#madara just lost his brother but mito lost so much more

[justsomeoneunordinary]

Villain Mito...

[woodblxssomcrowned]

What would Danma and Hashirama's relationship be like if Kaname's attempt didn't fail?

WORSE. 

SO MUCH WORSE.

He would have been wrecked with guilt, feeling like he carries some of the blame for making Kaname's situation worse than it was, but he would have put most all of the blame on Hashirama and Tobirama.

The ones who had caused Kaname's situation and then done nothing to help her.

And he would keep blaming them.

Below is a messy, rough draft of a thing based on the idea of this scenario.

It's not great and but I hope it will somewhat paint a rough image of how i imagine it.

TW for child death and suicide.

Hashirama, along with Mito and Madara sitting in a meeting with an important person 

Mito excuses herself, gets up and exits the room. In his peripheral Hashirama can see the two women speak on the other side of the paper screens. Until they suddenly dash off, their steps against the wooden floor quickly growing distant. 

An interruption occurs as a young woman of the Senju comes in.

She's pale, breathing heavily, and her gaze keeps switching between Hashirama and his wife until she finally asks to speak with Mito, saying it's urgent. Said urgency translates into a tremble in her voice.

The meeting ends. And though it was productive, he still has the feeling of unease in his chest as he returns home. 

A heavy feeling of unease settles in his gut, but he quickly refocuses his attention to the matter at hand.

Whatever was happening, Mito could handle it. 

There are a number of people in his courtyard, mainly Senju. 

Before he has a chance to ask for an explanation as to what is going on, the voice of his brother call out for him from the front door. 

Tobirama meets him halfway to the door. The expression on his face is more severe than normal.

“Tobirama, tell me what's going on here. Have something happened?” When Hashirama attempts to move around him, his brother stops him with a firm hand on his chest.

“Kaname is dead.” 

Hashirama's brain struggles to process the sentence that just came out of Tobirama's mouth.

He opens his own, but only a stuttering sound escapes him. 

“H…I…what?” 

“Danma found her. Mito…is inside with her now.” 

His mind is racing with frantic questions as he makes his way inside.

He spots Tora and Danma sitting deeper in the house. His cousin look up when he enters. Her face is ashy and her eyes puffy as if she's been crying. Danma doesn't look up. He's staring at his hands which Tora is in the process of washing. The cloth she uses is stained pink, and there is still dark blood coating his hands. 

Hashirama does find Mito. Kneeling next to a small, covered form. He feels his breath and all warmth in his body get sucked out of him, and for a few heartbeats he is frozen in the doorway, until his wife raises her gaze to him. She’s not crying, but there is deep anguish within the black of her eyes, and her fair skin had lost all color, the contrast against the red of her hair stark. Too similar to the stain of blood on the sheet that covers the body.  

The moment he takes a seat next her, she leans into him. 

It sakes several moments for Danma to register that Hashirama had returned. And by then he had moved on deeper into the house.

His breath trapped in his throat he reaches out to the body, finding a small wrist underneath the cover that he curls his fingers around.

Her skin is cold. And try as he might to find it, begging for just a flicker of it, he feels no pulse.

The events over what felt like hours keps replaying in his head, but out of order and both confusing and too clear at once. From the sense of dread and smell of blood as he’d come home to a house that was much too quiet, to how he was banging on their neighbors door with his sister’s blood all over his hands, begging for someone to help.

He feels sick. 

But he still manages to shake Tora off, and follow his father’s path. 

He finds Hashirama and his mother next to Kaname’s body. The sheet that covers from shoulders to feet, and that which covers her face, keeps him from once again seeing her the way he'd found her. Though blood had still seeped into the white cloth. 

“This…this shouldn’t have happened…if you had helped her this wouldn’t have happened.” 

Hashirama squeezes his eyes shut. “Danma…please-“

“You knew she was miserable! But you didn’t care!” 

Hashirama’s expression twitches, gaze snapping to the outraged, grieving boy in the doorway, and for a split second a dark look passes over his eyes. 

But Danma doesn’t budge for a moment. His grip on the doorframe tightening as his voice rises. 

“She tried to tell you she was suffering, but nobody did anything, nobody cared, and now she’s dead!”

Suddenly, a strong arm wraps around his midriff and hauls him off his feet, dragging him kicking and screaming from the doorway and down the hall. 

“Be quiet.” The command is sharp enough that it makes Danma pause, and Madara continues. “Show your sister's remains some respect.” 

When Madara finally lets him go, outside of the house, Danma is shaking violently. And a moment later he twists aside and doubles over, vomiting into the grass. 

Then he cries.

Though a few clan heads are there, wanting to pay their respects and offer their condolences. 

Kaname's funeral is attended mostly by Senju. Not many others in the new village had gotten the chance to know her or care about her death.

To most, children dying was still an all too common reality.

Danma have not spoken to his father since the day she died.

Some people still spoke of Kaname's death as a murder. As someone seeking to wipe out the head of the Senju clan and his family.

Some just prefer to call it a murder, accepting the idea of an assassin who had yet to be found, rather than telling the truth and what had driven her to do it.

Kaname was not the first, and would not be the last. Over the first seven or so years of the village existence, suicide was all too common manner of death among those who were forcibly retired. Individuals who have lived and breathed the life of a shinobi for decades. And were now hopelessly aimless.

Or those who, like Kaname, were deemed unfit for it, and were for one reason or another driven to end their life because of it.

[hypersomniaaboutsleeping]

HashiMada 31-day challenge!!

Topic: And death will not separate.

- Madara, no!

Everywhere there is slush, knee-deep in mud, they are drowning in it..

He don't understand what is rolling down his face. Blood? Tears? Raindrops? - The world around Hashirama has narrowed down to the existence of one thing in it. More precisely, a man in his arms, grabbing at the place where someone else's heart is with a hole inside.

His hole. Made by Hashirama.

Madara wheezes instead of sighs. His eyes are so dull that now they are pools full of despair.

- Don't talk to me. It's going to hurt.. - Senju grabs his face in the hoop of his hands and meets no resistance. - Shh.. - Stroking.

For the first time in his life, he was able to see it so close. Everything was as Hokage imagined briefly, when he was away from his family and work: a pale, porcelain-like face. Chiseled cheekbones and plump lips. I wanted to touch it, but..

- Me.. - He inhales. - You were the most.. Most close to me..

Senju won't heal such wounds. No matter how great a medic he is. No one will be able to take away this sacrifice from the hands of the Shinigami.

He completely ignores Mito...

...And it's been going on for years.

After Madara's death, she completely lost her husband.

Well how.

He was alive. Performed his duties. I played with my children and later with my grandchildren.

But Uzumaki see, having lived with him for the second decade..

Her husband died then. Along with that body, somewhere underground, a living and kind Hokage. In the memories - her husband and just a kind man.

In her soul, the woman has long experienced a purely personal storm: Yes, Senju will never belong to her. He would never be as close to her, even verbally, as he was with Uchiha, in which Mito could see a giant lump of unvoiced thoughts.

In particular, the question...

"Why is she, and not me?"

...One day Hashirama, as it seemed to him, had a nightmare again.

Shinigami appeared to him.

- I can give you one lost opportunity. One life.

Senju was silent and did not speak to the old man.

However, here it seemed like it lasted forever. And it was disgusting...

Every hour he wanted to agree more and more to the old man's proposal. What is family? A family that has not now warmed a completely decayed soul does not make sense.

What is his position in society? He had never held onto it as much as he did for just one person.

And the disgusting old man knew it.

He knew man and human nature..

- Your love has delighted not only me.

Hashirama listens.

- Bandzaiten herself wanted to help you..

The warm, fading white substance in God's hands played and curled. The old man smiled nastily with rotten teeth..

..And Hashirama woke up.

The bed is identical. And besides him, the house is completely quiet and empty.

"Did you dream...?" he thought for a moment, but...

Hands. Legs. Bruises..

He returned the day after the armistice.. It is noticeable by the flags visible through the window.

That night he was laying Madara, who had drunk, downstairs.

When the Hokage looks into a kind of mirror on the wall, he notices that he has aged ten years. Does it really matter?..

To hell with Mito. To hell with the family.

Hokage rushes down, almost falling head over heels from the stairs: he was in such a hurry. I was in a hurry to see someone else's head and face. I don't care what they probably yell.

- Hashirama?..

Sleepy and after drinking, Uchiha does not immediately understand what is happening. Senju grabs him in her arms, and cries out loud, as if hugging him for the last time.

Tobirama appears at the noise, collected and already in his usual home costume.

- What the fuck?! - They both cry out, not understanding what exactly is happening.

Toby yells even more first, clearly not in the best mood.

- Fuck not in front of me.

Apparently, he has already managed to accept that his brother will drag Uchiha here. But probably, I definitely do not intend to give the kitchen away in the near future ..

Dara does not forget to send it in return.

- What the.. Business?

Madara is definitely trying not to cover with obscenities out of respect, and holds on to a seemingly cotton-wool head - yesterday he tried to drink one arrogant soldier. (Of course, in the frame of the holiday and not very seriously)

- You.. Will you stay with me? Hashirama still doesn't let go of him, burrowing into his hair.

The first reaction is a fist right in the face. But Senju doesn't pay attention. And gradually the head of another clan softens in the embrace.

- We signed a truce yesterday. What do you think?

- No.. I..

Hashirama is trying to find words for a long time. He pulls someone else's hair, examines the collarbones and exhales noisily. Madara looks so that it becomes clear - the limit of pleasantness is exhausted.

- What did you walk in front of the girl Or did you find the girl in the bedroom?

- What is it?

- Yours. Well, you get married.. Or..

- Okay, shut up for a couple of minutes! - Senju hisses in displeasure, pulling away and massaging his temples.

He quickly removes his disheveled hair, goes to wash, knowing that  Uchiha is wrapped up in her kimono, and at least she won't even move until lunch.

He has to make it before Madara fall asleep. Either...

- Madara, I didn't finish. - He smiled.

- What the fuck else...

- Will you stay with me, and..

- You've already said that. The alien leader snorted, looking with his frightening gaze.

- I want to dedicate my hand and heart to you!

Hashirama falls at his feet, holding his hands. And looks back.

So, what.. Madara forgets how to breathe. He looks confused, and his head is frankly splitting.

Senju doesn't know what that means. It doesn't press. He doesn't ask. Looks..

..At this breakfast they kiss. As in the following days.

Weeks and years pass unnoticed..

- What a day it is today.. Remember?

Hashirama has aged faster.

As expected, I had to use many chakra-expensive techniques akin to Mokuton.

And Madara is only thirty-seven. And he's still black-nosed, just like before.

- I remember, you old fool.

A man hands his beloved a gift in a bundle - this is their little tradition for Valentine's Day.

Senju smiles happily at him, accepting his "exchange" for his own.

Hashirama's heart stopped at exactly that moment.

Exactly one year later, Madara also leaves.

The whole of Konoha is grieving for the rulers who left so quickly.

And they throw stones again in the Shinigami kingdom and walk by the hand every day.

[asexual-angsty-writer]

Yeah, a bit? There's technically two versions of her backstory, and we (me and my friends) chose based on what's funnier in the moment.

Her original story was based on a 3 am thought I had about the Mokuton — in short, my brain went "The Mokuton gives Hashirama more connection to the earth, aka, it kinda makes him a plant, so, Theoretically, he should be able to reproduce asexually." And then the next morning, I looked at the paragraph I typed out and wondered what kind of drugs I had been on.

Kumi is basically a result of Hashirama experimenting with this new found ability, particularly after multiple failed attempts that ended with multiple (sadly unstable and thus dead) chibi plant Hashi's being made. In one way or another, Hashirama concludes that his chakra isn't enough to stabilize the plant-kids because there's nothing to counteract it/work with it and bind it.

So he finds a way to collect chakra in flower pods, and had originally intended for it to just be with the chakra of an Uzumaki friend. The pod had succefully bloomed, much to his delight, though it had a little surprise.

Yeah there was a red-haired chibi plant child, but there was also a brunet who's hair texture is very remenicent of someone he knows.

And thus Tobirama eventually came home to his brother having gone on a baby fever and has created multiple tiny mini-soldiers that could be the unbecoming of the shinobi nations as a whole because they're literally overpowered and calls them his 'murder sapplings'.

In a variation of it, Kumi is more blood n' flesh, than tree and chakra — because we once accidentally made an AU where the Senju's had a tendency of being intersex (because we had been having too much fun developing some indulgent Senju Culture and social norms) and she's the result of Hashirama making a rash decision to defy Butsuma, without the man ever finding out.

But that's more so technical for a funny bit for one brain rot (Izuna yelling at Hashirama "Why would you ever let him, he's MADARA!" With Hashirama answering "Because I'm an idiot!"), so usually it's just her being a plant-child.

Tobirama has just accepted his fate as the Uncle and, when he had originally held her, had decided that "You're too good to be related to that bastard."

Mito is 'Mama Mito' to them and she adores the sapplings.

Hashirama, some call him 'papa', others call him 'Mama'. My friend suggested there should be a Hatake one that calls him 'Creator'.

