#madara’s branches have more flowers than tobirama

[sanska]

@madatobiweek Day 2: Hanahaki // Time Travel

Love me until it chokes you from the inside out.

[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]

Do you have any wedding or marriage headcanons for the Senju family, Sakura, Naruto and Kurenai?

I’m not very experienced with marriage and this stuff, but I hoped I did well enough.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions

Wedding/marriage Hc’s

Hashirama Senju

🌳First of all let’s start with how he proposed. I guess Hashirama would really try to make it as romantic as possible that he would actually overdo it a bit. The type to write, or at least try to write, a really long poetry for you and read it to you.

🌳The whole village will celebrate the day the wedding will be held and Hashirama wants to make it as romantic and great as possible. So luckily his brother will help him to not overdo it. His clan expects him to behave very well and will most likely strictly teach him how to act during a wedding since this guy often lets his feelings get the better of him when with you.

🌳What would be the individual roles? Man of Honor will be his brother and Madara, if he was still there at that time. Your maid of Honor would be most likely Mito because she’s close to Hashirama and a good friend of his. The whole clan of course participates in this and they made sure to help planning as well, making this a marriage designed after their images. But it’s also Hashirama’s marriage so of course he could do something too. I feel like he would use his jutsu to create something, probably like small branches with flowers blooming onto them, if he can manage to do it your favs, which will like wrap themselves around the whole attire and make it look more beautiful. Does that even make sense?

🌳During the whole time Hashirama is a giddy and flustered mess. When he saw you walking down in that wedding dress? He had a hard time not to storm to you and shower you in kisses. You. Looked. Stunning. He had a happy grin upon seeing you walking down the aisle. Is going to be unbelievably nervous when you give each other the ‘yes’ word. But after you’ve done that and the priest appoints you to husband and wife and tells you to kiss each other? He was beyond overjoyed.

Tobirama Senju

🌊Proposed in public to you for two reasons. First of all so you wouldn’t be able to reject and second of all because he takes a certain pride in making it clear to people that you’re his. He’ll bask in all the congrats and good wishes the villagers make as soon as you have given your ‘yes’ word, be it forced or not.

🌊Here again, there will be a huge party thrown in the village when the day arrives. Tobirama will plan very carefully for it because it’s a really important day in his life. His brother would definitely love to help and always says he has already experience with it since he already married. But I guess Tobirama could say that too since he helped his brother planning the marriage with Mito.

🌊It’s no surprise that his brother is his Man of Honor and your Maid of Honor will be Mito. It’s kind of obvious that you’re good friends with her since she’s Tobirama’s brother’s wife. Whole clan will be invited. I guess Tobirama wouldn’t do anything too different. As mentioned, he likes it classy. But I guess his brother will push him into doing something because come on, it’s his most important day and he wants to do nothing special?! Na-ah, not with Hashirama as his brother.

🌊Tobirama is way more composed than his brother, but even he will be a bit nervous during the whole thing. Felt pride upon seeing you walking down the aisle in your wedding dress. But he’ll still show a bit of his arrogant and asshole side in this. How? When the priest told you you could kiss each other you could feel him smirking whilst kissing you. After all he had just made you officially his.

Tsunade Senju

🐌I think that she proposed after a fun gambling night and a lot of sake. It sounds just like her. And it had also an advantage. You were probably a bit too drunk to register what was happening and so you just said ‘yes’ without even really realizing what she had just asked you.

🐌Whole village will celebrate the day and everyone will be happy for her, especially Jiraiya who knows how much she suffered after losing Dan. I guess he would even like to help, but his ideas aren’t the most...proper ones so it would end with Tsunade throwing him out. But Shizune and Sakura would be all up for it to help her.

🐌A lot of guests are going to be invited. Men of Honor will be Jiraiya and Naruto and the Maids of Honor for sure Shizune and Sakura. But other guests would be Kakashi, Yamato, Guy, Katsuyu and, and, and. Basically the whole Naruto cast from Konohagakure. Since it fits her I guess after you to gave each other the ‘yes’ word and the whole formal part is over there would be, what a surprise, a gambling party and sake. Old habits are hard to shake off. But no one will bet with money, at least to that Sakura and Shizune were able to convince her. They’re going to play with chips. Keep in check how much she drinks or else she’ll start to gamble with your wedding gifts.

🐌Tsunade will think on her wedding day back to Dan and think about how she dreamed back then of such an event with him. It will be a short and bittersweet memory for her before remembering that him and Nawaki would be happy for her now. That and the fact that she sees you walking in your wedding dress down the aisle will bring a warm smile up to her face. And when the priest tells you to kiss each other she’ll feel euphoria shooting through her whole body. She’ll take care later on over the fact how Jiraiya tried to get a better look at what was under the both of your wedding dresses.

Sakura Haruno

🌸Sakura would want to make it as romantic as possible. Can’t help, but think that she probably went on a picnic on a sunny day with you somewhere in a flower field and proposing there. Probably even wrote a small love note for you.

🌸All the girls would be up for helping her, especially Ino. So she can count on great help from their side. Naruto probably too, but since he takes this thing a bit too jokingly it would end with all the girls shoving him out.

🌸Here again. The whole Konoha cast will be invited. Man of Honor is Naruto and Maid of Honor will be Ino. I feel like Sakura would want Sasuke to be there, but would also feel a bit awkward around him since she used to be in love with him. Also hopes that Naruto and Lee will be genuinely happy for her since those two also used to have a crush on her. Flowers will be a big part of the wedding since Ino owns a flower shop. Since Sakura means cherry blossoms I feel like those would be like the ‘main’ flowers of the wedding. But of course there will be all sort of flowers in there.

🌸Sakura will be clearly excited as well as nervous whilst waiting for you to arrive. But the encouraging and happy smiles everyone will give her will calm her down a bit. Would feel especially happy if she could see her whole team ( Naruto, Sasuke, Kakashi, Yamato, Sai ) being sincerely happy for her. So when it finally comes down to you walking down the aisle and joining her and the priest at the altar she would feel so happy that she finally gets to marry the love of her life. Would probably even shortly think about how she used to dream about marrying Sasuke. But now that she has you standing here with her she’ll feel amused about how childish those dreams were.

Naruto Uzumaki

🍜Naruto planned for this the moment he first layed eyes on you. I guess he would do it at Ichiraku’s since this is also the place where you had your first date. Tenshi and his daughter would be all up to help him and would even decorate their store a bit to make it more romantic.

🍜Just like Sakura had all the girls helping her, Naruto would be floated with the help of the Konoha boys. And Sakura of course. Will be pretty much chaos since everyone has different ideas and suggestions.

🍜The village respects Naruto greatly and would be happy for him. Man of Honor would be Sasuke if he’s willing to come that is. If not then probably Shikamaru and Maid of Honor will be Sakura. She didn’t give him a choice. Here again, lots of guests. The Konoha twelve, his senseis, Gaara, etc. If Naruto would have planned the marriage then I guess the only food being served would have been ramen. But with the help of Choji there is going to be a really wide choice of food. I guess everyone was able to set one idea of theirs through. I can see Hinata as the one who will be, even if a bit heartbroken, one of the persons who will be the most happy for Naruto and put a lot of work in helping.

🍜There will be a moment where Naruto will be a bit sad. It is when he looks at everyone in the room, seeing all their proud faces and remembering that his parents or Jiraiya will never be able to witness this. It’ll make him a bit nostalgic. But then he’ll feel happy when thinking about how proud all of them would be if they would be still here. And let’s just say that his heart bursted with too many feelings at once when sealing the promise you just made with a kiss.

Kurenai Yuhi

🥀Kurenai would most likely confess at a place that holds a special meaning for the both of you. The place where you first met or where she asked you to be her girlfriend or something in this direction. She would make it just the right amount of romantic, yet serious to make clear that she means it. Probably the type to trap you in a genjutsu and show you how everything started between the two of you, every moment until now.

🥀Her students would be incredibly enthusiastic once when finding out about it and Kiba will show it the most. I guess also Asuma would want to help her in such a scenario where the both of them aren’t together.

🥀Her students and everyone who went into the same class her back then into the academy is invited. Here as well I can see Asuma being the Man of Honor. Her students probably made each individually a special surprise as her, for example Shino making some small show with his bugs or something similar. Kurenai herself would probably use some genjutsus.

🥀Kurenai is the ‘calm on the outside, but a mess on the inside’ type. She would keep her composure, but on the inside her emotions will be all over the place. But she also possesses the confidence to feel like nothing will go wrong. So she’ll stay strong, not wanting to make you feel even more nervous than you are already. Will grip your hands tightly and comforting when the both of you give each other the ‘yes’ word and seal your words with a kiss.

[nightofthemeteor]

Falconry/Bonsai

(Also here on AO3)

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Come back!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

“What are you looking at, Nii-san?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“You mean existentially?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

“You!” yelped Senju Tobirama.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Lonely, Dark and Deep - ao3 link - Chapter 7

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

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

Tobirama falls apart without his brother.

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

And now it seems like there’s something not quite right with the forest…

———————————————————————————–

It sleeps, mostly. Sometimes, it has tea.

(The blood-soaked earth of the battlefield, rich with nitrogen from decayed flesh and the remnants of bone, makes for an excellent earthy tea, very stimulating. It would recommend it highly, but it doesn’t really talk to anyone anymore.)

But most of the time, it sleeps: sleeps, and grows, and watches.

It has a million eyes –

- studded throughout bark, centered on every leaf –

And a million ears –

- grasses and reeds that catch every whisper and carry it back –

A million tongues –

- flowers unfurling to taste the changing chakra on the breeze –

Even its brain has grown as vast as the forest itself, a network of interconnected mushrooms woven throughout the earth, neurons sparking like electricity through each fiber.

Nothing will escape it, should it need to act; nothing can evade its diligent watch. Time means nothing to it: it is, and was, and will be. Knowing that, it sleeps the sleep of the just.

It is here to keep the peace.

And it has.

Not in the little things, of course: the oaks squabble for territory as they always have, strangling acorns that fall too close to home; ‎the willows hide their schemes behind their leaves, weeping by the riverbank; the mint and dandelions have formed an unholy alliance of conquering that has all the other flora in a tizzy to spread their seeds out on the wind and through the bodies of birds.

The animals still fight, too; the foxes and the bears, sharp-toothed; the rats and the squirrels, sharp-eyed; the rabbits with their vicious internecine strife.

And those strangest of animals, too, tall and two-legged and unbearably precious – they fight, too.

But there are no armies.

No battlefields.

No dead children, bodies crushed on the ground for someone else’s pointless hatred.

With that, it is content.

Yes, sometimes it thinks about doing more to stop the little fights, but -

(You can't wrap people in cloth, anija! ‎We have the right to choose. Sometimes we choose to fight, and you have to let us. Without competition and conflict, there can be no growth!)

No, it is content‎ as it is. There will be no war for as far as its reach stretches, miles upon miles, and it is still growing, its seeds carried by bird or fox or human for miles on end.

Soon - a few centuries or so, certainly no more than a few millennia, at most - it will be able to ensure there is no war anywhere at all: just life, and death, in an endless cycle.

‎Until then, it can sleep undisturbed -

But something disturbs it.

Somewhere in its great and terrible perception, it sees something.

Somewhere in the depths of its gargantuan mass, it hears something.

Somewhere in its vast and near-infinite memory, it remembers something.

(something white as snow and red as fire, infinitely precious, placed into his too-short arms and being told this is yours to protect, protect and love, and he did, he did love, it was for this love he first dreamed his dream of peace‎ that seized him and would for the rest of his life)

Tobirama.

Tobirama, a brother.

His brother -

His brother, who is dying.

It has seen enough battlefields - he has seen enough battlefields - to recognize the resignation that slows his brother's movements, the death-longing singing in his chakra, and how can this be?

Tobirama was supposed to be safe. Safe in the village created just for that purpose, entrusted to his hands. He's not supposed to be out here in the depths of the forest, feeding the ground his precious blood and giving his death away to strangers because he has nothing left to live for.

"This won't do, Tobirama," it says, stepping forth into the clearing.

With a thought the roots and the branches leap forward to act as its sword, just the way they once did for him on the battlefield, though it thinks with some disapproval that it could probably do better if it puts its now-near-infinite mind to it.

It's gotten so much more powerful than he used to be.

It gathers his brother into its arms, crooning soft words, and Tobirama smiles blindly up at it, soft and vulnerable the way he sometimes, rarely, gets when they’re all alone, murmurs, "Missed you, anija..." before he falls asleep, ‎and it knows it has done the right thing.

It has been sleeping, not understanding the meaning of time, but it remembers now.

