#uchiha izuna x senju tobirama

[belit0]

Hello 😏 can I request primal play? “Run. If I catch you, I fuck you.” With IzuTobi? And if it’s not too much trouble either in a separate post or this same one, the same prompt but with indra

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS, I LITERALLY LOVE THIS SO MUCH

(this is a combined post, Tobiizu and Indra x reader, separately)

Please, TobiIzu lovers, let me know what u think about this one cause I really liked it🛐👀💕

Tobirama x Izuna

"You have three days. Run, flee, hide. If I catch you, I'll fuck you wherever you are, no matter if there are people present or not." Tobirama's words bounce off every wall of his mind, exhilarating and terrifying in equal parts. Izuna eats his rice leisurely, watching the owner of the tavern he managed to find as a refuge wander back and forth. There is not much work to be done as the place is a proper shithole, but he moves as if he had to attend to 500 people at the same time.

72 hours is a huge advantage, considering the rules include the impossibility for the Senju to use his Hiraishin. If he wants to catch him, he will have to move like a normal ninja, ignoring the possibility of teleporting with his seals.

Izuna is convinced of having done a good job, putting between them at least a good few kilometers of distance and having used every hour of advantage in his favor, without wasting a second to get as far away from him as possible.

It all started as a stupid fight between the two, arguing about the past, particularly that time Izuna almost lost his life. They debated who of the two was faster before the albino developed his stupid technique, both claiming to have been superior to the other.

The decantation of this conflict ended in a terrifying bet, where Tobirama proposes to hunt down the Uchiha before seven days have passed. Giving him three days to escape felt like a joke, but he secretly appreciated it.

As the time limit he had to flee expired, he decided to set up his hideout in a lost village in the middle of nowhere, non-existent on the map, far from any popular road. He spent a good amount of hours covering any kind of trail he might have left, hiding his chakra so as not to be detected.

The Uchiha believes he has done an excellent job, relaxing and enjoying a plate of hot food from the decaying shelter he found. Everything seems to have gone perfectly, and he must stay there until the end of the bet, safe and secure.

On the fourth day, Izuna gets bored and decides to explore, finding a lake where he can take a bath in the open air and soak up sun. Life is sweet and easy without the constant nagging and fighting of his enemy, but damn he misses the bastard. He can even picture how Tobirama would fuck him against the rocks, half-body submerged in water, and his mind flies. He only returns to the shelter to masturbate with that idea in mind, not wanting to dirty the place with his business.

The fifth day is filled with uncertainty, the moment he calculated Tobirama would be nearby. He planted false evidence in the opposite direction, carefully planned footsteps and speed marks strewn along other roads, seeking to throw him off and waste his time. His strategy is flawless, and he figures he has found a way to make him swallow dust.

The Senju will lose.

The sixth day dawns with pure peace and the taste of being close to victory palpable in his mouth, imagining how he will rub in his enemy's face his uselessness for tracking and how bad his sensory skills are.

Tobirama turned out to be much ado about nothing, empty threats.

Izuna goes back to sitting at the same table he always occupies to eat, greeting the old man who runs the business of that destroyed place as if a close friend and devouring the food placed in front of him. He looks out the window as he finishes plate after plate, anxious to go back and laugh in the Senju's face.

He leans back in his chair when he feels like his belly is going to explode, and thinks he's crazy when he hears the old man talking to another customer. Since he arrived, he has never seen another person stop there, not even enter through the door, travelers having no idea of the place's existence.

Their conversation happens behind his back, and he listens intently without turning around. "Always wonderful meals from this place, one could expect nothing less from you." A deep male voice speaks calmly, complimenting the poor old man's services.

The person speaks as if a frequent visitor to the place, and that is what makes Izuna understand the seriousness of the matter. No one knows this site, no one can find it on the map because it literally does not exist, and there are no villages nearby.

"Lord Senju...you make this old man feel special, you are welcome here any time you please."

He has been found.

It takes not even a second for him to get up and run, violently opening the door and quickly moving deeper into the forest. It can't be, there's no way he's found a lost, non-existent spot and not fallen for any of his traps.