Though usually, she's born while Butsuma is still around — and he dies when she's around four-ish — so there's quiet a bit of angst going on; some pretty heavy stuff, with Hashirama being paranoid and scared for Kumi's safety. His fears are validated when Butsuma had tried to do something when Hashirama had finally decided to take a nap and rest after sleepless nights. The result of which, Kumi was okay in the end but practically everyone in the clan that has functioning braincells looked at Butsuma like he was a mad-man and Tobirama had lost all trust in him after that.

Kumi is a pretty good older sister as well, and I have so much fun mainh scenarios up with her.

Especially the 'First meeting' with Madara, as it's usually in the most crack filled way possible; Hashirama just allows himself to be dragged into it, while Tobirama is completely supportive of Kumi's decisions in this situation (mainly because chaotic gremlin child, so Tobirama knows it'll be funny)

My favorite little side-info about the plant children is that many had cut their hair in a similar bowl-cut as Hashirama, because they wanted to look like him. Hashirama can never decide if he's horrified by it or it's one or the sweetest things he's ever seen.

Au where Madara has an illegitimate child and the baby is so precious that it gives him reason to stay in the village

[rayshippouuchiha]

naruto moves into the forest of death bc loving that place is in his blood

I see this, I love this, it begins a long time before Naruto is born and it goes a little bit like this:

Hashirama never fully recovers from the fight with Madara.  Not really, not fully, not in the ways that truly matter for a man and a shinobi.

He keeps a strong presence for the village and those who would seek to do Konoha harm but to those closest to him, to those who know the man behind the titles and the legend, the differences are stark and grim.

Hashirama spends more and more time in the forest, spends days and nights out amongst the trees and the flowers and the sprawling roots, pouring more and more of himself into all of it as he goes.

Tobirama argues with him about his distraction, about his distance, about his decision to pass the mantle of Hokage onto Tobirama who never really wanted it but wears it now because he must, because Hashirama asked.  Because Tobirama has always done all he could do to make whatever Hashirama wanted into a reality.

Hurt and hurting Tobirama’s words and accusations are cold and cutting, because that is what a life of too much war and too little peace has made him in moments like this, when fear and love rides him hard, and unlike Hashirama he’s never been able to slip more than a fraction of that mantle.  But, most of all, Tobirama is desperate not to let his beloved elder brother slip through his fingers like so many others have in the past.

They built the village Hashirama and Madara dreamed of to stop the death and the suffering so why is Tobirama’s beautiful and lively brother seemingly so determined to fade away.  To go where Tobirama cannot follow?

He doesn’t understand and if there’s one thing Tobirama truly hates in this life it is not knowing.

But Hashirama just smiles at him, reaches up to pull him down so he can press a kiss to Tobirama’s forehead, and then drifts away back into the trees.

Mito watches her husband just as closely and sees what Tobirama, her brother in all the ways that matter, sees.

Hashirama, once so vibrant and alive, is ... diminished.  Fading bit by bit.

But, unlike Tobirama, Mito keeps her silence.  Words have not been necessary between her and Hashirama for years now.

Instead she follows him into the forest when time and her duties will permit it, sometimes even when they do not.  She watches him breathe new life into a forest that already teems with it.  Watches him eradicate sickness from saplings, watches him push them to grow until they are towering monoliths with bark as hard as iron.  She watches him run calloused, battle worn fingertips over flower petals and leaves with the gentle sort of reverence that he’s always touched her with in their quieter moments, in the times when passion and lust and heat were not necessary. When only love was.

She loves him all the more in those moments, in these moments of fading light, even when she knows that he is leaving her.  Going somewhere she cannot follow, not with her duties, not with what she carries.  Not yet.  Likely not for decades to come.

“Mito,” Hashirama sighs to her one night when the fireflies are thick and the trees sway down to meet the both of them.  “My beloved Mito.”

“Husband,” Mito murmurs back as she always does, one hand smoothing over his hair where his head is resting in her lap.  “My foolish husband.”

“I cannot give you back the sea,” Hashirama whispers once the silence has grown thick and heavy around them.  “I cannot return you to the whirlpools and the eddies.”

“You took neither from me so they are not yours to return,” Mito tells him sternly, lovingly.  “My choices were and are my own, you wood brained idiot.  They have never been yours to carry.  If I wanted the ocean I would simple go to it.  But Konoha is my home now.”

“My fierce fire-pearl,” Hashirama smiles then, soft and small.  “My beloved ocean rose.  I would bring the very sea here to meet you if I could.  Or I’d pester Tobirama into doing it for me.  But instead I give you this, an ocean of trees, a sea of leaves and flowers as wild and untamed as Uzushio’s itself.  Here you will always be safe, here you will always find me.”

“I will never need to find you,” Mito tells him, the hand laid atop his chest clenching just a bit in the battle silk above his heart.  “You will not go where I cannot follow you, you know better by now.”

“Of course, dear,” Hashirama smiles.

They both know it for the lie that it is.

They both know he’s already leaving.

And when he loves her there, pressed down onto a bed of soft clover and surrounded by trees that seem to sing, Mito tangles her hands in his hair, raises her hips to meet his own as steadily as the tide, and weeps.

~~~

Mito is a widow no more than a month later.

~~~

Tobirama does not weep but the skies do it for him, monsoon like rain washing over Konoha the moment he feels Hashirama’s living and present chakra signal fade away into nothing.

For three days and nights there is only rain, water rushing down streets and swelling the rivers and lakes.

The villagers pray for sun.

Tobirama mourns.

The trees of the forest sway and sing.

~~~

Years pass and Mito wanders the forest in her free moments, hands trailing over tree trunks and vines alike, fingertips ghosting over flower petals and slowly unfurling buds.

As she walks she whispers or rants or sometimes sings, telling the forest her days, her nights, her triumphs and her failures.

And always, always, the trees hum and sway and sing back to her in welcome, in safety.

In love.

~~~

Tobirama wanders the forest in his free moments, leaving streams and ponds in his wake as he goes.  He pulls fresh water to the surface, cleanses stagnation where he finds it and ensures that it does not return.

‘Refuge,’ Tobirama thinks as he pulls water from the air and the ground as he breathes his own form of life into the forest his brother had loved and nurtured like a child.  The forest he had tried and failed to hate in his grief.  ‘Let this be a refuge, let this be a place of peace.’

He does not speak to the trees that feel so like his brother and yet not.  Does not talk or argue or scream or rage or beg.  He keeps his silence now as he had not then.

But the trees sing back regardless.

Hashirama had always known all of the things Tobirama could never bring himself to say.  Had always been able to read beneath and between and around whatever Tobirama did.

His forest is no different.

~~~

Far too soon Tobirama is gone as well and Mito is alone in a way that has far too little to do with the number of people around her and everything to do with her heart.

More years pass and her isolation, her loneliness, only grows.

She is one of last of a quickly dying breed, one of the few who truly remembers life before the villages.

She aches for her husband, for her brother, for her family.

Sometimes, in her darker moments, she even aches for the burden she knows she will pass onto another.

And now she aches for the Clan she has lived long enough to see destroyed.

When Uzushio falls Mito takes to the forest as she always does these days.  As she has for years and years now.

She does not rage.

She does not weep.

Instead, kunai in hand, she bleeds.

Uzumaki blood and life force flow out onto rich dark soil, is pressed onto iron bark tree trunks and splattered over flowing vines and unfurled leaves.

Seals flow from her bloody finger tips, are pressed into the ground with every whisper quiet step she takes.

“Shelter,” Mito half begs, half demands to the forest that has been her companion for so long now.  “Uzushio has fallen.  Hashirama, my love, my people are slaughtered and scattered and lost.  You said you would give me the sea if you could, you said this forest was built for me as much as it was for the village.  So let this be a shelter. Let this be a place of safety for those who truly need it.  Let the Uzumaki blood find home and hope beneath these branches as I long have.  Let them know your love as I do.  Should they come, let them stay.”

And all around her the forest hums and sways and sings.

Mito, bloody hands pressed against the trunk of the colossal tree that Hashirama had once made love to her under, laughs.

And then, finally, she weeps.

~~~

Time passes, the village moves forward, and so many, too many, forget things that should never be forgotten.

The forest grows darker, the trees, with their tunneling roots, grow more imposing, the animals more vicious and wild.

The trees stop singing.