Time doesn’t matter just because it’s passing, that much is true, but it does still matter.

Time matters because of who you spend it with.

Tobirama was always a good brother.

There’s no reason Tobirama can’t still be its brother.

The way he was his before.

That sounds nice.

Healing Tobirama’s injuries takes a mere thought – it may be attuned to flora rather than fauna, but the cell structure isn’t all that different, and his mastery of small details has gotten so much better than before – and takes him somewhere else.

There’s a nice cavern it’s been sleeping in, deep in the earth: it is be dark there, dark and wet and safe, a perfect place for his brother to rest.

After all, if there’s one thing it can rely on, it thinks wryly even as it traces the circles under Tobirama’s eyes with a long fibrous finger, it’s that little brother has not gotten enough sleep again.

It’s only ten or so hours later that Tobirama stirs again – not nearly enough, what has Tobirama been doing to his body? It’s as if he hasn’t slept right in years – and the first thing he does is reach out blindly.

“Anija,” he says, sleep-drunk. His eyes are open, but blind: there is no light in this cavern, none at all, and he cannot see so much as the barest outline of anything. Not that that matters, to a sensor like him. “Hashirama.”

Yes.

Yes, that is right. That was his name.

Might as well be its name as well.

Hashirama reaches out and lays a hand on its brother’s chest. Its hand is large, its fingers long, compared to what he once had, and it can cover almost all of Tobirama’s chest with just the one.

It likes the feeling of Tobirama’s heart beating beneath its palm.

Such a fragile organ, tenderly woven through with chakra, but supporting life that is so very precious.

“Missed you,” Tobirama slurs. He’s not really awake, only half-way there; a simple nudge of chakra will push him back into the sleep he so desperately needs. “So much. Missed you…even those – those stupid hugs. Bear hugs, lifting me up like a kid…always pretended I hated them. Wasn’t proper. S’not true, though. Didn’t hate them. Wanted you to know that.”

Hashirama smiles. It always knew that: its prickly little brother who loved him so much. Loved him too much, that Tobirama would deny himself the pleasure of something he enjoyed just to protect him from slights only imagined.

It is pleased to hear Tobirama admit it, though. As a reward, it gathers Tobirama into its arms again. “Sleep,” it says.

“Don’t want to. You’ll disappear.”

“I will be here.”

“Hallucination. Too much bloodloss. Maybe a genjutsu…”

Oh, Tobirama. Always so skeptical.

“I will be here,” it says again. “There is no genjutsu. I have only been sleeping, waiting for you to find me.”

Oddly, that explanation seems to be enough.

His brother must be very tired, to allow that.

“Missed you,” Tobirama sighs. “I’ve been so…I tried so hard, anija, really, truly I did. I took care of the village for you. But I missed you so much. Too much. Just wanted you again.”

Hashirama smiles wider than ever, smile curling up through his cheeks to his temples, a gaping wound stretched across the bark that forms his face until it nearly cracks the whole thing off. “I’m here now. But now you need to sleep – sleep and recover your strength.”

“You’ll still be here when I wake up?” Tobirama asks shyly, seeking verbal reassurance he hasn’t asked for since he was a toddler.

Since the first time Butsuma put a sword in his hand, and showed him how to use it.

(It’s been a lifetime since then, and Hashirama is very different now, but the memory still makes something inside burn in anger.)

But it has no reason to be angry now. Tobirama is safe, his head is pressed to Hashirama’s chest, and the soft golden glow of Hashirama’s chakra, no longer capable of being fully contained to the inside of its body, falls upon his face. Tobirama’s red eyes, never strong, cannot see the light - Hashirama has muted the visible spectrum that it sometimes emits entirely to make sure its photosensitive brother’s rest is not disturbed, and the absolute darkness of the cavern muffles all other input. This is good, it thinks to itself, as the cool dark will sooth the strain those eyes have endured.

No, it is not angry.

Neither is it content.

It is happy.

“I’ll still be here,” Hashirama promises. “I’ll be here for you forever.”

The plants around them ripple in response to his vow, backed by all of his power, and in their frenzied approval they climb over the two of them: roots wrapping around Tobirama’s arms and legs and torso, moss leaping forward to cover him like a blanket, over-large mushrooms sprouting beneath his head as a pillow.

Tobirama sighs, a happy sigh, all the tension draining out of him, and falls back asleep.

Hashirama remains hunched over him, the smile on his face growing uncontrollably, extending all the way around its head and up and down its wooden cheeks to better express its joy, its jaw gaping open in a grin filled with teeth of needle-splinter-sharp points.

Yes.

This is good.

It had forgotten how much it liked having a brother.

Peace came first, of course, emblazoned as it is on its heart, but in the end some small part of its vast and endless memory reminds it the original purpose of his peace was for his brother, and it likes that thought. If at all possible, it would make sure that Tobirama would be safe and secure and peaceful in a way he never had a chance to be growing up.

And if the village wasn’t doing its job in caring for Tobirama?

It would.

[sennokami]

that one tma x naruto crossover

Summary: Never let it be said that different Fears couldn’t cooperate when the going got tough. In which Madara was a killing man. But he’d rather be sleeping in.

-

Madara lunged out of the darkness, maddened and snarling, blood dripping down his face. He screamed as he tackled someone through a storefront, breaking the display glass and setting off a wailing alarm that shattered the night lull. His hands tore through flesh and bone, leaving behind the smell of burning fat, and the man under him struggled briefly before going still. Madara wouldn’t have stopped there but he picked up the sound of police sirens in the distance and that was his cue to go. Picking himself up, he dashed across the street to a waiting car.

Hashirama began to drive as soon as Madara got in. He said nothing while Madara worked on calming down, rubbing the blood on his hands, but slowly, the red ebbed from his eyes and his breathing steadied.

“I thought we said stealth,” Hashirama said, a little chiding.

“He fucking ran,” Madara growled. He flexed his fingers. “Your trap wasn’t as hidden as you thought. Moron was trying to get to a 24-hour place, somewhere public.”

“Is he dead?”

Kill him, kill him, kill him, crooned a thousand voices in Madara’s ear but he grabbed Hashirama’s thigh, and felt the gritty texture of the tree bark under his pant leg, and the voices receded. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Oh yeah.”

Hashirama flipped on his turn signal. He was good at this sort of thing, slipping in and out of hot situations like fish through water. Police eyes slipped over their little tan Nissan without noticing anything about it, as they should. They picked out the most boring car in existence for good reason.

“So now that Ootsutsuki Kamui is out of the way, the defenses around the ritual should be low enough that we can access it. Are you sure the rest of your family won’t come?”

Madara nodded jerkily.

Hashirama sighed but accepted it. “Well, there’s still us, so we should be fine.” The streetlights periodically lit up the interior of the car in yellow light. It wasn’t friendly to his face and more than a few pedestrians did a double-take as they drove past them. Madara kept his eyes on Hashirama. The subtle shifting of his false face made him angry, but not as angry as the rest of the world did.

-

They reached their hotel room without incident. Hashirama pulled his hat down low and Madara shrugged an extra coat on to hide the bloodstains and they didn’t linger in the lobby, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with any of the staff holding out the night shift. As soon as they were in their room, Madara dug his nails into his skin, sighing at the feeling of the wax giving way, and breathed out the last red curl of violence to dissipate in the quiet.

Hashirama touched his shoulders and guided him to the bed. Madara didn’t fight as he was pushed down and stripped of his coat, then his shoes and socks. Hashirama arranged it all, making sure to flick the curtains shut and double-checking their locks, while Madara curled up with his face in his hands. Calm. Calm.

Once he was satisfied, Hashirama returned to the bed. Madara moved until his head rested on his lap, sighing. He could feel him shifting under his clothes, the constant ripple of plant matter that tipped off his inhuman nature, and found comfort in how open his lies were. The fingers in his hair didn’t even feel remotely human.

“You should shower,” Hashirama murmured. “You stink.”

“Come with me.”

“It’s not comfortable for me. I don’t like getting wet.” He could hear the pout in his voice.

“Do it anyway.” Madara turned to face him, blinking slowly, and he smiled when he saw that Hashirama wasn’t even trying to maintain an illusion of a human face. What he used to feign eyes, a mouth, and a nose had sunk back into his skin, leaving behind a smooth plain that didn’t even have indents to indicate where they would’ve been previously. Reaching out, Madara traced the line of his jaw and was pleased to note that he let it retain its square shape.

“I wanna have fun,” he said, smirking a little.

“Was it the blood and guts that did it?” Hashirama asked innocently and Madara laughed as he got up and pulled him towards the bathroom. Kissing a man was hard when he had no mouth but Madara made do, like he always did.

-

There was a time before the entities for them. They’d met briefly in high school, had a childish romance that fizzled out as soon as their families found out, and then only reunited in university years afterward. If Madara let Hashirama tell the story, it got more and more outlandish each time. They’d been from rival crime families in one retelling, and great warriors from the distant past in another.

In reality, they’d just been two ordinary guys who fell into things they shouldn’t have. The only silver lining in it was that they ended right back up with each other in the end.

(“Stick with me,” Hashirama said, holding his hand out. He had six fingers, not five, and no nails, but he’d gotten his face just right, so handsome with that smile. “Like old times, yeah?”

Madara, sticky with blood and wild in the eyes, bared his teeth at him. “Don’t fuck with me.”

“Promise not to.” His lie was so obvious, so bold, that Madara snorted, knocked his hand away, and bit his lip until he bled imitation blood.)

It wasn’t always peace and hotel sex. They fought often enough that they still had injuries when they limped back to each others’ sides. Hashirama usually won because he was a step farther along his inhumanity compared to Madara but Madara was good at turning his victories pyrrhic, so it came out even in the end when they crouched in the shredded aftermath of their fights, panting and hurt and resentful.

Now, though, they were actively trying not to fight. This wasn’t normal for them but given the circumstances, normal wasn’t really a priority. Madara had initially been dismissive of the idea that there was a whole family functioning as avatars of the Extinction – whose existence he also doubted – until Hashirama dragged Ootsutsuki Toneri in front of him as proof. Since then, they’d been on the road for a year systematically hunting down every last one of the pale fuckers before they finished their ritual.

(“What kind of ritual can they even have?” Madara demanded, kicking their latest get. He was just a lackey for bigger fish but for once, they had to exercise some restraint. Couldn’t kill him, not yet. “Set off a nuke? Isn’t that just copping off of the End?”

“The Archivist confirmed,” Hashirama said. “And it’s the Eye, their whole job is knowing things. So…”

“Fine, whatever.” Madara kicked the man again. “Pasty bastards.”)

Hashirama handled information gathering and getaways. Madara handled the fighting. They could easily switch but it suited their respective entities – the fear they reaped along the way was just cherries on top. It wasn’t all business either. Roadtripping had a couple perks here and there, mostly in the forms of weird restaurants (Hashirama’s favorite) and animal watching (Madara’s hobby). It was the closest they got to domesticity.

-

Madara woke up to Hashirama’s voice coming from the bathroom. That was unusual, because Hashirama knew better than to hide conversations from him. When he concentrated on listening, though, Madara quickly realized why he was being discreet.

Fucking Archivist.

Rage surged in him reflexively but Madara tried to tamp back on it. They were close to Kaguya now, he had to maintain a little control of himself when the trail was so sensitive, no matter how tempting it’d be to rip that phone of Hashirama’s hand and snarl into the receiver to that fucking -

Madara relaxed his hands before his nails punctured the mattress. There were few people in the world he hated as much as he hated Senju-fucking-Tobirama. He’d better have something decent to say to Hashirama if he was going to be wasting his time when he could’ve been in bed instead.

When Hashirama emerged ten minutes later, Madara was still working on his breathing exercises. The bedsheets around him were faintly smoking.

“You heard.”

“C’mere,” Madara said, staring literal holes into the blanket. He bit on his tongue and tasted blood, just enough to make him calm a fraction.

Wordlessly, Hashirama obeyed. This time, he didn’t even hands anymore, just long stringy strands of curling vines and leaves that Madara curled into. Sickly-sweet flowers tickled his nose and when he suddenly snapped his head to the right and bit Hashirama’s wrist, he didn’t even complain. Madara bit harder until he tasted Hashirama’s strangely cold, viscous blood.

“The Archivist has information for us,” Hashirama said into his ear with a voice like rustling branches.

“I’ll tear his throat out,” Madara promised hoarsely. “I’ll eat him alive.”

