he thought to himself, not for the first time, that this was truly where he was meant to be.

After ages spent doing nothing but staring deeply in to each other’s eyes Madara bit his lip and turned away, freeing Tobirama from having to make a bad attempt at expressing what he was feeling. His husband understood. They both knew each other very well by now. Tobirama just hoped that Madara understood all the nuances of how he felt, more than just the vague knowledge that he was grateful but also that he had never been more in love. Nothing Madara could have done would ever have shown him quite so perfectly that he was accepted here, was truly a member of the family, the clan, the people that he had chosen as his own as surely as he had been thrust upon them unwittingly. From the moment he first realized his own burgeoning feelings there had lingered some unshakable doubts and here at last was his clarity.

He may have been born an heir of the Senju but on the day he married he became an Uchiha. There were no regrets.

Learning a new jutsu was so much less difficult for him than it was for his student but there was still a learning curve with teaching his chakra to mold in to brand new shapes. As they ran through the string of hang signs over and over to get his hands used to the pattern Madara told him that learning this way was tradition for all children, use of the Sharingan expressly forbidden. For any child with the nature to mold fire chakra performing the Grand Fireball Jutsu for the first time was considered their first steps towards adulthood. He refrained again from making any bad jokes about the legitimacy of his own manhood now.

Since he was an adult with years more experience and a dozen more jutsu in his arsenal than the average child Tobirama was able to create at least a mildly impressive Grand Fireball by the time the sun began its descent in the sky. He would need quite a lot more practice before he could make one anywhere close to Madara's and honestly doubted he would ever be able to achieve quite that size. Madara had the advantage of fire being his first nature whereas Tobirama’s was water, fire a hard earned skill that would never come quite as easily.

“Would it be cheesy to tell you that you look dashing with firelight on your skin?” Madara asked as the burn of that first massive Grand Fireball faded from the air, the final product after hours of hard work. He gave an unrepentant grin when Tobirama rolled his eyes in response.

“Yes. It would.”

“Right, then I won’t say it.”

“I’m not sure if I love you more for your terrible sense of humor or if I’m going to make removing it my next science experiment.” Tobirama tapped at his chin with exaggerated thought.

His partner wasn’t fooled in the slightest. To his absolute mortification Madara sidled up close and tugged on the front of his shirt, asking him to bend down for a kiss, even seeming to enjoy it when the tips of his ears flushed a light pink and his eyes darted from side to side like he expected a horde of gasping onlookers to appear from the tree line.

“Out here?” He asked dubiously. Madara tugged a little more insistently.

“Kiss me, damn it. I just showed you a very lovely gesture and now you’re being mean to me.”

He did sort of have a point there so Tobirama bent and allowed Madara to drag him in to a kiss fiery enough that he began to worry all over again about how public these grounds were – in the back of his mind, of course, since most of his attention was immediately distracted by the feel of those gorgeous lips against his own.

Naturally the moment he stopped paying lots of attention to the world around them that was when the world decided to intrude itself upon their solitude in the form of two familiar faces. One of them was more than welcome, or would be as soon as she quit making wolf whistles across the field; Susumu hadn’t a drop of shame in her entire body. The other face Tobirama could have lived without. Likely his husband would be happy to see Izuna there, the two most precious and beloved members of his family together, but Tobirama could only think that having his brother-in-law appear had ruined the calm and happy atmosphere they’d been enjoying all afternoon. He was smart enough to keep that to himself as well though.

“Getting in a little exercise, are we?” Susumu waggled her eyebrows until Madara shoved her, Izuna turning his head to mime gagging. “What are the two of you scrumptious little bits getting up to then, eh?” Her curiosity only increased when they shared a look. Madara waved him on so Tobirama cleared his throat to bring all eyes to himself.

“We were practicing the Grand Fireball Jutsu,” he revealed softly.

“No shit? Well it’s about time!”

At her side, Izuna clearly did not share that opinion. His face pinched immediately but, to his credit, he managed to keep his mouth shut, a massive step up from all the months of deliberate antagonism. Tobirama almost thought he deserved a reward for such good behavior but bringing attention to it in any way was likely to toss them right back to where they started.

“So how did it go then?” Susumu demanded, as timely with her distractions as ever. Tobirama smiled for her.

“Quite well,” he said. “I’m not quite able to  imitate what Madara can do but I imagine that few can.”

“What he means to say is that he made incredible progress in one day and we should all be very impressed.” Madara interrupted, jabbing him with one elbow.

“I know I am. Good for you, muffin, good for you!”

Tobirama hummed noncommittally, not sure what to do with so much praise. It was different when it was Hashirama. His brother was naturally dramatic at all times and he’d stopped taking the man seriously a long time ago but with others he never quite knew what to say. Much easier was attempting to push the focus off of himself by asking what such an unlikely pair as Susumu and Izuna were doing out here in the middle of the day.

“What else would we be doing out here on a training field?” Izuna grumbled, low enough Tobirama didn’t think anyone else heard him.

“Oh, you know me. I get bored. This one was moping around the tower so I told him to put all that boring shit down for the day and pulled him out to work off a bit of steam with me. With you two here maybe we could make things a little more interesting?”

A terrible swooping feeling nearly ripped Tobirama’s stomach right out through his throat but the gods had mercy on him in the form of Madara shaking his head and declaring them already tired enough after their own training. If the four of them were to pair off for a spar he knew exactly who he would be matched against and fighting Izuna in any way was precisely the opposite of what he wanted. That was just one more thing that would have taken them right back to the start.

Listening while the three of them started gossiping and trading juicy tidbits about things happening around the Uchiha compound, small clan dramas he had no interest in, Tobirama eventually zoned out of what they were saying to focus on observing instead. He loved seeing Madara like this, so relaxed and happy as he chatted without thinking about his reputation or trying to impress anyone. And he was growing fonder and fonder of Susumu every time they met. Either of them could have easily drawn his eye and yet it was to Izuna that he looked, Izuna whose body language both yearned for his brother and held back at the same time, who leaned in to everything his most precious person said but kept his arms folded like an unconscious barrier between them.

Someone, it seemed, had been doing a lot of thinking. Not once since arriving had he made any snarky comments besides pretending to gag, though that could easily be attributed to brotherly teasing, and in fact he had mostly avoided even looking in Tobirama’s direction almost as though he wished to avoid the temptation to start a fight. The idea of rewarding good behavior suddenly didn’t seem like such a terrible idea after all.

Even better, Tobirama knew just how to do that without making it seem like he was trying to make fun of his brother-in-law. All he needed was the right moment and he didn’t even have to wait too long for that. The stars weren’t even out yet but they were all aligning just for him. Just as Madara began excusing them to go back home and let the other two have the field he laid a hand on his husband’s arm and tilted his head down in apology for the interruption. Then he looked to his brother-in-law.

“I’m glad we ran in to each other,” he murmured to the man’s obvious surprise. “I have something that I wished to give you.”

“Well that’s suspicious.” Izuna jerked when Susumu reached up to punch him in the arm, twisting his mouth in to a wry expression while he rubbed the sore spot but not taking his words back.

“Unexpected, I’m sure. He is not wrong to say so, Susumu-san, there’s no need for violence.”

“He could try being a little more polite,” she snapped back.

Tobirama very carefully did not smile or laugh. “He may react in whichever way he feels. And to that note, he is not in any way obligated to accept my offer; I would appreciate it if you do not disparage him no matter how he chooses.”

If the group of them hadn’t been looking at him strangely before then they were now. Madara eyed him from the side with a dubious expression while Susumu gave him a look that blatantly questioned whether he might have contracted some sort of fever. He understood their concerns, though, so it was easy enough to ignore them and concentrate on Izuna who had subtly dropped his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice in case this was all a trick.

“Go on then,” he demanded. “What do you want?” He watched intently as Tobirama brought one of his hands to the opposite arm and pressed his thumb in to the seal inked there along his wrist, a seal that their other two companions had only seen him use once.

“This is not a gift for any specific occasion or with any obligation. It is also not a gift given lightly.” With a brief flash the Raijin no Ken appeared between his hands from where he kept it stored in the seal on his arm. “This sword has been a Senju heirloom since their clan head won it from ours so many generations back that many have forgotten where it originated from. As our clan’s most skilled warrior with a lightning nature I wish for you to be the new bearer of Raijin no Ken, that it be returned to the place it truly belongs.”

It was hard to decide which part of that had shocked everyone the most. That he was willing to give up his most powerful weapon maybe. Perhaps that he would give it to Izuna specifically. Or maybe, for Izuna, it was that he referred to the Uchiha as ‘our’ clan, including himself in their number so naturally as though he belonged here as much as the sword and all of them, passed through generations of Senju only to come home to the Uchiha where he was meant to be.

Silence reigned while Izuna visibly struggled with how to react. Both Madara and Susumu were good enough to keep their mouths shut despite how they were obviously bursting at the seams with their own opinions and for that Tobirama was grateful. He coached himself to patience as well, carefully observing the way Izuna’s weight rocked back and forth like he wanted to reach for what had been offered but held himself back for reasons known only to him. The fingers of his left hand twitched. His brows furrowed and relaxed so many times they seemed to dance across the top of his face until finally he looked away and for a moment Tobirama felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. Disappointment rippled through him.

Then Izuna took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and turned to meet his eyes with a determined set to his jaw.

“You’re not going to regret it in a month and ask for it back?”

“No. The blade is yours if you will take it from me.” A significant caveat and they both understood that. The meaning of the gift would be changed entirely if anyone else were to offer it; Izuna had to accept that the blade came from Tobirama’s hands if he accepted it at all.

“And you’re not trying to bribe anything out of me either.”

Tobirama didn’t bother gracing that with a response. It sounded more like a statement than a question but even if it was a true worry it wasn’t worth soothing. He had nothing to gain with bribery and would never lower himself to such tactics when it came to making peace with his husband’s family. Another moment of silence passed before finally Izuna reached out with both palms turned up to receive the sword.

“I accept your gift and will treat it with the honor it deserves,” he intoned, snapping a quick glare over at his brother when Madara blew out an explosive breath of relief.

“May it serve you well.” Tobirama let his fingers tighten around the handle of a blade he had cared for and loved since he was first allowed to bear it as his own. Then he gently cradled the weapon across Izuna’s palms and released it in to the care of another who, though he loathed to admit it, could make use of such a legendary weapon much better than him. Seeing the Raijin no Ken once again in the hands of one who had truly mastered lightning would be a wonder, if nothing else.

As he handed it over Tobirama wondered, for a moment, just how angry the Senju elders would be when they found out he had given one of their most prized heirlooms away. Then he serenely dismissed the thought. He was a member of the Uchiha clan himself now so he could hardly be faulted for passing the blade along his own line.

Reverently and with awe poorly hidden in his eyes Izuna clasped the handle of his new weapon and raised it up, infusing just enough chakra for the blade to burst in to life the way it was meant to, a strike of lightning contained in human hands. The light of it against his skin made him look sallow but the excitement on his face almost made Izuna handsome. Almost. Tobirama bit his lip and peeked sideways. He would always prefer the older brother in every way.

“What do you say?” Susumu asked, her elbow uncharacteristically gentle when she nudged it in to her companion’s side.

“Thank you,” Izuna breathed. “It’s…a good gift.”

“A worthy gift,” Tobirama corrected him.

Their eyes met once more and he saw the battle in the other man’s gaze but it was a softer look than he’d ever seen directed at him and the battle was, at long last, over in only a few heartbeats of silence. He watched Izuna capitulate right before him and, strangely, felt none of the triumph he might have expected. They might never come to enjoy each other’s company but they would both be a part of Madara's life for the rest of their own and it seemed as though the gravity of that was finally getting through Izuna’s thick head. As Susumu had advised one brother in the earlier stages of this marriage, so too had the younger brother finally come to realize: they may not have chosen the connection between them but there was little point in making themselves extra miserable by fighting it so strongly.

“Want to try it out properly?” Madara asked with eagerness in his gaze. Izuna returned that look all too easily and the two of them darted a good enough distance away that there was space for Madara to take up the blade Izuna had brought with him so his brother could test out this new one.

“That was very well done,” Susumu murmured once they were out of earshot. When Tobirama looked down she was looking back up at him with knowing approval.

“I received some very helpful advice on the timing of it,” he acknowledged.

She smiled and patted him on the arm, gently for once. “Whether I’ve said it before or not this feels like a good day to say it again. Welcome to the family, kiddo. You’re doing great.”

“Am I?”

“The way you two started was foreign to me - to all of us - but even an old crust like myself is allowed to have a change of heart sometimes. After watching your relationship grow I can’t imagine anyone else by his side. You’re good for him; and I think he’s good for you too.”

Both of them turned their gazes away to watch their loved ones making a spectacle of themselves, hooting and hollering with joy as lightning sparked around them unheeding, and though Tobirama said nothing in return he knew that he didn’t have to. Instead of words he very slowly lifted one hand to rest it on Susumu’s shoulder, holding tension in his own until several seconds had passed with no reaction from her. She really had gotten to know him well, enough to know exactly what such a gesture would mean from him and, thankfully, how embarrassing he would find it for her to point it out.

“Should we rein them in before they destroy this whole field?” He asked eventually, eyeing the long scores of burnt grass adding themselves to the damage he’d already done himself during training.

“Oh let them play for a bit,” his companion tutted. “They’re having fun.”

“Their fun runs the risk of burning down the whole village if it spreads too far.”

“Killjoy.”

Tobirama looked down at her again with a mild expression. “My apologies for protecting the people of this village from two idiots with no restraint.”

He was glad to hear her laugh but even more glad when she moved forward to put an end to the play they were watching. Partly because he was worried about them getting a little too out of control as he’d said but also partly because he wanted to take his husband home and enjoy the rest of their day together. After such a peaceful start he hadn’t expected the last few hours to be riddled with so many emotions and he was ready for evening to bring back the calm.

Seeing Madara so filled with joyful energy was oddly reminiscent of the way he looked after a good spar with Hashirama, the ones where they didn’t run themselves in to exhaustion, and Tobirama decided he was glad to see the man so happy. Positive interactions between him and his brother had been few and far between over the past year.

“I guess they want to spar now,” his husband said as he came back across the field. “Ready to go home?”

“Mm, very. I believe a nice bath is in order and then perhaps something to eat. After all that exercise I am famished.” Tobirama put a hand to his belly, feeling more than hearing the empty gurgle it made.

“That sounds good, actually.”

It really did. Tobirama was in such a good mood he didn’t even spare a single thought when Madara wove their hands together for the walk home. Why should he? He was proud to have this man as his husband and if he wanted to show that pride off a little bit then he should be able to, especially when most of the people who would see them were members of their own clan.

A clan that Tobirama was proud to call his own.

[crystallized-shadow]

Chapter: 1/1 Rating: Teen & up Pairing: Madara/Tobirama Word Count: 1843 Warnings:  Swearing and manipulative Hashirama  Summary: To secure peace, Hashirama offers Tobirama up as a bride to Madara. Feeling like a cow lead to the slaughterhouse, Tobirama can only see this ending in his death; Madara has other plans.

For @madatobiweek​ Day 1: Arranged Marriage 

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Today was the day he died, Tobirama was sure of it. He’d signed away his life to the Uchiha like the dutiful spare he was, all for the sake of his brother’s dream. Tobirama loved his brother, would do anything for his brother, but right now he didn’t like him very much. When the elders had demanded a marriage alliance, he knew Hashirama would agree; his village meant everything to him. However, he was still blindsided when Hashirama had told him he was to be Madara Uchiha’s bride. Nothing he’d said had swayed Hashirama and so Tobirama had accepted his fate quietly. Butsuma had always hold him he was worthless, just another disposable soldier, but he had always thought his anija saw him differently; it hurt to be proven so wrong.

Tobirama doesn’t remember the ceremony, he hadn’t bothered wasting the effort to listen to some pointless words, not when he would be dead soon enough. He’d ended Izuna’s shinobi life, reduced him to barely more than a civilian, there was no way Madara would let him live long. If Madara did keep him around for more than a few days, well Tobirama didn’t like that prospect either. The only part he does remember is how gentle the kiss had been, even if it had left no illusions that Madara was in charge.

Much too soon the Senju are leaving him behind for the Uchiha to drag off to hell. Tobirama remains silent, his face a blank mask; there was no way he going to show weakness around these vultures, no matter how a tiny piece of his heart chipped away with each step toward the Uchiha compound. Finding the house empty, save himself and Madara, Tobirama’s not sure if he should be grateful or brace for impact. Ignorant of his internal struggles, Madara heads into the kitchen to make tea.

“Sit.” The Uchiha orders when Tobirama just stands there and the former Senju does as told, not wanting to anger his husband so soon. Madara regards Tobirama for a long moment before the tea kettle whistles and draws his attention.

“Thank you,” Tobirama mutters as a cup is placed before him and the Uchiha sits across from him.

“Hashirama is more cruel than I ever gave him credit for,” Madara comments after a few minutes of awkward silence and Tobirama shrugs. “His first suggestion was to marry you to Izuna.” That gets a wince from Tobirama and Madara hums in agreement. “That was my reaction, he would have killed you the second you two were alone together.”

“And you won’t?” Tobirama mutters before he can stop himself. When Madara frowns and shakes his head, Tobirama narrows his eyes, the floodgates bursting open. “So, you intend to what? Keep me around to beat every time you’re reminded of the mess I made of our brother’s life? Maybe keep me as a bed warmer? A convenient warm body to fuck when you can’t find someone else to get your rocks off with? Is that the type of man you are Husband?” By the time Tobirama is done he’s panting and Madara’s face is unreadable.

“Are you done?” The Uchiha asks and Tobirama just nods, head bowed and waiting to be proven correct. “Look at me.”

It takes a lot of effort for Tobirama to listen, too many years spent avoiding eye contact with everyone, but when he does, he is fully expecting to find the Sharingan ready and willing to destroy his mind. Much to his shock Madara’s eyes are not only still black but the older man looks pained.

“Is that truly what you think of me? Of this marriage?”

“I…” Seeing the pointed look, Tobirama shrinks in on himself, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “How can I think anything else?” He finally mutters, looking down at his clenched fists, “it’s not like I wanted to do this.”