Instead they rattle and shake and hum in what some would swear is anger.

~~~

Naruto has always liked plants.

Has always liked the green and growing things that can be found almost everywhere around the village.

Trees and flowers and vines don’t hurt him.  They don’t call him names, or throw things at him, or spit and stare and hit.

Plants are kind. Plants are safe.

And there’s far too few things or places or people in the village that Naruto can truly call safe.  Not for him.

Chest aching, Naruto swipes at the mess of blood and tears smeared across his face as he pushes himself to go faster, to run harder.

He just wants to be away.  Away from the name calling and the hitting.  Away from the hurt.

He barely even pauses when he hits the fence littered with warning signs he can only half read, just scrambles up and over it without even breaking his stride.

Naruto might not be good at or for much of anything but he’s always been good at this.  At running and climbing and finding his own way.  It’s not much but it’s all he has.

The forest is dark and gets darker the deeper he runs.  The trees grow thicker and taller as he goes too, grow bigger than anything Naruto has ever seen besides the Hokage Mountain.

He runs until he can’t anymore, until he collapses at the base of a tree even bigger than the others he’s seen in the forest.

Chest heaving, tears welling up in his eyes again, Naruto presses his bloody hands and face against the thick bark and cries.

Around him to forest goes still, goes quiet.

“Please,” Naruto whispers, unsure of why he feels the need to talk to trees when not even people want to listen to him. “Please help.  It hurts. It hurts so much.  I don’t want to go back.  Please.”

And even as exhaustion rips and claws at him, forcing black in around the edges of his vision, Naruto swears that, for a split second, the tree he’s leaning against almost seems to sing.

[animeyanderelover]

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

👍.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[faerociousbeast]

ok fair enough lol. founders?

anon carrying my inbox thankk you :)) and oo thats hashirama, madara, izuna, and tobirama, right? i think? again i haven't gotten much info on all of them where i'm at, but i think they're fine. more details under cut :D

mito: ok idk if she counts but if she does.. she is SO COOL? i'm really really hoping she gets some good moments when we learn more about founders era, don't have high hopes but from what i know so far, she's mega powerful. i don't remember if she actually wanted to marry hashirama or not though? i think it'd be interesting if it was arranged bc i'd want to know her feelings on that. i like her a lot

madara: uh.. yeah i'm on episode 304, so he's currently a bit. Hm. i am aware of all the secret identity things, but not too detailed so please don't spoil me even further lmao 😭😭 yeah usual stuff i didn't really care for him. he was just the overhyped oo super powerful guy but i couldn't really see him as a.. person?? i guess? but from the little fancontent i've interacted with, my opinion on him has drastically changed recently... bc yeah, the uchiha clan is not full of hatred, they just love so so hard. i know a bit about his thing w hashirama, and how the war against the senju lost him a lot of family, so he honestly just feels.. sorta tragic to me? i don't know his goals rn, or much of what he did in the past, but i am very very interested.

izuna: i like him. don't @ me i have already learned he basically is just a side character with like 2 scenes. but that's WHAT compels me the most, honestly? like already in canon, all he's ever been referred to is madara's brother.. the brother who gave his eyes..... and also, around the time he lives, everyone surrounding him is already POWERFUL as HELL. like it's clear they're gonna go down in the history books, and they already have so many titles- but even then, was izuna just regarded as oh, that's madara's little brother? it's such a weird paradox, bc i feel like he'd have a lot of feelings on self worth and not being regarded as his own person and his accomplishments paling in comparison to those around him and always being underestimated and never being allowed to speak for or represent himself, but there's so little content of him we don't know his feelings. feels bad man

tobirama: he's cool? ig? again, where i'm at, he hasn't really been.. regarded as a Person, yet, just as oo the powerful second hokage. he created a lot of jutsus. so it's hard for me to form an actual opinion. things i do know include: he created a lot of the forbidden jutsu of the leaf, he's serious compared to his idealistic older brother, and he holds a grudge against the uchiha (which makes sense i think? they were warring for so many years weren't they? he probably lost people to them too). maybe he also has some thoughts on being the younger brother, the second? perhaps he thinks it's illogical for hashirama to be thinking of creating a village, with the uchiha no less, after all those years of endless fighting? i don't know! but i hope to find out.

hashirama: this guy i REALLY know next to nothing about, least of all how i feel about him. i know he's like... Nice, or something, likes peace and stuff- but isn't he known as the god of shinobi? that's interesting. he's regarded as one of the most powerful ninja EVER, yet he doesn't seem to like fighting as much? he could probably do so much more damage than he did.... was he holding back? since madara supposedly lost and died, in their final battle, i'm guessing he's the one who had the statues at the valley of the end created? but what for? it's so far from the village. if they were warring so long, he must see the uchiha- or at least madara, as equal, to pose them like that. he founded the village, after all that fighting and slaughter. and he has grandchildren. wow. grandpa hokage. i guess i like him sorta

[peppymint1986]

My entry for the @madatobigiftexchange

for @Chrysanthemum9484

Prompt: Soulmates where there are people who can tell whether two people are matched except for themselves

The Divided Line

Madara resisted the urge to cheer aloud as the edge of the river finally came into view. It would be even better if there was some food left for him. However, between his brother and his best friend he found that doubtful. Looking back on things, Madara was forced to admit he had spoiled Izuna growing up. But there was nothing to be done for that now.

Stripping off his outer robe, Madara sank to the ground in a move that from a lesser man would have only been described as a flop. He then sidled closer to Tobirama, shamelessly taking advantage of the younger man’s ridiculously strong water nature in order to ward off the heat of the day.

In spite of his strident protests to anyone and everyone that he had given up on what his Father had called childhood foolishness; Madara had in fact spent a good portion of his free dreaming of his and Hashirama’s village. He still found it somewhat shocking to look around and realize that their dreams were becoming a reality. Though the one thing he never would have expected was the easy companionship he had fallen into with Senju Tobirama, a man many still referred to as the White Demon.

Turning his head, Tobirama peered at the man now sprawled against him. “Bad day?” He asked.

“I just wanted some cherries,” Madara moaned. It should not have taken him all morning just because he was out of uniform and thus open to interruptions, in theory.

The Uchiha Clan had always been blessed with a percentage of Soul Seers far beyond the norm. Usually at least one per generation. It was in fact considered to be one of the signs of a stronger than average Sharigan. Consequently, none of his kin had been surprised when he manifested the mangekyo just shy of his fifteenth birthday.

The Uchiha took soulmates very seriously. And Madara had been taught, since his ability to see the strings had first manifested as a young child, that it was nothing less than his duty to help his clanmates find their destined partners.

There had even been times in the past that outside parties had tried to hire an Uchiha Soul Seer. Some of these requests had even been answered to an extent. The clan had accumulated enough knowledge over the generations to be able to tell at a glance the relative distance between a person and their soulmate. More than one mile and the cord lost its glow. Five miles and the cord became a string, more than twenty and the string became a thread. More than a hundred miles and the thread lost its color entirely to become a translucent white.

While it was true that the connection never truly disappeared, it was far too dangerous to risk any member of the clan, much less a Soul Seer for more than a twenty mile journey through unknown obstacles, no matter how much money was offered. No matter who asked.

However, Madara had taken missions to confirm a connection before. Said missions had been few and far between, but he had taken them. It had never even occurred to him, when the village was formed, to hide the fact that he was a Soul Seer. In retrospect, Madara thought to himself. That had been a mistake.

Next to him Tobirama groaned, reaching up to knead at his forehead. “This is really getting out of hand.” Just yesterday he had almost been late for a meeting with the Heads of the Trinity Clans because a thirteen year old girl could not accept that the boy she had a crush on was not her soulmate. She had even demanded he check again, as though the connection would magically reset itself.

“At least we can turn it off,” the albino consoled the other. If they couldn’t they would never get any peace. The world would just be a massive spiderweb of threads twenty-four seven. It would be impossible to function. Inwardly Tobirama shuddered at the idea of being shut up in a cave blindfolded for the rest of his life, like in those stories about those who could divine the future.

“Still,” Tobirama’s lips turned downward into a frown. “We are going to have to do something.” Idly his fingers rapped the ground. “Regulations about when and how citizens can make an appointment with a Soul Seer perhaps.” Those close enough to their destined partners would have to pay for follow up missions.

Madara groaned again, hiding his face in Tobirama’s collar. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending time stuck in a room staring at people, but it would be worth it if he could get his life back. As a Clan Head, he had little enough free time as it was.

A commotion off to one side caused the Uchiha to frown. Lifting his head, Madara looked to the left where Hashirama seemed to be having some kind of fit. “What’s with him?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to Madara.”

The Uchiha’s lips quirked. “That’s an odd sentiment coming from you.”

“Nevertheless,” the albino shrugged his shoulders. “In this case I see nothing, I hear nothing, I know . . .” His voice trailed off before Tobirama bolted upright. “Anija!” he snapped. “Have you been gambling again?”

A vaguely guilty look crossed Hashirama’s face from where he was counting coins onto Izuna’s outstretched hand. “Only a little,” he protested. “And not at the bars.”

By the twitching of Tobirama’s brow the younger shinobi was not appeased in the least. “And what,” you could almost hear the albino’s teeth grinding. “Have you been betting on this time?”

“Er,” if possible Hashirama looked even more guilty as he tugged on his sleeves. “It’s just,” he stuttered. “I mean. Um.” The so-called god of shinobi was practically squirming where he sat, looking more like a child who was about to be scolded than the leader of a village of ninja. Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

He threw a somewhat desperate look over at his wife, who promptly ignored him in favor of taking another sip of her chilled tea. Mito had told him back at the beginning she had no intention of getting involved with this, and she had no desire to change her mind, no matter how pitiful her husband looked.

“For the sake of Amatasaru,” Izuna interrupted, rolling his eyes heavenward. This had been fun at the beginning, but now it was just sad. “We were betting about how long it would take you to realize you found your soulmate.”

Madara jerked, feeling like he had been doused in a bucket of ice water. “Izuna,” he hissed. “If you're a Soul Seer and you haven’t told anyone. . .” The notion was almost unthinkable.

“Don’t be ridiculous Aniki,” Izuna waved off his brother’s anger. “I don’t need to see the strings for this. It’s obvious.” He had witnessed enough soulmates pair off growing up to see what was happening. “The two of you can check if you don’t believe me.”

By now Madara’s lips had formed a tight, thin line. “You know a Soul Seer cannot see their own string Izuna.” Something he had always found as cruel, even as he understood why the kami had made it so. If he had been able to see his connection to his soulmate, nothing would have stopped him from following wherever it led, no matter how long it took.

Izuna’s gaze softened. True, he had thrown a fit when he had first realized. Ultimately though, what he most wanted was for his brother to be happy. “I know,” he said gently. “But can you see Tobirama’s?”

Madara stared at his brother in shock for a moment. In all honesty, he had almost given up on finding his soulmate a long time ago. Soul Seers were so rare. Barely daring to breathe, he took Tobirama’s hands in his, raising them to eye level before activating his Sight. And he saw nothing, no string leading off into the distance, no snapped black thread indicating the other’s partner had left this life. Nothing.

For a moment, all the Uchiha could do was stare at their entwined hands in stunned shock. Then, he lifted his gaze to meet equally stunned Ruby eyes. Eyes that like his own, glowed with a Soul Seer’s power. He also admired the pink flush that spread across Tobirama’s porcelain features.

Unfortunately the moment could not last. “Awe,” Hashirama clapped his hands together. “How romantic.” As Madara turned to glare at him the Hokage could not help but try and defend himself. “Well it is.”

“Hashirama.”

“Yes.”

“Fuck off.” Then Madara leaned forward to give his soulmate a soft kiss which quickly deepened. The first of what he fully intended to be many.

Finis

Was almost tempted to label this one and they lived happily ever after

Hope everyone enjoyed and as usual feel free to write your own stories if something has inspired you

[sanjuno]

@phoenixwithahoardoflibraries

You fiend.

=/=

“I dare you to be polite to him.” Madara didn’t even have to look up to know that Izuna was making the most gloriously offended face imaginable. He looked anyway because sometime reality was better than fantasy. “I don’t expect you’ll succeed but at least I can rub it in Hashirama’s face that you’re trying.”

“Just watch me!” Izuna hissed like an aggrieved ferret. “I’ll be so polite that damned white demon will choke on my manners.”

Madara very prudently refrained from commenting on Izuna’s word choice.

/.../

“Izuna is an irritating little shit when he puts his mind to it.” This time Madara kept his back turned to the target of his goading. Showing too much interest in the reaction to his words would give the game away. “I don’t blame you for losing your temper.”

The chilly silence spoke louder than any words could possibly be.

Senju Tobirama did not lose control.

The huffy scoff and too-deliberate pace as Tobirama very deliberately did not stomp away served as punctuation.

Madara grinned behind his collar.

/.../

Everything was going well.

Mito and Madara were teasing Hashirama relentlessly. Touka and Hikaku were observing the party and interjecting commentary when they felt the need. Hashirama was growing mushrooms in the corner.

Tobirama and Izuna were staring at each other.

Silently.

That had managed a two sentence exchange about the weather in the first five minutes, and said absolutely nothing else since.

Izuna’s eye twitched.

A vein pulsed in Tobirama’s forehead.

“Ah, your cup is empty.” Madara said pleasantly, holding back his wide sleeve with one hand as he lifted the teapot with the other. “Here you are.”

Tobirama’s eyes caught on the thin, pale skin of Madara’s inner wrist. Gaze lingering as the Uchiha poured the tea with all the grace of a trained oiran.

Izuna choked on his tea. “Don’t look at my brother like that, pervert!”

Shrieking in rage, Izuna flipped the table and launched himself at Tobirama through the explosion of pottery shards.

“They’re getting along better!” Hashirama noted cheerfully as Madara backed up to protect the teapot. “It took them at least 10 minutes to start fighting this time!”

“Hn.” Madara nodded, pleased with the success of his goading. “They both lost the contest though. No manners in either of them.”

“Little brothers are a hassle.” Hashirama chuckled as the furious ball of Tobirama-and-Izuna rolled off the engawa and into the koi pond.