There is absolutely no way Tobirama could have read his strategy and discovered his plan so easily, without even announcing himself when finding him. How long has he been there? Was he waiting for Izuna to notice it on his own? Wasn't he intending to act?

He has no time to think as he jumps from branch to branch, suddenly agitated and with the urgent need to flee. Breathing hard only because of the surprise of the situation, he is desperate to get away from the place and make him lose trail of him.

Food rises and falls in his throat as he uses all his strength and runs, focusing on making his legs move to their maximum capacity. He swallows a few times to avoid having to stop to vomit, unable to waste time.

He has to run.

If he really sets his mind to it, he can manage to disappear, mislead him with quick strategies, and just move. Hell, he might even resort to hiding under his brother's skirt if he really wants to win, tempted by the need not to hurt his own ego.

Izuna feels how his enemy follows close behind him, too near for his liking, and hurries even faster. His legs burn from the effort and sweat runs down his forehead, but he has no time to stop. He'll have to struggle for a few hours to outrun him, figure out where to turn and which way to go-

BOOM!

The Uchiha unexpectedly falls to the ground, a sharp blow to the throat that robs all the air from his lungs and doesn't let him breathe. He writhes in the dirt and leaves, clutching his neck and feeling himself suffocating, struggling to get oxygen into his body.

What the actual fuck? Tobirama was behind him, how can this be?

As soon as he manages to open his throat again he violently coughs, almost vomiting (again) in the process, unable to focus his attention on understanding what happened. There were no obstacles in front of him, no high branches, why is he suddenly on the ground?

"I thought you'd be better at this, after the way you filled your mouth talking bullshit." His rival speaks with a teasing tone, mocking and towering his form with arms crossed. He looks at him calmly, smirk adorning the corner of his lips, taunting.

He can't find the strength to reply with sarcasm, still worried about being able to breathe normally, but he'd tell him to fuck off if he could.

A second Senju joins the meeting, a perfect clone that looks at him with the same condescension as the original Tobirama, and the Uchiha understands what his strategy was. The albino hid in the route he assumed Izuna would use as an escape path, years of knowledge gained from war and combat giving him clear information on what his enemy would do once aware of the danger, and sent his copy to make him run straight into him.

He simply had to hide and wait, let him sprint directly towards his arms.

Fucking cheating bastard.

"You said I couldn't use my Hiraishin, but you didn't say anything about other techniques." One of the two Tobiramas towering in front of him flips him over on the ground, pulling down his pants and exposing his ass to the air. The original hovers down on top of him and whispers in his ear "you'll take me twice today, just for being a pain in the ass." He can feel his erection against his bare skin, and the moment the Senju rises up and spits out his hand.

The rest is history.

Indra x Reader

An hour is not enough time when talking about being chased by Indra Otsutsuki himself, but he was kind enough to only walk in order to hunt her down. He will not hurry or rush the pace to capture her, only striding.

(Y/N) runs away as fast as she can, but nothing seems to provide space between her predator and her. She looks back and sees him moving calmly, straight in her direction. It is terrifying and distressing, unable to understand how it is possible that even when she runs as fast as she can, nothing manages to give her an advantage, to get away.

He didn't give her much time, an ever impatient man desperate to get what he wants, and the exhaustion the girl feels from having spent the last 60 minutes rushing is real.  People stare at her passing by quizzically, wondering what she's doing and where she's going in such a hurry.

The Uchiha compound is large, spacious, but she can't find anywhere suitable to hide. Indra knows every nook and cranny of each part of his own territory, completely internalized with the place he built, leaving her with no options.

They have been in this insane game for quite a while, and Indra seems to rejoice every time he seizes her in his hands only to allow her to try running away again.

She simply devotes all her effort to maintaining a high pace, forcing her legs to keep moving, not letting her intensity or guard down. (Y/n) is convinced she will manage to lose him if she keeps up her rhythm, ignoring the fact she had her time to escape, yet Indra caught up with her in a matter of minutes.

He didn't reveal what would happen if he captured her, but the malice with which he implied it would be in her best interest not to fall into his hands filled her with a terrible urgency, desperate to get away, save herself.