“One day,” what-could-be-Hashirama simply said. He laid down, his limbs spreading until Madara was hopelessly tangled inside a weaving forest of interlocking vines and it was good. He worked through his mouthful of blood and let the pollen clog up his senses until the rage felt numb and far away. Lies, that’s all they were, but they were lies that Madara liked.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2531 Soulmate au: The one where you have a spirit animal only you can see that will lead you to your soulmate

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI in the blog header!

Chapter 178: Madara/Tobirama

Tobirama’s animal guide was a cat, a lazy good for nothing smug little shit that lounged on the furniture and watched him with eyes that always seemed to mock him for something he could never figure out. It was pretty to look at, he wouldn’t deny that, all white and gold and almost translucent. Beauty did not make up for the annoyance of that mocking stare, though.

Hashirama laughed and told him he deserved it. Tobirama left spiders under his pillow again.

Resisting the urge to follow his spirit animal wasn’t a problem for him like it was for others since his stupid cat never actually tried to go anywhere. No matter how many times Touka explained that it probably meant his other half was supposed to find him Tobirama remained certain that his cat was just lazy. How could he, of all people, be meant to sit and wait? That wasn’t his style at all. If he had a question he had always been the sort of person to ask questions or go find the answer himself. Waiting was boring.

It was boredom that chased him out of the house and in to the forest when he was ten years old, irritation that made him flop down on the bank of the Naka River to scowl at his dumb spirit guide. The cat only yawned and licked its chops without care.

Only when a massive glowing snow leopard burst from the trees did his guide finally move, leaping to its feet just in time for the two beasts to crash together in a glittering explosion of light fragments. For a few moments during which he stood in shocked silence Tobirama could only think that of course he finally got to see the damn thing move quickly only to have it disappear for good. Then his brain finally caught up with him and he realized why, precisely, the thing must have disappeared.

Tobirama hated that stupid cat even more when he found out that his soulmate was an Uchiha, a loud-mouthed brat barely older than himself and only half as mature. It was hate at first sight and he felt absolutely no remorse for dunking the idiot in to fast moving currents before dashing off towards home. He could hardly believe his own bad luck to have matched with such a crappy soulmate.

Not that it stopped him from quietly checking the riverbank every chance he had thereafter.

-

It took a week before Hashirama suddenly looked around the room with the expression of one who’d had a revelation.

“How come I haven’t seen any of your stuff knocked off the walls in a while? Is your guide okay?” he asked. Tobirama eyed the spot where that damn glowing cat, visible only to himself, had spent most of its time lounging.

“Gone,” he grunted.

“Wha–!? But then – so you’ve met your soulmate! Who is it?”

Tobirama scowled and ducked his chin down to concentrate on the blades he was supposed to be cleaning. “Doesn’t matter. Can’t be together anyway.”

Matching with an enemy wasn’t exactly unheard of and his brother may have been an idiot but he wasn’t stupid. Hashirama was quick to connect the dots, face drooping in to a sympathetic pout. Tobirama ignored him. He didn’t need a soulmate to be happy. In fact, he didn’t need anything that he didn’t already have. He would be perfectly happy spending his life in support of his elder brother.

And yet, when the moon rose high and Hashirama had fallen asleep across the foot of his bed, Tobirama snuck out of his room and ran to the river, his heart hoping for something that his head told him would never be possible. He spent the night alone.

-

He was fifteen when they met again, dangling his toes in the water and trying to decide how he felt about the news his father had given them. Most shinobi died in battle. Not many lived long enough to gather their children and coldly explain the sickness raging through the body. Cancer, he had called it. Tobirama wasn’t sure what to think about the whole thing.

Was he supposed to mourn the impending loss of a man he’d never truly loved?

The sound of a snapping limb caught his attention just in time for him to hear an indignant yelp and witness his errant soulmate plunge out an overhanging tree in to the river. When Madara resurfaced Tobirama was howling with laughter, clutching his stomach as he rolled on the ground.

“It isn’t funny! Aren’t you supposed to be a sensor? You suck! I got so close to you because you suck!” On and on he railed but all Tobirama did was continue to laugh. The fool looked like nothing so much as a damsel in distress with all that hair plastered to him and a lily pad clinging just behind one ear. It was an unexpected brightness in a day he expected to be filled with nothing more than morose introspection.

“Aren’t you a sensor too? You know I have to be infusing chakra to feel anything.” Tobirama tilted his head to admire the disaster in front of him from a better angle.

Madara screeched but didn’t deny it and that small triumph would have been enough on its own to lift his mood. Riding the waves of that uplifting win, Tobirama spent the next hour dodging verbal barbs and lounging much like his cat used to, comfortable where he was sprawled out across the rocks yet unwilling to question why he was so relaxed in the presence of someone he should have been trying to kill. He also chose not to wonder why Madara was not attacking in turn. If Hashirama was allowed to go through life with his head in the clouds then Tobirama should be allowed one day of letting things slide.

When they parted that day he swore to himself that something like this could not happen again. He’d had his fill of whatever it was his stupid heart was looking for but it had to stop now.

Half a week later he found himself fishing a broken tree branch out of the Naka River while Madara sulked that the evidence of his own stupidity hadn’t vanished on the current. Once more he told himself that it could not happen again and once more he knew he was lying.

-

Butsuma was dying. It was a cold fact, terrifying for all that he did not love the man. His father’s death meant change; it meant Hashirama taking over the clan before he was truly ready, before they were certain that the council of elders was ready to support him without thinking they could somehow control him. The politics of the situation promised to be a nightmare in the coming year.

And yet Tobirama had found a silver lining no one else in his quietly panicking clan was privy to.

In the summer sunshine Madara’s smile was a sweet thing, hard earned and beautiful in the quicksilver moments when they weren’t bickering over something. He did enjoy their frequent battles of wit but there was a different feeling to knowing that Madara was smiling for him, happy to be there with him, amused at something he had said. Long since given up on denying himself, Tobirama wondered if everyone else fell in love with their soulmates this quickly. Barely more than a year had passed since they began meeting regularly and already it felt as though he had known Madara for a lifetime.  

Surrender and selfishness, he had discovered, tasted like freedom. Dangerous and addictive. Time with Madara was stolen from things he should have been doing like training or helping Hashirama read through the clan records in search of some useless nugget of information to back up some unimportant argument. He did do the important things still, of course. Madara couldn’t be his whole life. Yet for all the hours he spent acting the perfect Senju son, at least half of them were abuzz with thoughts of how long Madara’s hair was getting and how much he wanted to braid it through with flowers just to mock him for looking like a girl. Softness between them was always offset with something else, afraid of facing the truth hidden in their words.

Although it was possible that reason was only on his part. Tobirama watched Madara from the corner of his eye, listening to him ramble on about something annoying Izuna had done and the sweet revenge of dunking him in the koi pond. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know if Madara felt the same longing that he did.

They could never truly be together, after all. What would be the point?

-

Autumn had covered the riverbank with a dewy blanket of colorful leaves the evening they first kissed. Tobirama choked on the lecture he’d been giving his soulmate on why it was stupid not to wear armor in battle, fingers tightening on the bandages they were tying around a bloodied arm. They broke apart when the action caused Madara to flinch.

“Oi! Careful of the goods!” he admonished. Tobirama blinked at him.

“You kissed me.”

“And you tried to take my arm off for it! See if I do it again!”

Tobirama flailed internally – and maybe a little bit externally as well. “What!? I never asked you to kiss me!”

“Good! I’m not gonna anymore!” Madara scrunched up his nose in a jeer and Tobirama felt his blood boiling, though it was hard to tell if he was angry or excited or some other strange emotion in between.

“Well – well – take this!”

Jerking forward before the other had a chance to dodge him, Tobirama crushed their mouths together again and poured everything he had in to a kiss that rather quickly turned much steamier than he had intended. All he’d been trying to do was make a point. What kind of point he had no idea as it was lost from his mind immediately when Madara’s teeth nipped at his lower lip.

Sixteen years old, feeling like he had stolen a bit of happiness just for his own, Tobirama held tight to the sleeve of Madara’s robes and promised himself that the world would have to make him let go.  

-

“You’re not sad at all?” Madara asked for the eighth time. The very concept of not loving one’s own father seemed to baffle him, for all that he wasn’t exactly close to his own. Tobirama shrugged.

“No, we knew this day was coming. He was sick and now he’s dead. Hashirama will take his place and I will support him. There’s nothing to be sad about, really.” Uninterested in the conversation, Tobirama rather pointedly leaned over against his companion’s shoulder. Perhaps if he smiled the way Madara liked he might earn himself another kiss.

But no, instead his statement was met with a heavily exasperated sigh and a hand pushing him away. Tobirama narrowed his eyes. Separation simply wouldn’t do, not when he had spent the better part of an hour figuring out a distraction to keep Hashirama occupied so he could slip out to this meeting. After all that effort he deserved all the attention and contact he wanted. Or at least that was his opinion and, since he wasn’t often given to caring for other people’s opinion, his was the one that mattered the most.

Ignoring the protesting squawks from beside him, Tobirama dodged underneath the shoving arms and fell sideways until his upper body was cradled in Madara’s lap. He allowed himself a smug chuckle when he was not immediately flung across the clearing. Very few people could claim this level of familiarity with the boy underneath him and even fewer could get away with this unharmed. Other than himself there was probably only one other person who wouldn’t be risking death and that was only because Izuna was the last surviving sibling.

“Talk about something that isn’t boring,” he demanded. “I’m sick to death of talking about Butsuma.”

“Alright, how about we talk about your brother?” Madara huffed down at him.

“Ugh.”

“Why haven’t you told him about us? I understood when it was your father in charge but Hashirama would understand. You know damn well the first official thing he’s going to do is pitch the idea of a peace treaty.” Running fingers absently through Tobirama’s hair, Madara glared down at him, his expression in direct contrast with the gentleness of his touch.

Tobirama chewed on his lower lip. “But what’s the point of having one side behind us and not the other? You could never leave your clan – and I would never ask you to. So if there’s no chance that your father will see reason…”

“Hn. I see your point.”

Slowly sitting up again, Tobirama carefully balanced himself on one knee to throw the other one over his partner’s lap. When he had settled himself he leaned forward to wrap both arms around Madara’s neck and bury his face against the smooth skin there. Seventeen wasn’t very old in civilian terms but in shinobi years he was already approaching his prime. In this world they both understood that there were no guarantees that either of them would live to see tomorrow and yet what scared him the most was not the idea of dying, it was the idea of waiting out the rest of his life without Madara by his side.

When Madara began petting his hair again he hummed and burrowed deeper in protest of whatever the other was about to say.

“So…it’s going to be tough. And I can’t believe I’m about to say this but…my father won’t live forever either, you know?” Those words froze him in place but a hand cupping the back of his head kept his still as Madara went on. “If there’s no other options left then we play the long game. Some way, somehow, it might take years, but we’ll get to be together. Properly, I mean. When I’m clan Head we’ll make peace and we’ll build that village and then you and I? We’re gonna take the world by storm.”

Tobirama slowly opened his eyes, looking out at the world around them through the curtain of Madara’s wild hair, listening to the blood thunder in his ears.

“Sounds nice,” he admitted quietly.

“You’ll wait with me, right?”

“Forever,” Tobirama whispered. “For as long as it takes.”

Madara held him tighter and said nothing; they had already said everything they needed to. What they had was forbidden, it had gone from unwanted to the most precious part of their lives, and it was the biggest secret they had never told. It was something neither of them asked for but it was theirs and it was time they admitted they were willing to fight for it.

Some battles were fought with blood and steel. Others were fought with time and patience. Tobirama smiled to himself as he felt the tension draining out of his shoulders. If that was all it took then he was ready. He could be very patient.

[fiction-queen-blog]

(Naruto) Hogwarts AU

Genre:Magical, supernatural, comedy, action Main-pairing: Narusasu Read previous chapters on: Fanfiction.net or AO3

Chapter 20 The Red House

Sasuke Uchiha was sitting on top of a mountain hill, looking down on a village that was so far away that it appear so small it could fit in the teen's hand. He could see the locals walking around the shops looked like ants to the Uchiha. A bit further away from the village was a hill where a unique red house was situated. It had a small wooden barn build next to it and right behind it laid a barrier of trees, indicating the forest that was physical boarder, separating the wizarding village from the muggles lurking outside. Sasuke wondered who lived inside the red house, it was bigger than the surrounding houses, but it still looked just as cosy as Obito's two bedroom house.

The sun was setting and a breeze made the branches of the tree, where Sasuke was leaning on, shake, causing a bunch of cherry blossom paddles to move with the wind and fall towards the village. Sasuke opened his hand where one of the light pink flowers fell right on to. He smiled softly, closing the palm of his hand before opening it again. The flower inside was now dried out and dead.