“Bastard Senju!” Izuna howled as Tobirama spat water bullets.

“So.” Hashirama sat next to Madara and held out his cup for more tea. “Izuna still thinks Tobirama is the one chasing you, hm?”

“I’ll stop teasing them both when they learn some manners.” Madara muttered, raising his chin and deliberately not responding to his best friends teasing.

It would be rude to expose exactly how oblivious Tobirama still was to Madara’s courting.

=/=

... This is going in According To Custom somewhere.

I don’t know where, but it’s gonna.

[al-stuffy]

I was tagged by @mira--mira to post the titles of my WIPs and if asked share some snippets.

Oh my this'll be so fun! But also- long, really long. An advanced sorry for that! 😅

I currently have 24 wips on my laptop and another 10 on my head. But don't worry, I'll pick only the most interesting ones and I'm most excited about!

So, let's begin

1.- Brothers relationship (I'll probably change that title)

This one is close to my heart cuz is the first long-fic I've written in the Naruto fandom (and the second fic). It is really messy and stupid but I love it and I hope I'll finish it someday (It's also the one I have written the most so far 👀)

Is a modern au and Madara and Izuna fight over a stupidity (like real brothers would).

2.- Dear Diary (A Tobirama Fic) Modern Au

Join me in this story about a 10-year-old boy who has to deal with a dysfunctional family and the recent death of his 2 younger brothers. While his older brother spends less time at home and his father's mood and attitude worsens. Much angst assured!

3.- The Courtship

Tobirama Senju thinks Izuna Uchiha is courting him.

This was originally written for IzunaWeek2021 back in February. I only posted a small part here on tumblr but what's really fun is the rest.

4.- The Mission

Summary: A feudal lord hires the Indra team to escort his daughter on a trip, said daughter was very attached to Hashirama from the first moment, Madara does not like it.

Genin Team Au my beloved 🥺🤲🏼❤️

A very self indugent Au where Mito, Hashirama and Madara are a genin team. A little snippet of a bigger story that I haven't written.

Yet ;)

5.- Butsuma and Tajima's undercover mission

Just two dads spying on their 2 sons' first date

6.- We are still brothers, even in the apocalypse (The title SUCKS and I'll for sure gonna change it)

Just two words, zombie apocalypse

This is one of my darkest fics because I want to focus on the psychological damage that stress would inflict on survivors. And they are also children :p

7.- Mr. Hashirama has a gift from the divine

Just a whole class of teenagers trying to figure out who it was that gave their political science teacher a beautiful flower ornament in the middle of class.

8.- The Fifth Sun

My fic for the second day for Founders Week, Mythology.

I'm currently obsessing over this and I'm doing a lot of research, but I haven't had the time to write something. I just hope you'll like it as much as I do.

9.- Avatar Au

As the name implies, it's an avatar au. More specifically, I'm gonna adapt the episode of The Southern Raiders from two different points of view.

10.- Hashimada Exchange Fic

11. No title yet

I can't say much about this one, but I will say that there is a wedding ;)

Tajima surprises his family with a forced family trip whose final destination is to take Hikaku to his university on the other side of the country.

The least excited is the grumpy 17-year-old Madara, who will have to cancel his plans for that weekend.

Join the Uchiha family on this road trip that will touch our hearts (I hope) and where family ties will strengthen (or end up breaking).

Will Tajima "Can you guys stop watching the screen for 5 damn minutes" Uchiha survive 4 teenagers? (You got into that mess yourself dude)

Will Madara -Stare at the screen harder- Uchiha go crazy in this family hell?

Will Hikaku "Ah shit here we go again" make it to his classes on time?

How long they gonna make it until the car explodes?

Who will be the first Uchiha to succumb?

Who's gonna be responsible for feeding the cats?

And most importantly

When is the next bathroom stop?

Discover that and much more in this wonderful documentary made by Naori Uchiha! (Feat Izuna bratty Uchiha and the 3 family cats)

If the Robot Apocalypse allows it

12.- Brother Bear Au (No title yet)

Just Tobirama pretending he's not a Senju while traveling the country with little Kagami (who Tobirama knows is an Uchiha) to reach the same destination.

Both are in similar situations, Tobirama doesn't know where he is after the river in which he fell took him downstream and he woke up in an unknown place, besides that he is still grieving over the recent loss of his brothers.

And Kagami lost his two older brothers, literally! He doesn't know where they are, they parted ways when they were suddenly attacked by a group of Senjus, but they will surely meet soon! Fortunately he knows the way home and will help his new friend get to his too.

What can go wrong?

Alright that's it! Don't hesitate to ask if you want to know more about any of them! ;D

And thanks again for tagging me!

I don't know who to tag but if you want to do it then go ahead!

[bayern-moni]

On the scale of 0-10, how much do you want to kick Madara's ass, Mito?

Mito: It goes between 7/10 in normal circumstances to 1000/10 when he purposely behaves like a scassapalle ( = pain in the ass but not quite that exactly).

Sometimes, I do want to kick his ass because it seems to be the only thing able to stop him from being too unnecessarily contrarious just for the sake of it, in a self-(and others)destructive way. Because, sometimes, Madara isn't able to see his own bullshit if nobody points it out to him, but unfortunately the only way Madara'd let himself listen to others' reason is if that person is able to beat it into him.

So be it, I'm fine with it and he is too. We made this deal and that's the start of our friendship, did you know?

So, I don't really want to kick Madara's ass per se, most of the time, even though he IS aggravating more often than what it's healthy. And grumpy, and rude, jumpy, spiteful, unforgiving, paranoid old-born man. Although his discretion, sarcastic spite and no-bullshit attitude can even be useful and entertaining when directed to the right people (and when you know how to channel him into them to prevent him from spiraling into even more twisted dramatics than those you're trying to run from). The point I'm trying to make is: you learn to handle a fight-or-fight, cornered and blunt cat and you'll know how to deal with Madara. So, I managed to reach a mutually respectful relationship with him, in spite of everything, because when he's not being ... well, himself, he's a very intelligent man and I enjoy our conversations. Although I really did want to kick his ass when I had no choice but to seal the Kyuubi into myself to help Hashirama in the Valley of the End. Because, only because HE thought that bringing a fucking Bijou at the edge of the village in order to fight Hashirama was a good idea, it does not mean that it is one. It wasn't. Not in the least, it was unnecessary and dramatic, even by his standards. I made peace with the fact I'm the first jinchuriki in Konoha early, so it's less of a big deal than it could have been, but still.

Paradoxically, I have to admit that the moments when I find him most annoying are those when he isn't even there. I'm talking about my own husband's apparent obsession with him and the (too many, if you ask me) times he just can't seem to be able to shut up about him. He told me the river story so many times I'm sure I could recite it in my sleep. I'm starting to feel like I'll be better off asking for a divorce and leave Hashirama to him out of spite. I'm sure my sanity would thank me if I did, but unfortunately I love Hashirama very much so I won't. Madara'd send him back to me within a day when the urge to strangle him for his overbearing attitude becomes too much, anyway, so it wouldn't even be a problem. In fact complaining about Hashirama's obnoxious antics with Madara is always funny, when I hear of people thinking that Hashi is a cause of contention/dislike between us I think it's just plain stupid, it's not like that at all. I know that Hashirama loves me, like he loves his brother, even Madara in a sense as well as the village.

But sometimes I feel as if all the years he spent associating his idea of peace with the alliance with the Uchiha, consequently his unwavering conviction that the only way he could achieve both was to necessarily bind Madara, the Uchiha clanhead, back to their old bond whatever it took (because it wasn't broken it was still there no matter what anyone thought it still was a gift from the divine) made him come to unconsciously link in his mind the very village's hopes of stability with Madara's own very ill-balanced stability and good will towards it.

In Hashirama's world, if Madara is pacified and he doesn't disrupt the village's armony for any reason, then the village will be fine, but the opposite is also true. Village is peace, peace is the dream, the village is the(ir?) dream (transitive property is the key here), but there's a sour, dissonant note: that's a very dangerous, unstable line of thinking, for all of us, himself and Madara included.

Because, differently from what Hashirama thinks, in Madara's vision, himself and that dream no longer coincide since when their bond was severed and it awakened his Sharingan at the river as a consequence. Their very definitions of that dream differed at the root. The mechanism stopped working, the gears need to be rearranged, not to be seen as the same as before, in order to keep working together. He's not the same as when they were little anymore and it isn't even only about Izuna's death but Madara himself. In fact it started before that, Izuna's death is one of the aggravating factors, not the trigger. Hashirama deep down knows it but he vehemently insists on ignoring it with all his might and that's what is deepening the fracture between them.

Hashirama refuses to see Madara for what he is but he wants to see only the kid he met at the river, because that kid is the one who gave Hashirama the confidence that his dream was possible. He still, genuinely, stubbornly believes that that kid still exists somewhere, because he must exist, because if Madara still believes in their village and keeps on giving him that confidence (that is, if Madara still behaves with Hashirama like that kid would, even while slowly breaking beyond repair on the inside), then eventually all will be fine and everything will adjust itself given enough time and hope. But when he doesn't, Hashirama becomes nearly paranoid and desperately tries whatever he can think of in the hope of tying Madara to their dream of the village again, this time possibly forever and indefinitely: calling him his brother (as if for Madara their real brothers weren't the only real bond while theirs is a breaking thread next to a fine but now forever severed cloth); nudging him to see Konoha villagers as they were his new family now that he lost his own (well knowing what kind of visceral bond that'd be if it were completed given that Madara is involved); giving him hope that he could be Hokage, a hope Hashirama didn't know it'd be crushed and burned to the roots by such a public humiliation. The worst part is that Hashirama doesn't even seem to be aware of half of these psychological issues of his. However, that's the person Hashirama sees, not the real Madara, never his adult, despairing, fierce-but-borderline-suicidal version. And Madara knows it, he resents it and will keep to silently poison himself with that knowledge in total, stubborn solitude until it will inevitably make him rot to the bone and erase the rest of the world with him. All of this while seeing all the underlying not-yet-born-but-still-there faults in the village's very system and Hashirama's rule! But, instead of just saying it so we can try to limit the damage, he just keeps them for himself as the indisputable proof of how the whole system is doomed to failure. To be honest, I do know why he doesn't talk, though, and that's because nobody'd listen to what is only considered an unstable, belligerent madman's apocalyptic words, no matter how prophetic they'll reveal themselves to be in the years. These are still other big reasons why I want to kick his ass, though, and I suspect that he knows. Count another reason, then.

They are just... Ahrg. Just talk, guys, like the mature people you ARE supposed to be but will never be. You understand that I'm in the middle of that, don't you? It gives me a massive headache on a good day and lately more often than not they make it a shitty day. I'm tired of constantly having to listen to Hashirama complaining about Madara this, Madara that, just because they're not sincere enough to just TALK and settle their differences within the limits of what it's actually possible, and because they don't talk about it (and when they do it seems like they are threading through two or three different discourses at the same time that nothing have to do with the problem at hand) they will never understand each other like they clearly need to and then we have to solve all the problems their bullshit leaves behind.

I'm not saying that they could resolve those problems by just talking, because they are too big for only the two of them and they often involve how something like world peace should be achieved. So, you understand why they'll never see eye to eye on that. But talking could be a start.

Mine feels like a full-time, underpaid and overly frustrating, babysitting job. Sometimes, I just want to kick both of their asses for being purposely (Madara) and unconsciously (Hashirama) difficult.

Sorry for my ramblings, but as a woman, a kunoichi and a wife I needed to vent a bit and too few people ask for my opinion nowadays, our self-appointed author first and foremost.

P. S.: I do want to kick his ass when he steals my hairpins out of spite after I have beaten him and Tobirama at shogi. 8/10, then.

For @dinainwater

It definitely got out of hand in the end 🤣 Rambling has always been a problem for me and rarely I manage to actually restrain myself, but I promise eventual next answers won't be this long. So, I hope it hasn't bored you (?) 😅. But I felt like Mito needed to make her opinion matter, so it was worth!

(If the reasoning explained above seemed twisted and unnecessarily difficult, it's because those two have a deeply unhealthy relationship)

However, thank you for your ask like always and I hope you enjoyed it 😁 whatever other question is always welcomed, don't worry 😊

*

[aurora-nuova]

Rude Love

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Naruto  

Universe: Modern AU

Relationships:

Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara (main)

Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito (side)

Characters: Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Izuna, Senju Hashirama, Senju Itama, Uzumaki Mito

@madatobiweek Week 4: There was only one bed OR Not realizing they are already dating

Summary: 

Summer sun, cool waves, a beautiful beach. Nothing could go wrong on this long awaited, blessed holiday to the sea, right? W r o n g!

Madara should’ve just pushed his best friend off of that cliff they had been playing on as kids when he had the chance.

Read on AO3

————————————————————————

Chapter 01: Something new

Madara startled awake with a curse on his lips when a cheering Hashirama‘s elbow hit the pillow his head had been resting upon but momentarily got distracted by a female speaker announcement.

“—and gentleman, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position and your seatbelt is securely fastened—”

Ah, apparently it was time for their airplane to land. And surely, looking out of the window confirmed it as no clouds were greeting him. Instead, the ground was rapidly closing in on them. 

Turning his head away from the window, he threw Mito—who was sitting on Hashirama‘s right— a tired but bemused look that she promptly returned when her husband started making quiet hooting noises at the bumpy arrival at their destination.

What a child, he thought fondly as he acknowledged a warm feeling making its way through his body. Though such mushy thoughts were only allowed in the privacy of his mind and were never to be discussed out loud or lest he got made fun of by Izuna or his other siblings.

Looking at his best friend, he sometimes wished he had half as much, well, or maybe only a third of his positivity. At least on his good days.

Though, on second thought, it sounded rather exhausting.

Maybe his slightly more realistic approach to life wasn‘t so bad after all, he mused as said best friend turned around to him with a beaming smile, not even having noticed that he had been the cause of his interrupted sleep in his glee. Returning a sleepy smile, he realized that Hashirama probably was positive enough for both of them. Or rather both of their close families, if he were to be honest.