When she looks back, Indra is only a few steps away, smirking with anticipation for whatever it is he has in store. It looks as if he might touch her just by stretching out his arm, but he just keeps on making her run.

The horror of being hunted by such a determined and cruel person creates deep emptiness in her stomach, her body giving up and slowing down little by little. She doesn't want to be caught, she doesn't want to face the consequences of it, but her legs scream for a break and her feet can no longer stand the effort.

In tears, she decides to slow down, and feels the exact moment when the Otsutsuki towers behind her, waiting for her to turn and face him. "You have failed." Is all she hears before a hand closes over her mouth and she senses the man's chest against her back, a choked scream on his skin, and pure panic in her veins.

The scene suddenly changes, a moment of movement that seems unreal, vision blurring in her eyes and quickly adjusting again. The setting changes completely, and now she finds herself in a room, facing a bed. "Three times I've allowed you to run away, three times I've captured you. It's now time for me to collect my reward."

She is pushed mercilessly to the mattress, while Indra looks at her with satisfaction and derision as he takes off his robe. "I mentioned running behooves you, yet instead you dismissed my warning as a game. Now, on to the business at hand."

[orphicswanart]

BUNNIES

also, they made a baby

lil baby Kagami

[mysteriouscrimsoneyes]

I’m supposed to be planning a trip but I got so stressed out that I ended up drawing this. Tobirama encountering an eepy Izuna and having an… awakening of sorts. Enjoy!

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter IX

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 6.8k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including tags for blood and descriptions of gore. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

Notes: Hopefully we can wrap all this up soon... god willing... but hey this piece finally has somewhat of a direction (?) now.

An Uchiha warrior with a fatal wound should give his life in a suicide attack, but not Izuna. No, the brother of Madara would not die a warrior’s death on the battlefield. Instead, the Uchiha retreated from their path to the northern shoulder, surrendering the territory to the Senju in a victory their rivals would call “The Conquering of King’s Neck.”

The Uchiha returned suddenly, earlier than they should have, and having lost great numbers. Madara did not use the village gates but shot right over the sharpened walls like a deranged comet falling from the sky. He carried Izuna’s body in his arms, holding his brother close to his chest. Both were covered in blood and heavy wounds. They had been the first to arrive, heralding in the news of their defeat without a single word of it uttered.

Madara shouted for medical assistance loud enough to startle the entire settlement, and in a blur of confusion, agony, and chaos, Izuna was brought to a doctor, and the two brothers were sealed inside a private room as quickly as the commotion had started.

The entire village stirred to life with urgency. People emerged from their cottages and herded their children out of the street as the rest of the battalion emerged from the forest and trudged toward the front gates.

The men who had stayed behind rushed the injured to the hospital and hurried around the newly returned soldiers to assist in treating their wounds. Women gathered water from the well, ready to help receive the weary soldiers. 

Most injured warriors were gathered in one large room and treated on cots side by side, but not Izuna. Even in the sunlight, gathered citizens could see Madara’s hulking form pace back and forth from inside their private room.

No one else was allowed in except for the best physician in the village, who was currently facing the brunt of Madara’s furious rage. You could hear the clattering of furniture and thrown items hitting the mat floor from down the road. 

You clutched your medicine pack, shouting and shoving through the crowd as you approached the triage.

“Make way for the apothecary!” 

You came running as soon as you received word. The medics who went to the scene before you had their own medical packs with prepared remedies within them, but if the medics were to perform treatments on such a large group of men, they would need all the medicines they could get. 

Madara had, after all, forbidden you from creating more heavy-duty remedies in anticipation of a victory for the Uchiha. He told you that fast-acting cures would be all that would be needed and did not discriminate when it came to potency. The high ground belonged to the Uchiha, and Madara himself formulated their strategy for the ambush. But Madara was left with little more than the taste of defeat and bloodied hands after the battle. 

You hurried across the dirt path, the dry pebbles and earth making hurried scratching noises below the soles of your sandals. You clutched your oversized medicinal bag. The material wasn’t strong enough to carry the number of remedies you had shoved haphazardly inside. Your eyes were set on the treatment center where the soldiers were being taken. The little time you had was crucial for saving as many lives as you could.