The Uchiha's smile faded and he ditched the dead flower before looking back at the village. Shops and stands were closing, people were making their way back home.

"You did always ran up here when you were feeling angry," A voice came from next to Sasuke. The young Uchiha looked up at the man he recognised slightly. He seemed to be in his late teens, he wore a black cloak and a mask covering the upper half of his face.

"It's you…You came in my dream once before," Sasuke whispered. He remembered the odd dream he had once in his second year of Hogwarts. One where he was woken up abruptly by Suigetsu. It was a long time ago, but it was such an odd dream that Sasuke didn't forget about it. He looked away from the stranger and hugged his legs while leaning his chin on his knees.

"You must be my conscious or something….In my head you sound more like Obito," Sasuke commented. The stranger chuckled softly and sat down, leaning his back on the big tree trunk. A silence emerged, Sasuke turned his head around, assuming the masked man was looking at the landscape like he was, but his eyes were on him the entire time.

"You're not at Hogwarts," the stranger announced, Sasuke wasn't sure if he was asking any questions or if he was stating a fact.

"My conscious shouldn't be asking me questions that has nothing to with my morals," Sasuke noted.

"I'm your…Dream-pall. Dream-palls aren't up to date with everything going on with your life." The man said, "but we want to."

Sasuke scoffed and leaned back, "Have I become so pathetic my brain subconsciously made an imaginary friend?"

The man cracked a smile, but started coughing all of the sudden. He covered his mouth in his elbow. Sasuke could see a hint of blood on the stranger's lip before he wiped it off quickly.

"You're ill," Sasuke noted. "My imaginary friend is dying."

He lowered his gaze to the grass and sighed, thinking of Haku.

"Much like my real ones…." He muttered under his breath. "There is so much going on. So many people I want to protect, but it's beyond me. I don't know what is going on or what I am doing…Meantime I know something is wrong and it isn't safe…And…I am not strong enough…I can't do anything."

"There is a lot wrong with the wizarding community as it is right now. There is no denying that," The stranger said.

"There the whole Jinchuriki thing, the pure-blood hagiarchy I don't understand, there is the Akatsuki, the Death Eaters and there is my lunatic brother out there trying to kill me! Meanwhile, I have no idea who I can trust! I didn't trust Neji and then he risked his life protecting the person I care about while I should be trusting The Ministry who didn't do jack shit!" Sasuke raised his voice angerly.

"Not to mentioned I am afraid I am not good enough and I am disappointing everybody. I was supposed to be this protégé! But I am barley an average wizard. Then there are my friends who I don't know how to talk to anymore without being a total bummer and I broke up with the person I love deeply and now I don't even know how to be in the same room with him without feeling like…Without feeling like…" Sasuke gritted his teeth, clenching his fist.

"Feeling like what?" The masked man asked calmly.

"A coward!" Sasuke shouted after struggling to admit it, the words echoed before fading away. Sasuke could feel a hand gently grab his shoulder.

"I don't think you are a cowards, Sasuke" The man said in a suiting voice. "You are just a kid. None of this should have been part of your life….But life doesn't look at age or fairness for that matter." The man sat closer, wrapping his arms around Sasuke to hug and comfort him.

"The many mistakes made by the previous generations are now the problems of this generation. The wars that were fought, the broken system, the fear people live in-"

"You're not comforting!" Sasuke snapped, trying to break free from the stranger's grip, but the man just pulled him back in.

"But I believe you can return peace to the wizarding world and bring and end to the dark ages."

Sasuke pushed himself now effectively away from the stranger, giving the man an angry look.

"Did you not see me get my ass kicked? What kind of Dream-pall are you?!" Sasuke hissed, "I've been in a coma for three months! I almost died by the hands of my brother who slaughter an elite clan of wizards and witches by himself! He was thirteen! I am thirteen?! All I can do is almost die!" Sasuke shouted. "Believe me, I would have died if it weren't for Tobi-fucking-rama. Now I have to be grateful to him and I don't freaking like him! Why couldn't they just let me die! I didn't have to deal with all of this." Sasuke glared back at the man, "I didn't have to deal with you!"

"I never said you had to do it alone," the stranger said, a small grin spread across his face when he looked into the distance. Sasuke looked at what the man was staring at and saw that he was looking at the red house, the one that had caught Sasuke's attention too when he first saw the sight. It seemed the stranger knew who lived in the house and somehow seemed to link that person to Sasuke. The young Uchiha gave the man a strange look, not fully understanding his concept.

"Magic is all about balance," the man spoke, "Darkness and light. Yin and Yang. The moon and the sun. You can call it whatever you like. I think the power you look for is the power to compliment yours…To complete it." The man explained, bringing his hands together as an illustration.

"Some of the most powerful wizards came in duos. Ashura and Indra, Slytherin and Gryffindor, Hashirama and Madara..."

Sasuke was thinking deeply before looking back at the masked man.

"Hashirama is still around. Why can't he do it if your theory is correct. " Sasuke asked.

"Hashirama isn't Hashirama without Madara," The man spoke, confusing Sasuke so much he couldn't voice his thought. He just glared at the stranger.

"You'll get it," The man assured him.

"You believe I am next in line?" Sasuke scoffed.

The stranger didn't say much as he picked up the dead flower from the ground before the wind swooped it off his palm. Sasuke stared at it realising what the man was telling him.

"You think I am the darkness? The Ashura, Slytherin and Madara of this equation?" The young Uchiha looked offended.

The stranger cracked a smile. It seemed he knew something Sasuke did not and it amused him.

"Time will give you the answer, Sasuke." The man said, getting up from the grass. "I don't think you need to wait very long." He said, looking down the hill.

"I'm glad to have spoken to you, Sasuke." The man said disappearing in a black fog, leaving a confused Sasuke behind.

"W-wait!" He shouted trying to grab the man, but he wasn't fast enough. "Are you real?!" Sasuke shouted, getting up from the ground and looking around him for the stranger. "Where you the one who wrote me that note! Who are you!?"

Sasuke could hear his voice echo around, and it seemed he was all alone once again. He looked around at the village, looking back at the red house.

Who lived there?

Sasuke's eyes shot open and he almost head bumped Obito in the face before screaming and rolling off the couch on to the floor. He could hear laughter coming from Kakashi, but Sasuke couldn't laugh at all. He rubbed his head that had hit the floor and sat up, looking at his surroundings. He was in the living room. He had probably fallen asleep on the couch again, it has become a habit to take a one or two hours nap in the afternoon.

"Are you alright?" Obito asked helping Sasuke up from the floor.

"yes, just…startled," he admitted. "You were hovering over me, you scared me."

"I was putting a blanket around you. You looked cold," Obito said, throwing the blanket on the couch now.

"It is mid Augustus, Obito? It is 25 degrees Celsius outside. Who is cold?" Sasuke commented.

"You were shaking a little, I just thought you had bad dream or something." Kakashi noted, he was sitting on the dining table, finishing his cup of tea before putting it down. Sasuke was about to tell him about his dream and the strange masked man, but something caught his eye. He saw a third cup of tea on the table.

"Did somebody came over?" Sasuke asked, pointing at the third used cup.

"You have Obito's observation skills" Kakashi said, "But you do have my sense of humour."

"Stop acting like we are a nuclear family!" Sasuke raised his voice slightly.

"Your vice principle visited-"

Sasuke's eyes widened by Obito's words.

"- we were going to wake you, but you were too sweet to wake up" Obito pinched Sasuke's cheek, causing the young Uchiha to look annoyed.

"Those were Tobirama's words, paraphrased." Kakashi lied sarcastically.

"It wasn't anything too important. Just about your return to Hogwarts. Really boring actually."

Sasuke nodded, not wanting to ask any more questions and not caring for any answers right now. He sighed. The end of the summer break was nearing, in two weeks the new school year would begin. He had been spending his summer break catching up with Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but they were his most boring subjects. His summer hadn't been the usual fun it was, but Kakashi and Obito made his rather dull life bearable. All the rest he got did made him recover almost fully, but he still didn't feel the same as he had before the battle of Hogsmeade. At this point he wasn't sure if that came from injury or if it was a mental state he was in.

"I spoke to Minato yesterday," Kakashi started a conversation, he waved his wand and a cup of hot tea appeared in front of Sasuke. The Uchiha stared at the steam before holding the cup. It seemed all the cups in the house had some moving dog picture on them now. They were awful, but…Kakashi liked them and Obito didn't protest. Kakashi was talking about his meeting and it appeared the only one who was listening was Obito. Sasuke glared at the moving dog on the cup that then ran off to the back of his mug, but it was when his name was mentioned that he looked up and saw both Kakashi and Obito look at him.

"What?" Sasuke asked, taking a sip from his tea.

"Why did you tell Mr Namikaze you weren't allowed to go to The Quidditch World Cup?" Obito asked. Sasuke's eyes widened, it seemed his lie had finally caught up with him. It turns out Karin had persuade her uncle enough to convince him to get involved anyway.

"I just didn't want to go. Too crowded." Sasuke quickly said, "I sort of used you as an excuse to not come off ungrateful," he added, looking at his foster dad.

"Really?" Kakashi asked, "You couldn't shut up about The Fire Ferrets and The Lighting Panthers during my classes."

The Fire Ferrets were the national Quidditch club and most of the team consisted of graduates of Hogwarts. As for the Lighting Panthers, they were an oversees team where mostly graduates of Ivermory had made the team. It made the match not only between two countries, but also between two top notch wizarding schools.

"Because the Lighting Panthers are going to crush the Fire Ferrets because they have the fastest seeker in history. Darui has caught the snitch every game till now! He is unbeatable! The Fire Ferrets have to change strategy, but noooo~ they put their fate in Hoheto Hyuuga, who despite having the Byakugan lost two matches! He has nothing against Darui's speed! Sure he might spot the snitch faster, but who is going to actually catch it – I tell you who- Darui!"

Sasuke sunk down his chair and folded his arms.

"But…Whatever…Naruto is still rooting for them and their faulty formation." He added and sighed deeply.

"You seem very passionate about Quak-isch-"

"Quidditch!" Both Kakashi and Sasuke shouted at once when Obito mispronounce the name of the popular wizarding sport.

"I am not telling to go if you don't want it" Obito said, "But if it were me, I would take the opportunity to go watch a Word Cup with my friends. It does seem like a once in a life-time opportunity. Besides, I trust the Uzumakis. They are good people."

"Minato and Kushina are taking a lot of wizard and witches living in the muggle world: Sakura, Lee, Ino and Tenten. I think Kiba and Hana are even tagging along with the Uzumakis-"

Sasuke was about to interrupt him, but Kakashi indicated he wasn't finished talking.

"I know you don't care about that, but just imagine...Poor Karin, dealing with all these morons on her own. She is going to crack if she can't whisper her insults and sarcastic remarks to her dear friend."

Kakashi made a good point. Karin and Suigetsu had been standing right by Sasuke's side through his difficult period. Even away from Hogwarts the two hadn't failed to write him almost every day with the latest gossips and happenings. Suigetsu was going to go with both his dads, leaving Karin to sit among all of Naruto's close, idiotic, friends she could barley bare.

"That is true…" Sasuke said. "But it is rather late now. I don't want to bother the Uzumakis last minute-"

The fire of the fire place lit up and both Sasuke and Obito jumped out of their chairs. Obito pushed Sasuke behind him and it was just when the fire cleared up that they recognised the two adults entering the room.

"Good evening," Minato said, dusting his clothes off.

Both Obito and Sasuke turned their heads to Kakashi who sat there with an smug look on his face.

"Convincing you took me a little more time than expected." Kakashi got up and pushed Obito away before grabbing Sasuke and pushing him towards the fire place. Sasuke bumped into Kushina who quickly grabbed him by his shoulders before he could lose his balance and fall down. Sasuke turned himself around, looking confused towards Kakashi who whipped his wand out and made Sasuke's backpack appear out of thin air. He pushed it in Sasuke's arm before shooing inside the fire place.

"I am so glad you could pick him up! He's all packed and excited!" Kakashi quickly said to the Minato as he grabbed a hand full off floo powder and threw it right at Sasuke's face, forcing the young Uchiha to shut his eyes and cough.

"Have a great stay with the Uzumakis, you little cock-blocker" He said to sasuke

"Wait-what?! NO!-" Sasuke tried to protest, but it was too late. The green flames lit up around him and he was being sucked down a giant drain. He felt like he was spinning around very fast, the roar in his ears was deafening, he tried to open his eyes and all he could see were green light behind his teary eyes, something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning. The next thing he knew he fell face first on the hard wooden ground that was now covered in ash.