It still amused him to this day that no sane person would expect this child of a man to be a renowned paediatrician but sometimes people were apparently wrong. Very wrong.

Because jokes aside, fortunately, Hashirama indeed could be serious when his patients and their parents trusted him with the children’s life. And doing so, he tended to them with unmatched enthusiasm and passion.

So all was good, he guessed.

Stretching his stiff muscles through a yawn, he noticed familiar tresses of long, dark hair sticking out from between the gap in the seats in front of him. Zeroing in on it with a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he nimbly stuck his hand through the gap to pull one of the bigger chunks of hair, only to immediately receive a satisfyingly high pitched yelp.

“OUCH! You ass!” Izuna screeched turning his head back around to him and hastily reclaimed all of his hair with a scowl, making Madara huff in amusement.

“Oh please, stop being such a drama quee-” the older of the two started retorting when suddenly his younger brother turned around in his seat somewhat—seatbelt still fastened, making the endeavour pretty awkward looking as he smushed his face between the backrests to make a grab for Madara’s own hair.

“No!” he groused out, leaning away from the squiggly hand. “Stop!”

“Payback‘s a bitch, Nii-san!” the younger Uchiha snarked back, voice muffled by the seat and continued to make grabs for his hair that Madara defended by slapping his grabby hands away.

“Children, please,” Mito‘s exasperated voice suddenly broke through their argument, making both of them stop—Madara crossing his arms while Izuna turned back around and untangled himself from the space between the two seats, arm almost getting stuck in the process.

“I‘m not a child, he is!” Izuna grumbled out as he was facing the right way again, missing the red head‘s amused but quiet laugh.

Wondering why the biggest child of them all hadn‘t joined them in their squabbling and actually kept quiet for once, the Uchiha looked back at Hashirama, noticing that he too had an arm moving, but in the right gap between the seats in front of himself. The Uchiha made a confused sound and nudged the taller man who then looked at him with a questioning smile.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to wake up Tobi and Itama, I saw them asleep when I left for the bathroom a few minutes ago,” the brunette answered with a sunny smile as the Uchiha hummed in acknowledgement as people around them started to get their luggage from the overhead stowage spaces to leave the plane.

Finally exiting the airport‘s sliding doors with their heavy luggage to walk into a metaphorical wall of humidity as the sun tried to roast them alive only made Madara close his eyes in misery. The heat was so much worse than he had anticipated.

Great

To be completely honest, he hadn‘t even wanted to come here in the first place, would have instead preferred a milder, more enjoyable weather for his long-awaited vacation but unfortunately, he had lost in the poll their two families had held to determine what this trip‘s destination would be as everyone except Itama and him had voted for this dreaded hot climate as their travel destination.

Surprisingly even Tobirama—currently dressed in long pants with a long-sleeved sweatshirt‘s hood and a pair of sunglasses covering his face—had wanted to come here.

Whatever, he would make the best of this holiday.

As it was, unfortunately, not all of their siblings had been able to come with them due to scheduling difficulties. However, they had already agreed on another trip in winter when hopefully their schedules would align a bit more smoothly with much more desirable weather, at least for him.

He already looked forward to it.

Something he could live without though, was the planning and scheduling part as arranging things for the six of them had been a logistical nightmare already. What with Itama having to hand his last thesis in the day before while Izuna and Tobirama respectively had to write their exams a few hours before their flight took off.

He himself probably wouldn’t even have been able to take time off on such short notice if his position at work as detective hadn‘t been so high and he himself and his good reputation hadn’t been so well regarded amongst their ranks and—no, he was joking. In reality he still had a few open favours with his boss and promptly used one of them to be able to be here with his family and friends when Hashirama had texted him the booking confirmation.

His boss obviously hadn‘t been too happy. But after Madara had helped out countless of times, sacrificing his free time again and again when needed, raked in so many extra hours, that he had accumulated a lot of those favours. And just to be on the safe side, had tied all loose ends at work in preparation which thankfully had swayed the man to agree in the end.

The Uchiha briefly wondered how Obito and his fellow colleagues were doing before Izuna chatting him up caught his attention.

Next thing he knew, they were leaving their rented cars parked outside an Italian restaurant and taking their seats around a big but crammed table as Hashirama had rejected the friendly personnel’s offer to push two tables together because apparently he wanted to cuddle in this inhumane heat or who knew why tree brain hadn‘t wanted the second table because Madara for sure didn‘t.

Smushed between Izuna and Hashirama, he could already feel the sweat run down his back as he pushed his sunglasses atop his head, tangling up a few strands of hair that he couldn’t care less about at the moment in the process.

“Get anything you want, it‘s on me to celebrate the end of the semester for our three youngest and of course, the start of our amazing holidays together!“ his best friend exclaimed when everyone had received their beverages and toasted all of them, resulting in clinking of glass and various intonations of gratitude amongst them.

After Madara downed his glass in one go and lowered it back on the table with a loud clink, he rummaged through his pockets to find a godforsaken hair tie. His hair was already uncomfortably sticking to the back of his neck. Frowning, he gave up when he came up empty.

Hashirama probably didn‘t have one on hand, as he only tied it for work and Mito used hair pins, which left him with only Izuna who was typing away on one of his social media accounts. Leaning over, he saw a snapshot out of the airplane window.

“Pretty picture.”

Izuna immediately shot him a dubious look.

“Okay. What do you want?” his younger brother asked with an expectant look on his face.

“Can‘t I compliment you without wanting anything?” he asked bemused.

“Oh please,” the other huffed out.

“Alright, whatever. Do you have a hair tie?”

Izuna took a terribly amused look at his horribly mussed up hair. The stupid humidity wasn‘t doing the older Uchiha any favours, making his usually wild hair poof up and stick out in an even crazier mess than usual. He was well aware but the brat didn‘t even try to stifle his derisive snort.

“Yes, but know that this will cost you a third of your dessert,” the little shit haughtily replied as he took a tie out of a bag between them.

“A fifth and you have yourself a deal,” Madara huffed, holding his hand out.

“A fourth and you have to order something I actually like,” Izuna countered, holding out the desired hair tie just out of reach.

“Deal,” he heaved out with a heavy sigh, accepting the cargo and tying up his hair into a messy ponytail, immediate relief flooding him, as the slightly less warm air of the ceiling fan caressed the back of his neck. Much better.

Madara shot his greedy brother and his mostly immaculate hair an annoyed look, when the other happily turned back to continue typing away on his smartphone.

He would need to steal whatever the little shit had used to wrestle his own mane into submission out of his luggage and use it on his hair tomorrow when the other inevitably would still be snoozing away the morning, since he liked to sleep in.

They had the same hair structure, after all, but he wasn‘t willing to pay the unreasonably high price his sibling surely would come up with as soon as he asked him about the product he must‘ve been using to tame their family brand of crazy hair.

Under no circumstances would he walk around like some caveman after today, though.

Right now everyone was still tired and mussed up from their flight, even elegant Mito, so his crazier than usual hair wouldn‘t be noticed too badly.

But starting tomorrow, that excuse wouldn‘t fly anymore, as everyone would attempt to look presentable for the undoubtedly many pictures Hashirama and Izuna would take in the span of their holidays. And seriously, latter didn‘t need even more blackmailing material, as he already had more than enough of that stowed away already.

But more importantly, tomorrow Tobirama wouldn‘t be so exhausted anymore that his head would look like it was ready to loll onto the table.

Seriously, the poor guy looked ready to fall off the chair any minute if it weren‘t for Itama on his left, holding him up in an embrace while happily chatting with him and Izuna squished in on his right, forcing him into a somewhat upright position.

The younger Senju seemed way too tired to even notice much today, belatedly reacting to any verbal or physical stimuli as far as he had seen.

In fact, the exhausted albino probably couldn’t wait until they finished their food and finally drove to the hotel so he could catch up on all of that lost sleep tonight. However, that also meant that the albino‘s sharp eyes would be scrutinizing and analyzing everyone and everything starting with tomorrow, so he needed to look presentable if not a bit nicer than usual at least.

Feeling eyes bore into the side of his head, he inwardly startled at being caught staring, as his eyes slid back over to Izuna who was wiggling his eyebrows and pursing his lips at him in an imitation of a kiss.

“Shut up!” he quietly hissed and shoved at him, hoping no one had noticed the idiot.

“But I‘m not saying anything!” the brat cackled, as he bumped into an unresponsive Tobirama next to him, subsequently rattling Itama who shot them a quick bemused but confused look.

“Just stop it, you ass,” he grumbled out, refraining from hitting his younger brother upside the head to avoid any additional spotlight from the chatting couple by his side to keep the cause of the start of the situation under wraps.

There was no need for Izuna to spout lies about him ogling the light haired man like he had a crush on him or something similarly stupid. Definitely lies. Shut up.

He avoided looking in the albino‘s direction for the rest of their duration at the restaurant, even when Izuna stole more than a fourth of his dessert.

But apparently things were still going too smoothly and the universe wanted to punish him for whatever sins he had accumulated over his life at once because right before they entered their hotel to check in, Hashirama abruptly planted his feet on the searing hot concrete under a palm tree and waved them over.

Oh god, what would this be about?

Judging by the massive grin on his face, it couldn‘t be anything good.

When everyone was situated around him, Hashirama clapped his hands.

“Alright, since we always, well, almost! Since we almost always do the same room distributions, I came up with an idea this time,” he revealed giddily.

“Wait, what?” Madara exclaimed confused as the taller man started rummaging in his pant pocket.

“We‘re drawing straws!“ the idiot exclaimed joyously as he held out a fist of sticks, receiving mixed reactions from everyone around him.

“Please tell me you‘re not serious?“ the oldest Uchiha replied with a sinking feeling.

“Why not?“

“Mito, your wife, is the only female in this group?“ he tried reasoning to no avail.

“Oh yes, that‘s why we‘re sharing a room!“ the stupid tree answered him cheerfully.

And it was that moment that Madara actually took a look at the sticks in his hand and noticed that there were only four of them. Opening his mouth, Hashirama immediately interrupted him.

“Because we booked on such short notice, they only had one room with two single beds, the other two are double beds. Mito and I will take one of those but there‘s still the question of who will get the other two rooms each,“ the older Senju explained with a smile.

“Still, it doesn‘t make any sense why we should draw lots in the first place. I don’t care in what kind of bed I sleep in with Izuna,“ Madara said scowling as he crossed his arms.

“But Itama and Izuna want to try something new and right now you’re the only one not agreeing,” the brunette said pouting.

“You didn’t even give me a heads up— Wait, what? Since when does snowflake agree to your stupid ideas?” he asked, throwing the two Senju brothers in question a confused look. One of them half asleep and not even listening, the other one pouting down at him.

After all, out of the siblings Tobirama was the only one stopping Hashirama’s mischief on a daily basis when things looked like they would get out of hand while the two younger ones loved to indulge in their eldest brother’s silly antics.

“Anija asked him on our way to the airport,” Itama helpfully supplied, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Do you really think that‘s fair? Snowflake has been closer to a walking zombie than a human being!“ he groused out, scowl intensifying.

Tobirama very belatedly pursed his lips in a pout and softly furrowed his brows but didn‘t react any further, making the older Uchiha feel all sorts of fuzzy and mushy things. God no. Trying to not show any emotion besides annoyance on his face was getting harder by the second.

“No offence, but that’s a very underhanded tactic for you, Hashirama. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days,” the older Uchiha accused to hammer in his point.

“But that’s the only way he agreed for once,” the older man admitted with a chuckle.

He zeroed in on Izuna when he too chuckled.

“And since when do you like trying out new things?” Madara accused his sibling.

“Excuse you! I try new things all the time and you would know that if you followed my social media accounts like you said you would!” the younger Uchiha answered scandalized with furrowed brows.

The older Uchiha groaned. Not this again.

“Is it too much to want some fun on this vacation?” Hashirama asked with one of his better renditions of a puppy look directed at him while Tobirama slinked off to sit down next to Mito on a bench not far from them.

Huffing, he shuffled his feet, looking around and tried to think of a way out of this.

Izuna would be his best bet of course. But if he had to share a room with Itama, things would probably get awkward pretty fast as they never had spent time on their own until now. However, Tobirama would be an even worse pick. Not because he had anything against the younger man but because of other things that he didn’t want to think about at the moment.

No, he wouldn’t play Hashirama’s stupid games this time. Why should he? Especially when his idiotic friend easily had taken himself out of the equation. Unfair. He was here to relax and enjoy himself.

Having decided against his best friend’s plea, he looked back to said friend only to freeze at the triumphant look on his face.

Oh no.

“What?”

“Have you forgotten? You owe me!” the idiot exclaimed with a wry grin.

Now it was his turn to furrow his eyebrows in incomprehension.

“You lost that bet at our last poker evening weeks ago,” the tan man replied giddily.

Madara’s eyes widened. He was right but he wouldn’t, would he?

“Are you seriously going to waste it on something like that? Hashirama, you wouldn’t, right?” he asked, rubbing his forehead to soothe his growing headache with a grimace.

He knew he was doomed, when three grinning faces met his.

“I absolutely would and I am henceforth officially claiming the favour you owe me!” the childish tree trunk of a man exclaimed laughing in glee, hands on his hips.

Suppressing another groan, Madara felt more sweat trickle down his back. Honestly, he could’ve done worse, he guessed. Hashirama could’ve used the favour to send him off to do much more horrible or embarrassing things. This was absolutely not ideal but whatever. What were the odds of him having to share a room with Tobirama, after all? Two to one against it, not bad at all. And he surely could make it work with Itama, too.

Being already fed up with the situation and the sun searing what felt like holes into his back, he decided that he didn’t care anymore as long as they could go inside soon. Preferably right this instant.

“Fine,” he conceded defeated, receiving surprised looks at his unusually short lived refusal and hooting from Hashirama.