There is a long moment of silence before Madara sighs and reaches across the table to grip Tobirama’s hand.

“I’m sorry Tobirama,” Madara states when the former Senju looks up at him. “Hashirama said you agreed to do this.”

“I didn’t fight him, I couldn’t.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this,” the Uchiha grumbles, drawing a raised eyebrow from Tobirama. “Uchiha don’t usually agree to arranged marriages; a loveless marriage go against everything our clan believes in. Hashirama knows this, but he assured me you were willing to marry me, so I took the chance.”

“What will you do now?” Tobirama finds himself asking, unsure how he wants the Uchiha to proceed.

“I should absolve this marriage and shove the ceasefire up Hashirama’s ass-”

“You can’t!” Tobirama interrupts because Hashirama’s happiness is always more important than his own. “Peace means everything to Hashirama!”

“-but I won’t,” Madara continues as though Tobirama hasn’t spoken, “because I can’t, in good consciousness, send you back to that lying bastard.”

“Why does it sound like you care about my well-being?” Tobirama asks with a raised eyebrow, “I almost killed your brother; you should want me dead.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my brother’s condition,” Madara comments as he sips his tea, surprisingly calm given the subject, “do you even know Izuna’s condition?”

“Just what Hashirama passed onto me.”

“Which was?” Madara presses, making Tobirama squirm.

“Crippled for life, if he survives, he’ll be little more than a civilian,” Tobirama repeats, growing restless when Madara’s chakra stays eerily calm. “One lung completely useless and he’s been rendered blind due to infection.”

Madara is silent for a single, never ending tense moment before he springs to his feet, nearly tipping the table over in the process. “Don’t move,” he growls as he storms out of the room.

Tobirama stares at the empty spot his husband has just left in absolute shock. Why had his recount of Izuna’s injuries created such a violent reaction? Had Madara finally snapped and decided he needed to die? Tobirama’s thoughts come to a screeching halt when Madara returns with Izuna in tow. Izuna Uchiha, the man he supposedly crippled beyond repair according his anija, is standing there looking annoyed.

“Why am I here Aniki?” Izuna demands, his breathing sounding only slightly labored, “I’m not going to help you fuck him.”

“How?” Tobirama mutters, not aware he’s speaking, “you’re supposed to be on death’s door…”

“You’re not that great,” Izuna huffs, crossing his arms over his chest when Madara cuffs him over the head.

“Hashirama told my husband he crippled you,” Madara states and Izuna frowns as the brother’s share a look.

“I told you he couldn’t be trusted,” Izuna grumbles as he shifts his shirt to reveal his bandaged side. “I always wear under armor in case my main armor is damaged; your strike was good, it hurt like mother fucker and has put me out of a commission for a few battles, but I’ll recover.”

Tobirama just stares at the covered wound, even with the bandages blocking his view he knew it wasn’t as bad as Hashirama had led him to believe. “I don’t understand…”

“The fucking Senju lied to you,” Izuna snaps, his frown deepening, “I keep saying he can’t be trusted.”

“You’re supposed dying words…” Tobirama mumbles, more to himself as the gears start turning again, “you didn’t mean the Senju as a whole…just Hashirama.”

“Bingo!” Izuna’s snort is unattractive and a little grating on his nerves, but Tobirama supposes he deserves it. “Also, I’m not the blind one, Aniki is.”

“Izuna!” Madara snaps, flushing in embarrassment as Tobirama looks between the two. “I told you to keep that to yourself!”

“Madara’s…blind?”

“Pretty much,” Izuna shrugs, carefully avoiding his brother’s swinging fist, “I mean he has some sight left, but it’s getting worse. I’ve tried to get him to take my eyes, your two-faced brother probably heard me say that at some point, but Aniki refuses to listen.” Seeing the bewildered look stuck on Tobirama’s face, Izuna sighs and lets his Mangekyo Sharingan spin to life; Tobirama can’t even bring himself to look away. “This gift comes at the cost of our eyesight Snowflake; the only way to prevent it is to take another’s Mangekyo as your own.”

“Why don’t you two just trade eyes then?” Tobirama suggests, blurting out the first thought in his scrambled brain, “that should help both of you, right?”

“It could work…” Madara mutters as he and Izuna share a contemplative look, “it would put us both out of commission for a couple days but with the ceasefire now is the perfect time…”

“Do you trust your bride to take care of you?” Izuna asks, staring directly into his brother’s eyes, searching for even a hint of a lie. “I have Kagami to look after me.”

“I do,” Madara says honestly, shocking the other two men in the house, “he’s bound by his marriage oath just as I am, plus Hashirama betrayed him too.”

“I won’t try and kill you while you recover,” Tobirama huffs, feeling insulted that the Uchiha thought he would be the won to strike and ruin the tentative alliance.

“I’ll gather the healers tomorrow morning then,” Izuna says as he turns to leave, “for tonight I suggest you consummate this mockery of a marriage.”

“Keep your opinions to yourself Otouto,” Madara orders, his eyes amused even if his tone isn’t. “Or I’ll marry your precious Kagami off to a Hyuga.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Izuna screeches as he flees the house, “he’s too adorable to promise to those bastards!”

“Who is this Kagami?” Tobirama can’t help but ask after the door slams shut.

“My brother’s pupil,” Madara chuckles as he settles back into his previously vacated spot, a spark of chakra warming the tea back up, “but the teen has the hots for Izu and I fully expect a formal request to court my oblivious otouto once Kagami is of age.”

“Oh,” Tobirama mutters as he sips his tea, unsure how to cope with everything he’s just learned. One thing Madara had said stood out the most to him and he just couldn’t let it go. “You really trust me?”

“There are two things you should know about me,” Madara says as he sets his tea down. “One, Uchiha don’t stray from a marriage; once we pick a partner it’s for life. Regardless of how the marriage came about, we Uchiha are all in, no exceptions.”

“And?”

“Two, I’m in charge of the entire clan all day every day, I didn’t pick you so I could be in charge in the bedroom too.”

“I beg your pardon?” Tobirama sputters, nearly choking on his tea at that rather unexpected statement.

“What I’m saying is,” Madara begins with a predatory grin, “if you think you can get it up, I’m all for you fucking me into the mattress.”

Tobirama can’t but grin too, he’d be a liar if he said he’d never fantasized about shoving the Uchiha down and having his way with him. Now it seemed like instead of death awaiting him it was his most indulgent wet dream come to life.

[sennokami]

parallelisms - chapter 4

ao3

Hashirama had been a few weeks shy of turning fifteen when he first noticed Madara staring at him. It hadn’t been his usual scheming stare, the one that meant he was planning something mischievous. It wasn’t his alert-to-the-world look or his wary face either. It was a look that he never saw before.

“Is there something on my face?”

Madara jerked as if struck. “No.” He shook himself a little. “No, why?”

“You were looking.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were!”

“I wasn’t!”

That quickly devolved into a wrestling match that became a proper spar and Hashirama, sweaty and breathless, painlessly forgot about the whole affair.

Why he was remembering it now as a grown man wasn’t a question he could even begin to answer. Hashirama leaned back in his chair, examining the whorls in the wooden ceiling, as he tried to summon those old, old memories back to him. Just for this, he could’ve happily traded his Mokuton for a Sharingan; everything he tried to recall came back hazy, uncertain in the undefined recesses of his thoughts. Had Madara really been looking that long? Had that glitter in his eyes just been the sun or something else?

“Damn,” Hashirama muttered to himself. He covered his eyes with his arm. “Damn. Damn.”

Why was he trying so hard anyway? Why did that memory feel so important?

He pressed his arm down against his eyes. What had Mito said? ‘I’ve never met a man so obviously only interested in other men’?

Was it that obvious? Hashirama had never really suspected it until certain facts about Madara came together. But Mito hadn’t even known Madara that long and she’d figured him out. What crucial thing had she seen in Madara that told her about something so intimate, so personal? And why hadn’t Hashirama seen it too?

He wished he’d thought to ask her. Then, he’d just gone quiet, as had Mito, the two of them taken by their thoughts again.

“Hey.”

Hashirama lifted his arm to see his cousin, Toka, perched on the window of his office. She unfolded herself, her armor softly clinking. “You’re back quick.”

“The Hyuuga weren’t that far.”

Hashirama straightened. “They’re moving towards Konoha?”

“Turns out that they spoke to Madara yesterday and he convinced them to come to the village. You didn’t know?” Toka’s wry look dropped, her eyes narrowing. “If he’s negotiating with them without telling you -”

“No! No, that’s not what I meant. I just thought that they wouldn’t be moving so soon.” The lie was thoughtless. Hashirama was just so used to defending Madara from his clan that he didn’t even think about covering for him again, no matter how pointless it was now that they had peace.

“Well, they are. They’re not far out from Konoha now and they’ll probably be at the gates by sundown. I assume they’re gonna be coming in?”

“Absolutely.”

Toka sighed and leaned against the wall. She was, like most Senju were, a tall woman. Her top knot added to her height. She’d been one of the few kids who’d been exactly of age with Hashirama and they’d been close for a little while, back when age was something that mattered, right up until Toka caught wind of her parents discussing potential marriage matches with Butsuma. They’d drifted apart afterwards, both of them not particularly interested in encouraging thoughts in that direction, and now they were comfortable in their relationship as clan head and subordinate first, cousins second. 

Toka crossed her arms. “So I heard that Uchiha Madara is going to marry a Hyuuga.”

Hashirama opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out one of his bonsai projects in lieu of answering. He began to trim its tiny branches.

“And I heard that she is supposed to be a real looker.”

Hashirama snipped a little branch off, then winced. He shouldn’t have done that one. Now the whole thing was going to be lopsided. Toka came closer.

“I saw her for a little bit. She’s pretty.” Toka’s elbows came to a rest on the corner of his desk. “I wouldn’t say no if the Hyuuga offered her to me for a wife.”

Hashirama nearly snipped off another wrong branch before he finally admitted defeat. He set his trimming shears down. “Is there a point to this?” he asked, glancing at Toka’s inquisitive face.

“Well, I’d thought that you of all people would be the one who knows the best. I asked Mito and she wouldn’t tell me anything concrete.”

“You could ask Madara.”

“And what, get burned? No thanks. Just tell me.”

“Madara isn’t getting married,” Hashirama said firmly. He touched the base of the bonsai tree and regrew the branch he’d lopped off mistakenly. It was cheating, doing it this way, but he thought he was warranted one do-over since he’d been distracted. “It was just a first-time offer from them. We’re going to negotiate down, it won’t be a big deal. Everyone gets marriage offers. Remember how many I got?”

“Oh, yeah.” Toka’s face twisted. “I can’t believe anyone is that eager to marry you.”

“Maybe I should’ve made Tobirama become clan head so he got to deal with all those contracts instead.”

Toka smirked. “You could just give them to me.”

“And risk growing your harem? Dangerous thoughts.”

Toka laughed and rose up to her full height. “I guess I’ll have to do it my way then. Did you know I met this one Uchiha girl last night? I couldn’t tell if she hated me or wanted to sleep with me, it was confusing as hell. Especially since I couldn’t tell the same thing. These Uchiha…” She shook her head a little. “Confusing little bunch, aren’t they?”

With that, she sauntered out of his office with a wave and a promise to see Mito. Hashirama let her go, picking the side of his thumb thoughtfully. He didn’t know what Madara was doing. Normally, this didn’t bother him. A lot of people didn’t know what Madara was doing. But this time, this whole marriage affair – he just couldn’t get it out of his head.

-

Hashirama spent the rest of his week trying to convince himself that Mito was right. He tried to push it out of his head, dredging up all kinds of work that might distract him, but he eventually circled back to right where he started; scribbling ideas for the new proposal he could bring to the Hyuuga. It wasn’t strictly about Madara, sure, but it was definitely tangential enough that he felt vaguely guilty.

“Land,” he muttered. The Hyuuga would need land to settle into and there was a surplus of it. Hell, they could have the whole west side of the forest if they wanted, it was no concern. And since winter was coming, they’d need food. The Senju had ample food provisions ready for the winter, even accounting for the additional demand of multiple clans. As for security – they were worried about the village in Cloud, right? Maybe Hashirama could meet their leader, establish communications, and tell them the Hyuuga were off-limits now. All of it came easily when Madara might marry wasn’t making his stomach knot up.

As Hashirama pondered what else could go on the list (did the Hyuuga want anything particular grown for them?), he heard heavy steps from the floor below. Normally, noise from downstairs didn’t come up to his office but this one was different. Madara had a particular way of walking, a deliberate and thumping way, that announced his presence a full minute before he actually arrived. He could do the same thing with his chakra, make it bloom so fiercely that everyone on the battlefield feels the hot, dry wind, but this was different. They were different.

Hashirama tracked it with one ear, listened to Madara skip over the one bad step on the stairs, march up to his door – thump, thump, thump – bam. He opened the door. Hashirama automatically grabbed a paper before it fluttered away.

“One of the chuunin told me you were available.”

“I am.” Hashirama perked up eagerly. “What is it?”

“I talked to the Hyuuga.” The door swung wider, revealing more of Madara. He wasn’t wearing his mantle. Instead, he was dressed in a fine kimono that stretched across his shoulders, his hair tied up and curling around his neck. It all suited him unnervingly well.

Hashirama’s mouth went a little dry. Madara was still talking.

“-they agreed to my terms but the finer details haven’t been set down yet.” Madara put his hands on his hips. “Are you listening?”

Hashirama nodded.

“I even spoke to her.”

“Her?” He swallowed and clasped his hands so his fingers would stop buzzing. He wanted to walk over to Madara, grab his shoulder, and hold him still so the silk wouldn’t move over his hips like… like that. What color was it? It wasn’t quite red, nor was it violet. It was something in the middle, like the color of good wine.

“The girl,” Madara said, sounding annoyed. “It was as I expected.”

“Was it?”

He dug his nails into his hands and put a valiant effort into looking away. On his visual journey to safer waters, something worse ambushed him. The white triangle of Madara’s chest, scarred, muscled, netted him like a fish.

Oh god. The voice in his head sounded as dazed as Hashirama felt. Oh fuck.

“Mito’s advice was very helpful.”

“Right.”

“You’re not listening,” Madara accused.

“I’m sorry,” Hashirama said, because he really was. He was happy that Madara was finally visiting him again. He definitely wasn’t losing his mind over the fit of Madara’s kimono. “I was just. Your kimono.”

Good job.

“This?” Madara looked down at it scathingly. “Hikaku thinks the Hyuuga will be more receptive if I wore something different. At least it’s not mine.”

So that nixed his vague ideas about Madara’s closet and its contents. “Were the Hyuuga more receptive?”

“They served better tea than last time.” Madara shrugged. Hashirama followed the rise and fall of his collarbones. “What did you do?”

“I...” Hashirama squeezed life back into his fingers. “I thought about setting some incentives for the Hyuuga actually, since we should probably negotiate down from their initial offer-”

“That isn’t necessary anymore.” Madara crossed his arms. His biceps bulged. “The Hyuuga have promised half their fighting forces to the village and they have some interesting ideas about how they can help with the water aquifer. The wedding will be in a month. I said it should be sooner but they insisted they need the extra time. You’re invited, obviously.”

Hashirama had the distinct impression that Madara just had a whole conversation without him. “...Wedding?”

“Traditional.” Madara waved his hand, as if this whole thing was just a fly he wanted to shake away. “I think it would be a good time to get all the clan heads together, put their attention to something that isn’t politics. The Hyuuga intend to foot the majority of the expenses, but I think you could-”

“What,” Hashirama loudly cut him off, “are you talking about?”

For the first time since Madara got here, he looked act him – as in, actually looked at him, not just at the space over his left shoulder. He looked nonchalant but there was something else lurking in there, something behind the set of his dark eyes.

“My wedding,” Madara said.

“To who?” Hashirama said.

“The girl. The Hyuuga. You were there with me.”

“You didn’t say you would marry her.”

“I said I’d think about it.”

“That isn’t a yes!”

“What else were you expecting?” Madara snapped. “It was a good idea, even your brother could see that.”

“But why would you agree?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Madara peered at him, his eyes narrowed, and this was all going bad, going in directions Hashirama hadn’t wanted it to go in. He wanted to say something to defuse the situation but he couldn’t seem to find the right words for it. Maybe he didn’t want to defuse this at all. He was… he was just… gods, was he angry?

Angry at Madara?

“We were going to negotiate down, it was a rash move for you to just -”

“It was my offer to negotiate.” Madara’s mouth was just a thin line now, a bloodless slash of restrained fury. “Don’t you understand that? It was my own damn marriage. I brought you along, that should be enough for you.”

“I didn’t expect you to actually agree!” Hashirama stood up. His chair screeched back. His entire body was buzzing again, the wood under his hands growing warm, and for once, Hashirama didn’t pay it mind. “Tobirama didn’t, I didn’t, Mito even didn’t -”

“Oh, Mito didn’t, did she.” Madara sneered. It was an ugly expression for his handsome face. It made him cold and unwelcoming, a visit backwards in time. “Well, maybe, you should ask me instead of asking her.”

“Do you think you have to?” Hashirama said. He was grasping at straws. “You don’t! There’s plenty to discuss with the Hyuuga, you don’t need to do this to yourself. I’m sure we could reach some kind of accord with them.”

Madara stared at him. His face twisted, a hot spitfire of anger simmering in his eyes, before cooling down to banked coals. “You don’t get it, do you?”

The disappointment hurt worse than Madara’s anger. Hashirama was capable of enduring all his fires, all his heat, but he’d never learned to cope with Madara’s disappointment before.

“What’s there to get?” he asked him. Pleaded. I don’t understand. Please, Madara. Please.

“You’re a married man, Hashirama.” Madara walked closer to him. He pressed the tips of his fingers on his desk and leaned in, his hair whispering over his silk shoulders. “That’s that. I thought that maybe… well, it’s over, isn’t it? You and I. You’ve gone ahead without me."

Madara’s fingers slid over the desk. Hashirama felt the scrape of his nails over every groove in the wood. When he touched his hand, he felt both hot and cold. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

“Senju Mito is your wife. And I can’t stay waiting."