"Dear, are you alright?" He felt Kushina grab him by his upper arm and pull him easily up with one arm. "You're covered in ash, ya know." She licked her thumb and was rubbing a grey spot on Sasuke's cheek. Sasuke backed off and turned his head around to the fire place.

"I have to go back!" Sasuke said almost panicking.

"Did you forget something?" Minato asked calmly, stepping out of the fireplace. He didn't look as dirty as Sasuke had. There was probably a certain skill required to come out spotless…Or perhaps…Kakashi throwing the powder in Sasuke's face caused him to be the most dirty out of the three.

"No, but Kakashi is making to moves on my foster dad!" Sasuke said seriously, "I have to stop him before he...He becomes…Foster dad number two…Dear God no…He would want to be called papa" He whispered imagining the scenario. In his head he could picture his nightmare and he had to shake his head to push the thought away. No wonder Kakashi was pushing him to leave. It had nothing to do with Sasuke or the 'once in a lifetime opportunity'. He just wanted Sasuke out of the picture to get some alone time with Obito. Of course, he shouldn't have expected anything less from his former teacher. He was the former head of Slytherin house and clearly was capable of manipulating anybody around him.

Kushina and Minato were both laughing at Sasuke's words. They didn't seem to take his concerns too seriously. Minato eventually calmed him down by asking if Kakashi had even the slightest shot…He made a good point. Sasuke came to a less panicking state and he grabbed his backpack from the ground, dusting it off.

"That foolish Kakashi again, He didn't even send us to the right fire place, ya know!" Kushina complained to Minato. She indicated to the pub they were in, but nobody seemed to batch an eye at the three suddenly appearing form a fire place. It was like it was the most normal thing to these people.

"Blessing in disguise, Kushina. An evening walk is always nice. Besides," Minato turned to Sasuke, "I don't think Sasuke wants to use the floo network again for a while."

Sasuke nodded as he still tasted ash in his mouth. He looked around him and saw a rather crowded pub with all its costumers being witches and wizards. He followed Kushina and Minato outside of the pub where the pleasant night breeze hit his face.

"It is only a small walk from here," Kushina assured him, "then you can take a bath and we can have dinner. All your friend have already come this morning."

Sasuke didn't respond to this. In his entire life he only had made two friends; Karin Uzumaki and Suigetsu Hozuki. It seemed Kushina somehow assumed all of Naruto's friends that were invited by the Uzumakis to the Quidditch World Cup, where also his. That, of course, was far from the truth.

"This is the first time in the wizarding village, isn't it?" Minato asked, seeing Sasuke look around him. The place felt so familiar. He looked over his shoulder at the view of the mountain hills, on top of a rather big one stood a big tree, a tree that looked too familiar to Sasuke.

"It is really amazing. It is different from where muggle lives but also sort of similar. You should stay over longer some time. Then you can really see. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, we will have to wake up very early to use a portkey towards the Quidditch stadium. We will be staying there after the match and take a portkey back first thing in the morning.

"What's a portkey?" Sasuke asked.

"Wizards who cannot Apparate, you know, dematerialise and reappear at will, who wish to travel by daylight, meaning that broomsticks, Thestrals, flying cars and dragons are inappropriate, or whose destination has no fireplace, rendering Floo powder useless, will have to resort to the use of a Portkey. Almost any inanimate object can be turned into a Portkey. Once bewitched-"

"Bla bla bla!" Kushina interrupted her husband, "I love you and I married you, hell, we have a child together, but honestly this is not your essay in the Goblin Wars, ya know!" She turned to Sasuke, "It is just and object that you touch and it brings you to your destination. That's is it." She informed Sasuke.

"May I remind you, you stole my essay on the Goblin Wars." Minato said with a bitter expression on his face that did not go unnoticed. "If it weren't for my essay you would have failed History of magic. So…You're welcome." Minato said, grinning towards his wife.

"Oh right," Kushina wrapped her arm around Minato, "If it weren't for me you would have been the next 30-year old virgin."

"40 year old virgin." Sasuke corrected the movie reference Kushina tried to use.

"Yeah or a fifty year old one!" Kushina said, it appeared she had no intention of referencing a movie.

"You're welcome!" She said while laughing. Minato seemed to quickly accept defeat, but this didn't seem to bother him at all. He shared a smile with his wife.

They walked up the hill and further away from the wizarding village. When they reached the top, Sasuke looked surprised when he saw the red house from his dream. It was much bigger up close. The lights were on and Sasuke could hear laughter coming from inside.

"Welcome to the Uzumaki mansion," Minato said, indicating to the red-bricked-mansion. There was a huge landscape surrounding the house and there was wooden barn situated in it.

"Make your self at home, dear" Kushina added. They were about to walk on the three steps, leading to the front door. However, the door swung open and Sasuke felt his heart skip a beat when his eyes locked immediately with Naruto's. His mouth was open, like he was about to say something excitedly towards his parents but was struck silence when he saw Sasuke.

Both fell silence, staring like at one another like neither of them could believe the other was standing right in front of them.

"Sasuke," Naruto spoke a smile appearing on his face.

"Hey…I came…" Sasuke said, looking awkwardly away from the intense blue eyes. Naruto jumped forward and embraced Sasuke tightly. The young Uchihas cheeks heated up and he carefully wrapped his arms around Naruto.

"I'm so glad to see you, dattebayo!"

"Me too."

[hiruma-musouka]

Okay, I've been reading the otherworldly comics of charminglyantiquated and all I've got going through my head is like this AU where Senju family lives close to the border of a forest. A deep woods, where the further in you travel, the stranger and more otherworldly things seem. Don't leave the path, Butsuma tells his sons, and don't look twice at the things you see. Their mother tells them of tricks to ward off any unwanted attention; salt water, iron, bamboo blossoms are said to repel them...

Lavender allowed them to find you easier, and their mother destroyed any lavender plants found growing near the home. Butsuma take his boys out into the woods only once when they’re older. He shows them the burn marks on the trees and the ground. He points out the sweet smell of camellia that lingers in the air even with no flowers around. He tells his boys that in these woods wanders spirits, beings born of fire and heat and smoke. They will lure you in with innocent guises, human at first…

glance. If you look deeper, though, you can see the fires in their eyes and the smoke in their hair and the burn of embers under their skin. Do not ask anything of them, he tells his boys, not even their name. For they will ask things in return, and will not stop asking until they have everything that you are. Do not look into their eyes, he tells them, for their eyes can strip you of the world around you, until only they remain as the single, solid point in all of existence. Most…

importantly, he tells them, do not love them, and do not seek out their love. For if they give it to you, they will never let you go, and you will never return from the forest. So the Senju brothers grow up, with their mother sewing charms into their clothes and their father forcing iron tools into their hands until they stank of metal. Hashirama had a close encounter, once, with a boy-child like heat and fire and smoke, but Butsuma chased the boy away with bamboo flowers. Tobirama had always…

been drawn to the forest, though. It was deep, and dark, and held more secrets than even his books could teach him. He’d followed Butsuma out that day, when his father had chased the boy away. He’d looked into eyes like fire and those eyes haunted his dreams, taunting him with all that he did not know. So he’d looked through all the books he could find. He’d found their name (“… the Uchiha, a fire spirit who prizes feelings of love and passion above all else…”) and what they were (“it’s…

… thought that Uchiha are born from the fire that ignites from trees struck by lightning…”). He spends years searching for every scrap of information he can find until, finally, he packs his bags and sets out into the deep woods. Hashirama, Kawarama and Itama are all still asleep in their beds, and he feels bad that he didn’t leave them more than a note, but curiosity gnaws at him, a siren call that invades his dreams with dark eyes like fire and dark hair like smoke and skin like embers…

Tobirama steps into the woods, and then he steps off the path even as he leaves a trail of brightly colored string behind him. He sees things that his father warned him of, things that twist in the corner of his eye, burns on trees and rocks that smell of camellia with no flowers around. Eyes follow him, but he ignores them. Tobirama comes across a clearing. A man who is not a man greets him, with eyes like fire, hair like smoke, skin like embers, and a smirk like a secret. (Sorry for the spam!)

No need to apologize, I thought this was fun to read. (You might enjoy icarus_chained‘s works, btw.) Have a short story as thanks for the inspiration.

Title: gleam as mosses and fireflies do [AO3 link]

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: There are spirits that live in the woods. If you manage to see them as themselves, they will burn as bright and as beautiful as stars and hope and adventure and pyres. They might look like you, talk like you, and even love like you, but remember to be careful.

“That’s foolish of him,”Hikaku murmurs, flashing from his hiding spot inside a berry bush to underneatha tree root as he observes the white-haired human leaving the path and headinginto the forest.

Izuna laughs quietly, voicecrackling like burning leaves. “Foolish humans are the best kind of human,Hikaku. Although this one isn’t quite stupid enough, I think.”

Hikaku’s red flame flickers inquestion from the root shadow he’s hidden in and Izuna slides out of his hidingspot in the canopy. His black smoke curls down the tree trunk, purple embersflashing in the darkness of the night as the older spirit surges over theforest floor, slipping through shadows until he reaches the point where thehuman had left the road. Hikaku follows in his wake, dimming his own brightnessfrom brush-fire to candle flame and quickly hiding the remainder of his lightwithin the protection of Izuna’s smoke as he follows his elder out from underthe concealing cover of the bushes.

The human doesn’t appear to havenoticed them yet. He’s still walking onwards, a ball of bright blue threadunraveling steadily in his wake.

“Look Hikaku,” Izunahisses, nudging his cousin with a lick of flame. Once Hikaku’s attentionshifts, Izuna reaches out towards the thread at the edge of the path with atendril of transparent smog. He curls around it, igniting a purple flame withinthe muffling haze of his body.

The thread, rather than burning asit rightfully should, begins to let off a small amount of steam.

“Ahhh,” Hikaku whispers,“the human soaked the thread in salt-water to keep spirits from destroyingit.”

“Or untying it,” Izunaadds, motioning towards the end of the thread where it’s knotted tightly arounda loop of cold iron that’s stabbed deep into the road itself. “Come on, weneed to find Madara!”

“Shouldn’t we follow the maninstead?” Hikaku questions futilely as Izuna flows upward in a whirlingrush.

Hikaku sighs, forgoing Izuna’spath back up into the heights of the tree branches and diving down into theearth instead, following the ashy trails of burned roots and incinerated leaflitter that had been created by other Uchiha in the years and centuries before.

Hikaku might not be small enoughto be a ground fire - he’ll break the surface and become visible if he evertries to burn a new ground route himself - but he’s also not a firestorm likeMadara or a major wildfire like Izuna. Unlike the brothers who are just too massiveto move through the ground without ruining years of work, Hikaku can squeezehimself through the paths very quickly as long as he’s careful.

“—want to do?” Hikakuhears Izuna ask somewhere above him as he surfaces near the edge of a clearingflooded with Madara’s heat waves. Hikaku glances around to be doubly sure thatthe red-eyed human isn’t within range to see him and then rises up, shootinginto the canopy of the giant lightning-struck sequoia tree that both Madara andIzuna call home.

Madara hums thoughtfully atIzuna’s question, resting in human form on a thick tree branch with his backagainst the trunk as he cradles a blanket full of soft orange fire. Izuna’ssooty form pools over his brother’s outstretched legs, purple flames burningstronger and brighter and more freely within the thick, comforting protectionsof their birth-tree as he waits for his brother’s response.

“How old is the human?”Madara asks, eyes narrowed into the distance. Red swirls in his dark pupils ashe reaches out, brushing his power against different members of his kin andbriefly sharing their vision as he tries to catch sight of the human wanderingin their forest.

The new babe - Kagami, Hikakuthinks he was named - whimpers as the ambient energy flow changes with Madara’stechnique. He shifts restlessly in the older male’s arms, but the firestormspirit just tosses his own head roughly, throwing his hair over his shoulder soit brushes the boy’s skin.

Hikaku flickers uncertainly, aboutto offer to hold the young spirit if Madara needs to concentrate, but Kagamicoos happily. The little thing reaches out with licks of orange light, flamesbatting fruitlessly at Madara’s long black hair, and in fits and starts thetiny fire spirit pulls himself into human form so he can wind chubby handsaround Madara’s hair.

“I think he’s less thantwenty?” Izuna offers thoughtfully, smoke wafting up and out as he expandsseveral feet outward before compressing back down into the body of ablack-haired human that looks similar to his brother. “He smells difficult- iron on his skin and water in his soul - and he isn’t utterly stupid orignorant since he’s using soaked string to find his way back, but we couldprobably consume him with careful effort. Kagami could definitely use somethingsubstantial to feed on so that he can catch fire properly, and young humanlives burn so brightly, don’t you think? They’re much more vivid than theirelders.”