“Alright, youngest first! There’s two short and two long ones,” the excited man exclaimed, holding out his hand with the sticks to Itama after he had shuffled them behind his back. “Don’t reveal them until everyone has a stick!”

When it finally was Madara’s turn, he didn’t have much choice but to accept the remaining stick as the oldest of the four.

“Reveal your sticks on the count of three! One, two, three!” Hashirama exclaimed excited.

Madara blanched when all of them unfurled their fists to showcase each of their picks. Had he seriously ended up with one of the short sticks? Wait, if the other two had the two long ones, that meant that Tobirama and he—

Hashirama clapped him on the shoulder with a huff of laughter.

“Looks like you and Tobi share a room!”

“Wha—”

“Okay, now I need those back and the winner team picks one of two to decide who the winner of the room with the two single beds is,” the older Senju exclaimed.

When Itama picked the longer stick, Madara despaired internally.

How could his luck be this bad? Had he seriously just lost two times in a row? Also wasn’t the looser supposed to get to pick first and—

Wait.

Oh no.

His eyes widened and he paled even more when suddenly the realization hit him that he had to share a double bed with his cru- Tobirama for the upcoming two weeks here.

He was doomed.

Suddenly he didn’t even feel warm anymore.

[raendown]

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

Companion art for this story found here!

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

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Small Problems

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t hate ‘em, I guess, why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maddy!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Tobi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Up!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whyyyyy!?”

“Because I have work to do.”

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

“FINE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go to hell.”

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

“Ugh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds entertaining, at least!” 

“Hmph.” 

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

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

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

“You cannot be serious!”

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

“Mn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you don’t,” Tobirama said again.

“I really, really do.” 

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

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

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

Yet still Madara shook his head, expression filled with malicious delight. His toes were practically wriggling with it. If it weren’t for the visual comparison spread across his own lap Tobirama might have been tempted to call the man a child for looking so pleased over something so cruel. 

Why, in the name of all things holy, did he find that so attractive? Clearly there was something wrong with him. 

“I’m afraid you just talked yourself in to a corner by piquing my interest even more. Which means that you have two options.” Madara held up his fingers in a V shape. “One, you tell me whatever this gift wrapped blackmail is yourself. Two, I wake Hashirama up and we hear it from his mouth instead.”

Tobirama stared at him with his heart sinking in his chest because the man was right. He had only two options and of those two he knew which one would feel worse. Saying the words himself was going to end in pain - for more than just himself if his plans for revenge had anything to say about it - but cowering in the corner like a shy child ashamed of his own feelings while someone else exposed his vulnerabilities? Just the thought of standing back and letting that happen made him shudder. It took several tries drawing breath deep in to his lungs but eventually he was able to force his chin up, shoulders square. He held Madara’s gaze for all of three second before his eyes skittered away of their own accord to stare at the wall instead. 

“Madara,” he breathed, “it would make me very happy if you would take me on a date tomorrow.”

“W-what?”

“AH!” The booming baritone of Hashirama’s voice was startling after an afternoon of listening to his seven year old squeaking, almost more of a distraction than the way his body returned abruptly to its usual size with a rending crack that echoed off the walls. When he sat up he did so with the clumsy movement of a new faun learning its own legs. “Did I fall asleep? How did the story end? Why does my voi- oh! Oh brother! You must have asked him! I’m so proud of you, I can’t wait to hear how your first date goes!”

Shoving his giant lump of a brother off, Tobirama ignored the indignant whine as he surged upwards to his feet and stormed towards the door. “Don’t hold your breath. The answer is no.” 

“You said no!?” Hashirama exclaimed, turning to his best friend who sat very still with a poleaxed expression. 

“I didn’t say anything…”

“He never said anything, Tobi. How do you know what his answer is if you don’t let him speak?”

“Easy.” When he paused at the door to look over one shoulder he could meet neither of their eyes. “There was never a chance he would say yes.”

Without waiting to hear a response from either of them he turned back to the door and left, down the hall and through the many twisting corridors of his brother’s stupidly large home. Drafting seals in his mind to cancel out the magic expanding the inside of Hashirama’s house was so much easier to think about than the fact that he would probably have to avoid Madara for the next couple of decades. The man did have a long memory. There was really no guarantee he would ever forget but hopefully the shine of mocking Tobirama for his feelings would have faded away by the time he allowed them to talk again. 

His nose wrinkled against the cold when he finally managed to find his way outside to the cobblestone streets of the capital city. Council meetings; he’d forgotten that all three of them sat together on the Magic High Council. That would make it infinitely harder for him to avoid conversing with either of those morons but he was sure he could find a way. Maybe he could design a rune that would remove his voice for a while.

No, that would make it difficult to sell his wares when he needed money. Not to mention that many of the spells he spent his time researching required incantations. He would have to think of something else. 

It wasn’t exactly a long journey to his own modest home next door, although with his head lost in the swirl of dark thoughts it felt like it took forever to get there. Stepping in to the ring of fae-fire light illuminating his front step brought with it the familiar shiver of wards scanning him for ill intent and he was glad to have his attention pulled back to reality. Thinking about Madara wouldn’t do him any good. It never had before. Tomorrow he could lock himself away with several notebooks and brainstorm some underhanded method or another to minimize the contact between them until he could meet the other man’s eyes again but for now the best thing would be to just get some sleep. 

The house was dark and Tobirama didn’t bother to turn on any lights, familiar enough with his own layout not to need them. Living by himself as he had for so long meant that he really felt no desire to expand the inside as his brother had. What need did he have of more space? He already had more rooms than he knew what to do with, filling most of them with books and the results of failed experiments, so the thought of adding more felt ridiculous.

Even without light enough to see it Tobirama could feel the comfort of his living room the moment he stepped inside. Well worn carpet buoyed his steps on his way to collapse down over the threadbare couch. Not many things in his house had been replaced in the past couple of centuries. Impressing the rare guests who entered was far less important to him than the precious memories attached to every item here that had been with him through discoveries, achievements, and heartbreaks. He gave the cushions underneath him a chance now to help him through one more of the latter as he stretched out on his back to stare up at the shadows on the ceiling. Would that he could turn his mind off. To not think any thoughts for several hours would be a wonderful boon at the moment but sleep felt as far away as the ocean.

A good thing, as it turned out. The spirits of water only knew what sort of reaction he might have had to being awakened by the sound of booted feet storming in to the room and a violent hand smacking the light switch without looking. Despite knowing exactly who had invaded his home - he knew those footsteps, would always know the pattern of that confident stride - Tobirama pulled himself in to a sitting position where he could glare down his unwanted guest. 

“I have never understood,” he growled, “how you always bypass my wards.”

“Don’t need to. They let me in just fine.” 

“They shouldn’t!”

“Why the hell not?”

Shifting forward to the edge of his seat, Tobirama pointed back down the hall. “Get out. I have better things to spend my night doing than being mocked by you - like figuring out what loophole you’ve found that keeps letting you in here.”

“They’re intent based, aren’t they? I get in because I have no intent to harm you in any way.” In deliberate ignorance of being asked to leave Madara stepped further in to the room. Somehow he managed to look both his usual confident self and oddly hesitant, arms folded closely to his chest.

“Like hell you don’t. It’s not just physical harm they’re supposed to guard me against. Just leave. I don’t want to listen to whatever-”

“Just let me talk!” 

Sitting down while the other hovered menacingly over him felt like weakness, like offering himself as bait, so Tobirama stood to fold his own arms with a frown. “I’m sure I don’t want to hear whatever it is you came here to say.”

Whether that be mockery or some kind of apology for not returning his feelings he really didn’t want to listen. Both options would hurt equally as bad. It was something he had observed long before falling prey to the same thing himself; beings like themselves with lives extended by the magic in their veins tended to harbor their pains much deeper and much longer than the humans with more natural lifespans. He’d been in love with Madara for so long it was hard to remember when he first decided to push it all down and simply forge ahead. Learning to let these feelings go was going to be even harder than learning to ignore them had been. 

“I think you do. But first I need to know; did he make you ask me that because…”

“Don’t make me say it,” Tobirama said quietly, looking away. 

“So you do... Then you meant what you said to Hashirama? You really think there’s no chance at all that I could ever say yes to you?” Madara took another step forward only to pause when Tobirama took a step back in answer. 

A glare probably wasn’t enough answer so he forced himself to say, “Obviously.” 

“W-What do you mean ‘obviously’? That’s not- Like hell!”

“Either make sense or leave. Actually, just leave. Now.” Tobirama took a step back with the intention of turning and walking away. His bedroom was much more heavily warded than the rest of the house, he would be safe in there from whatever the hell was going on.

He froze when Madara blurted out, “I would have said yes!” 

“I...beg your pardon?”

The particular shade of red currently spreading across Madara’s face was one Tobirama had long ago learned to associate with an impending explosion, generally one of words and almost always directed at himself. Some part of him braced for impact out of sheer habit even as the rest of his body hung loose with shock and his thoughts ground to a stuttering halt. He watched Madara fidget and held his breath.

“What? Don’t look at me like that. You like me, I’m allowed to like you back!”

“Since when!?” Tobirama demanded. Then, because that didn’t feel like enough, he also spluttered his way through, “How? What? Me?”

“Of course you! It’s always been you! You’re the only one who knows how to properly yell back at me, you’re so smart already and you still spend every day lost in your studies, you’re more attractive than I know what to do with; who the hell wouldn’t say yes to all that?” With a toss of his head Madara scoffed and tried to stand casually as though he weren’t blushing redder than his own family crest.

Tobirama could only stare. “I don’t...what?”

By the determined expression on the other’s face Tobirama figured he should probably turn tail and run when Madara began marching across the room towards him. As luck had it, he was still too deep in shock to do anything but stand there like an idiot until his collar was bunched up in a pair of fists. 

“Fuck it,” Madara snarled. “Neither of us was ever any good at words anyway.”

Despite all the clues laid out so neatly in a row for him Tobirama’s first thought when he was yanked forward was that he was about to be headbutted, a ridiculously mundane attack considering how much magical power they both wielded. Nothing could have possibly surprised him more than Madara’s lips crushing against his own in a kiss that began as brutally as their clashes ever had only to soften, taking and taking and then suddenly asking, exploring, reaching out with a question he could finally understand. It took several heartbeats for him to respond through the shock but when he did-

Oh, when he did. Centuries of yearning coalesced inside him and faded away to dust as he slid his fingers in to midnight hair and tilted his head for a better angle, a deeper kiss. Madara sighed in to the affection like he too had been waiting much too long for this moment. The feeling of that strong body pressed against his own was like finding the other half of himself and finally finally coming back together again. Tobirama held tight and prayed that none of this would disappear when he woke the next morning. 

“Was that clear enough?” Madara asked him in breathless words, quiet as though he didn’t want to disturb the moment. 

“I will have a lot of questions,” Tobirama warned him. “Later. Just- again.” He was grateful that his incoherency made sense to the other, pulled in for another kiss that felt like learning how to breathe for the first time. 

They could have made their way to the bedroom, to the couch he was still right next to, up against the wall or anywhere really. It was late and the day had been filled with more emotions than either of them were accustomed to dealing with in such a short time span. Still they remained where they were. Even when the kisses began to fade and the desperation in their movements settled in to the confounding knowledge that this was truly happening they stood where they were, wound together with their eyes closed and their cheeks pressed against each other in silence. Tobirama breathed in the scent of smoke and ash, closed his eyes, and smiled. 

Maybe he wouldn’t kill his brother after all. It was possible - unlikely as it sounded - that Hashirama had been right in the end. And as much as Tobirama protested the methods used to force his words in to the light he was self-aware enough to know that he would never have said them otherwise, too wrapped up in his own interpretations to see the truth. 

Another deep breath and Tobirama admitted to himself that he should probably thank his brother. Without interference he might have never had the opportunity to feel the beat of Madara’s heart against his own, the way their chests pressed together with every synchronized breath in. His eyes cracked open but it was only to crinkle at the edges with a smirk as evil as he had ever been accused of being. Thanking Hashirama could come after the revenge he was equally owed. A few smiles, a day or two of playing nice, and he was sure he could weasel out of the man which spell he had used to reverse his age. Tobirama was patient. Locking his brother in that limited body for a week or so would be so much sweeter after Mito came home and he could leave the idiot to her lack of mercy. Only after apologies had been given on bended knee would he relent. 

“You’re thinking something evil,” Madara’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Your fingers always twitch when you do.”

“Sorry-”

“I like it. You’ve always been a mean son of a bitch and that’s part of what I like about you. Share whatever evil thoughts you have in your head?”

Tobirama bit his lower lip to keep himself from laughing, curling tighter around the body in his arms as he whispered, “Stay.”

“Always,” Madara whispered back. “I always meant to stay.”

It seemed like it should be impossible to have everything he wanted handed to him as easily as that but Tobirama was hardly going to question it. He questioned enough in his research. All thoughts of giving thanks or revenge could wait until after he’d spent at least a few good hours memorizing the way it felt to finally hold this man in his arms. 