Madara curled their fingers together. Hashirama looked down at their interlinked fingers, then at Madara’s face. He didn’t look so angry anymore. Just resigned and rueful, the creases in the corners of his eyes too deep for his age. Hashirama gently pulled his hand a little closer. When he cupped his cheek, Madara didn’t move.

“It was necessary,” Hashirama said. His voice was hoarse.

“I suppose.” Madara leaned into his touch. Hashirama’s gut twisted harshly. “But that doesn’t change reality.”

“Madara, I -”

“Hashirama.”

The seriousness in his voice made him stop talking. Hashirama watched, something too vast for words tossing and turning within him, as Madara turned his head a fraction and kissed the inside of his palm. His lips were soft, just the tiniest bit wet, as if Madara had licked them before coming in, and Hashirama couldn’t stop even if he wanted to as he tilted Madara’s chin and kissed him.

There was no pain. There was no blood. It was just Madara opening his mouth to let him in and Hashirama grabbing his shoulder, holding him tightly, terrified of the idea that he might just leave. Madara was his friend, his best friend, he’d swear it until his tongue went bloody, but he was something more that he was still too afraid to look in the eye.

Madara curled his hand over the back of his neck. He always ran hot but now he felt scorching, his palms leaving brands wherever they went. Hashirama wanted to ask him, burn me, make it forever, but he held his tongue until Madara pulled back, his mouth warm and red, the Sharingan spinning like pinwheels.

“I-” he began, but Madara cut him off. Again. He was doing that more and more, wasn’t he?

“Don’t talk,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

I want to, Hashirama wanted to say. I want to tell you so much. Hashirama wanted nothing more than to hold Madara by his hips until he could find the right words for it but Madara was right, because the world didn’t stop turning for them. It all just kept going and going, forward and forward, and Hashirama was feeling increasingly left behind, snatching at things that didn’t want to be held.

“Won’t you wait?” he pleaded.

“Can I?” Madara asked in return.

Yes, you can, whispered a weak voice inside of him, but even Hashirama knew that wasn’t fair.

Madara let go first. When Hashirama didn’t release him, Madara pulled his hands off. Both of them didn’t make eye contact with each other as Madara took a step back, his hands now tightly clasped behind his back, and quietly said, “A month. That’s how long you have.”

Hashirama didn’t reply, even as Madara left and closed the door behind him.

-

He didn’t know what possessed him when he went down to the Hyuuga camp that was slowly filtering inside of Konoha’s walls. He still couldn’t say by the time he was sitting in front of Hyuuga Hisae, the woman who would be Madara’s wife.

And I heard that she is supposed to be a real looker, Toka chuckled. I don’t think he’s going to get married, Mito shrugged.

“I’m honored by your visit, Hokage-sama,” Hisae said, dipping her head. She had long brown hair that’d been combed smooth and bound back by a long white ribbon. Her hands were thin and her fingers long, white as lily petals. Hashirama could imagine the kind of children she’d give Madara: beautiful and strong and perfect.

Did Madara want children? Come to think of it, Hashirama never asked. Such thoughts hadn’t been on their minds when they were boys. Now, he could only add it to the growing pile of things he wished he’d asked.

“We don’t need to be so formal, Hisae-san,” Hashirama smiled back. “You’re going to marry Madara and I think of him as a brother. You’ll practically be my sister.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said. Her mouth moved but her eyes did not.

“I was thinking of visiting before. And with the recent news, I finally have an excuse to swing by. I hope your clan’s finding the move comfortable?”

“Oh, very. Konohagakure has been very welcoming to us, and everyone has been very kind. My mother was very pleased.”

“And you? Were you pleased?”

“Perfectly,” she said. Her mouth tilted up into a dollish smile. “Marrying Uchiha-sama will be a deep honor.”

Hashirama’s palms itched. He’d always hated this kind of formality. Tobirama was so much better at it, sitting with a straight back in a stuffy room, drinking tea and making subtle commentary, while Hashirama had always wanted to cut to the heart of the matter, formality be damned.

“You know, I wasn’t there when Madara confirmed. I wish I was – it really would’ve been something to see!” he laughed as Hisae stared at him. “I guess he just talked to Hitomi-san?”

“Ah, no, actually. We discussed it ourselves and I agreed. I only told my mother later.”

Oh. That was new. Hashirama couldn’t explain the spike of nervous energy that shot through him at that. A private conversation sounded a lot more intimate than a negotiated marriage alliance.

“I hope he didn’t offend you,” Hashirama said. Immediately, he regretted it. He prayed Madara would never hear wind of this.

“Not at all. Uchiha-sama was very courteous throughout our conversation.” Hisae tilted her head. “Did you think he would offend me?”

“No, of course not. I just understand that his reputation can precede him a little.”

“Ah, but you have a reputation too, Hokage-sama. The God of Shinobi, was it? It’s quite a fearsome moniker. But I think that both of you prove to be much more than mere reputations. Uchiha-sama, in particular, I thought, seemed to represented rather unfairly. But I guess that it the lot of our clans, being doujutsu clans.”

Hashirama blinked. He rather had the feeling that he’d pulled on a tripwire he hadn’t known existed. “We don’t discriminate against bloodlines here,” he said, cautious.

“It’s not discrimination,” Hisae said. “But it’s… ah, how should I put it… a certain attitude, perhaps, towards bloodlines. It’s not so rare, Hokage-sama, for shinobi to have a reaction to them. Where I come from, the Byakugan is known for being a blind man’s eyes – because they get taken so often, you see.”

Hashirama remembered Hitomi and the bandages wrapped around her head. Blind man’s eyes. What a cruel nickname.

“... I remember Hitomi-san asking for insurance,” he said. “Is that the point of this? Insurance?”

“It wasn’t too long ago that the Uchiha and the Senju were enemies,” she said. “I will not tempt the gods by speaking of darker possibilities, but I think we both understand the precautions we’re taking by acknowledging that.”

“You think this village won’t last.”

“I did not say that.”

“You think it’s possible.”

“You said it, Hokage-sama, and not me.” Hisae folded her sleeves so they laid on her lap symmetrically. “I don’t want to spoil the happiness that will come in a month, so I think a conversation like this is out of place, but-”

“Hisae-san,” Hashirama cut in insistently, “that’s not what I came to talk to you about.”

It was politics all over again. Always politics, here and there, insinuations about what could happen, about potential enemies, but that wasn’t the point of this conversation.

“What I wanted to ask you,” he said, “was if you’re going to marry Madara just for politics.”

Her brows knitted. For the first time during their entire conversation, Hisae’s facade slipped an inch. Her eyes darted to the corners of the room before she leaned in, frowning a little. “I’m… sorry?”

“Can you really just marry him for something that might happen? Doesn’t that seem unfair to you? Don’t you want to marry someone you actually know?”

“We have a month to know each other.”

“It’s only a month. Why not wait a little? Make sure that you two are actually compatible, just so you’re not making a mistake.”

“But Hokage-sama,” Hisae said, “I do like Uchiha-sama.”

“What?”

“Don’t misunderstand. Part of this is politics, most assuredly so. But Uchiha-sama himself is…” Hisae pulled out her fan from her sleeve began to fan herself. Her mask was freezing back into place but behind her waving fan, Hashirama could see a tiny smile that looked almost genuine. Like this, he could actually see what Toka was talking about – Hyuuga Hisae, behind the ice, was truly lovely.

“I’ve never met a man like him before,” she said. “And at first, I was afraid, but I’m not anymore. Because above all else... Uchiha-sama is a very kind man.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Lonely, Dark and Deep - ao3 link - Chapter 2

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Madara/Tobirama, background others Summary:

Hashirama was always going to have to leave Konoha behind one day, but no one was expecting for it to happen so soon.

Tobirama falls apart without his brother.

Madara, mad and bitter and preparing to leave himself, finds that he's now without his best friend and responsible for a village he'd just about given up on.

And now it seems like there's something not quite right with the forest...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Madara knows exactly how he missed it.

He wasn't looking.

He was consumed by his anger, by his grief, seeing the Izuna-that-could-have-been in every corner of the village. Shopping at the brand new market in the center of town, trying out all the new restaurants that were opening up, flirting outrageously with all the women and some of the men, sitting on the field with a lover and watching the fireworks that marked the anniversary of the founding of the village -

This village is everything he dreamed of as a child, but his brother's death makes it all taste of ash.

Pointless. Pointless! He’s betraying Izuna's final wishes every minute he stays, they all are, every Uchiha every minute their clan submits itself to Senju rule.

But his clan doesn't listen to him anymore.

(Warmonger, they whisper, thinking he wants to go back to the way it was before, children dying out on frontlines where they don’t belong. Eye-stealer, like he would ever.)

The stone tablet showed him another way, though, a better way, a way to make the world peaceful for good. If it causes some death along the way – he doesn't want to think about that. He doesn’t want to think of how much destruction this path will cause, how much betrayal and devastation.

Maybe if the village had chosen him over Hashirama and his empty dreams of peace through love, there could have been another way – but no.

The tablet offers the only real way forward. 

It’s what Izuna would have wanted, he tells himself, and he believes it, too.

Every time before, when his rage threatened to overcome him, Hashirama always seemed to know to come by: some new task that needed to be done, some distraction, something wonderful to show him in their growing village. But this time, Hashirama didn’t come.

Even Hashirama’s given up on me, Madara remembers thinking, wild and bitter. Let him stay in his village with its fake peace, then – but I won’t be here. I won’t be deceived.

He’d settled on leaving at the end of the week and set about putting his affairs in order – he’d expected that to cause Hashirama to come running, but he hadn’t. Madara could have just left then, probably should have, but some little part of him that is still a child skipping stones by the riverbank can’t imagine leaving without giving Hashirama one last chance to convince him to stay.

When Hashirama still does not come, Madara goes to find him. 

What he finds –

Tobirama is crying.

That’s the first thing he remembers – the first really clear image in weeks, to be honest, even months, in all the time that has passed ever since Izuna died – a shock like a kunai plunged directly his heart, shock so strong that it penetrates even the fog of grief and rage that always surrounds him now.

Tobirama never cries.

Previously, if asked, Madara would have said he wasn’t even sure the man could. As far as Madara knew, the man hadn’t even cried as a child, not even at the deaths of his own brothers: soulless and heartless, existing but not living, an automaton that mocked Madara by continuing to breathe when vibrant, exuberant Izuna did not.

But doubts aside, Madara cannot deny what his eyes are seeing: Tobirama is crying. 

And he isn’t crying the way Madara would have imagined Tobirama might cry, to the extent he’d thought of it: something all stoic and dignified and maybe a single tear glistening on his cheek for half a second before he wiped it away and buried his pain.

No, this is ugly – Tobirama is on his knees, curled over on himself, his shoulders heaving and tears streaming down his face, mouth agape with silent screams of agony.

“Have you been poisoned?” Madara demands, alarmed, horrified; it’s one thing to demand the man’s death, knowing that Hashirama would never agree – another thing entirely to watch him die right there in front of him by some hand other than his own, robbing Hashirama of his last brother the way Madara was robbed. Whatever their differences, whatever betrayal Madara has planned for the future, Hashirama is still too dear to Madara for him to wish such a fate on him. “You need a healer –” 

Tobirama shakes his head.

“A jutsu, then?” Madara asks, immediately thinking about what jutsu-breakers he knows, and about the strategic vulnerability such an attack presents to the village – if someone had a jutsu that could take out Tobirama in the middle of Konoha, they were all at risk, every one of them. “Some sort of long-distance torture –”

“No,” Tobirama says, his voice raspy and wet. “Nothing like that.” 

Madara stares at him. “Then what…?”

“Hashirama is gone.”

That’s when Madara sees the hat Tobirama is bent over, wrapping his body around it as if he’s trying futilely to protect it even as the pressure of his fingers cause furrows to run through it.

The ridiculous, stupid hat that somehow everyone had decided signified the position of Hokage.

Hashirama’s hat.

Hashirama –

“Gone?” he says faintly, and he finds suddenly that he’s sitting on the floor when a second ago he’d been standing.

It cannot be true. It cannot be.

Hashirama – he’d seen him just the day before, walking through the village with that strange new distant look in his eyes. He’d been fine. How could he be gone?

(Losing Izuna had destroyed the foundation of Madara’s life – but somehow Madara’d never even considered the possibility of losing Hashirama, not to anything but his own hand. They were best friends, they were mortal enemies, they were the possibility of something more, some deep and fundamental binding together of their very souls, but they were above all else each other’s.)

Tobirama nods mutely, as if in saying that much he’d used up whatever store of words he had, and goes back to crying. Here are the tears Madara couldn’t shed for Izuna, frozen in grief as he has been, and all the ones Tobirama hadn’t shed for his younger brothers, too.

All of them are here, now, the sobs ripping their way through Tobirama’s body and it must be true, then, what he says, but Madara still can’t believe it.

“How?” he asks, even though he doesn’t really want to know. The thought of Hashirama, brilliant powerful Hashirama, dead – a thousand images pulled from a thousand battlefields spring into Madara’s mind at once, Hashirama’s lips bloody from the last rasp of breath, face bloated from drowning, body charred to ashes from fire or lightning, fingers ripped apart from trying to dig his way to the surface for air…so many ways to die.

All of it meaningless. In the end the result is the same: Hashirama, dead.

Hashirama, dead.

That’s when the anger steals in underneath the grief.

“No,” Madara says, because the how is unimportant. What matters is – “Who?”

Tell me who to blame, he means, tell me I can get revenge, tell me I can make this better by hurting whoever hurt him – but Tobirama is already shaking his head.

“Peace,” he says, trying to use his sleeve to wipe at his eyes, a fairly futile endeavor. “His peace. Your peace. That’s all.”

Madara frowns, confusing mixing with the anger, staying his always far-too-ready hand. “What? What are you talking about?”

He can’t have heard that right.

Tobirama laughs, sharp and jagged and sounding like it hurt him to do. “You Uchiha,” he says. “You and your curse of hatred, your Sharingan born of pain…did it never occur to you that the Senju have a flaw, too?”

It hadn’t. Not once.

“Everyone knows the Uchiha love too much, too selfishly,” Tobirama says, his lips pulled back into a snarl that’s more of a grimace of pain than anything else. “Well, we Senju have the opposite problem.”

“What, you love the whole world, and it’s a problem?” Madara sneers.

“Yes, it’s a problem!” Tobirama spits back at him. “Hashirama forgets he has children because his village, his peace, is more important to him. My father put defeating the Uchiha above everything – he went to battle the day after my mother died, just because it would give our side the slightest additional advantage in positioning.”

Madara knows this to be true, and it’s always puzzled him. Putting Butsuma aside, how could Hashirama, who loves so strongly, be so neglectful?

Tobirama shakes his head at Madara’s confusion. “You really don’t know, do you?” he asks, his shoulders sagging. “You Uchiha have love. We Senju have principles – one principle for each person, a thousand or more to choose from, but from that principle we do not bend lest we break, and our minds doom us as surely as your hearts do you.”

Madara opens his mouth, then closes it. He’s never thought – that makes no sense – but it does. 

It actually does make sense, in a sick sort of way.

No wonder Butsuma barely batted an eye when Hashirama declared himself willing to oppose his own clan over the question of peace, for all his rage that his son was consorting with Madara in the first place. It had been as if Hashirama’s blasphemous choice hadn’t really surprised him, and as far as Madara knew Hashirama had never suffered any serious consequences for making it – not the way Madara would have, if he’d chosen the same.

So many stories, over the years, all now explained –

Senju inexplicably making last stands when no sacrifice really seemed to be called for. 

Senju fighting like demons possessed, unwilling to ever yield, for no apparent reason.

Senju who terrified even the Uchiha with the extent to which they would seek revenge not for a beloved person, which was something that every Uchiha could understand, but simply for a cause…

Madara opens his mouth to ask what Tobirama’s principle is, but – he knows.

Tobirama, ever the odd duckling of his family, devoted his life to that most un-Senju of principles, a goal more properly fit for an Uchiha: the happiness of his brothers. 

No wonder he couldn’t forgive the Uchiha for his younger brother’s death, even if that too-logical mind of his agreed to give up revenge in favor of working with them for the greater good that was Hashirama’s dream of a peaceful and unified village. 

No wonder he didn’t trust them – he’s too much like them. He knows how they feel, how they grieve, how they rage. In his position, Madara wouldn’t trust his clan either – there’s a reason they usually kill people who end up like Madara is now.

This is the first time it’s occurred to Madara to wonder why they haven’t. 

Tobirama has no brothers left, now. Just like Madara.

“What happened?” Madara asks, suddenly desperate to know. “What happened to Hashirama?” 

Tobirama’s shoulders move, a pale imitation of his usual caustic shrug. “He has the Mokuton,” he says. “It’s – it’s like your Sharingan, like your Mangekyo, only much, much less common. It’s not necessary, we all suffer from our principles regardless, but having it makes the effects of it far worse. Hashirama had it worst of all.”

“But Hashirama’s principle is the village,” Madara says, still stubborn. “Even if Hashirama was willing to devote everything to it –”

And he was, Madara knew he was: he would kill Madara for it, if it came to that – 

No. Not just that.

That isn’t the truest measure of Hashirama’s devotion, killing Madara, not the way he thought it’d be – now that he can think clearly, though, he knows what is. 

Hashirama – he would even have killed Tobirama for the village, wouldn’t he?

When Madara, maddened by Izuna’s death, had demanded Hashirama kill Tobirama or himself as the price of peace between them, Hashirama had only thanked him for offering him the option. 

Madara had thought that was because Hashirama trusted Madara not to make him pay the price, that he wanted to demonstrate that he, too, loved his brother – and even if he thought Madara did mean it, it was an easy choice, really; the same choice Madara would have made, the same choice any Uchiha would make. Now for the first time it occurs to him that perhaps Hashirama had thanked him not because of that, but rather because if Madara hadn’t given him the choice, if Madara had set the price of peace as Tobirama’s blood or nothing, Hashirama would have –

He would have –

(Tobirama had been afraid, when Madara had named his price. The knuckles of the fingers wrapped around his sword had been white, Madara’s Sharingan reminds him, and he’d been so afraid – afraid, yes, but strangely resigned, too. He’d asked if Hashirama would kill him for the sake of his village, for Madara’s sake. And if Hashirama hadn’t loved his brother just a little bit more than he loved himself, he might have done it.)