“I think I found… oh,”Madara breathes, blinking in surprise before an interested smirk crosses hislips. “I know this one.”

“You do?” Izuna perksup, shuffling sideways to get closer and ignoring his brother’s disgruntledcomplaints at having a full grown man sitting on his thighs. The wildfirespirit slips a hand under Madara’s long bangs, pressing his palm gently overhis brother’s right eye and holding his other hand over his own matching eye.

“What are you seeing that Ididn’t see?” Izuna asks, piggybacking off Madara’s borrowed sight toreexamine the man. “We haven’t had humans come in the woods from the eastin ages except for travelers, and I hadn’t thought any of those had caught yourattention before.”

“He’s a Senju,” Madaraexplains, affectionate exasperation and irritation in his voice as he stares upat his brother. Izuna freezes at the news, and Madara deftly grabs Izuna’sponytail away from a tiny waving hand, bouncing Kagami in his arms to distractthe pouting fire whirl from his lost potential plaything.

“A Senju,” Izunasavors slowly, a dark, hungry smirk sliding onto his face. “Well now… Ihad thought the man just ran across one of your trails or something and thatwas why he had a faint imprint of your mark on his heart. Are you saying thatone caught sight of you years ago instead?”

He runs his hand across Madara’sforehead, brushing aside his brother’s smoke-filled hair to reveal pale skinand old, shiny pink scars. Hikaku shifts his attention away from thefirestorm’s face as Madara’s fists tighten in Kagami’s blankets, but Izuna’ssmile just gets cheerful and sharp as a sheathed blade as he touches thedamaged skin.

“A Senju is perfect, Madara.They owe us, after all,” Izuna murmurs, tracing a fingertip aroundthe familiar bamboo blossom scars left on his brother’s face. It’s a real pitythat that human father had managed to escape their forest all those years agoafter throwing that damnable so-called sacred plant at Madara. Now therewas a human who had definitely deserved to be burned alive. It’s infuriatingthat he had managed to get himself and his brat of a son across running waterbefore any of their surface fire kin had caught up to him. He had deservedto be caught in an eye of fire and have his world stripped away until all thatwas left were the purest parts of him.

What kind of man attacked a kidjust for wanting to speak with and play with his son? Madara had been weirdfor being interested in a human boy, but asking questions and being friendly isno reason to come up and immediately assault someone!

Damn humans always have the mostviolent societies. If they’re all like that then it’s no wonder why the fewhumans who fall in love with an Uchiha never want to return to their homes.Izuna certainly wouldn’t return if he was in their place. Although…

“I thought the brat youplayed with once had been a brunet that smelled like iron and wood?”Izuna muses, letting Madara’s hair fall back to shade his face.

His older brother gives him asharp look. “He was, and don’t start getting vindictive, Izuna: this is adifferent human.”

“If it’s a different human,why do you recognize him?” Izuna chirps sweetly.

“Because I saw himhiding right before that man recognized what I was, now don’t do anything!”Madara orders, shifting Kagami to one arm and shoving his plotting brother offhis legs and onto the branch so he can get up. “Actually here, you need tohold Kagami anyway.”

“Wait, why me!” Izunasquawks, trying not to fumble the baby as Madara gently shoves the fire whirlspirit into his arms before coaxing the kid to let go of his hair. “Ithought you were supposed to be holding him today! I did it yesterday. Itshould definitely be Hikaku’s responsibility next if you’re skiving off early.”

“Except you’re better thanHikaku at holding a solid human form and someone has to cradle the boyat all times. He’s certainly not going to get the hand of turning human if theground fires try and teach him - their energy is nothing like a fire whirl.Besides—” Madara grins at him “—this will keep you too occupied tobutt in while I go investigate.”

“We should burn the Senju forfuel, Madara,” Izuna argues. “Madara. Madara!”

Izuna twitches as his stubborn assof a brother bursts into thick smoke, falling to the forest floor in a swirl ofashes and blue fire before reforming to walk across the nearby clearing.

“My brother is a stubbornidiot. I love him dearly, but he is a stubborn, optimistic idiot. Why ishe such an ass, Hikaku?” Izuna asks rhetorically, cradling Kagami’s headand wincing as the kid yanks violently on his hair. It’s really not fair thatthe boy never yanks on Madara’s hair. As far as Izuna’s concerned, his brotherabsolutely deserves to have his hair yanked on.

“I don’t think he can helpit,” HIkaku offers lightly, moving further down the branch as aprecautionary measure. “It seems like being an ass is something of adominant trait in this branch of our family.”

It had been wise to move. Hikakumight be one of the fastest fire spirits among the Uchiha, but even with theadvantage of the extra distance Izuna’s foot still nearly went through him.

“Just you watch,Hikaku,” Izuna promises with a handsome smile that foretells nothing buttrouble, “as soon as Kagami’s flames catch hold properly and he doesn’tneed our energy as kindling I’m going to teach him so many fun things.You’re going to love it. You’ll be perfect for demonstrations.”

“Don’t you think that’s adisproportionate response?” Hikaku asks weakly, flames shrinking down tothe size of a firefly at the thought.

Izuna just pats Kagami on theback, from all appearances in a much better mood as he gets to his feet andstarts carefully jumping between branches, maneuvering into a better positionto watch out for his brother.

… Hikaku should have kept hismouth shut. He really should have.

[AO3 link]

[sumigakure]

Photogenic

Fanfiction, A03, Original Post

Rating: T, maybe teen plus? Is that a thing?  Words: 2700  Summary:  Halloween party prompt fill. In which Gai dresses as Kakahi and gets all the girls while Genma sulks (but not for too long). Genma/Kakashi pairing implied  Pairing: Genma/Kakashi   Warning: Mild language, Genma warning, implied adult situations  Author’s Note: This is a prompt fill for Sumigakure’s Halloween Event on tumblr. Prompt 10: Halloween Party. It’s not what I planned at all but Genma and Sukea stole the show, so sorry not sorry?

“You can not go as a ninja,” Genma grumbled. “The whole point of Halloween is to be someone different.”

“I’m not just going as any ninja,” Gai said dramatically, spinning in a circle to present his former teammate with a characteristic thumbs up. “I’m a copy of the Copy Ninja.”

For once, Gai had forgone his green jumpsuit in favor of the standard issue jonin blues and green flak vest. The leg weights or leg warmers, Genma was never quite sure which, were missing as well. A matching blue headband slanted over Gai’s left eye while his face hid behind a half mask. Somehow, the jonin had managed to frost his dark hair to silver, and copious amounts of hairspray held it upright. In poor lighting, and with enough alcohol, he might possibly pass for Kakashi. At least, until he opened his mouth.

While Genma had opted for a more tradition costume, he’d gone overboard as usual. Anko had showed him a contouring trick that paled his skin, made his cheekbones more prominent, and drew attention to his hazel eyes. While, make-up wasn’t normally his thing, Genma decided Halloween could be an exception. Both iconic bandana and senbon were missing, which almost never happened, and Genma’s brown hair had been slicked back from his face.

The tokujo toyed with the buttons of his shirt, undoing two, then redoing the lowest. The white fabric hugged his muscles, and the open collar provided a peek at the black choker around his throat. His black pants were tight enough that Genma practically had to shimmy into them, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he could get them back off. But if the night went the way he was planning, that wouldn’t be his problem anyway.

“Kakashi is going to flip when he sees you,” Genma said as he pulled on a deep crimson vest, then a high collared cape. He’d selected one that was short enough to show off his most valuable asset. There would be no point in tight pants if he hid behind a cape. Pearly fangs peeked through Genma’s wine colored lips, and he clicked them together, grinning. These were almost as good as senbon.

Gai paused in the middle of one-legged squats when Genma’s words finally sank home. “You think my eternal rival will challenge me to a contest of flips? We haven’t done that one yet.”

Genma shook his head, not bothering to explain the idiom to the other man. “We’re already late, let’s just go.”

Music reached Genma’s ears long before he found the place the Halloween Party was supposed to be held. Since it had taken him longer to get ready than he’d planned, the room was already full of people. A civilian in an ANBU costume greeted Genma and Gai as soon as they stepped through the door. Genma could tell by the muscle tone of her bared arms that she wasn’t shinobi, but the tightness of her shirt more than made up for that. Perhaps the most surprising thing about her, however, was that she flirted with Gai, rather than Genma. Her hand rested on his arm, and she trilled with laughter over something that Genma was ninety-five percent sure wasn’t funny.

Oh Kami, she really believes it’s Kakashi, Genma realized with a start. He wasn’t about to try and explain the woman’s mistake.

A cursory glance around the room revealed several familiar faces. The hulking mass of werewolf leaning against the wall next to a petite mummy had to be Asuma and Kurenai. Their bodies were far too close for friendship, no matter what they claimed. Anko stood by the drinks, skin green with makeup and red with fake wounds to make her look like a ghoul. At least, Genma thought they were fake; shinobi lead difficult lives, the scars might have been her own. Her outfit, some kind of wrappings that looked like cobwebs, managed to be more revealing than her normal attire.

Extracting Gai from the “ANBU” temporarily, Genma dragged him deeper into the room. As he navigated through the sea of disguised yet recognizable faces, he found himself looking for Kakashi. It wasn’t that Genma had spent extra time getting ready because he thought Kakashi might be here. It definitely wasn’t that Genma wanting the man to see him in something other than his uniform. He just wanted to see the Copy Nin’s face-well his eye-when he saw Gai’s costume. That was all.

Anko grinned at Genma as she handed him a red plastic cup of some sugar laced concoction that was supposed to pass for punch. Her eyes swept over the vampire from head to toe. “You’re almost pretty enough to taste my blood instead of the other way around.”

“Almost,” Genma returned with a chuckle. Though he was rougher than average in the bedroom, he had never understood the woman’s fascination with blood.

Gai huffed in annoyance as he looked at the cup in his hand. “How does my eternal rival manage to drink things?”

“Carefully,” Genma responded absently. His attention was focused on two pretty women who were watching he and Gai from across the room. One was dressed in a skintight, black bodysuit with cat ears nestled in her raven hair, and the other wore a nurse’s outfit like nothing he’d ever seen on a medical nin. If they instituted that uniform, Genma would have allowed himself be injured far more often. “Do you have a preference of the two?” He nodded his chin toward the women while sipping his drink.

Gai’s visible eye moved to the women, then he seemed to realize what Genma was asking. “It’s unfair to pick a favorite. Surely each flower has its own uniqueness.”

To halt the laughter threatening to spill out, Genma drained his cup. Gai certainly didn’t mean flowers in the sense Genma was thinking, but maybe after tonight, he would. The tokujo refilled his cup before leading his friend over to the women. When their eyes drifted past him to Gai, Genma felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Not again.

“You’re the Copy Ninja aren’t you?” Cat giggled as Nurse moved closer to Gai, touching his chest. Gai mumbled some kind of response that sounded vaguely Kakashi-like and the girls laughed again.

“You’re so pretty you don’t even need a costume, do you?” Nurse asked and Genma almost threw up in his mouth.

After ten minutes, he realized that neither woman knew he existed and excused himself to get another drink.

“Aw, are you feeling left out?” Anko purred, moving closer to Genma’s side. “Look at Gai though,” she nodded to where a third woman had joined his harem.

Genma snorted. “How can they really believe he’s Kakashi?” He finished another glass of the fruity, fizzy nonsense Anko was serving.

After sipping her own drink, the woman shrugged. “Because Kakashi isn’t here, and I doubt he would bother with dressing up if he were.”

Anko rolled her eyes, and pointed out some of the better costumes. A painfully pretty “Madara” stood beside a geisha, chatting easily. Near one of the walls, an unfamiliar boy was dressed entirely in brown with his long hair dyed green. Flowers and branches had been worked through it. The best thing Genma could figure was that he was supposed to be a tree. A shock of silver-white hair caught Genma’s attention, and temporarily stopped his heart, but it was only someone pretending to Tobirama, red marks and all.

“Who’s that?” Genma nodded toward a stranger in jeans, a long grey jacket, and a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

Anko shrugged. “Some kind of photographer, I think. He said something about capturing memories for future generation when he came to get a drink.”

The pair watched the man move around the room, easily snapping pictures of couples and individuals. A few men and women paused and struck up a conversation with him, but he gracefully slid away from mos. Even the damn photographer, who hadn’t bothered with a costume, was getting more attention than Genma.

“I want some consideration too. Dammit, I worked hard on this makeup,” Genma sulked. Anko flashed an amused smiled, but wisely didn’t say anything.