Pressing their lips together again was more of a rush than any magical discovery had ever given him, dusting his cheeks with a pleasant warmth, and Tobirama decided that he was happy to stand here for the rest of time if it meant he never had to do anything but trade gentle kisses just like this. It felt like the events of tonight had gone by so fast he wasn’t entirely sure how any of this had happened but that was alright.

“Always. I like the sound of that.”

[louiserandom]

MadaTobiIzu- "Whenever you lose an item (like a sock), it ends up in your soulmates’ possession somehow." I think this would be really funny that during the middle of a fight Tobirama sees two things he thought he lost but Madara and Izuna have it. Ficlet length with a G or T rating.

finally found

Rating: T

Summary: Tobirama loses two of his very important possessions, and his world is completely turned upside down when he discovers that they’ve ended up in the hands of the Uchiha brothers.

The battle is put on hold as hilarity ensues.

A/N: Did not expect this OT3 to inspire me so much XD I hope it’s not too much humor. They’re so funny I had to describe every detail of their ridiculousness x)

Hope you enjoy it, Mala!<3

Read on AO3 or under the cut :3

At first glance one might think that, out of the two Senju brothers, Hashirama is the more careless one and therefore prone to losing his things.

It’s easy to think that, considering Tobirama’s usually composed demeanor and Hashirama’s insistence on acting the fool more often than not, but no one is more aware of the utter inaccuracy of that perception than Tobirama himself.

It is his fault, admittedly, that his tendency to get lost in thoughts of scientific experiments and underdeveloped theories has him distracted from real life to the point he loses track of everything his mind deems unimportant. And that ranges from time to little trinkets, books, paperwork, and even weapons, if he finds himself lost in thought during training. It’s a very annoying truth about himself that Tobirama has learned to deal with and has long since stopped caring what his soulmate thinks of him, considering Tobirama loses at least a dozen things a day.

If I even have a soulmate, trickles of doubt gnaw at his mind, echoing the biting words of some of the elder clansmen.

“Of course you do!” Hashirama always assures him in all his sappy, dreamy-eyed glory. “And it’ll be such a beautiful day when you find them, Otouto. I cannot wait!”

Tobirama couldn’t say the same for himself. He’d gleaned enough clues over the years to deduce that his soulmate must be an Uchiha, and the ongoing war spurred on by Butsuma and Tajima’s thirst for vengeance does little to give hope for a happy outcome of events. And despite Hashirama’s adamance regarding his dream of peace, once he and Madara took up leadership of their respective clans, there was too much hate, too much death accumulated during the war for peace to be an immediate possibility.

He keeps his discovery from Hashirama lest he do something reckless or stupid—or both—and does his best to deal as little damage as he can to their enemies. It’s easy to focus on Izuna, whom Tobirama finds to be a titillating challenge. A fierce, formidable opponent whose hate for Tobirama seems to only be overshadowed by Madara’s, what with Tobirama eventually becoming the only real threat to his little brother.

Little brother and soulmate.

A match made in heaven, Tobirama thinks, if only because the Uchiha brothers are both excessively loud and dramatic in equal measure.

And normally, Tobirama wouldn’t be able to stand such behavior, but today he finds himself acting quite like the maddening Uchiha duo because his whole world seems to be crashing down.

“I can’t,” Hashirama whines, “I can’t find it, Otouto.”

He’s buried under heaps of unorganized research notes in Tobirama’s lab, a few upturned cabinets lying beside him, with quite the number of broken vials strewn all over the place.

Tobirama is in much the same predicament, and for once he’s thankful he put away all the containers with radioactive elements away into unbreakable storage scrolls, at least.

His lab is an absolute disaster.

Because apparently, Tobirama is too much of an idiot to keep track of his new favorite weapon for one godsdamned day. Raijin no Ken was a nightmare to locate and tear away from many, many greedy, mostly inhuman hands. How in hell he’s managed to lose it is beyond Tobirama’s understanding.

“Well, it’s your… old favorite weapon now?” Hashirama tries for a joke.

“Anija,” Tobirama growls.

“Don’t be sad! Remember, your soulmate will probably have it.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes. It’s a possibility. One that he’ll hopefully get to test on the battlefield tomorrow. And that reminds him of his latest development—a seal able to manipulate spacetime to achieve instantaneous travel, which should prove quite useful during battle. He embedded it on a special kunai, a treasured gift from Hashirama from years back, and must have put it… somewhere…

“Fuck!” Tobirama shoves away some construct for an experiment in a fit of utter frustration when he fails to find what could have become his second favorite weapon.

“What did you lose this time?”

Tobirama stares guiltily at the ground. “The kunai you gave me when I came of age. One that I imbued with a special seal.” He sighs. “I hate this.”

“It’s going to be okay, Otouto.” Hashirama approaches him tentatively, arms raised in a pacifying gesture. “Remember how I also lost something important once? That permafrost statue of an atom you gave me as a kid? And then I got it back when I met Mito, and it was one of the happiest days of my life!” It’s hard remaining annoyed in the presence of Hashirama’s goofy smile, but Tobirama keeps up the disgruntled façade. “You know, I’ve heard of these organization techniques that might help—”

“If you want to help, Anija, shut up and let me work,” Tobirama snaps, sitting himself down on the one desk still standing with the research notes for the seal still, thankfully, in place. “But thanks,” he adds in a whisper that Hashirama hears, of course, and proceeds to wax poetic about the beauty of brotherly love.

Despite the distraction, Tobirama quickly recreates a Hiraishin anchor with one of his standard kunai, putting it safely into his weapons pouch to keep it close.

Raijin no Ken, on the other hand, is going to have to be exclusively his soulmate’s—for now.

For now turns out to be a little less than a day, because the next morning saw Tobirama facing Izuna. Business as usual, only the Uchiha has replaced his katana for the shiny new toy Tobirama has just lost.

“What,” Tobirama says in lieu of their usual insult contest of a greeting, “the fuck is that.”

Izuna smirks. “Hello to you too, Snowflake. Why don’t you stop cowering and find out?”

Tobirama scowls, absolutely not willing to put up with Izuna’s theatrics, and so attacks with a kunai that his rival easily dodges. It’s immensely satisfying to watch Izuna flail as Tobirama appears right next to him and wrestles him to the ground, knocking Raijin no Ken from Izuna’s hand and pinning his wrists above his head.

“You stole my sword!” Tobirama accuses.

“Did not. And get off me, icicle!” Izuna huffs, indignant and surprisingly not fighting against the hold as much as Tobirama expects him to. “It’s not yours—I found it, and it’s mine.”

“Found it?” Tobirama stares, dumbfounded, and Izuna uses the moment to kick and push at him with renewed vigor (but not much success).

Izuna’s soulmate is his brother, and surely it couldn’t be that—

As if in answer to his protest, Tobirama’s original Hiraishin kunai lands next to where he and Izuna are grappling, and none other than Madara Uchiha appears only to haul Tobirama to his feet and push him away.

“Hands off my brother, Senju,” Madara glowers, gunbai in hand and stance battle-ready.

Tobirama resists the urge to groan.

“That,” he points to the kunai, glaring, “is my seal and my weapon.” Tobirama itches to ask obvious question of how and where Madara had found it, but what comes out instead is, “How did you even figure out how to use it, Uchiha?”

“Yours?” Madara flails, gunbai still in hand, looking as ridiculous as ever. “First of all, fuck you, Senju, I am expert in seal theory. And secondly, I found this, and that means it must be my… our …” His face blanches as he trails off, staring at Tobirama with growing horror in his eyes. “No.”

“Apparently,” Tobirama sighs, “yes.”

“You’re our soulmate?” Izuna’s brain seems to have caught up, finally, and he stands, gaping at Tobirama like he’s seen a bijū.

“You’re their soulmate, Otouto!” Hashirama shouts gleefully from the distance, as if Tobirama’s doom isn’t obvious enough.

The battle seems to have frozen in time, confused Senju and awed-looking Uchiha standing around the scene like it’s a theater play—and it might as well be, because the idiots fate (the bitch) has chosen to tie Tobirama with completely fucking lose it.

“How did we not know he’s our soulmate, nii-san?”

“We knew it was a Senju—”

“Well, you should have accepted those peace offers from the treehead—”

“Excuse me, brat? I wanted to accept them, and you were the one saying we couldn’t trust—”

“Fuck that, I didn’t know we were lucky enough to get beautiful and deadly for a soulmate,” Izuna says, upturning the entirety of what Tobirama had believed to be reality up until this moment. Beautiful? “I thought Snowflake was taken!”

“Now listen here, you reckless dumbass,” Madara growls, the chakra around him getting hotter to match his anger, “no matter how beautiful he is,” he says, pointing his gunbai Tobirama’s way, “he still almost killed you a hundred times—”

“At most a dozen, nii-san, and I almost killed him once!”

“I don’t care!” Madara shrieks, voice getting exponentially louder. “Until we’ve figured out this whole mess, you are going to stop being a suicidal moron and listen to what I say!”

Madara takes a deep breath to, presumably, launch another longer rant, and it’s then that Tobirama decides he’s had enough.

(This is why he’s always thankful his opponent is Izuna. It’s painful watching Hashirama deal with Madara’s shrieky rants every single battle.)

And since no one forbade him from being a suicidal moron, Tobirama decides to do the one thing his brain comes up with to shut up the louder Uchiha and possibly shock him enough to stop the godsdamned screaming.

The kiss comes unexpected to everyone, judging from the collective gasps, and though Madara yelps and stiffens as Tobirama drags him closer by the collar, he doesn’t struggle further.

His gunbai falls, though, and his lips relax against Tobirama’s as he goes slack-jawed, so Tobirama considers his mission successful. His brain tells him the shock of it is enough, that he should pull away, gods damn you, you’re kissing Madara Uchiha.

But two things happen that Tobirama could never have predicted.

One being that kissing Madara was actually a very pleasant experience, and the other… Well.

Madara answers the kiss.

It’s such a ridiculous series of events that’s led Tobirama to this, making out with his once worst enemy in the midst of a battlefield, the rush of blood to his head and his pounding heartbeat drowning out his brother’s indignant protests and whatever Izuna is whining about. It’s exhilarating, the way Madara’s mouth moves against his own, and despite this being Tobirama’s first real kiss, he seamlessly follows Madara’s lead, drinking him in, tasting him, almost letting out a moan as Madara coaxes his lips open to slide his tongue into his mouth.

It’s the first time all semblance of a thought process exits out of Tobirama’s mind, leaving only this perfect moment frozen in time, as the bond between them sings in response to their closeness.

Of course it’s Izuna who pulls them apart—quite forcefully, too—and proceeds to glare at his brother.

“Nii-san, you traitor! I was supposed to be the first one to kiss our soulmate when we met them! Now I,” he announces proudly, “get fuck him first.”

Tobirama blinks. That escalated quickly.

“Mm,” Madara argues, his voice blessedly quieter and face tinged with what looks to be a light blush, as he keeps staring at Tobirama with a slightly dreamy expression. “Uh. No. Mine.”

“No,” Izuna growls, hand grasping Tobirama’s fur collar protectively, “mine, you greedy bastard.”

“My baby brother,” Hashirama sobs, rid of his prior glee and suffering a mental breakdown a few feet away, “my innocent baby brother…” And that’s definitely the sound of Tōka’s cackling Tobirama can hear in the distance.

He blinks some more, breathing deep and slow, trying to regain at least some of his thinking capacity.

“Sorry,” Tobirama says to Madara, his brain only catching up enough to provide a poor excuse for the earlier kiss. “I, uh, didn’t mean to do that. So suddenly.”

“No. I liked.” Madara frowns. And that’s definitely a blush deepening on his cheeks. “Sentences. Hard.”

“YOU’RE GETTING HARD?”

“Shut the fuck up, treehead,” Izuna says, hurling Madara’s discarded gunbai at Hashirama for good measure. “He’s ours now!” He turns back to Tobirama. “What you mean to do now, Snowflake, is use this clever seal of yours and take us somewhere private. Can you do that for us?”

Tobirama blinks some more, finding himself suddenly unable to argue in face of Izuna’s devious smile. “Oh. Yeah, I can do that.”

(There’s the added annoyance of someone from the crowd asking about nuptials, which makes Tobirama crave to get the fuck out of here.)

He reaches for the Hiraishin seal he’d placed in a faraway clearing, with enough distance from both their compounds that neither their clanmates, nor Hashirama’s irrational overprotectiveness will be able to reach them. Tobirama wants to explain as much but is interrupted by a very enthusiastic Izuna ravishing his mouth. Firm, messy, biting, so unlike his earlier kiss with Madara but riveting in its own way. Tobirama can’t quite hold back the whimper that escapes the moment the last part of their bond cements itself.

“Now that,” Izuna purrs, drawing away, “was a proper greeting.”

Tobirama breathes out a laugh. “Couldn’t agree more.”

Because for the first time, nested between the playful crackle of his former rival’s chakra and the raging flame that is Madara embracing him from behind, Tobirama feels like he’s finally found home.

[justwritesome]

calm moments before the storm

Summary: If Izuna's death is the prelude to Madara's path to hatred and madness, perhaps, hers is the last string that finally made him snap. [madasaku]

---

When Senju Hashirama witnessed Haruno Sakura's feat of strength in the battlefield, he couldn't help but to remember a similar scene. For a fleeting moment, instead of a kunoichi with a short and uneven pink hair in the standard chūnin blues and konoha's flak jacket, the Shōdai Hokage is seeing a young woman with a flowing, waist-length pink hair wearing the plainest red kimono. And rather than a chakra-enchanced fist, she was wielding a battleaxe, shamelessly creating fissures on the ground.

He wasn't the only one, though.

His own brother had to do a brief double-take when he laid his Edo Tensei-ed eyes on the kunoichi when they arrived on the field. After all, it's certainly uncanny to see a face of someone you knew who grew up closely with your wife and lived under your roof in the newly established Konoha for almost a year before her untimely death.

Uzumaki Sakurako.

Mito's handmaiden and the only woman in her branch of civilian family who utilized her chakra to serve the Uzumaki's heiress.

A passing thought came to Hashirama's mind after raising the crimson barrier to trap the ten-tails: "If Izuna's death is the prelude to Madara's path to hatred and madness, perhaps, hers is the last string that finally made him snap."

Hashirama created wood clones that he could manage to help the shinobi alliance and to open the barrier's entrance. He'd also sent one to keep an eye on Madara. He wouldn't want to put the kunoichi in a difficult situation just because she looked like Sakurako. They were already dealing with the ten-tails as it is.

xxx

She stuck out like a nail with her ridiculous pink hair, so he had noticed her when the mist hiding the shinobi alliance dissipated.

But Madara knew the truth; the one truth. So, when he saw her in Kamui dimension and was about to stab his rinnegan eyes in Obito, he had no qualms in killing her.

When he returned after reclaiming his eyes from Obito, Madara taunted their so-called "teamwork". She looked hesitant at first and then, she swiftly moved declaring her intention to be a diversion. Fool!

Madara stared at the girl he just stabbed, impassively. He's quite impressed she had the same healing abilities like Hashirama's granddaughter, but it's not enough. He will never show mercy to those who continued to stand in his way of saving their world.