Madara shakes his head to try to banish the trembling of his heart and continues. “Even if Hashirama was willing to give up everything for the village, why would that kill him? How?”

“Because Hashirama’s principle isn’t a village,” Tobirama says. “It’s peace. The Mokuton…the old legends of the Senju say that for all that we’re a clan without a single limit, the thousand talents, the very first one we ever had was the Mokuton, a gift from the forest. They say that every few generations, we’re gifted again: the forest will lend someone its strength to fight for what they believe in, but it’s a loan. If that person dies in battle, their body is returned to the forest as tribute. If they don’t die, if they live long enough to see their dream fulfilled…it takes them back.”

Madara doesn’t like the sound of that.

“What happened to Hashirama?” he demands again, seized by a sudden fear. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

[djinmer4]

Snippets from a Madara/Mito fic that won’t get written

A/N: This story was created from one of those incoherent, 4 AM ideas.  Basically, in a world where clans jealousy hoard their kekkai genkai, summoning contracts and family techniques, what would the reputation of the clan that boasts a thousand skills be?  Would they be lauded for their power and versatility?  Or would they be viewed as thieves and rapists?

Some Senju bashing, although to be fair, it’s all based on rumor only.

“Mito-chan, I’ve received an offer for your hand in marriage.”  Uzumaki Masaru was so old, the famed Uzumaki red hair had turned completely white.  He still led with the vim and vigor of a man half his age, but double the patience.  If the Uzumaki head asked you to jump, you could ask how high before you got in the air.

“May I ask who the other clan is?”  Mito knew her marriage would be a matter of politics, but she trusted her grandfather to do his best to at least pick someone tolerable.

He hesitated, which was a bad sign.  “Senju Hashirama, the new Head of the clan.”

“Oh no!  Not those thieves and rapists!”  The Senju boasted of their ‘thousand skills’ but everyone knew how they got them.  Captured prisoners raped for children, seduction missions, forced marriages to dying clans and bloodlines to incorporate the techniques and kekkai genkai into the clan.  There was a saying that the Senju is where clans go to die.

“Now Mito-chan, most of those rumors have no proof behind them.”

“What happened to the last Lady Senju is no rumor.”  Hatake Kimiko had been the pride of her clan, considered the third most powerful member behind her two older siblings.  After marrying Senju Butsuma, she had been dead in less than ten years, worn out from constant pregnancies, miscarriages, and childbirth.  The prior head hadn’t even had a consort, it was well known that Butsuma had been a mission baby.

“I thought you might say that.”  Her grandfather’s shoulders slumped.  “Unfortunately, they’ll be difficult to turn down.  They are our allies and there aren’t many clans that can match them in power and prestige.  Even a rapid engagement to another won’t necessarily put them off.”

Mito thought hard.  “There is at least one clan that matches them in both.  And they have a much better reputation.”

Uchiha Tajima was probably half Uzumaki Masaru’s age but looked far older.  It was at least partially due to living on the continent rather than an isolated and sheltered island like Uzushio.  The other part was probably being offended by the proposal.  “The Uchiha marry for love, we do not do political marriages.”

Mito was about to call him out on the lie when his son and heir stopped him.  “Father, have you looked over the terms they offered?”

“I have.  The terms are generous however you have already made your preference known.  The Uzumaki can wait until your brother returns from his mission to see if the two of them are compatible or they may take their contract and go.”

“I think I can come up with a compromise that will help both of us.  However, I would need to talk to Mito-sama alone.”  The Uzumaki guards bristled, but Mito held up a hand.  The Uchiha and the Hyuuga were her best chances to escape being contracted to the Senju heir as a broodmare, and there currently were no males of appropriate age and marital status among the Hyuuga.  She’d been prepared to accept Tajima’s offer of the younger son but if the older one had an idea to help salvage their pride, she’d hear them out.

She and Uchiha Madara ended up walking within the garden of the house, at the far end.  Her guards could see them clearly but not hear what they talked about.  If any Uchiha’s were in the area, she could not spot them but trusted that they would be discreet for the heir’s sake.

“Given what happened last night, I doubt you’ve been overcome by my spectacular good looks,” Madara noted wryly.

Mito fought down a blush.  Tsubaki had been her informal tutor in the sensual arts for years now.  It wasn’t love but Mito knew she’d never get the same thrill from a man as her handmaiden gave her.  Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary for heirs.  “What of it?” she challenged him.  “My preferences will not endanger the chain of inheritance if that’s what you’re worried about.  As long as you allow me my heart’s-companion and keep my children as your heirs, I’ll turn a blind eye to your own infidelities.”

“Peace Mito-sama!  I am of a similar mind as yourself.  You’ll have no bastards from me to worry about.”

So that’s what Tajima meant by Madara making his preferences known.  “I take it you will not object to the Uzumaki tradition of heart’s-companions then?”

“The Uchiha have had similar arrangements before.  Within the clan, we marry for love, but there have been the occasional political marriages arranged.  We generally prioritize politics after the heart, but sometimes it’s not possible.  Generally, the ones chosen are like me, who won’t endanger the contract by having bastard children.”

“Is that what you wanted to discuss then?”

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t looking for a love match.  For a chance to move the Uchiha away from all the warring clans, to a naturally protected location like Uzushio, especially with allies as formidable as the Uzumaki I would sacrifice a lot more than my bachelorhood.  But I had to be clear that you knew what you were getting into.  A scorned wife is no joke, even if kunoichi aren’t as capable as shinobi.”

Mito made a note to clear up Madara’s misconception.  Clearly, he’d not met enough kunoichi to know better.  “I am one of my grandfather’s potential heirs.  I wasn’t raised on fairy tales.”  A thought occurred to her.  “One quick issue though.  We will be expected to have children.  Are you up to performing?”

He grimaced but nodded.  “I can’t say I’ll make it good for you but yes, I am capable of giving a woman children.”  Good enough, she supposed.  She had her heart’s-companion for pleasure and eventually love.  “How will the children be raised?”

Dark eyes looked puzzled.  “I assume they’d be Uzumaki.  You are the leading candidate to succeed your grandfather, and I have Izuna as my heir.  Izuna, by the way, is not inclined in my direction, so if you had not been a lover of your own kind, I would have recommended waiting for him.”

She waved the thought away.  “A husband who was in love with me would not work out very well.  I’d rather have respect than love.  As for the children, what if one has the Sharingan?”

He clearly hadn’t considered that.  “Any child that develops the Sharingan will be designated an Uchiha, but that doesn’t automatically make them the heir.  The Council of Elders is the one to decide that.”

“Alright, that clears that up.  Did you have any other questions?”

“Yes, why?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Why make the offer to the Uchiha at all?  Uzushio has stayed out of the wars between clans for centuries and the Uzumaki are hardly weak.  Why would you deliberately seek an outside marriage and offer to shelter your husband’s clan as part of the terms?”

Mito hesitated one moment.  Telling the true reason would expose her clan’s weakness.  On the other hand, given what she knew of the Sharingan, lying would just be getting off on a bad foot with her husband.  “What do you know about the Senju clan?”

“The previous head, Butsuma was partial to sending out child-stealing squads.  They hold grudges forever and are almost never amiable to compromising.  The new one, Hashirama, has stopped the child-stealing and started making overtures to other clans for peace.  I met him a few times.  He’s incredibly idealistic.”  

“The Senju demanded my hand in marriage to seal the bonds between our clan and them.”  Madara winced.  Apparently, even the Uchiha had heard bad things about Senju marriages.  “It was either you or the Hyuuga, and the Hyuuga don’t have any candidates of the right age.”

Awkwardly he said, “I’m sure Hashirama wouldn’t mistreat you.  From what I remember, he was incredibly kind.”

“But would he stop the other members of the clan from forcing me to be a breeding sow?  You say he’s kind, but how much control does he actually have?  He offered a peace treaty with one hand to the Hagoromo, and the next day his brother cut down the heir to that clan.  Either he’s ineffectual at ruling or a hypocrite.”

The monochromatic man winced.  “I guess that’s also why I want to accept your offer.  Hashirama has held the dream of a peaceful village with all the clans living and working together since we were kids.  But he’s too much of a dreamer to think of the logistics of getting there.  I want to believe in him but I need to keep my clan alive too, and not merely as an appendage of the Senju.”

“So you understand my position?”

“I do.”  They made their way back to the veranda to speak to his father and the other negotiators.  “I accept Mito-sama’s offer of marriage and the terms that accompany it,” announced Madara.

Uchiha Tajima didn’t live to see the Uchiha make it to Uzushio.  He was in the rear guard as the last of the clan left their homes.  Some servitors would remain on the mainland, but the clan itself was moving wholesale.  As the last compound was deserted a combined force of Shimura and Senju attackers went after the civilians.  Tajima was still a strong warrior but no match against Senju Tobirama in his prime.  The old head lasted just long enough for his sons to rescue him but the fatal wound meant he’d never see the new homeland he’d negotiated for his clan.  He gave Madara and Izuna his blessing, charged them with the protection of the clan, then blew himself up to kill the advanced scouting party.  Madara and Izuna didn’t even have ashes left to bring with them.

“I’ve received a letter from Hashirama.”  Mito and Madara had adapted to domestic life.  They shared a house on Uzushio all the time and a bed once a week and clan politics never.  Mito had been formally appointed Masaru’s heir, with the understanding that Madara would never attend any Uzumaki clan meeting and vice-versa.  He would continue to lead the Uchiha clan, and act as their representative in the growing village of Uzugakure, and Uchiha Izuna would remain clan heir.  Mito and Madara’s children would take the name Uzumaki unless that individual manifested the Sharingan, in which case that person would be shifted into the Uchiha clan.  Mito foresaw a lot of future problems with that clause but it worked for now.  “He congratulates me on my marriage which is a little presumptuous given that Grandfather never told him who he got turned down for.  He also talks about the village the Senju are building with the cooperation of multiple clans.”

She saw the wistful look in her husband’s eye.  “It was our childhood dream together.  A place of safety where children could be children and not cannon fodder.”

She placed one hand on his.  “And now you’ve both accomplished the dream.  The Uzumaki and the Uchiha both live in harmony in this village.  The Yuki clan has also joined us and others will too.”

“When I was a child, I thought we’d build the village together.”  He looked up at her, eyes dark with nostalgia.  “I wouldn’t trade Uzugakure for anything but a part of me can’t help but wonder what would have happened if the Uchiha had stayed by the Nakano.”

“Speculation is fine.  Just don’t let it get in the way of living your life.”  It always surprised Mito that she was the more pragmatic between the two of them.  It’s not that Madara was a complete idealist, nor was Mito without her own flights of fantasy.  But Madara’s dreams were so lofty and romantic, Mito feared what would have happened if he’d had no one to remind him that ‘perfect is the enemy of good enough’.  He didn’t handle disappointment well.

“What’s done is done.  This is where our children will grow.  However, I would like to propose an alliance with this new village of . . . what did he say the name was?”

“It doesn’t have a name yet.  As for an alliance, the Council may be amiable, but I don’t think they’d agree to it sight unseen.  They’ll probably want a delegation sent to gather information first.”  And because they were friends.  “Would you like to be among those sent?”

“Would that be acceptable?  I expected the Uzumaki would want to at least have an heir on the way before I was allowed to leave.”

If Mito had been less of a proper lady, she might have snorted.  “Uzumaki’s live a long time, Uchiha.  My clan might look askance if there wasn’t an heir in ten years, but it hasn’t even been two yet.  And who said you’d be going alone?”

Now it was his turn to squint at her.  “I know you’re the heir but is that allowed?  Among the Uchiha the women are the last line of defense for the clan.  That’s why they don’t become as good as the male-front liners.”

“If you think about that statement, I’m sure you’ll see the logical flaw in that argument,” said Mito dryly.  “But first, that’s not the way the Uzumaki do it.  Second, I need the experience of these types of negotiations now that I’ve been officially declared the heir.  I’d rather have my first experience with an ally that’s moderately friendly than a hostile party.”

“You didn’t do too bad negotiating your own marriage contract.”

“If you hadn’t been amicable, I might have ended up in a very bad position because I was desperate.”

“Finally, I’m not going to have many chances to leave Uzushio once I take over the leadership of the clan.  I want to take as many opportunities to see the greater world as I can right now.”

Madara always kept his eyes open when in a brown study.  The blank gaze was creepy but she was getting used to it.  “Okay, fine then.  We’ll both go.  But Izuna and whoever you’re current successor is will have to stay here.  Just in case.”

Mito inclined her head gracefully in agreement.  “I’m glad we’ve settled that.  More tea?”

“Uchiha-sama,  Uzumaki-sama a few of the clan heads would like a word with both of you.”  Green eyes met dark, both surprised.  Madara took a step back and allowed Mito to take the fore.  “We’d be happy to speak with them.  I presume you have a location?  And our bodyguards will accompany us, of course.”

“Of course.  Right this way.”  Madara and Mito were led to a room with the heads of the Hyuuga, Aburame, Inuzuka and Hatake clans and their guards were gathered.  After the introductory formalities were out of the way they got down to business.  “Uzukage-sama,” said Hyuuga Hotaru.  “As Uzugakure is the only other co-operative ninja village currently in existence, we would like to hear your thoughts on the Senju village.”

“How queer that you should describe it like that.  The Senju village, even though ostensibly the village is supposed to be based on the cooperation between clans.”  Mito delicately rearranged her fan.  “Still the village was started by the Senju and the Shimura clans, with only the Sarutobi joining recently.”

“Not quite true.”  Aburame Shizuka lived up to her name.  “There has been a trio of new additions lately.  The Nara clan, the Yamanaka and the Akimichi have also joined the village.”

“But still, you all primarily think of the village as being Senju.  That’s quite telling, isn’t it.”

“I noticed that too.”  Madara piped in.  He almost always let Mito or Izuna take the lead on actually talking during negotiations, so to speak up right now attracted quite a bit of attention.  “The clans all have representatives in the Council but . . . only the Senju have a compound.  All the teachers in the Academy are Senju.  The role of military police has gone to the Shimura, who are the Senju’s closest allies.  Aside from their seats on the Council, the other clans have been left out of the business of ruling the village.”

“So what you’re saying,” drawled Hatake Rikuto.  “Is that this is the same assimilation bull-shit the Senju always pull, just dressed up to look merciful and compassionate as a front?”

“I do believe Senju Hashirama is genuine in his desire for peace,” Madara defended his erstwhile friend.  “But Hashirama-sama isn’t much of a planner or bureaucrat.  His brother, Tobirama, is the one who’s setting down laws and creating infrastructure right now.  And he doesn’t seem like the type to settle for anything less than complete domination of other clans.”  The Uchiha finished bitterly.

“That is . . . a disturbing thought” admitted Shizuka warily.  “We were wary of threats of destruction to the clans.  We had not considered the loss of autonomy.”

Madara shrugged.  “I could be wrong.  But there seems to be a dearth of clans other than Senju and Shimura in positions of power.  Now, this could just be because the other clans are new and still adjusting.  But it could also be a sign that the Senju are consolidating power and they will take steps in the future to remain that way.”

“You’ve certainly given us much to think about.”

“Well that does it,”  Rikuto stood up.  “I’m only willing to accept so much risk and my tolerance for Senju power-mongering is considerably less.”  Belatedly Mito and Madara remembered that the former Lady Senju had been Rikuto’s older sister.  He’d probably been looking for an excuse to withdraw from the negotiations for a while.  “The concept of the village is sound, but the execution leaves much to be desired.  Not to mention there’s another option available to us.”  He turned to the married pair.  “Uzukage-sama, perhaps you be so kind as to allow me to compare how Uzugakure does things?”

That was unexpected.  “Excuse me, Hatake-sama, but is that an offer to join Uzugakure?”  Mito kept her fan in front of her face, leaving only her eyes exposed.

“Not a solid offer . . . more a request for information.  After all, I may find your structure of government as unappealing as the Senju assimilation village.  I may just have to steal the idea and make my own harmony village in that case.”

“We would be happy to have you and your bodyguards accompany us to Uzugakure.”  Madara silently cursed and re-arranged schedules and scouting plans in his head.  But he didn’t bother to argue with his wife.  Mito had made it clear (through repetition and the school of hard knocks) that she was the Uzumaki and Uzugakure heir.  This was her decision to make and he refused to undermine her just because it wasn’t as cautious as he wanted.

“That offer is open to the rest of you as well.  Should you prefer to see another example of inter-clan cooperation, you are welcome to visit Uzugakure before pledging to the Senju.”

“A generous offer,” Shizuka bowed her head in acknowledgment.  “The Aburame are unable to accept at this time, however, you have raised enough concerns that we will not be joining the Senju at this time.  We might take up your offer in the future, or perhaps follow Hatake-sama’s suggestion of creating our own village.  This must be debated with the Elders of my clan.”

Mito and Madara turned to the other two clan elders.  Hyuuga Hotaru was deep in thought while Inuzuka Takehiko continued to watch her.  Finally, the blank-eyed Hyuuga stirred, her own fan fluttering to obscure her face.  “I agree that you have brought up several important issues.  However, Senju Tobirama has agreed to collaborate with the Hyuuga on some delicate seal-work that we have been working on for years.  And-”  She snapped her fan, deliberately cutting off whatever Mito had been about to say.  “-while the Uzumaki are undoubtedly superior in fuinjutsu, we have already approached your grandfather about this issue and been turned down.  So I’m afraid you have nothing to offer us to change our mind.”

That left both of them with a sour taste in their mouths.  Mito knew (by virtue of being an Uzumaki) and Madara had learned (by virtue of being married to her) that there was only one type of seal that the Uzumaki’s categorically refused to create, and those were slave seals.  That Senju Tobirama was willing to make some for the clans . . . their evaluation of their ally continued to decline.

Mito turned to the last member of the party.  “Inuzuka-sama, what are your thoughts?”

The head of the clan of dog hunters had been silent so far.  He shrugged, uncomfortable with the spotlight.  When he spoke, it was with a gravelly voice that sounded unused.  “This is our home.  We will not leave it.”