The later it got, the rowdier the party became. Kakashi-Gai had half a dozen women around him and the cute photographer was talking with Tree Boy, and it looked an awful lot like flirting to Genma. They stood nearly as close as Asuma and Kurenai has been earlier. Speaking of that, the werewolf and mummy were slumped together in a corner of the room, making out in clear view of everyone. So much for secrets, Genma thought. In fact, several couples were doing the same thing around the room. That seemed a bad idea, but Genma couldn’t remember why and was too busy pouting to bother with it anyway. The man who always had a lover on his arm didn’t even have a prospective, and Kakashi still hadn’t shown up.

For some reason, probably jealousy, Genma’s hazel eyes kept being drawn back to the photographer. He’d moved away from Tree Boy and was leaning against the wall by himself now. Surprisingly, nobody moved in to exploit his time, though he’d hardly been alone all evening.

“Why don’t you just go talk to him. If you stare any harder-” Anko’s face scrunched up as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say, then she giggled.

Genma’s mouth fell open, and he nearly lost his fangs in shock. Anko was capable of a wide range of sounds, from menacing laughter to the edge of insanity chuckle, but giggles weren’t in her arsenal. “What’s gotten into you?” He was terrified of the answer.

Anko stumbled two steps toward the table and refilled her glass. “I may have spiked the punch, just a little bit.”

“How much is a little bit?” Genma glanced at the massive cauldron sized bowl they’d been filling their glasses from.

Anko giggled again, and Genma felt his stomach drop. “A bottle, or two. Maybe three. No more than four.”

That would explain the behavior happening around the room from the frantic making out and the number of couples stumbling out together. The Madara and Tobirama he’d seen earlier were dancing in way that looked more suited to the bedroom than the dance floor. Genma’s eyes widened as far as they would go when he found his former teammate. Gai and Cat girl were making out against a wall and there was far too much enthusiastic hand movements happening. Genma felt his stomach heave, but maybe that was the effects of the alcohol, he’d certainly drank too much.

Since he’d had enough of being alone with Anko and her poisonous drinks, Genma wandered off after throwing his cup away. The photographer stood alone still, surveying the scene around him with a calm demeanor. He probably hadn’t drank as much as everyone else since he was working. As he walked toward the man, Genma put on his most endearing smile. “Do I know you?” That was terrible as far as pickup lines went, but Genma couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Amusement filled the man’s unfamiliar voice. In a rush of overconfidence that was typical of Genma, he pressed closer to the photographer. Close enough for the faint scent of cologne to make his head spin, and to feel the tight muscles in the man’s forearm. “My name’s Sukea, by the way. Can I help you?”

“Do you want to go home with me?” Somehow, the normally smooth lines that were life to Genma fled, and he said the first thing that popped into his mind.

The man laughed, and his dark eyes appraised Genma’s body. While it was slightly uncomfortable, Genma wasn’t intimidated. He hadn’t been cursed with false modesty; he knew he looked good in his costume. “You’re quite forward with someone you’ve just met. You haven’t even offered me a drink yet.”

“Anko spiked the punch,” Genma confided a couple octaves louder than he meant to.

Sukea laughed. “I know, but I think I might need a drink before I let you take me home.”

Genma frowned. Sukea was pretty enough to be tempting, and it didn’t look like Kakashi was going to show up. Why not, whispered the voice that got him in trouble far more often than it helped him. Genma didn’t want all of his hard work on the costume and makeup to be for nothing, after all.

As they turned back toward the table and the drinks, Genma felt a hand ghost across his back then slide lower. Sukea leaned closer to whisper by his ear. “Do you have a pretty boyfriend I need to be worried about? Or girlfriend?”

“Would you be dissuaded if I said yes?” Genma turned back to the man and clicked his fangs together. They weren’t as good as his senbon, but they were fun in a different way. Heat entered the man’s gaze as he followed the movement with dark eyes.

“No,” Sukea chuckled, and it almost sounded familiar. Before Genma could figure out why, the man snaked an arm around his waist and pulled Genma close, pressing their lips together.

Breathlessly, Genma returned the kiss and leaned into Sukea. The hard muscles of the man’s chest met Genma’s, and he groaned in surprise. Another vague thought formed in the back of his mind, something about the fact that this man must work out harder than most shinobi, but Sukea’s skilled fingers caressing Genma’s back chased the thought away.

“I thought you needed a drink,” Genma breathed as they broke apart, his voice trembling slightly. He had been completely unprepared for the kiss, or for the electricity it sparked through his entire body.

“You kiss better than I thought you would,” Sukea growled softly, desire obvious in his voice as he trapped Genma from moving too far away.

Genma chuckled. “Wait until I get you home and show you what else I can do.”

Tugging his hand, Genma led the man from the room. Kakashi doesn’t know what he missed out on, Genma thought as he and Sukea stumbled into his apartment a few minutes later.

The next morning, Genma woke to an empty bed and a pounding headache. Groaning, he tried to recall the previous night, but it came in disconnected snippets. He’d definitely brought Sukea back to his apartment. He vaguely recalled that his fangs had left the man whimpering for more. The pants had been as difficult to get off as Genma feared, but Sukea solved that problem with a kunai. Genma could still see the tatters of black fabric on the floor by the bed, along with the buttons where the man had been impatient to get Genma’s shirt off.

There had been a moment, when they were wrapped around each other that Sukea whispered Genma’s name and he felt a flicker of something inside his chest. There had been multiple times during the night that Genma thought he was figuring something out, but Sukea was a distraction of the best kind and the alcohol made it too difficult for him to remember. Instead, Genma tugged the blankets back around him and fell back to sleep.

It wouldn’t be for another couple of years that Genma saw Sukea again. He, along with Kakashi’s genin, were in trouble for trying to break into the records room. Standing guard outside the Hokage’s office, he saw the man and felt the way that Sukea’s eyes lingered on him.

The hazy memories fit themselves back together like perfect puzzle pieces. The laughter could have only been Kakashi’s, the desperate caress as he whispered Genma’s name now sounded familiar. How it had taken him this long to put two and two together, Genma had no idea. Dark eyes met his, and “Sukea” smiled. Against all odds, Genma blushed and held his silence.

When Genma went back to his apartment later that evening, there was a envelop shoved under the door. A single picture of Genma nestled inside. He was lying in bed, brown hair falling over his eyes, with the sheets tangled around his legs. Though he was obviously undressed beneath the blankets, the photo only exposed his back and arms. It had been captured with just enough light to soften Genma’s features even more than the makeup had. Holding the photograph loosely, the man couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently Kakashi was as good at photography as he was in bed.

[raendown]

Chapter 43

Finally getting back to all these requests that got shoved aside for my Soulmate AU Collection. Latest chapter under the cut, or follow the link to AO3!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Soulmate AU: The one where you have a tattoo somewhere on your body representing what your soulmate is passionate about

There wasn’t a day that went by in the last few years that Madara did not envy his brother. Izuna was blessed with one soul mark, only one, and it was very clear what it was. The naginata that ran down his brother’s arm, handle patterned with flowers, could not have more obviously been a tribute to the crazy woman Touka. Touka was a simple creature whose biggest passion in life was the thrill of battle. Her passion was easy to interpret, as was his own brother’s love for family, manifesting itself as a pair of clasped hands on the bottom of Touka’s left foot.

It was most common for someone to have only one soul mark, advising them in advance what their soulmate’s truest passion would be. It was rarer for a person to manifest two but it was possible. Hashirama had two, a blade on one palm and a heart on the other. Most people’s soul marks developed early on in life while their soulmate grew and realized who they are as a person. In both of these respects Madara was unique, unheard of. He had multiple soul marks, many more than two, and they continued to appear as he grew older.

By the time the Senju and Uchiha had made peace and built a village together, Madara was twenty nine and bore a total of fourteen soul marks. He had been delighted as a ten year old to discover a rather lovely sword on his forearm. He was startled a couple of years later to discover a white feline shape on his hip devoid of any other details. At the base of his spine there grew a tree with reaching branches, appearing when he was fifteen. At eighteen he acquired a pair of hands making the Inu hand sign. Now at twenty-seven he had a second sword on the opposite forearm, a beaker, what looked like a stylized wave of water, no less than four different books, a row of children’s shadows all holding hands, and a small clutch of blueberries, of all things.

The most recent soul mark had only shown up a fortnight ago. He had awakened to find a tongue of flame with a leaf in its center decorating the base of his neck. Rather than smile – because it was obvious that this was a representation of the newly coined Will of Fire, which meant his soulmate must reside in Konoha – Madara had scowled instead. What the bloody hell was wrong with his soulmate? Could they not pick something? Were they so flighty that their interests changed every few years?

Just thinking about it continued to put him in a foul mood, even now. He had accompanied his brother to spar on the training grounds at the eastern edge of the village, hoping to burn off some of his frustration. Instead he found himself sitting on a tree stump and scowling jealously at Izuna while he sparred with Tobirama. Hashirama had been entertaining himself working on fine-tuning a new Wood Style jutsu, but upon noticing his best friend’s gloom he abandoned the effort to come over and be as annoying as possible. Or possibly to attempt to make him feel better. It was amazing how often those two things coincided.

“Are you sure you won’t tell me what’s wrong?” Hashirama asked him, grinning widely and bumping their shoulders together. Madara sneered and pushed him back in the opposite direction, then he stood up and stomped off to walk along the perimeter of the training grounds. He felt restless but was reluctant to leave. He hadn’t felt comfortable leaving Izuna and Tobirama alone ever since the incident when the blasted Senju had almost killed his brother.

Hashirama trotted along behind him, gathering flowers from the tree vines and weaving a crown as they walked. Madara kept a watch on him from the corner of his eye. There was no way he was wearing that floral idiocy when it was finished. Just let Hashirama try.

He stopped walking when his eyes fell upon a blueberry bush. His nose wrinkled and his hand twitched to reach down and trace the small picture on the back of his ankle. It was an easy compulsion to resist, though, so instead he knelt down and tugged some of the berries off their stems.

“Blueberries!” Hashirama exclaimed, hurrying to his side to look at his spoils. “You should give those to Tobirama!” Madara looked at his friend like he had grown a third limb.

“Why on earth would I give them to Tobirama?” he asked.

Hashirama beamed. “Because they’re his favorite of course! He loves blueberries!” Madara blinked at him while his ankle seemed to tingle from where it was hidden by his wrappings.

“Does he?” he murmured quietly. The small indigo berries rolled across his palm as he tilted his hand absently from side to side.

“Yes,” Hashirama said. “The last time I found blueberries I took a whole basket full of them home and he was so pleased he wasn’t even mad that I got home two days later than I should have been!” He stopped and seemed to think for a moment. “Actually, I still haven’t told him that the elders rejected the idea of him training children from other clans again. Maybe I should take some myself to soften the blow later.” With that the leader of their village knelt down and began to strip the bush of its fruit, flower crown cocked rakishly on his own head. Madara was blinking again.

“He wants to train children from other clans?” he asked. That was the first he had heard of this.

Hashirama had procured a small bag from who-knows-where in his robes. He spoke while he filled it bit by bit. “Tobirama adores children and he really likes teaching. He’s good at it too! You wouldn’t think so but he’s very patient when he’s teaching someone. But he doesn’t think it’s in keeping with the spirit of the peace between clans if he only trains Senju children. He wants to build a team of kids from different clans and see how well all their strengths and weaknesses can be melded together, played off each other. The elders think he’s crazy.” He stood up and grinned childishly to himself as he pinched his little baggie closed.

“So he’s…invested in the village then?” Madara asked carefully. “I thought peace between the clans was your dream, not his.” Hashirama looked surprised.

“Tobirama worked even harder to build the village than I did! He’s always wanted peace too, he just never thought it was possible. Now that we have the village – well. It was him I was thinking about when I came up with the Will of Fire. I truly believe he would die to protect any person in this village. That’s just who he is. Despite what people think, my brother is a very passionate person.”

Hashirama turned to continue walking, eyes peeled for another treat-laden bush. Madara went after slowly, his mind racing. Why he was even considering what he was considering was beyond him. The very idea of it was ludicrous. But what if it were true? He couldn’t take the risk of not knowing.

“I’ve never heard Tobirama described as ‘passionate’ before,” he hedged, trying to encourage his friend to continue talking about the man without seeming to. Hashirama, of course, was more than happen to continue babbling. He was very good at babbling. Occasionally it was even useful.