He will fulfill his dream of peace with no more wars.

The only truth.

Fiery emerald green eyes met the rippling ringed-purple ones. She may have looked like his Sakura, but this girl is not her. Like how the last Uchiha is not Izuna.

Madara thought enough is enough. He will activate the jutsu for the Eye of the Moon plan.

He succeeded. He felt triumphant after a long journey (and the sacrifices he made) to get where he was. He didn't expect to be betrayed over and over again.

The last thing he felt was getting drowned by a vast quantity of chakra and then, it's nothing. For quite a while, Madara had no consciousness: he's alive, but nothing. He soon regained awareness... and it hurt.

It hurt so much, it's numbing. It felt painful and at the same time, nothing.

Madara laid on his back after the rabbit goddess was sealed and he was brought back to their dimension. He struggled to open his eyes. He could hear Izuna's far away voice. He hadn't heard it the first time and the second time he died.

Maybe the third time is truly a charm. He wanted to laugh.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

A memory. Madara didn't know why he was seeing this. He'd played thousands of memories recorded in his mind, in a short moment of longing in his cave, however he never touched hers.

"I want to believe in it," She whispered to him as her unfocused eyes tried to meet his. "So I could love you intensely... next time."

Next time. How foolish...

His eyes watered, but they didn't fall. The last time he truly cried was when Izuna died. Then, Madara felt rage, unbidden and violent rage.

He vowed revenge for his death.

Hashirama offered him salvation, so he gave Tobirama a reprieve. Then, he met her. She became home... but his home is crumbling. And Madara didn't know who to throw his hatred as he kneeled around the broken earth with her blood seeping between cracks. She already killed those who injured her beyond recovery and now, she was teetering at death's door.

His sharingan flickered to life, unstable.

Sakura raised her hand to touch his face, "I will never waver no matter what."

A slight smile curved in her blood-stained lips and chin. Madara's trembling hands gently cradled her head in his hands, her hair spilling between his fingers.

He didn't know what to feel. He's angry. He's in agony. He's breaking. He could hear the cracks in his head. In his soul.

"My feelings will stand and remain strong, you'll find it annoying." Her hand shook on his cheek and she laughed softly, her half-lidded eyes crinkled.

Her laughter should evoke him calmness and joy, but it sounded raspy and wet, and it's so soft he could barely hear her.

"Madara-sa..ma... until we..." meet again.

Her hand slipped from his face and she slackened in his hold. He could do nothing but to stare at her dulling emerald green eyes, stunned.

Fragile. He thought. Humans are so fragile and weak.

His sharingan flickered on and off while he breathed fast, in shallow pants. Madara brought her close to him as he stood on his feet, chuckling,

His brothers. His mother. His father. Izuna. His clan. Sakura. All of them. His peace. The people he gave his all. Gone.

Where could he possibly find peace in... in this... in this hell? This reality is hell. There is no peace. It's an illusion.

As long as there are winners who have it all and the losers who lost everything...

"Do you want to bring us back?"

A voice rang in his head. No. Voices. His little brothers. His parents. Izuna. Sakura. They're whispering. It's so thick, it may be something else.

"You could bring us back." Mother?

"We could never die." His little brothers.

"You could find a way." Father.

"Find a way to save us." Izuna!

"A world where there will be no winners or losers." Sa...kura...

"Peace is attainable. Madara. Madara-nii. Aniki. Madara-sama. Madara-sama."

Madara found his way back to Konoha, he began finding ways to make a dream into a reality. He will save what is left. He will start in his clan, in Konoha.

He failed.

Where did he went wrong?

"Hashi...rama..."

Madara called his rival. He did not know what compulsion made him to do so. Was it an assurance, perhaps? Or a truce that should have been the first time around? It does not matter anymore.

Maybe this time around, he will finally be able to see them... her again. With peace as his last breath left him.

"Welcome back, Madara-sama." Sakura greeted him like she used to do with that beautiful smile on her face.

"I'm home."

[animeyanderelover]

I'd love to see prompt 116. “I love you more than planned.” with Tobirama and a Uchiha darling. Maybe where Hashirama insisted that Tobi should spend some time and befriend some of the Uchiha clan members for the betterment of the future of the village?

Uchiha darling and Tobirama is quite loved in here.

Warnings: Yandere themes, blackmailing, bribing, threatening, possessive thinking

Prompt 116: “I love you more than planned.”

“I think I heard you wrong?! Did you just insist on that I should give him a chance?! That guy just insulted when confessing! I mean, I didn’t expect anything else, it’s Tobirama after all. But Mito! That could never work! My family would never allow it! They still hold a small grudge against the Senju clan!” The red-haired woman listened calmly to your words. “And you? What do you want?” You gave her a quirked eyebrow. “What I want?” “(y/n), I understand that this situation might be a bit conflicting right now and for Tobirama it was a surprise as well. But he can’t change his feelings and decided to try to accept them. I think to break the cycle of dislike between his and your clan an Uchiha and a Senju would be a perfect example on that things can be different.” You scoffed. “Yeah, sure. If his brother wouldn’t have forced him to befriend a few of my clan that guy would have avoided us like the plague.” “And you knew that and still became friends with him?” You bit your tongue. She did have a point. “Okay. Maybe I like him. But only as a friend! Nothing more! I deserve better than his sassy ass and big mouth! This guy is too...too much! I don’t wanna keep hearing his remarks about my clan! And also, I-I just can’t really believe that he fell supposedly in love with me. To be honest, when we sometimes start arguing and get all heated up I can’t help, but feel like we’re being too harsh on each other. But no one of us really stop because we want to be mean to each other. That’s a distorted way of friendship. And I don’t wanna imagine how it would be if the both of us would be in a relationship. That could end in a massacre. Sorry, but I want things to stay as they are right now.”

“For goodness sake! Tobirama! Let it go!”, you yelled angrily at him, ruffling your hair frustrated which was by now all messed up due to grabbing it so often. You felt like ripping it out due to frustration. “Then listen to what I have to say! You’re just avoiding me since that talk you had to Mito!”, he shouted back, looking just as livid as you. This was so frustrating. Why did you have to have this conversation with him? You did admit that you had started to avoid him after your talk with Mito, wanting to sort your feelings out and needing time about how to handle this new information. But of course Tobirama’s string of patience had worn fast thin. And that had led you to this situation. Shouting and cursing at each other. “Don’t you get it?! I just don’t feel that way! Get that through your stubborn thick skull! Give me space!”, you angrily pushed him away, wanting to run out of this situation. You had already gained enough worried and amused looks from the passengers and weren’t willing to start throwing a show just because this man couldn’t handle a rejection. “Stop acting like a sulky boy and handle this like a man! That’s ridiculous Tobirama! It would never work! And you should know that too. You’re the one who never liked my clan in the first place and now you have the authority to tell me you love me? You gotta be kidding me.”

He was seething, you knew that. Sometimes you had troubles believing that he and the Hokage were brothers because they were like two different sides of a coin. Hashirama was peace loving, friendly and energy whilst Tobirama was impatient, temperamental and harsh. And that was the reason why you didn’t think it would work. Put someone like him with a hothead like you together would make an explosive combo, one for which you didn’t have the patience to endure. But he stayed quiet, clenching and unclenching his fist. “This is stupid.”, you cursed under your breath and turned around, wanting to let a little bit steam off. “Is it so hard for you to believe that I love you?” That made you stop in your tracks, slowly turning your head around. He had sounded polite. Well, he still sounded angry, but he didn’t shout anymore. “You seriously ask me why I have troubles believing that? Reflect on your actions to my clan and you might be able to understand why I have a hard time believing you would fall for me, an Uchiha.”

“Do you think I’m happy about this? Do you even know how I felt when discovering my feelings? I thought that something was wrong with me. Our clans used to kill each other on the battle field before this village was built. And I never fully trusted your clan. Never. You won’t even believe how pissed off I was when my brother insisted on me befriending some from your kind. But I guess he didn’t see it coming that I would end up falling for the damn Uchiha who I managed to become friends with. No one did. Me neither. But I can’t get rid of it. So if you would just put your pride away for a moment and try to understand how I feel this might have not to be that hard.” You didn’t know what to respond to this, giving him a doubting look whilst crossing your arms in front of your chest and tapping your finger against your biceps. As weird as it sounded, you could somewhat sympathize with him, understanding what a blow for his ego it must have been for him when falling for you. He was just confused on how to act on his feelings. You let out a sigh. “Listen Tobirama, I admit that I feel flattered by all of this. But try to see it from the logical side. Our clans wouldn’t handle it too well if we should ever start dating each other, not to mention that I don’t think we would have our peace. We’re too similar to each other, too prideful. I just feel like the dynamic between us could be either very good or very shaky. And I’m not in the mood to endure a constant up and down, not to mention that constant shouting sessions would give me too much of a headache. We both deserve someone who can help us calming our ass down a bit. That’s what I feel at least.”

It became quiet between the two of you, Tobirama glaring with a mix of anger and hurt at you. “I’m sorry Tobirama. I just feel like staying in a friend zone is the best for both of us.” You slowly stepped backwards, not breaking eye contact with him, hoping to be able to leave him here without him trailing behind you again. “You know...Brother knows how much I love you. That’s why he and Mito convinced me in the first place to confess to you. Not to mention that I had enough trust in you to open up about my feelings.” He had mumbled those words more quietly out, making you almost feel a bit bad. “You’re lucky to have someone like him and Mito in your life. They’re both great people.” You tried to sound as comforting as possible, not wanting him to have another outburst of emotions. “And I hope that you’ll be able to get over this someday. Even though your an asshole, our friendship is still important to me.” With these words you finally turned around and quickly walked away from the scene, leaving a silent Tobirama back. “Hopefully Hashirama will be able to help him digesting this. If not I’m in trouble.”

That same night Tobirama couldn’t really fall asleep. He had never been someone who had slept much due to preferring to work until late at night. He just couldn’t, the argument between you and him playing over and over again. You were right, he could understand from where you were coming from. He himself had almost felt disgusted in himself when finding out his feelings for you. How couldn’t he after everything that had happened? He had killed your kind back in the days of war and had never trusted your clan, especially after Madara had left the village and had tried to kill his brother. It had been another proof for him that your clan was possessed by the evil. It had been a miracle for him that he had managed to make friends with you in the first place. You were the only one from your clan who had endured his outbursts, fighting fiercely back to defend your clan and push him back into his place. You had proved to be quite the challenge for him, never backing down from his threats and insults and instead always standing tall. He guessed that this was one of the things he seemed to hate and love on you at the same time. You always stood for what you loved and believed in. You were passionate, strong, smart and stood true to your ideals and words. You were stubborn, snarky and always had a sharp comment which you gladly spit out. Tobirama didn’t even know when it had happpened. When he had started being more mean simply because he didn’t know how to act on his feelings.

In the end it hadn’t mattered anyways. You had rejected him which stung more than expected. He hadn’t expected that this would have such a big impact on him. He had drowned himself in work today, trying to get his mind off. But it hadn’t been from much use and Tobirama couldn’t remember the last time when he had felt so...wretched. This wasn’t like him at all. He had seen death so much back in the war, he had seen his friends and family die and had managed to somehow stand strong. It had been his duty to stay strong and avenge all the people he had lost. And you weren’t even dead. You were still here. But you were lost for him in another sense, still here, but out of reach. That was a new way for him to lose someone. And he didn’t like that. Whom should he blame for drowning in such a pathetic state of his mind? His brother? You? Or himself? He could almost hear your mocking voice if you would see him like this. For some reason he needed to think of something you had told him one time before when the both of you had talked about the topic rejection before. “Drowning in self-sorrow is no way to handle a rejection. You gotta take it like a shinobi does. If I would get rejected I wouldn’t give up. I would fight for their heart until they realize that I’m the only one for them. I would do everything in my power to change their mind. I won’t accept it if someone would miss me. Not like someone would ever reject me.”

Fight for them...Do everything in your power...Not accepting it. And with one swift movement Tobirama was suddenly up, your words still swirling around in his mind whilst he walked to the small office in his house, pulling out a few files he had in one of his drawers. Files about you and your family. He didn’t even know why he had those in the first place in his house but in that moment he didn’t care that much. What mattered was what stood inside of them. Informations. Informations which could be used against you. For a brief moment he stopped, reflecting on what he was about to do. This was actually wrong. Criminal. What would his brother think if he would find out about this? This made for a short moment hesitation wash about him, slowly retreating his hand which had been about to grab the file. “Don’t you get it?! I just don’t feel that way!” He froze. “Get that through your stubborn thick skull!” His hand twitched, feeling a bitter feeling raising up in him and the still so fresh stinging of your reaction tingling up inside his core. What he was about to do wasn’t fair, it was downright wrong and would ensure huge troubles for you if he would use something against you or your family. But you hadn’t played fair as well. You had rejected him and not even given him a chance. In some sense he actually only did what you had said yourself to do in case of a rejection. Doing everything in his power to help you realize your mistake.

He almost felt amused whilst reading the file about your family, taking greedily every information in he hadn’t known so far and already starting to plan possibilities about how to use those informations against you. If someone would have told him a few years ago that he would go as far as being ready to blackmail an Uchiha just so he could make them stay by his side he would have labeled that person as crazy. But now he was there, sitting in his office and going through every information he possessed about your close ones. You would come back to him. You would realize that he was your only option. And if he had to reach that goal by ruining your whole life and those of everyone you loved so be it. “Well little Uchiha,”, he spoke to himself in a slightly amused, slightly angry voice,”I love you more than planned.”