“Did any of you have any further questions for us?”  At the demurral, Madara helped Mito stand.  “Then I thank you for taking the time to listen to us and I hope you make the best decision possible.”

“So this is the worth of the word of Utagakure!”  Mito was nearly incandescent with rage.  Madara followed behind her, cursing the need for his cane.  While Mito had the legendary Uzumaki vitality, Madara wasn’t in quite as good condition after all these decades.  While he remained Clan Head, the duty of Mito’s primary bodyguard had been passed to young Uchiha Kagami.

When he got there, he was surprised to see that Uta had sent Senju Tobirama, the Nidaime Hokage, to their aid.  The Senju was only a few years younger than Madara, although he granted the Senju was in better shape to make it here unaided.  Or somewhat aided, Madara recognized Shimura Danzo, Sarutobi Hiruzen and Akimichi Torifu from previous diplomatic missions.  (Tobirama always had six guards with him, but Madara could never remember the others’ names.)  If Madara had been inclined, he might have taken it as a sign of how much Uta valued this alliance, enough that the Hokage, the strongest ninja chose to come to their aide rather than stay home to fortify the defenses.  clearly, his wife didn’t see it that way.

“The message requesting aide was sent almost a month ago, but we’re only receiving aid now?  Convenient!  Just enough time for Kiri and Kumo to finish off Uzushio and leave.  Tell me, Slave-Maker Tobirama, what were you hoping to loot from the corpse of Uzugakure?  Spare research notes and half-completed seals for you to claim?  Freed bijuu to tame?  Clan orphans to induct into the Senju?”  Madara grabbed Mito’s shoulder, stopping her from advancing any further, but he couldn’t stop her from venting her spite at the Hokage.  “Unfortunately for you, our defenses prevailed against our attackers.  There’s nothing for you to steal, vulture!”

Tobirama did a good job rallying from the unexpected attack.  “I apologize for our delay, Uzukage-sama.  Uta was attacked by Suna at the same time Uzu was attacked by Kiri and Kumo.  We believe it was coordinated to cut us off from each other.  Since Uzu seems to have taken the brunt of the attack, Uta will be happy to provide aid in your recovery, as recompense for our tardy arrival.”

Mito seemed about to go off on him again, but by this point, the rest of the Council had arrived.  Hatake Sakumo quickly spoke up before Mito could burn her bridges.  “Thank you for the offer, Hokage-sama.  However, in view of the devastation, it will take us some time to account for everything.  We will send a message to Uta when we are ready to discuss the recovery.”

Madara, in the meantime, had been eying the Hokage’s guards with the Mangekyou Sharingan.  Gifted with Izuna’s eyes after his death, the Uchiha Head suspected that most people outside of Uzushio thought him blind.  His choice to retire from active duty had more to do with his leg than his eyes, but it was a useful fiction.

The other guards had not been idle.  Sarutobi was mostly focused on the confrontation between Tobirama and Mito, and Torifu was ingratiating himself with the kids.  But Shimura and two of the others seemed to be taking copious notes on Uzugakure’s infrastructure and the damage done to the city.  They might have been proactive, preparing to help their allies, but Madara hadn’t made it to his seventies by not being paranoid.

“Normally we would have you and your guards stay for the night, Hokage-sama.”  Madara focused his eyes somewhere over Tobirama’s shoulder.  The strange pattern of the Mangekyou would probably confuse them and add to the rumors of his blindness.  “Given the circumstances, it would be best if you all started back to Uta as soon as possible.  While we appreciate that you came all this way, I’m sure Utagakure would be relieved to have it’s Hokage back during these unstable times.”

The quirk of Tobirama’s lips showed he understood the rude dismissal.  But after the attacks that the two villages had suffered, ‘Shisha no Uta’ was not in a position to alienate their only ally over etiquette.  The Senju gave the Uchiha a stiff nod.  “It is as you say, Uchiha-sama.  We will start home immediately.  Shimura, Mitokado and Utatane!  It is time to depart!  Fall into formation!”

Mito, Sakumo, and Madara watched them go.

[awintersrose]

HashiTobi; Deathless Prompt List; “I have moved the earth and water for you.”

Based on some headcanons we’ve shared in which Tobirama’s heritage might have been a bit different…this became longer than it was meant to ;)

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The cavalcade stops before the Uzumaki shrine as the bridal procession meets its end, and Tobirama falls in step behind Hashirama and his intended, a perfect shadow, as effortless as the very first time he mirrored his brother’s footsteps. He ignores the grating sensation within his chest, for duty is duty, and nothing matters more than the continuity of the legacy of the village that owns their souls, and the clan that holds their blood.

His brother’s blood, at the least. There is a secret that died with Tobirama, Itama, and Kawarama’s mother, but no one speaks of such things when the Senju rally among their own. Blood is blood, and sons are sons, and when Senju Butsuma lost his first wife and took - some might say stole, but it matters not - another from among one of the northern tribes, it mattered little whether that woman already had a toddler close in age to his firstborn, so long as his first son was not at risk of losing his inheritance and pride of place. The Senju always needed to replenish the army with fighters and it was likely that a male child would die in battle anyway, thus his advisors suggested it was better to give the clan head’s son a protector than to abandon or expose the child in the forest.

Thus within his private household it was known that Tobirama would never inherit, and it was never revealed beyond closed doors that from the start the boy would find himself set apart as more of a retainer than a member of his own family. He would become Hashirama’s shadow, call him brother, and Butsuma father, but it would be made clear that those words would never mean the same things for him as they did for other children. His mother loved him, but the desires of women never weighed heavily on the minds of Senju men in those days.

Itama’s birth brought the bustle of joy, new excitement and unity a distraction for Butsuma and the affirmation that his line was strong, but the jubilation was short-lived, when the war drums always beckoned onward. Hashirama and Tobirama began schooling in martial arts and how to hold swords as soon as they could pick up wooden training blades, and their father was merciless. Then the following year, Tobirama’s mother died bearing Kawarama, and Butsuma grew even colder in his grief.

Late one autumn night, a five year old Hashirama intervened to save Tobirama’s life from the ire of his drunken father.

“I won’t ever let him hurt you again.” he promised, with a tearful smile and an outstretched hand, the common area of the house splintered and shot through with tree trunks the size of giants, at least to Tobirama’s eyes.

From that moment on, Tobirama swore he’d never leave Hashirama’s side.

Nevertheless, being raised as a Senju male meant peace was something only to be dreamt about. Tobirama remained Hashirama’s shadow as his brother in name, as their brothers in blood were sacrificed to the war machine, all traces of their childhood innocence going along with them. Hashirama’s associations and fascinations with the Uchiha heir were a growing problem, and Tobirama also felt the beginnings of what he later realized was jealousy, agreeing to spy on his brother for Butsuma.

The years stretched on in a series of endless battles and attempts at treaties and tenuous periods of peace. Boyhood fled, and inseparable, both Hashirama and Tobirama were no longer children but young men. When they were seventeen, Butsuma pushed to ensure that the needs of young men were met, sending them off to a bathhouse that catered to such needs.

It was at this bathhouse that Hashirama pulled him abruptly behind a partition in the dark of a secluded hallway and kissed him for the first time. Shock nearly made him shy away, but the sun-warm brightness of Hashirama’s chakra and the softness of his lips drew Tobirama into the heat of his embrace all the more. Still, the threat of being discovered forced him to think sensibly and he pulled away in spite of the growing intoxication and the heavy beating of his own heart.

“Don’t forget me?” Hashirama asked hurriedly before they were forced to part.

The thoughts of Hashirama’s kiss carried him through the awkward embarrassment of the remainder of that night, and when they reunited in the courtyard to travel home that morning, their route home diverted into the woods for stolen moments of new discovery both exciting and frightening in their intensity. What he felt and what they shared might be wrong in the eyes of others, but only because they didn’t know the truth, and they never would.

And Tobirama simply did not care. He was used to locking his emotions away, safe behind walls of steel where they could not be used against him.

Butsuma’s passing in battle was a blow to the clan at large, but he was granted an honorable death, and Hashirama assumed his place as clan head with more poise than anyone might have expected. Tobirama moved in his shadow, to no one’s surprise, tireless in his support and devotion. To those who witnessed them, all was as it should have been, brother supporting brother, although their household held its secrets. Behind those walls, though discreet, they were free for the first time in either of their lives. To live… and to love.

When the treaty between the clans was established, Tobirama remained in his place; like the veritable water upon the earth which fed the roots of the great tree that made up the village of his brother’s dreams. He was oddly content for the first time in his life, able to learn and seek his passions in this curious, anomalous peacetime. The Uchiha would always pose a threat, and Madara’s presence always left him unsettled, but the state of matters was secured for the time being.

That was, until further security matters required cementing loyalties with Uzushiogakure. The council insisted that the best way to accomplish such a feat was through the marriage of the Village leader to the eldest daughter of the headman of the island village. Their insistence hinged upon the fact that it would benefit everyone, especially as the Senju clan head was surely in need of an heir, or several. Thus, arrangements were made with due haste, and Uzumaki Mito was sent to Konoha with a full retinue to begin negotiations regarding her marriage to Hashirama.

The crushing weight behind his ribs began that day and has not let up since.

Now Tobirama stands at his brothers back, watching Hashirama exchange vows with the red-haired foreigner, with the same impassive expression of a soldier holding a vigil. He can feel her sharp blue eyes scanning his form, weighing and measuring, and he knows she is no fool; he wonders what she is thinking when she gazes at him. He knows one thing: he does not trust the Uzumaki witch. Not yet.

The wedding feast passes far too quickly for his liking, and Hashirama’s good humor wears at his nerves. He longs for an escape, hating the noise and the crowd, and the charming face his brother shows his bride so easily. Even more so he hates what is yet to come.

Tobirama excuses himself to get some air for a few moments, walking furtively down a hallway to a meditation room and out onto the engawa. He rushes out the door and into the cold air outside where no one can see him fall apart for a brief moment. A few seconds, he tells himself, then no more.

Familiar, sun-bright chakra fills the space behind his eyelids, making all the fine hairs rise on the back of his neck, and in two beats Hashirama’s arms are around him, making him safe.

Making him despair.

“Anija, you can’t be here,” he chokes. “And you can’t do this.”

“I have moved the earth and water for you. I’d do anything for you and you know it.” Hashirama says fervently. “This is nothing.”

“Go back to your wife. This… it’s your wedding day.”

“I won’t forget you.”

“You have to today.” Tobirama near scoffs, wrenching himself free, though it seems to cut something within him to do so, leaving him bleeding inwardly.

Hashirama looks crestfallen, backing away as if from a wounded animal who might lash out and bite at any moment, and Tobirama can see the sheen of tears in his eyes. His brother always did have a hard time controlling his emotions.

He turns to face the snowy gardens until he can feel his brother’s chakra move back towards the dining hall. It is only then that he allows himself the moment of anger and grief that Hashirama interrupted. Then he puts on his courtly visage, and returns to his position as his brother’s shadow once more.

It is only an hour until he will be left to guard the bedchamber. It may break him, but no one else can be trusted to guard Hashirama as well as he can.

If Hashirama swears earth and water, then he’ll swear blood and bone.

[Deathless Prompt list…]

[hoe-imaginess]

replies

so many repliessss. About two month’s worth so check for your message here! They’re not really in order since I mixed them up on accident

@evagenesis I know you sent this like forever ago but just so you know it still makes me so happy to read thank you so muchhhhh

Why ):

INTERESTING I love this thank u

true

ajdhfkjshfdkjshdfkjh this would be Tobirama tho

I am!!! I’m just busy with life and writing a lot more commissions now bc I need the $$ to keep up with expenses, especially now that I’m not in school and have to help pay back some loans before I go back next semester. thank u ily <3

THIS is it chief 

I’m so late but thank u!!! Happy Valentine’s @any59

No worries!!! Things are coming back into order so I’m definitely getting back to writing and updating

I will probably dream about this tonight then I will tell you how it fees

INTERESTING... So most of the votes were separate so that’s what I’ll be doing. I honestly did struggle a lot with the dabi x reader x hawks one because I had so many ideas but they didn’t all flow together. Hopefully the separate ones will do each boy justice~

I’m doing much better thx!!! Just trying to get my mental health on track before I make room for other stuff in my life

@gamewriter-12239 I’m not going anywhere!!! Thank you so much for the love <3

I MEANNN I’m not too into discussing ships but... all fax. I don’t see Madara ever wanting anything to do with Tobirama after Izuna’s death. Don’t think either of them could stand even being near each other, let alone touching each other and let alone x2 fucking each other. BUT I can understand the appeal of their personalities. In an AU where Izuna isn’t dead then... maybe. Less on Tobirama’s end, still

Honestly you’re right and for all equally different distressing reasons

this is.... so cute... wtf....

ofc this was what Kishimoto had in mind when he created Naruto, clearly

HMMMMM sounds a little wild but I’m in 

Gai has the unfathomable dick energy we been knew!!!

ngl I can’t get past the face-titty like... it barely even looks like Hashirama. It just looks like a meme face

When you enjoy dom/sub relationships in bed! I also tend to think of it as fighting for the dominant role, but that may just be me 

I feel Madara would have had some problems still with the village itself, because Izuna still wasn’t there with him, but I agree, Tobirama really did cause a lot of shit lmao his death would have saved the Naruto series 3/4 of all its problems

Yeah it’s really not our fault we’re not culpable 

YES I DO!!!! Knb was my introduction into anime imagines I spent hours looking at knb blogs omg kajshdfkjasdh the good ol days 

Thank you all so so much for these messages I have such great followers thank you for always sending me nice things even when I’m being a dramatic inactive bitch I love y’all 

I’ll write aged up for him!

Ahhhhh I can’t think of any right now my brain is fried sorrrrrry. Thank u though!

THE HEART KNOWS. Don’t underestimate Madara though he knows how to use it he really does

Yeah like I can never see dabi banging a hero knowingly (but even like an undercover hero didn’t feel right to me) as of now I’m trying to play around with the idea of an undercover cop??? Maybe not as bad as a hero in Dabi’s eyes. Maybe. But I like villain on villain more lmao less drama and more banging

Tbh he’s embarrassed by his long schlong but at the same time, he knows he’s the shit 

He really really is he cannot be stopped

I honestly have a good portion of the gangster Au written out from yearsssss ago, but I’m getting back into the Gods AU. Wondering if I should write some out in my free time tbh 

Hmmmm possibly! Also factoring in Izuna on Madara’s part, and I think most of Butsuma Senju’s intolerance was inherited by Tobirama

STRONG AND SILENT VIRGIN IS THE BEST WAY TO DESCRIBE IT

It was honestly the question of the century

It’s canon 

MIKOTO!!!!

!!!!!!!! completely canon (although I thought Senju had more chakra maybe I’m wrong)

the evidence presents itself tbh!

I doubt you could even get a comb through that thing tbh so nah 

@sufferthesea I’M SO HAPPY TO HEAR THIS THANK UUUUUU

I do not play Skyrim but.... I agree

@daemmerlicht-prinzessin SUPER LATE MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU TOO!

Ahhhhh I’ve been so caught up with other stuff I stopped working on it for the moment, hopefully in the next few weeks!

I missed it this year I’m so mad ):

other fics!

I do not, sorry ):

it’s sad times we’re living in but the Uchiha dick had to go. It had bigger dreams

i’m glad it was such a delicious drama <3

honestly.... they’re not wrong

OH MYYYYY Tobirama would die

UGH it’s ok we all feel the same way

WHAT DOES THIS MEANNN

Ugh don’t worry love Tobirama did fuck up in some arenas to get to this point but there will be an ending soon...

high key it’s always been a lil ugly

omg thank youuu. yeah the Uchiha have a frustrating tendency to be hot as FUCK so I’m sure Madara’s bros were

thank you so much my friend <3

LMAOOO it’s an illusion tbh this man is such a giant virgin dork

wow... this was so sad.... but so true

I would but I don’t have any good pictures of it surprisingly ):

Hmmmm I might, I’m not sure. There are so many requests it’s difficult to remember what I have 

I don’t have too many currently so I’m available to write more if anyone is interested!

murked omggggg. Well I guess you’ll just have to find out (:

UM HE REALLY IS his dick has its own armor it’s so strong it can’t be defeated. He’s not worried about it at all 

I’ll give it a listen!

Hashirama can be my sugar granddaddy ugh yes

Hmmmm likely not. I really don’t see Izuna as the type to put aside clan rivalries for friendship, at least not a deep one ):

Yeah I noticed that too ): if you’re looking for a specific one lmk, it may be on my wordpress!

Honestlyyyyy I don’t think much would have changed. Hashirama would have been heartbroken, but still an advocate for peace

it’s true I thank you for this

[kinokami]

asagao

People should never have to be more than themselves. They shouldn’t have to carry the burden of symbolism, but like water following the path of a riverbed, it could not be avoided. He knew this intimately well. Despite his best intentions, symbolism clung to him, his every action, infected Madara, passed on to Tobirama, to Izuna, to their clans. To their village. Nothing they did could be simple, even if that was the intention. None of them could be free of the significance of changing history. 

The first children to populate the new village wouldn’t know it right away, but they were the first generation of shinobi not raised among the corpses of their fallen families. They’d be the first not to know hunger simply because their clan had chosen poorly in terms of contracts. 

None of that. And they’d be carrying the symbol of Hashirama and Madara’s dream on their young backs. Hashirama could only hope it would not become a burden.

And for his own son, he wished it even more so. Yukirama was...oh, he was so much. He was love, pure and simple, given form. He was more than a dream, because he should be impossible. He should be nothing but an unfulfilled desire in the back of Hashirama’s mind.

Instead, he was the ultimate symbol of the union between former enemies, formerly embittered rival clans. He was Uchiha, and he was Senju.

But he didn’t know any of that. Or if he did, he hid it well. What a wondrous, marvelous child he was. 

Could sunlight take human form?

Yes. Hashirama didn’t know the answer to many things, but this one, he could feel in his bones. He knew, because when he looked at his son, he could feel something ancient and sweet and a little other-worldly.

His son. Flesh of his flesh that grew and thrived because Hashirama had made it possible. Yukirama was starting to become a lanky thing; no longer the small bean that fit into the crook of his arm, or the living loaf of bread that cried with delight when Hashirama let him crawl across his chest.