“He is though!” Hashirama said. “He’s not very open with people that aren’t in his inner circle, but once you get close to him he’s incredibly warm and he would do absolutely anything for you. And it’s not just people! He’s passionate about so many things! When he loves someone or something, he loves with his whole heart. Like his research and his jutsu – and his summons! You’d think we had feline siblings the way he takes care of them!”

The crazy idea was starting to sound less and less crazy, which of course was the craziest part of all. All of the marks on his body were swirling before his mind’s eye like a checklist, ticking themselves off one by one as his friend made mention of them. He had always thought of his soulmate as frivolous, skipping from passion to passion and leaving behind the remnants of their obsessions as empty marks on his skin. Yet, what if the opposite were true? What if his soulmate were simply collecting more interests, gathering more things to include in their overflowing love for life and all its intricacies?

And who better to gift him with the mark of a cresting wave than the most famous Water jutsu user in all of Fire country? Who better to mark him with the hand sign Inu, commonly associated with Water release, than the man who created new jutsu in his spare time? Who better to stamp him with an image of a beaker than the most prolific scientist in their little fledgling village? And who else would brand him with books than the man who had a bigger library than the actual Konoha Library? Madara had seen inside Tobirama’s home only once and he hadn’t moved past the door, waiting impatiently for Hashirama to leave with him, but he had seen enough to know that nearly every available wall was covered with bookshelves.

There was only one thing that he still needed to know in order to confirm his wild suspicions. And he had no idea how to ask without informing Hashirama what he was thinking of. If he was wrong he did not want his friend to know that he had considered the more-possible-by-the-minute possibility. He was still considering how to phrase the question when Hashirama turned to him with a brilliant smile.

“I don’t see any more blueberries so I’m going to take these home and cool them,” he said. “I’ll tell Tobi tonight about the elders being stupid and then I’ll make him feel better with chilled berries.” He waved and Madara lifted a lazy hand as the brunet leapt off towards home.

Turning, he peeked out through the trees separating him from the training field, noting that Izuna and Tobirama seemed to be close to ending their spar. They were well matched in skill as long as the Senju did not employ his hiraishin speed, but Izuna also had less stamina. If it came down to a tie between them Tobirama was usually able to win simply by outlasting the younger man. His brother’s face was drenched in sweat and he was obviously heaving for breath. In contrast, Tobirama’s movements were as smooth as they had been at the beginning of the spar and he breathed no more heavily than light exercise might merit. It was therefore unsurprising when Izuna was pinned less than a minute later, tapping out against his opponent’s arm to signal his surrender.

Their voices were muffled by distance as the two of them spoke lightly afterwards. Madara watched from afar, taking note of how relaxed their body language was and how one corner of the Senju’s mouth actually quirked up infinitesimally at one point. He wondered when the two of them had become friends and how he hadn’t seen it. Izuna, it seemed, had forgiven his near death experience.

When Madara slipped out of the trees and walked towards them he noticed Tobirama’s face sliding back in to perfect neutrality, the way he always saw it. Hashirama’s word played in his mind and he wondered if maybe the man would ever smile around him, if they could learn to accept each other and become close. This morning the very idea would have made him laugh incredulously. Now it sounded strangely nice.

“Brother,” Izuna greeted him happily, still trying to regulate his breathing. “We were just finished. Will you walk with us?”

“Actually I wished to speak with Tobirama–” he looked to the man in question “–if that is alright?”

If he was surprised by the request it didn’t show. Tobirama nodded and gestured for Izuna to go on without him. Izuna waved to them both and set off at a light jog which had petered out in to a brisk walk by the time he reach the path beyond the chain link safety barrier. Madara shook his head and made a mental note to do stamina building exercises with his brother. Then he turned to the one he had questions for.

Only, the questions wouldn’t come. The problem was the same as if was with Hashirama – if he was wrong he didn’t want this man to know he had considered it. It would be mortifying, especially considering how coldly he had treated him up until now. The silence stretched as they stared at each other, his brain scrambling to find the right words. When they didn’t come he knew he had to say something and he leapt on to the first excuse that came to mind.

“I want you to teach me a water jutsu.” He barely hid his wince as Tobirama lifted one eyebrow. Nervousness made him continue speaking, spilling half-truths and word vomit. “Our younglings often practice clan jutsu within the compound and I’m getting tired of the property damage. Knowing a water jutsu would make putting the fire out a lot quicker.”

Tobirama tilted his head to one side and his eyes seemed to stare in to the middle distance. Madara scowled defensively. Even if he was lying he didn’t want to be called out on it. He was surprised when the other man noticed his expression and made a placating gesture.

“I am trying to think of which to suggest,” he explained. “Many of them would not be suited to you.”

Madara opened his mouth to speak but stopped, fascinated as he watched Tobirama’s eyes light up and his expression settle in to something gentler than he had ever seen as the man ostensibly slipped in to teacher persona.

“Your nature is fire, which is directly against the nature of the jutsu you are trying to learn,” Tobirama said. “This would make a great deal of them difficult for you and counterproductive in the situation you wish to use it for. Are there many open bodies of water in your clan compound? I haven’t been inside since it was built.” He was kind enough not to mention that he had not gone within because most Uchiha would look at him with suspicion if he went there.

“Ah, bodies of water?” Madara asked.

“Rain barrels, water troughs, wells, that sort of thing.”

He gave it some thought. “I don’t think so. Most of our water comes from the plumbing system which Hashirama never got around to telling me the origins of. Quite clever, that.”

“Thank you. Hmm. Without open water available it will be harder for you. I know a few jutsu I believe you could learn even without having water as your nature but I would need to train you with moving the water first.”

Madara listened, he really did, but after the other man stopped talking all he said was, “Wait, you created the plumbing system?”

“I drew up the plans for it,” the Senju admitted. Madara wondered why he was even surprised. Who else could have come up with something so brilliant, so intricate yet simple? He had not had indoor plumbing when he had lived in the rough encampment before they built the village. Now he couldn’t imagine life without it. Hot showers were a luxury he had never experienced but had quickly grown addicted to.

He watched the other man make a circular motion with his hand and, without even weaving a hand sign, was able to procure a small globe of water in his palm. It was the mark of a truly powerful shinobi who could manipulate their element without a single hand sign.

“It would be best if you started by learning to shape the element in its pure form. From there it will be easier for you to learn a functional jutsu and call the water to you from your surroundings such as plants or even the air if the day is foggy.” He sat down cross-legged on the grass and gestured for Madara to do the same. “If you would, the first step would be to infuse this with your chakra.” Madara reached out and pressed his hand within the sphere of liquid, allowing his chakra to seep out and fuse with the water.

Two hours later he had gained an appreciation for every person who learned jutsu outside of their given natures. It was incredibly difficult to manipulate an element he did not connect with. He found himself quite surprised with how patient Tobirama was. He was not overtly encouraging but he never once complained when Madara ruined the water sphere, simply gathered a new one and tried to phrase his instructions in a more helpful manner. It was hard work but Madara had succeeded in learning to move the water around him at will. When he infused it with his chakra he was able to use that as a point of communication, a conduit for his will, and he was able to make the water dance and sway drunkenly through the air. It wasn’t nearly as graceful as Tobirama’s skill with it but he still felt it was a great accomplishment. He was oddly proud of himself for it.

“I believe that is enough for today,” Tobirama eventually spoke up. “It’s getting late. If you wish, I have time tomorrow that I could spend showing you how to pull the water from your surroundings. That would be the next step you need to master.”

“I lied,” he burst out, stopping the other man’s movements. “I didn’t need to learn a water jutsu.” Tobirama narrowed his eyes, the calm gentle look slipping off his face and quickly morphing in to a familiar expression of ire.

“Then what, pray tell, was the point of wasting my time in such a manner?”

Madara let his eyes fall to the side as he gathered the courage that had failed him earlier.

“I was trying to ask you something else and could not find the words. I was trying to ask…” he sighed and forced himself to make eye contact, drawing himself up and calling upon the ingrained Uchiha arrogance that was usually so good at projecting. “I wanted to ask what your soul mark is.”

“That is a very private question.” Tobirama’s eyes narrowed even more. “What reason could you possibly have for wanting to know?”

Madara stared back at him, false arrogance creating a buffer to hide the writhing in his stomach. After so much time thinking about it he had realized that there really was no way to ask without giving the real reason. Saying he thought it was someone else wouldn’t work; he would have simply sent them instead. If he wanted to know he would need to bite the bullet. He took a deep breath.

“I had a conversation with your brother today which led me to believe that we might be soulmates.” The words were heavy on his tongue. “I wished to see your mark to confirm the theory.”

Obviously that was not what the Senju had been expecting. Tobirama blinked at him, his narrowed eyes widening in shock. Then he looked away and his entire body seemed to pause, as if he wanted to think that through fully before reacting one way or another. Madara supposed that was a good sign, that he wasn’t being rejected outright. He tried his best to wait patiently while the genius sat in front of him considered what he had said. It was hard. Patience had never been his strongest suit and he was especially bad at waiting when the subject matter was important to him. That he might have found his soulmate was very important.

Finally Tobirama took a slow breath in and made eye contact with him again. There was hesitance in his face but no disgust or anger.

“If we are?” he asked. Madara fought not to squirm under that gaze.

“Then I would be interested in getting to know you better.” Again, it was a half-truth. He would be interested in getting to know Tobirama better if they did turn out to be soulmates. But what he truly hoped was for them to bond. He hoped that they would get along well and fall in love. There was absolutely no way he was saying that out loud, however. Courage would only take him so far and he drew the line at stupidity. A good shinobi never showed their vulnerabilities, after all.

Tobirama nodded and shifted in order to rise to his feet. Curious, Madara followed suit.

“You’ll pardon me if this seems forward but to show you my soul mark I would need to remove my shirt.” Tobirama didn’t wait for an answer. He was turning away and reaching for the hem of his shirt before he was even finished his sentence. Madara was not prepared for what he discovered underneath that loose fabric.

The mark was huge. It covered the entirety of that pale back, curling over the top of his shoulders and stretching all the way down to brush along his waistline. It nearly wrapped around both of his sides as well. A set of beautifully detailed wings were depicted, patterned in black and white and golden brown. The feathers almost seemed to ruffle with every shift of the muscles they decorated. He would have looked like an angel from a children’s story if Madara had not immediately recognized the design on those wings.

“That pattern,” he said quietly. “I know it. It’s from the first hawk I ever tamed.” At his words Tobirama spun around and looked at him in amazement.

“Hawk?” he asked in a surprisingly faint voice. Madara nodded.

“I enjoy hawking in my spare time. It’s not something I talk about often because it’s not an activity that I’ve found many people are interested in. But it is my favorite pastime.” He felt a little awkward as he tried not to stare at Tobirama’s exposed chest. He’d never seen the other man without a shirt on before. It appeared he had been missing out.

Tobirama fiddled with the shirt in his hands, twisting the material in his fingers as he asked, “And your mark? I have always wondered what might represent me. What does yours look like?”

“Which one?” Madara snorted.

“Ah, pardon?”

“Senju, I’ve got fourteen blasted marks from you. I’m a walking canvas. And it’s your fault.” His words might have sounded upset but they were softened by the smile that was fighting its way on to his face. He tried to stop it with limited success. The shock in the other man’s face was just too amusing.

“Fourteen!?”

Later, Madara would blame it on the high of finally finding the one he had been looking for all his life. It was the lone excuse that could explain why his mouth suddenly spouted what could only be described as flirtatious drivel.

“Mm. And if you’re very nice to me perhaps I’ll even let you try to find them all.”

Realizing what he had said, Madara turned to walk away, leaving the impression of confidence when truly he was mortified by his own words. What had gotten in to him, he would love to know. Still, it was satisfying that he managed to get almost entirely across the field before Tobirama managed to pick up his jaw and chase after him. He heard his name being called but did not respond at first; he was still waiting for his blush to wane. Finally the younger man caught up to him and they walked side by side.

“Soulmates,” Tobirama murmured quietly to himself. From the corner of his eye, Madara could see a vaguely pleased expression. “Thank you. For approaching me. This promises to be…interesting.” Madara laughed because that was the biggest understatement he had ever heard in his life.

“Interesting indeed.” He shook his head. “If we don’t manage to kill each other we still have to fend off each other’s family. Are you sure this is going to be worth it?”

“Hmph. I should think you were used to dealing with Hashirama by now,” Tobirama countered.

“And you, Izuna.” He thought about how relaxed and open they had both been while training together, how they were walking with a careful amount of space between them now. “Are you sure you don’t want to run for the hills now?”

Tobirama gave him a strange look that did odd things to his stomach.

“Not until I’ve found those fourteen marks,” he said with a wink.

Madara was still standing there spluttering when Tobirama’s laughter faded down the path.