He was just twelve years old now, and he knew nothing of pain, of loss, or of hardship. And it was good this way. A child, being a child. The only reason he learned about chakra and jutsu was to sate his curiosity. His training wasn’t based on a need to survive, but only on a competitive streak that Madara did his best to disguise.

Yukirama wasn’t spoiled. He knew the world was not only sweet and kind, but he only knew it from cautionary tales and village squabbles. Clan disagreements, or the sordid tales of his uncles. Both of which, despite denying it at every turn, had the same nostalgia for war that Hashirama and Madara regretted on some nights.

Yukirama grew him a tree.

It was the single, proudest moment of Hashirama’s life. Somehow, it managed to cast living history into its leafy shadow; the ceasefire, the peace, the founding of Konoha. None of that could measure up to the moment he watched his son pull up a maple, slender and young, from a seed to a fully grown, magnificent tree.

Yukirama inherited his mokuton. Hashirama hadn’t known it was possible, and yet, here he was, wild-haired like an Uchiha, strong-armed like a Senju, kind as Madara and hopeful as Hashirama. He was their perfect union, their perfect representation of what peace could be, could produce. But he was so much more than that.

He wasn’t a small child anymore. Every day, he seemed taller, stronger, more willful. A person unto himself, and one who did not always agree with his parents. And yet, even if he was being a stubborn teenager, he was a delight. A whole person, sprung from his love for Madara. How could he not love him so much?

It made him reflect on the way Butsuma had performed parenthood. Performed, because his children were, to him, mere extensions of his will, weapons to be forged and used and thrown away. Hashirama couldn’t fathom it. He’d give up anything to keep his child from knowing that sort of conditional love, if it could be called love at all.

Hashirama wouldn’t call it that. If you loved something, you protected it, and let it flourish on its own, like a tender little sprout that you might shield with your hands from a hailstorm. 

You didn’t force it into a cage of your own design.

You didn’t cage sunlight.

[a-mirror-of-memories]

When he was young Tobirama hurt his leg during an experiment and Hashirama, being the over protective brother that he was order him to stay on bed for at least a week (Butsuma was away on a mission). Also knowing that there was no way that his little brother would do it he also assigns their cousin Touka as his guardian/babysitter to make sure that he wouldn’t escape to do Sage knows what.

Boring to dead since Touka wouldn’t even let him take one of his books to read as a punishment for being a reckless idiot even worse than his brother (her words) and seen his cousin suffering through the last attempt of the female elders to teach her something that they considered “proper to ladies” Tobirama one morning just ask her if she could show him how to knit.

Nobody could have imagined what that would provoke.

His first attempt was a scarf that in his opinion was totally awful (even if Touka insist that it was better that anything she do until then) so he hide it wishing to never see it again. Sadly for him Hashirama found it while cleaning and after getting the story from Touka he start using it every chance he got until Tobirama finally agree to make him another one if he promise to NEVER use that atrocious thing in public again and don’t tell anyone where he got them.

Everyone thinks that this is it until a day elder Chisako found a half finished blanket under his bed while cleaning whose color looks suspiciously like the wool ball that Touka swear that she catch in fire after her fifth attempt of knitting.

Elder Chisako once has a little brother, a frail thing afraid of being sent to the war and being killed on the battlefield. He loved cooking thanks to their late mother and use to said that he wanted to open a food place on a closer village when he grown up, serving people to the joy of his heart just like their mama. Their father punish him, yelling him to stop playing with those ‘girly things’ and keep practice if he don’t want to be an even bigger disgrace for their family that he already was. Her baby brother never reach the adulthood, he was killed on an ambush when he was thirteen.

Tobirama’s nothing like his little brother, he was strong and determined where her little brother Kenichi was frail and soft; a prodigy on battle when her brother was barely able to win a fight, his father pride; his perfect little soldier like she heard others call him instead of being called his biggest shame. But the look he gave her when he found her holding the blanket was the same that her dear Kenichi gave to their relatives every time that one of them catch him helping on the kitchen and knew that they were going to tell their father.

She wasn’t gonna let that another poor excuse of a father ruin one of the only things that their kids found solace just because they don’t considered it appropriated for their gender.

It took time and effort but finally she got him to trust in her enough to let her help him with his knitting and showing her his past projects. Chisako teach him how to sew and embroider too, cause he want to be useful for the clan even if they don’t knew and they weren’t in a lot of need of warm clothes on the Fire Country. She always was careful to not let anyone knew who patch their clothes and where the knitted scarf, blankets, socks, gloves and hats really came; making sure that there were always wool balls and thread after a really awful battle and be ready to distract his brother before he look the articles of clothe closer and realize that were made for the same person who make his favorite scarf (which was easier that she would have thought. Hashirama was more like his father that anyone would dare to point: while the older was totally focus on the war the younger was focused on his dream of peace. Both always looking to the future and none of them realizing that life was still happening around them).

When Butsuma fell in battle and Hashirama take his place as clan head the first thing he makes was offer a peace treaty to the Uchiha. Thanks heaven that that Madara kid was also a foolish dreamer and agreed even against his brother protest cause she had more than ten years of reasons to hit her so called leader with her cane in the head repeatedly until something finally click over there and his brain start functioning properly.

During the negotiations she was barely able to hold a snort while hearing some of the things that the Uchiha clan members said about her honorary grandson. A heartless killer? She caught him trying to make a jutsu to bring his little brothers alive again and break her heart having to tell him to stop. A selfish bastard? Surely that’s why Hatori Uzumaki (whose clan honestly treat Tobirama like he was one of them and way better than most of the Senju did) want to make him godfather of his first child. Unable to feel something remotely similar to human emotions? That kid was blushing and twitching just the other day when she caught him making a little yellow dress for his niece birthday for Sage sake! What’s next? They would accused him of been against the peace even when he and Mito help Hashirama to write the treaty?

She was more than ready to throw herself over the Uchiha clan head when Hashirama make the unthinkable: Standing up he somehow manage to rip a hole on the sleeve of his haori and making a face for his own mess he call for a break and ask his brother if he could fix it.

She would have found the faces that the Uchiha made really funny if Tobirama hasn’t paled and looked so horrified to been caught.

“How long?” Ask the white haired.

“You ask me to not tell anyone”. Was his brother answer with a soft smile passing him thread and a needle. “Also could you make me another scarf? The last one starts to worn out and you wouldn’t let me use the first one”.

“Over Mito’s death body. She’s the more likely to survive the apocalypse”. Was his automatic answer (Seriously, how was she the only one who cares enough to realize that the Uzumaki had already adopted him in all but last name?).

Later she would look to that moment and understand that Hashirama rip his clothes on purpose to show the Uchiha that Tobirama was more than a heartless bastard who don’t care about anyone. But first Chisako had three things to do:

Fulfill her life mission and hit her dear clan leader with her cane for being a reckless idiot even worse than his little brother.

Keep an eye on Madara Uchiha cause that glances that he keep throwing to Tobirama even since before the meeting could only mean something. He was just slightly less obvious that his brother with her granddaughter Touka and that was being nice. He better ask for her permission before request something more than a homemade scarf for his little boy.

Convince Tobirama that his brother deserves a nice and fluffy pink scarf with the words ‘morning wood’ write on it (That goof would love it anyway).

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5816 Chapter: 38/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 38

Watching Madara address the council was an exercise in patience. Not because he didn’t believe in what his husband was saying or even because he found listening to be difficult but rather because the confidence practically dripping from him was very attractive and Tobirama wanted nothing more than for this blasted meeting to end. He had a husband to violate in whichever empty room presented itself for his convenience first. 

The Police Force Initiative truly was the right place for him here, a job where his passion for the people under his care shone through in such a way that no one could deny he believed in this village. Never had Tobirama loved his husband more than as he sat and watched him advocate for a larger budget just so he could serve better, protect better, provide for the men and women who would be under his command so he could give them the tools they needed to serve the citizens under their protection. It was like watching him slot in to place and flourish right before their eyes. Tobirama was captivated. 

And happy. It may have taken a year or so but everything was finally coming around to how it should be - for all of them. Even Izuna looked more relaxed than ever where he sat farther down the table. Tobirama himself had been the one to suggest that he attend council meetings as the head of ANBU and therefore the crux of all information flowing in to the village. He’d let his brother-in-law think it was Tajima’s idea, though, happy to rely on the man’s ego and propensity for claiming every good idea was his own. At least in this instance it served to protect someone else’s ego for once. 

“A pretty speech,” one of the minor clan Heads spoke out as Madara wound down. “But do you have the documentation to justify this proposed budget?”

“I do. If you would but open the dossier I handed out you would see that.” Unwilling to bend, Madara stared the other man down until he had no choice but to give in and open the packet that had indeed been given as soon as the subject was broached. Right there on the first page was a table of contents. And prominently listed in that table would be evidence to back up why Madara needed the money and where he would be getting it from. 

Tobirama didn’t bother to smother the look of pride he could feel on his own face, undamped by the pressure headache that had been slowly mounting in his temples over the past hour. He hadn’t needed to offer many changes after Madara asked him to look the packet over. The work was good and it was all to his husband’s credit. 

“Now, if the council would be good enough to indulge me a little farther, I’ve already spoken with the head of village security and Touka-san has agreed to a joint training program which I’d like to detail for you now.” 

“What’s the point in training you both together?” A light scoff came from the Hyuga heir. “Wouldn’t that be more expensive?”

“Cheaper, actually, since we wouldn’t need to provide two dedicated training facilities.” Madara lifted his eyebrow but it was not a defensive expression, merely a judgmental once. 

The young Hyuga folded his arms. “We already have many training grounds.”

“If my officers and the security teams work together we will have a better understanding of each other’s patrol routes, better response times, tighter protocol for who has jurisdiction over what, and also go fuck yourself.” Several people in the room covered their mouths, whether to gasp or snicker, but Madara only blew a bit of fringe away from his face. Clearly he was nearing the end of his already short fuse. 

Butsuma stood up with the clear intention of bringing him to order but he was interrupted before a single word had time to pass his lips as the door burst open to admit three men, two of them panting and wild-eyed. 

“An emergency!” the more put together man cried. “Danger!” 

“What is the meaning of this?” Butsuma demanded. 

“It’s coming! It’s coming our way! Straight for us!” One of the clearly exhausted men gave a shudder. “We’re all doomed…” And with that his eyes rolled back in his head, crumpling to the floor in a dead faint. 

His companion did not waste time checking on him.

“We’re from the team that was sent to investigate the massive chakra presence. I-I know you won’t believe me. But I swear! It’s a tailed beast! A massive fox with nine tails and teeth as long as I am tall and it’s coming for us! It’s coming this way!” 

“Someone tell me what the hell this idiot is blathering on about,” Tajima grumbled.

On his feet still, Madara's quiet voice was just loud enough to reach the whole room. “I thought the tailed beasts were just legends. They can’t be real.” 

“They’re real,” the soldier moaned. “This one is. It’s massive! And it- oh god. Tetsuo…it ate Tetsuo…” 

At last the stress of what he had seen appeared to catch up with him as well. He didn’t faint like his companion but he did waver, catching himself against the wall and sliding down until he could bury his face against his knees like a terrified child. Though Tobirama hated to leave anyone in such a state he understood that this was obviously a crisis on their hands. Psychological breaks could be dealt with later. Right now they needed to think about saving lives. 

Unfortunately organizing themselves did not seem to be the first thing on either of their supposed leaders’ minds as it should have been. Butsuma and Tajima were both out of their seats but their eyes were locked in the sort of staring contest that generally prompted the rest of the council to simply sit back and wait out the proverbial dick measuring contest. 

“It will take time to gather our forces,” Tajima murmured as if to himself. 

“Such a beast cannot be allowed to simply enter the village unheeded,” Butsuma answered, finally something they agreed upon. “Time must be bought.” It was just too bad that what they agreed on was something utterly stupid. 

“Consider it done. I myself will go; I will hold the beast at bay until our people can answer the call to arms.”

“You will not go alone.” 

They stared each other down until Tobirama felt his temper snap. “This is not the time to worry about pride!”

“My son is correct. Now is the time for action. If you still have fight in you, Uchiha, then let me show you how hot my own fire burns. We take the beast on together.” Butsuma tilted his head in challenge, one his counterpart was only too ready to accept. 

“Perhaps not the words I would have chosen,” Tajima said. “I go to protect my village. If you should happen to come along that is your choice.” 

They moved towards the window at the same time with all the intention of men who would not be swayed from their paths and even Tobirama himself was startled to hear his own voice call out for Butsuma to wait. More surprised still when the man actually paused to look back at him. He wasn’t even truly sure why he’d done it. Knowing the danger descending upon them all, for the first time since he was a child Tobirama looked at the man across the room and saw his father. Not a good one, no, but the man who sired him all the same. 

“Be safe,” was all he said.

He should have expected no less than the puzzled frown that was his only answer before Butsuma turned to leap after Tajima, unwilling to take even a moment for his own son in the face of allowing his rival to upstage him in any way. So much wasted breath. In their wake the room was silent but there was no time for that, someone needed to get these people moving. 

“Alright,” Tobirama snapped, taking up the responsibility of leadership only because no one else had yet. “While they slow the beast we need to gather our forces. Izuna, you have your own people to organize and you know their skills best. Move fast, hit hard, and the rest of us will do what we can to keep the attention off of you. Shimura-sama, wake my cousin. Touka’s patrol teams can make a perimeter around the village as a last defense.” Both of them nodded and darted off. 

“Won’t we need them on the field?” Hashirama asked. “We should throw everything we have at it!” Tobirama shook his head.

“Even if the fight doesn’t reach the village the debris or backlash of it might. This is supposed to be some legendary massive beast and the civilians cannot be left unprotected.”

“Right! You’re so smart, little brother!” His smile was sharper than usual, the adrenaline of an upcoming battle hardening his normally soft edges. A look he hadn’t worn since peace was made. 

Tobirama let that pass; there were other things to concentrate on. “The InoShikaCho clans have extensive experience working together. All available bodies from those clans not enrolled in the ANBU or the patrol teams should be allowed to work as a unit. Do not concentrate on bringing the beast down. Try to slow him, stop his movement, control the field. Madara, you and Hashirama are our two strongest fighters and the Uchiha can move faster than most. I don’t mean to put our people in the line of danger–”

“We’re as ready to fight for our homes as anyone else.” His husband tossed a bit of fringe away from his face. “Attack, not defense?” 

“The Uchiha have always been particularly good at burning whatever lies in their path,” Tobirama agreed with the shadow of a bloody smile. He was pleased to receive one in return.

“And the rest of us?” The Hatake clan heir looked ready to sink her teeth in to something already. 

Tobirama opened his senses and winced at the sensation of the mass of brilliance bearing down on him. It was a miracle his latent sensing hadn’t felt it as more than a mounting headache, though he supposed that by now he’d grown used to living in the center of so many different signatures all piled on top of each other that a gradual increase simply hadn’t been all that noticeable. 

“Support,” he said, a snap decision, wondering at how easily this room of leaders had decided to allow him to take control. “Fill in the spaces when you can. Remove any of the fallen if needed, escort the wounded to medical attention, and allocate a small team to prepare extra weaponry for standby. Hyuga-sama, instruct your people that defending their comrades is more important than attacking the beast. We will not win this battle if there are none left to fight it.” 

In the distance something rumbled and Tobirama shuddered at the massive wave of chakra that rolled over them. The beast was angry. 

“We are running out of time. Prepare for battle.” 

The room scattered as each of them rushed towards their weapons and armor. Fighting in their casual daily outfits could only accomplish so much no matter that each of them surely kept some kind of blade on them at all times. Butsuma and Tajima had promised to buy them time; they would be fools not to use it. 

Without a word Tobirama snagged his husband’s arm and reached for one of the markers he had set up around their home. Almost before they had finished shifting through space he was moving, reaching for the stand where his armor sat waiting after its latest repairs. He got one hand on it and then scowled as he was forcibly turned around, irritated to be stopped, ready to tell the other man off for interrupting him. Annoyance melted away as he was pulled down in to a fierce kiss. 

“You will be careful,” Madara snarled in his face. “I will not sit by your bedside and pray for your life again. Don’t you dare do that to me.” 

“I expect you to do the same,” he said quietly.

“Obviously. If that dumb monster so much as thinks of hurting even a hair on your head I will rip its bloody heart out. Twice you’ve been hospitalized in one year! I refuse to see it happen again!” Still grumbling under his breath, he released his iron grip and stomped over to pull his own armor off its stand. 

Tobirama watched him with a full heart. “At least you did not need to sit with me through the second time.”

“Yes, because leaving you in Izuna’s care will always turns out well!” 

After that they garbed themselves for war in silence. Strapping himself in to his armor felt to Tobirama almost the same as strapping another persona on to his skin. Here in their home it was sometimes hard to believe the soft and openly loving husband he had become but those feelings had no place in battle. Though it caused him something akin to physical pain he boxed those parts of himself away and firmly closed the lid on them, tucked away to leave his concentration free for observation and strategy, the sort of clear thinking that would keep him alive to come home where he could open that box again. 

If there was one silver lining to this situation it would be the chance to see Madara in all his glory once again, a veritable god of war in blood red armor and that distinctive gunbai strapped to his back.

“Let’s go,” he murmured. They had no more time to waste on soft words or meaningless compliments. As they dashed out in to the frigid temperatures outside and took to the rooftops Tobirama promised himself that later he would spend hours describing for his husband just how incredible he looked with that fierce expression – then he very carefully shoved that in to the box as well and locked it shut. 

Just past the edge of where the village wall was still being upgraded they crossed paths with Izuna, directing his ANBU with last minute instructions. 

“You know what we really need?” he called as they passed him by, breath misting in the air. “A fucking alarm. A village-wide alarm system so we don’t have to go running around like chickens gathering everyone up if this shit happens again.”

“That…is a good idea,” Tobirama admitted. 

Izuna stared at him. 

“Why don’t you give that some more thought and if we both survive we can hash out some ideas later.” When he turned he managed to catch just the edge of a thoughtful look on the man’s face as they continued on their way and leaped out of sight.  

Figuring out what direction to go wasn’t hard. Even without the sounds of destruction and the clouds of dust and smoke rising slowly from the forest there was the oppressive weight of that chakra signature, close enough now that even the most insensitive shinobi would be able to feel it there, hovering at the edge of their mind like a wild animal dragging sharp teeth along their consciousness. It was not a pleasant feeling. 

Tobirama and Madara kept speed with each other as they darted through the trees, matching step for step and weaving through the branches in perfect unison. Battle had called them and they had answered. All of Tobirama’s instincts cried out for him to strategize and make plans but he recognized that it was useless until he was able to see the situation for himself. He’d never fought a tailed beast before let alone the Kyuubi itself, the strongest of the nine. Trying to plan for something like that was like trying to plan for the path of a tornado; there was simply no predicting what would happen until it did. 

Much easier was determining that they were getting close. As soon as they began to encounter long swaths of forest crushed or burnt they increased their speed. Tobirama pushed through the discomfort of that massive signature to find the cool green feeling of his brother and directed them that way. Shinobi of their power served best at the front no matter the danger they faced. 

Seeing the beast for the first time nearly stopped them both in their tracks, however. It didn’t matter how brave a man was, seeing a creature several stories taller than the administration tower would have been a sight all on its own. The oppressive weight of the thing’s hatred was something else entirely. 

“We have to fight that,” Madara breathed, his voice only just audible over the commotion around them. 

“No,” Tobirama said. “We have to stop it. Let’s go.” 

Several bodies lay still in scattered places throughout the carnage, others darting in to carry them away, but Tobirama’s eyes found several directly beneath the feet of the Kyuubi where they could not be safely retrieved. He dismissed them. Later he would mourn the loss of life. Right now he would do what he could to protect the living. 

Hashirama fell back to meet them as they approached and Tobirama felt his heart clench at the sight of tears streaming down the man’s face. 

“Are you injured?” he demanded. Hashirama shook his head. 

“Later,” he choked out. “We have to put this thing down before it takes more.” 

“Right. Then let’s do that.”

One quick survey told him that the people of the village were indeed following the strategy he had quickly laid out. To one side Nara cast their shadows to snare legs and tails, Yamanaka threw their own consciousness’ out in an attempt to take over the beast’s, and the Akimichi stood over them both with their bodies expanded to massive sizes, deflecting the lashing tails and protecting their friends.

Hatake and Inuzuka harried the flanks while several Aburame attempted to guide their insects in to any orifice they could use for an inside take down. Uchiha sent flames from the front in brilliant displays while Senju used the earth and the river to push and pull, attacking, attempting to knock the thing off balance. The Hyuga clan were spread through the rest of them, each paired up with another shinobi and moving in tandem as though this battle were a well-practiced dance. Directing attacks to the targets with the most deadly potential, rotating or using their Byakugan to deflect incoming debris, they made the perfect support for anyone lucky enough to work with them. 

Just watching their village come together in such a way was enough to make a man burst with pride and yet for all their efforts they made very little progress. Bodies fell and others dashed in to remove them. Screams and thunder rent the air in a near constant litany of destruction. 

“I’ll take its head,” Hashirama declared, legs coiling in readiness. 

“The back,” Madara claimed. “Watch me tame that fucker.”

“Hold,” Tobirama snapped. 

Amazingly enough, they did as he asked, holding until suddenly waves of ANBU burst from the trees in a concentrated attack. Then Tobirama ducked his head to bare his teeth.

“Now, while it’s distracted!” 

Hashirama burst forward with his hands already forming signs. Spires of mokuton burst from the ground at his command to reach for the beast’s face and muzzle its jaw. Deep in its throat the Kyuubi snarled – then he screamed with rage and pain as Madara hit him from behind with the largest Grand Fireball the field had seen yet that day. 

Letting the two of them work ahead as a distraction, Tobirama scattered kunai marked with his special seal. As soon as he had the layout of the terrain solid in his mind he reached for one and appeared directly under the belly of the rampaging animal. With so much water already scattered about it was the work of a moment to gather a large puddle and swing his arms upwards to slice at the soft flesh above his head, an attack that he hoped was doubly painful with the temperature of the water only barely above freezing. He was gone before the answering scream was finished and gathering more water to go for the hamstrings.

Before he could get close enough a great roar shook the earth and destabilized his footing as the Kyuubi broke through its wooden muzzle, snapping at the branches that reached to capture it again. Tobirama flashed to his brother’s side and pulled him out of the way just in time for one of the many tails to come crashing down where he’d just been standing. 

“Thanks for the save,” Hashirama cried. “Let’s try this on for size!” 

Only once had Tobirama even seen him use that massive scroll he carried in to battle but it was a testament to how seriously his brother was taking this fight when he threw it down and unrolled it, slamming his palm in to the center. When his summon appeared it carried them both up on its shoulders to tower over the forest and draw their opponent’s attention all to themselves. The Kyuubi didn’t look terribly impressed to see the Several Thousand Hands but Madara clearly was – and just as clearly did not intend to be left behind. 

“You think that’s something? I am the one you should be worried about, fox!” His voice came from the ground a moment before he was raised up above it in the headpiece of a fully formed Susano’o. 

“Together, my friend?” Hashirama called to him.

“Eat my chakra dust!” Madara hollered back. 

Despite his words they moved in sync as only the best of battle partners could. Tobirama spared a moment to roll his eyes at their antics even as he cast one of his kunai and followed it through the air, summoning the river to his purpose. 

With their strength combined and aid from all the other clans the amount of injuries dropped significantly, though the battle was still a hard one. The tide was turned with the arrival of Mito, her usual orderly outfit replaced with the minimalistic battle gear of a true Uzushio warrior. With delicate grace she evaded the reached claws attempting to crush her spine and wove between the hundreds of wooden fists slicing through the air to land at her husband’s side. Tobirama appeared at his other a moment later. 

“I can seal him,” she announced confidently. “But nothing inanimate will be able to hold that much energy. If I seal him it will be in to a living creature. A person.” 

“Any volunteers?” Tobirama asked dryly. 

“That sounds incredibly dangerous.” Deftly weaving his signs still, Hashirama kept the beast distracted with his summons while they spoke. “Would his chakra not tear the person to shreds?” 

Mito shook her head. “No. This is why I did not come until now; I have been modifying the seal we use to make storage scrolls and I believe that it should contain him so long as there is another chakra to give the array power. Their life will be the safeguard that holds him.” 

“I will do it,” Hashirama declared. He looked determined until she laid her hand on his arm.

“No, it cannot be you. The head of one clan with so much power would unbalance the rest. I believe it should be me. It would be dangerous for whoever takes this responsibility to leave the village and I hardly do so already.” 

“Make a decision,” Tobirama snapped. “We don’t have time to sit around and chat it over all day. Yes or no, Anija!” 

“May the kami forgive me. Yes. Do it – and fast.” 

She gave one sharp nod and then Mito turned towards the Kyuubi with fire in her eyes the likes of which few had seen and lived to speak of. With barely a thought Tobirama was away at his own husband’s side, suspended within the Susano’o. 

“On my mark be loud. As much of a distraction as you can be. Draw its attention and hold it.” 

“Understood.” 

Tobirama trained his eyes across the shifting mass of fur between him and his brother, watching until Mito’s tiny form shot forward.

“Now!” 

Purple flame exploded outwards in a Grand Fireball nearly the size of the Kyuubi’s head, singing fur and flesh and drawing a scream that must have shaken the mountains from one side of the continent to the other. Several of the men and women scattered below dropped to clap their hands over their ears even as Mito, brave and beautiful Mito, flung her body straight towards the source. For a single moment she existed as a streak of flame across the sky, red hair spilling behind her like a banner as her traditional buns unraveled with the force of such a violent movement. 

Then the motion ended as she impacted the beast’s hide palm first, black ink spidering out from underneath her touch. Even the trees themselves quaked with the force of the roar this time, the sound of an animal who knew it was about to be caged. Seeing his chance, Hashirama moved quickly to pin the lashing tails with bands of wood, holding them down for the howls to carry on in stillness. 

When the massive form began to ripple and waver Tobirama almost felt a touch of pity for the thing. To be caged for the rest of his life was something he couldn’t imagine. But the feeling was easy to brush away as he looked out at the carnage surrounding them, steeling his heart to the vision of the Nine-Tailed Beast shrinking in size as it was pulled in to Mito’s body. For such a momentous act Tobirama felt almost let down by the anticlimactic silence when it was over.

Mito stood where the Kyuubi had, tall and proud. Then even from a distance Tobirama could see her tremble before she crumpled to the earth like a doll. Hashirama was by her side almost as fast as though he too was able to utilize the hiraishin. 

Concern warred with the instinct to give the two of them some space and Tobirama married the two urges by asking Madara to dismiss his Susano’o, taking the time to walk across the clearing by the power of his own legs rather than flashing across with the marker Hashirama carried. When they arrived his hands were already limned in green chakra and his brows pulled together with deep concentration. Thankfully for their sanity he did not look too worried. 

“She doesn’t appear to be injured,” he announced as they and several others drew close. “I think the shock of absorbing so much extra chakra was just a little too hard and her mind shut down to protect her until she finds a balance.” 

“Are you alright?” Tobirama asked. His brother looked up at him with a wan expression. 

“I’m…uninjured.”

With a nod Tobirama turned to Madara, gently cupping that precious face with one hand. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine too,” the man growled. He did not, however, pull away from the touch. They held each other’s eyes for a moment of understanding before Tobirama turned back to the pair on the ground. 

“Uninjured is fine but that wasn’t my question. You looked distraught when we arrived.”

“Of course I’m distraught! Look around you!” 

The outburst was so unlike the Hashirama that others knew and shock was plain to see on many of the faces around them. For Tobirama, however, it brought him nothing but a clench in his chest. It may have been years since he heard that tone but he would have remembered the heartbreak it carried until the end of his days. The last he’d heard it they had stood over a fresh grave after burying their mother between the bodies of their younger siblings.

“You know better than most than many injuries can look much worse than they truly are,” he murmured. Squatting down, he laid a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I know it seems as though we lost many lives today but until we get a tally from the medics we can’t know that for sure. Many more could have survived.”

Hashirama lifted his face to show that tears once more streamed over his cheeks. “But they didn’t. They’re gone. He’s gone.” 

“Who is?” 

“Father,” Hashirama whispered. 

A great empty nothingness seemed to echo in Tobirama’s chest as he followed his brother’s line of sight down the path to where the Kyuubi must have met with the first line of resistance. Miles away at this point, he wasn’t able to see where the body of his father lay. He didn’t care to. What state the flesh was in mattered little if the mind had gone cold. 

He waited for the pain. For the sense of loss. The last time he had seen Butsuma’s face it struck him for the first time in years that they were family – not a happy one, perhaps, but blood all the same. Now the man was gone and with him any chance that they might someday recover the relationship that had never had a proper chance to grow. And Tobirama, to his small secret shame, felt nothing. 

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said at last, an empty platitude to fill the silence as his brother continued to stare up at him expectantly. Hashirama didn’t look surprised but neither did he look at all comforted. 

“What are we going to do?”

“Get these people back home, I imagine.” That particular wisdom came from Izuna as the man approached. “I’ve instructed my teams to search the area and retrieve any dead or wounded left behind. They took too bloody long waiting for the right moment to make an attack and I’m not happy with their performance. So now since they didn’t actually see much battle they get to enjoy the clean up afterwards.” 

“Right. Touka can have any of her people who have a talent for earth jutsu restore the forest as best they can until Hashirama is able to see to the trees.” Tobirama nodded to his brother-in-law, unsurprised by the hesitation before Izuna nodded back. 

Between them, Madara craned his neck to peer down the alley of destruction where Butsuma supposedly lay. It didn’t take a genius to guess where his thoughts were drifting. Neither of their first responders had been seen since they dashed off, their blood running hot with reckless competition. If Butsuma had gone to his final rest here in the forest then chances were Tajima had too. Tobirama waited but his husband said nothing, turning his head away with a telling tension at the corners of his eyes. No one present saw fit to mention it. 

“Izu is right,” he muttered. “Let’s get these people back to the village. We’ll need to gather the council for a debrief. Shit, wait, Izuna can you also send one of your people to find the rest of that team who came to warn us? There wasn’t time to ask but–”

“We need to know why,” Tobirama finished for him. 

“On it.” Just like that the man was off again.

Hashirama used the utmost care as he cradled his wife between both arms and lifted her, for once not looking around to see to others before taking off towards safety himself. Although the greater good often took priority over many things in his eyes there were few if any things in this world that could possibly be more important to him than the safety of his beloved wife. Tobirama watched them go and thought to himself that once he had envied their bond. How funny it was to think of it now and realize that he had the same. 

Urging his own beloved to go ahead, Tobirama stayed to organize those wandering around the field looking lost, some of them bearing the frantic expression of those who had lost sight of their loved ones. He urged them to allow the allotted team to comb through the area before descending in to panic. Many injured had already been taken to the hospital and extra bodies milling about would only impede the progress of others reaching the same help. 

At a certain point he had to realize that he was mostly killing time, putting off the inevitable as though hoping that the council would meet without him. Unfortunately he knew the one they would not start without was Hashirama and since he would have taken the time to ensure his wife was more than comfortable in the proper care it wasn’t likely the debrief would have even started yet. Not to mention the fact that Madara was likely to glare the lot of them in to submission if they tried to go ahead without Tobirama’s sizable brain there to point out the angles no one else ever seemed able to see. 

Knowing it would be better to get this over with did nothing to make him feel any more enthusiastic but still Tobirama forced himself to turn back towards the village when there was only petty busywork left to occupy himself with. The meeting needed to happen. As a council they needed to make a decision on how to react to these events and how to proceed now that their two nominal ‘leaders’ had both fallen. Yet something in the back of his mind couldn’t help pretending that if he never went to the meeting then he would never have to admit that all of this was real. 

Clearly he’d been spending too much time in Hashirama's presence for such childish notions to have any hold over him. 

What drove him forward despite his distaste for it all was the same urge which had driven plenty of his most self-destructive urges in the past: his need to know. The need for answers that had a tendency to blot out the rest of the world. Tobirama set his feet towards the village center and he would have damned his own curiosity if he wasn’t so achingly aware that he would have eventually gone anyway. 

Duty had been bred in to him at a young age, pressed in to his skin so deeply it could almost be considered a personality trait on its own at this point. He might drag his feet and put it off but in the end this was his home and he would do what he needed to for this village. That was his duty and Tobirama had long accepted that he was nothing if not a dutiful man. 

To his husband. To his family. To his people. 

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5011 Chapter: 31/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Chapter 31

Tobirama had obviously just finished rinsing off the dishes from his lunch when Madara slammed in to the room, the walls of their house still echoing with how he had slammed the front door open as well. From the calm way his husband reached for a tea towel to dry his hands he must have felt Madara's chakra coming from halfway across the village. Surely anyone with even an iota of sensing capabilities had felt him as he made his way through the streets like an erupting volcano on the move, chakra boiling and spilling around him in a dark miasma of rage.

“I take it whatever meeting you were called to did not go well?” Tobirama asked. They were supposed to have eaten together for their lunch break, a lovely little date that Madara had been the one to set up for once, but plans were interrupted when a runner came to summon him back to the tower. It looked like the other had eaten without him.

“Fucking imbecile!”

“Mm. Not well at all.”

Tobirama’s eyes flickered away to the clock on the wall and Madara guessed he must be checking that there was enough time left of their lunch break to listen to the sort of rant they both knew was just waiting to burst forth. Just a little under twenty minutes was left until they should both be back at the office. Madara had checked. He had a temper, sure, but he wasn’t irresponsible with it. Mostly.

Before saying anything Madara first spent a couple of minutes stomping in circles around the table just to get some of his frustration out, snarling and blistering the air with language so strong it was a good thing Kagami had not chosen today for one of his spontaneous visits.  Over the years he’d learned this was a vital step so he didn’t turn such language on whoever he was venting to, not wanting to sound accusatory. When he finally stopped pacing he felt no calmer and desperately cast about for a way to feel so. He solved the problem by stomping over and shoving his face flat against Tobirama’s chest where he released a muffled scream against the warm, solid muscle of his husband’s pectorals.

“Feel better?” Tobirama asked dubiously when the scream was done.

“No.”

“Would you like to tell me what happened?”

“Your father is as terrible a man as mine is!”

Nodding slowly, Tobirama dared to point out, “That is not new information.”

“I knew he was an ass; I didn’t know he was this much of one! Can you honestly believe what he said to me!?” Madara huffed and ground his teeth with indignation until he was pulled up short by Tobirama’s answer.

“Until you tell me what he said I can’t believe anything really.”

Madara paused and took a deep breath. It didn’t help very much. He still felt as though he were on the verge of blasting steam out of both ears when he allowed himself to speak again. “Not only did he imply that pretty much anyone can do my job which means I’m not needed for them but he basically told me that I should be grateful to him for allowing me to focus on ‘less taxing responsibilities’. I’m going to kill him!”

Rather than defend his father – who they both knew did not warrant any defense – Tobirama mirrored his husband’s actions and took a deep breath in through his nose, letting it back out slowly through his mouth.

“Well, in answer to your question: no. I cannot believe he said that to you.”

“I’ve worked damn hard to improve the security teams! Their morale is up, their patrol patterns are tighter, I even worked out a schedule so no one ever has to stay on night duty for more than a couple of weeks at a time! Now he’s basically demoted me to a regular tower lackey and he says I should be grateful!?” Madara snorted and clenched his fists in a pantomime of strangling someone’s neck. “He even had the gall to tell me it would be better if I focused more on my duties as an heir! I know my own damn duties!”

He was gratified to see the clench of Tobirama’s jaw, a sign that he wasn’t overreacting to the situation. If Tobirama was angry enough for it to show visibly in any way at all then Madara knew the insult given him was serious enough to warrant his own rage.

“While I will freely admit that I was upset those projects were given to you in the first place I will also be the first to say that you have more than risen to whatever challenges such duties posed. You make an excellent lead for the security teams. I cannot fathom what he thinks to accomplish by removing you from them.” Tobirama’s brows knit together with a frustrated confusion Madara was not at all happy to clear up.

“Oh I can tell you why,” he spat. “He said, and I quote, that I should appreciate being relieved of such taxing work as I am clearly stretched too thin with all the projects I have taken on with you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Right? That’s what I said!”

Tobirama’s jaw clenched again. “Does he understand the irony that he is working towards the exact same goal as the man he’s trying to undermine with this asinine move?”

“Probably not! He doesn’t think! Neither of them think anymore! It’s like they signed their damn treaty and then threw any collective sense either of them had ever possessed out the window! Some days I can hardly believe my father is the same man pulling such idiotic stunts as he does – and now your father has decided to pitch in to the madness!?”

“No, you’re right. I don’t think either of them see a thing beyond the end of their own ambitions anymore. They built something that the world had never seen before and now they both want to rule over it uncontested.”

“They’re idiots!” Madara shouted.

He was startled to see a bit of humor flash across Tobirama’s face. “Utter fools.”

“Yes! And now their foolery has relegated me to little more than a lackey, a paper pusher. I barely pull any weight on the council now. Fuck, I’m no better than the Akimichi heir who falls asleep in almost every meeting!” The humor was gone immediately from Tobirama’s face and his husband reached out to pull him back in to a tight embrace.

“No. It won’t stand. Who else has little enough on their plate that they can take up all the work you do? Let him flex his authority if he must, this can’t last.”

Madara sighed tiredly as he felt all the energy and fight drain out of him. “But it can. All he has to do is split it up between a bunch of different people. He’ll probably promote that terrifying cousin of yours to my position if he thinks anything like Tajima does. My father accused him of trying to oust the Uchiha, if you’ll recall, and it seems Butsuma has finally decided to retaliate. By doing exactly what he was accused of, I might add!”

The chest he was buried in once more heaved with a sigh to match his own.

“I am so rarely optimistic, anata, will you not let me have just this once?”

“Fine. Oh yay. Gee I can’t wait to be reinstated when Butsuma magically stops being an asshole.”

“Much better. An excellent mood to go back to work with, I’m sure.” Tobirama didn’t exactly sound in high spirits himself but Madara appreciated having the tension broken even if he wasn’t actually ready to be positive.

“I’ll show you high spirits,” he grumbled.

There wasn’t much time left before they needed to leave, barely a few minutes, but no matter how much Madara wanted to spend it cuddling Tobirama insisted that he find something to eat while he had the chance. Seeing as they were meant to attend Hashirama's for dinner that evening Madara did have to agree that it was safest not to leave his stomach too empty. It was always a gamble eating with Hashirama and Mito, their tastes being so varied. One never knew if the meal would be a wonderfully prepared delicacy or some monstrosity they discovered at the market and just had to try. Madara lived in fear of the day they discovered that durian fruits existed.

He returned to the office when break time was over with a full belly and slightly lowered blood pressure, though not by much. Never had he been so thankful of his own habit to bring his paperwork up to Tajima’s office before noon. After the day he’d had he wasn’t sure he had the energy left to deal with his own father’s cold attitude and he definitely did not want to be the one who broke the news that Butsuma demoted the heir of the Uchiha clan without even discussing the matter between them. That was not going to be a pretty conversation, although he didn’t want to get his hopes up that anything good would come back to him after those two idiots went through their latest blow out.

Since most of the work waiting on his desk pertained to projects he was supposedly no longer involved with Madara found a petty sort of satisfaction in dropping the massive stack of folders and scrolls on the floor to be dealt with by someone else and turned his attention to more simple administrative matters, things he had been doing since the governing body was first set up and they had all accepted basic duties. Hashirama gave him a questioning look but he was easy enough to distract with questions about dinner tonight.

For the rest of the day whenever someone brought Madara some of the things he should have been working on he cheerfully directed them to the growing pile of work on the floor. In the farfetched event he was actually allowed to continue the duties that were rightfully his it was likely he would regret ignoring them all day but that was a problem for the future, not to be considered right now.

No matter how wide he pulled the smirk across his face, however, it did nothing to lessen the stinging anger of rejection, the hot ball of betrayal for having something he cared about taken away from him without any real reason. Pretending everything was fine wouldn’t fix anything but it was the only way he knew how to deal with such emotions so he forged onward with a grim smile baring his teeth. And he smothered the tiny voice in the back of his mind that told him maybe it would be better if he took the time to work through what he was feeling sooner rather than later. The voice sounded suspiciously like Hashirama anyway and when did that oaf ever have anything smart to say?

Rather than take out his repressed emotions on the most convenient victim, Madara somehow managed to keep all of the insults against Hashirama to himself until his friend returned from dropping off documents to Butsuma. They wandered downstairs together to drag Tobirama out of his office and found Mito waiting for them just outside the building. Madara had only just opened his mouth to let loose at last and make fun of how many times today Hashirama had knocked over his pencil cup when their attention was called back by an unwanted voice.

Butsuma rather noticeably did not look Madara in the eye as he approached, though there was something about the tightness around his mouth that said he was holding back some sort of expression trying to form. Whether that was a smirk or a frown Madara didn’t know. Surprisingly, the man headed directly for his second son.

“Word arrived from the Daimyo this afternoon,” he announced. “His eminence regrets that he was too distracted to thank you and your mission partner properly after the two of you managed to uncover a coup being planned right under his nose.”

“None of us do this for acknowledgement,” Tobirama responded dutifully. The way he spoke gave Madara the impression he was only saying what was expected of him.

“As any shinobi should say. However, his eminence wishes to give his thanks personally as well as an apology for so rudely sending you away while you were injured. He has extended an invitation for you and Izuna to stay with him and attend a proper celebration of your deeds.” If he puffed his chest out any farther Butsuma may have been in danger of sprouting actual feathers to preen, clearly pleased with himself as though he had anything to do with the matter.

Ignoring the way Hashirama tried to thump him on the back in congratulations, Tobirama simply nodded and asked, “When is he expecting us?”

“You are to leave in four days and arrive on the fifth.” Again Tobirama nodded and Madara mentally crossed his fingers that the man would go now so he could begin soaking up as much of Tobirama’s attention as he could to make up for the time they would be apart. Of course, because that was just his luck today, Butsuma had to open his mouth again. “Unfortunately it seems Izuna will be much too busy to attend at the capital. He does, after all, have some incredibly important duties on his hands nowadays. I had thought it would be good if you took your husband along with you to stand in Izuna’s stead.”

That, at least, explained what Madara now recognized as a repressed smirk. It was little more than a miracle that he recognized anything beyond the haze of anger that fell over his eyes and suddenly it became very difficult to smother the instinctual urge to activate his Sharingan.

His temper only worsened when finally Butsuma’s gaze slid over to lock with his own and he could see the light of satisfaction dancing in those beady little eyes. Never in his life had he wanted so badly to punch someone. And considering the swift and vicious nature of his temper Madara really thought that should say something, both for the amount of anger he was controlling and the strength he was demonstrating in not actually throwing any punches.

“Your generosity knows no bounds, father,” Tobirama’s dry tone broke through his reveries and Madara turned to give his husband an incredulous look until he continued. “We never did get a honeymoon. It’s very kind of you to allow for one now. Since Madara's duties have been lightened perhaps we’ll set off a day earlier and take our time on the journey.”

Butsuma’s left eyes twitched. It was the most beautiful thing Madara had seen all day. He’d thought watching his own father’s plans get turned back on him time and again was fun but those incidents had nothing on the petty satisfaction of seeing Butsuma experience the same thing and knowing he couldn’t contradict his son without Hashirama and Mito asking questions. Indeed, Hashirama was already cooing over the idea while Mito granted them both indulgent smiles. Neither of them seemed to notice the tension between the three men all staring each other down with poison in their eyes and their faces held in masks of civility.

“Please send word to the Daimyo that we will of course accept his invitation. If Izuna cannot pull himself away from his work for a day or so to attend to his eminence then we will be happy to do so together. Thank you for letting us know, father, I will use the rest of this week to prepare for my own absence.”

“Right,” Butsuma mumbled. “Be sure that nothing falls behind while you are gone.”

“That goes without saying. Now, if you will excuse us. Good evening.”

Not another word was spoken as Tobirama gently and skillfully guided all members of their group off down the street while somehow also distracting his brother from the fact that their father’s cheeks were turning purple.

Madara wasn’t sure how his husband managed it but within a couple of minutes he had Hashirama and Mito walking several feet ahead of them engaged in conversation about what they had both gotten up to that day, neither looking back to see why their intended guests were lagging behind. Honestly, however, he didn’t care very much about the how when it gave him a few moments to just breathe and cling to the hand that slipped down to capture his own in a bracing grip.

“I’ll kill him,” he whispered.

“Anata…”

“No I mean it, I’m really going to kill him. How dare he?”

“To be honest I don’t blame you. It’s bad enough to remove you from the things you’re good at but to send you away without warning just because–”

“No!” Madara almost felt bad for cutting his husband off but he was just so angry he couldn’t contain himself. “How dare he compare me to Izuna? How dare he imply that Izuna’s work is more important than my own? We perform wildly different functions! I don’t- UGH!”

He’d never so badly wanted to know how the hiraishin worked because right then he would have very much enjoyed the ability to just disappear without a trace. Sometimes the Body Flicker just couldn’t take him far enough. Thankfully he was blessed with the calm rock that was Tobirama, who said nothing about having his fingers squeezed so tight they could both feel their bones grinding together.

“I didn’t think of that but you’re right. It was unfair of him to do that. Crafty as well, though I can’t say for sure whether it was his intention to sow discourse between the two of you.”

“Well I don’t care what his intentions were! That was unfair! And terrible! I am not my brother and my brother is not me and we don’t do the same job so you really can’t compare how important either of us is – and maybe if he didn’t take my fucking job away from me then I wouldn’t be so ‘unimportant’! He can go straight to hell!” Madara snapped his jaw shut when he noticed his voice beginning to rise. They were still in public and no matter what people thought he did understand public decency.

After allowing him a moment to calm himself Tobirama looked around, the corners of his mouth tightening to see the street they were on was still quite busy. “If you would prefer not to be in company right now I can make our excuses to Anija.”

“It’s fine. We’ll make him listen to me bitching too. He deserves it.”

“Mm and what did he do to deserve such an honor?”

“He’s always so bloody happy!” Madara cried, indignant. “It’s not fair! Why can’t I be that happy all the time?”

It wasn’t until they had gone several more steps in silence that he realized there was anything amiss. When he turned to say something else he noticed Tobirama’s face was pulled in to a pensive expression, almost hesitant as he opened his own mouth, words slow and clearly very carefully worded.

“Are you unhappy most days?”

“What? Oh. No, no that’s not- I didn’t mean that. I meant- fuck’s sake every time I think ‘yeah this is good, I’m happy’ one of our fathers does something to kick us down again. I swear sometimes they can smell when we’re happy and they deliberately swoop in to ruin it. I hate them. I hate both of them. They’re old codgy bastards and they need to be retired. By force.” Madara scowled down at the ground in front of them, even angrier than before but now it was at himself for almost giving the impression that he was unhappy after both of them had been trying so hard to build what they had between them.

Tobirama seemed to understand at least, the pensive look slipping away and leaving sympathy in those pretty red eyes. Neither of them said much more for the rest of their walk to Hashirama's house. Madara distracted himself for a while thinking about how good he’d gotten at reading his husband’s expressions. The man wasn’t really much more expressive than he ever had been, still the same blank looking face on most occasions, but it had gotten easier to interpret the micro-changes and even the smallest quirk of his lips became a smile in Madara’ eyes, a certain shine became amusement. It was a testament to how close they’d become and thinking about their relationship did help keep his temper reigned in for now as he kept his concentration on happier things.

When they were only a couple of streets away from his house Hashirama finally turned and blinked behind himself as though only just remembering they were there too. As soon as he spotted them his face broke out in a sunshine smile that only served to reawaken Madara's annoyance.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you two! Mito was just telling me all about her day and it sounded so lovely!”

“Bully for you,” Madara called back. “Not all of us had lovely days!”

Hashirama all but ground his heels in to the dirt, screeching to a halt so he could wait for them to catch up with him and Mito. “Did you have a bad day Madara? Why didn’t you tell me! I would have cheered you up!” At his side, Mito shook her head.

“You were right there when Butsuma-sama told him in so many words that his brother was more vital to this village than he is. Would that make you feel good if he said it to you?”

“Well…I would be proud of my brother?” Hashirama tried. He winced when all three of them gave his sharp looks.

“Obviously I’m proud of my brother,” Madara snapped. “But it’s shitty to compare us against each other as if that means anything. It’s like comparing apples and oranges. Its- its- he’s not unimportant but I’m important too, damn it, and your stupid father can’t just take that away from me and laugh in my face about it!”

Eyes wide, Hashirama wilted. “Oh. Yeah. That wouldn’t feel good at all. Wait, what did he take away from you?”

Barely able to contain himself, Madara was almost grateful for the white hand that slapped itself over his mouth as Tobirama very carefully cleared his throat and suggested perhaps they should all go inside to discuss this. That was probably best. If any other words came out of him at that moment they would have been very loud and not at all tasteful. Biting his tongue until he was sure the indents would stay for weeks, Madara stomped off with the rest while they all quietly made the rest of the journey to Hashirama's home.

The moment the door was closed between them and the rest of the world it was like all restraints fell away and Madara stood in the genkan for fifteen minutes shouting to his heart’s content. Sometime during the flood of words Mito and Tobirama slipped away to prepare tea so by the time his words ran out and Hashirama led him in to the living room there was a steaming cup waiting for him next to where Tobirama sat on one half of a spectacularly ugly loveseat. Madara had enough kindness in him to wait until the man didn’t have a cup up near his face before flopping gracelessly down next to his husband and snatching up his own tea.

“I can’t believe he did that.” Hashirama shook his head.

“Can’t you?” Mito asked with sharp words. If he were feeling more himself Madara would have been surprised she had said anything that might even remotely be considered in support of him. They still hadn’t really warmed up to each other even after all this time.

“Well…okay yes, I suppose I can believe it of him.” Ignoring his tea, Hashirama rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. “Some days it’s hard to reconcile the man he’s become with the man who raised us.”

Although Tobirama remained silent Madara was sure he felt the weight of both himself and Mito staring, waiting for his contradiction. It never came and yet they could still see it in his eyes. Butsuma had raised one son, buried two, and forgotten the one he deemed to not require his attention. As much as Hashirama wanted to love the man there had never truly been a father to love in him.

Madara scowled down in to his cup. He almost wished he could say the same of his own. Would it have been better to lose the affection he once so cherished or to never have it at all and feel no loss?

“I’m surprised you’re as calm as you are about all this,” Mito said but when he raised his head he saw that she was speaking to Tobirama, who only hummed and sipped his tea.

“Plotting a murder should never be done loudly.”

She granted him a gentle smile that should absolutely not look so deadly and then lifted one eyebrow. “I agree that silence is golden but I would have expected you to be a little more vocal now that we’re all alone. You did not go without insult yourself, my dear.”

“Your concern is appreciated but I’m fine,” Tobirama deflected while Madara blinked rapidly, trying to remember if Butsuma had said anything bad that he might have missed.

“Calling Izuna’s work too important to set down is an insult to both of you,” she pointed out. “You work more than the rest of us put together some days and he can send you away without a thought but not Izuna? One might begin to think he had changed his mind and decided to support the Uchiha above his own clan.”

“And I’m sure that when he realizes that he’ll be foaming at the mouth with disappointment for himself.” Tobirama shrugged it off as no big deal while Madara did his best to sink in to his own cushion and disappear.

In his anger he hadn’t even realized it but Mito was right. Of course Butsuma would think to send him off now that he apparently had nothing important to do but to pull Tobirama away from the hundred and one projects he always seemed to have a hand in? Any shinobi worth their salt was used to picking up and leaving on short notice if the mission was important enough but an invitation from the Daimyo wasn’t something that came on short notice. Invitations to the capitol were just as full of pomp and ridiculousness as its inhabitants. The Daimyo would have sent word more than a week in advance, which meant that Butsuma had deliberately been sitting on it all this time and just waiting to make his move. It was a miracle he hadn’t waited until the day before if that was his game.

What kind of man, he wondered, would throw his own son under the bus just to toss a petty insult in someone else’s face? Now Madara found himself faced with a new dilemma. He couldn’t decide if he was angrier on his own behalf or on Tobirama’s as the full scope of Butsuma’s idiocy sank in.

His husband must have noticed his stricken look, murmuring quietly from one side of his mouth.

“You were preoccupied and with good reason. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Madara told him just as quietly. “Would you like help planning his murder?”

Tobirama’s quicksilver smile was there and gone in an instant and that was all the answer he needed. He could be a tad blind in his anger but clearly Tobirama understood.

“Guys, please stop whispering. You’re making me really nervous.” When he looked up Madara saw that his best friend was wringing both hands anxiously, clearly not able to hear what they were saying but still under the impression that they were indeed plotting a murder. He knew them both so well.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Madara replied petulantly.

“I didn’t! I asked!”

“Semantics.” Delicately lifting the teacup he had almost forgotten about, Madara sipped at the drink before it could go cold and listened to Hashirama whining at him without any outward reaction.

Finally having the chance to yell everything out of system when he came in the home, Madara found that he really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Chewing over the issue wouldn’t change anything and listening to Hashirama's sympathetic murmurs would only keep him concentrated on feeling down. Distracting the man was as easy now as it had been in the office. With only one sentence wondering about some gossip he’s overheard yesterday he had Hashirama off on a tangent chasing this new topic and although he could tell he hadn’t fooled either Tobirama or Mito he was grateful that both of them let the subject drop as well.

It was a relief to let the mood around him lighten. Madara was happy enough to join the conversation at times but for the most part he tried not to be obvious about leaning in to his husband for a bit of comfort. More and more as the months went by it was starting to feel like their lives were ever-changing in way they shouldn’t be and he realized he was coming to rely on Tobirama as one of the only constants he had left.

When he felt a pale hand slip in to his own for a brief squeeze and then slipping away before anyone could notice their PDA Madara bit his lip. It wasn’t all bad. If all he had left in the world was Tobirama then he was doing alright, he thought.