Time seemed to slow as you ran past the paper door leading to Izuna’s private room, and you failed to notice the large hand that shot out from inside until it had grasped the back of your robes and pulled you in. 

You were thrown onto the woven matt floor with barely enough time to break your fall, let alone catch your compilation of medicines. You skidded against the hard surface, ripping the cloth on your shoulder as the fabric folded under you with the motion. Your arms wrapped against your oversized pack, and the glass bottles rattled against one another as you held them close to your chest.

Madara stood over you: hulking, broad, impeding, and crazed, but still as he slowly slid the paper door shut. His palm splayed out in the middle of the door, leaving a streak of crimson across the delicate white material. The air dried the red color into a muddy rust.

An unmoving, pale hand appeared in your peripheral. You scrambled to your knees, grip still clutching your medicinal bag. You hardly recognized Izuna as he lay in front of you.

All color had drained from his cheeks, but you could hardly pay attention to the grayness of his skin in the face of the massive open wound across his stomach. Izuna bled all colors of red, his gash like a gruesome flower clawing out of his torso and streaking across the room. His chest heaved up and down at an inhumanly slow pace, pumping a wheezing sound out of his throat with every strangled breath. Everything smelled of blood, and what used to be an entirely white room was marred with ghastly streaks of gore. 

The doctor worked frantically over him, but even looking at Izuna for a second told you all that you needed to know. His wound was already decorated with herbal remedies, the leaves and ground flower buds a stark, soft contrast to the wet, oozing gash that churned just below. The colors illuminated with an effervescent glow under the light of the doctor’s healing jutsu. 

Izuna’s head fell to the side toward you, your name dripping from his lips in a voice hardly above a whisper. You scrambled to his side, shedding your bag, and scooping his hand up in yours without a thought. 

“Izuna—!” 

Your heart sank into the pits of your stomach, and your face felt numb. Tears flooded your waterline as your pulse started to drum in your ears. One of your hands, now sporting a few streaks of blood that you didn’t notice, came over your mouth in mortified shock.

But even so, Izuna gazed at you fondly. His eyes were lidded, pain written across his face, but he did his best to grasp onto you weakly. You stared widely down at his giant wound, almost hypnotized by the terrible sight of it, before returning to Izuna’s face. Your hand dropped back down to your lap and joined the other in morphing over his palm. 

Your lips parted, but no sound left them. They wavered in the bitter-smelling air as an ugly sound stalled in your throat. You didn’t have it in you to tell him that it all would be okay. He wouldn’t have believed you anyway.

“I do not know what to say…” Your voice came out in a breathless hiss, your lips crinkling upwards as your brows creased together into two wavy lines. 

“I apologize…” Izuna was barely audible, and his words held an incoherent rasp. “The words I spoke to you last were most regretful… and most dishonorable…”

“Izuna, do not speak like this!” Your scolding was less than a whisper.

You looked at the doctor, whose eyes were already on you. Wordlessly, he confirmed your fearful thoughts.

Izuna wasn’t going to—

“How does he appear?” Madara implored. “I demand you tell me. Tell me that you deem him treatable with your remedies!”

Izuna gave your hand a light squeeze. When you looked down at him, two tears fell right onto his blood-stained clothing.

His other hand slowly rose, shaking as he brought it to his face. It stopped, trembling over his neck as Izuna raised his pointer finger. He brought it over his lips. 

The sound of your name boomed across the paper room.

“Why do you fall silent? You are able to revive him, are you not?” Madara thundered frantically. “You told me! You told me of your chakra remedies!” Madara’s hand shot out from behind you but missed your shoulder as his fingers grasped about wildly. You could feel the force of his motion in the air as the slight breeze of his movement rattled the hair behind your ear.

He made another grab for you, and you turned to grasp him by the shoulders as if you were taking a bull by its horns, dropping Izuna’s hand in the process. The metal of Madara’s armor was dirty and solid, pinching your fingers as you tried to keep him at bay as he lunged. He ranted something incoherent, nearly knocking you back into Izuna. Your core tensed, trying to keep yourself from falling back onto Izuna’s open torso as you tried to fight Madara away. 

“Madara, this is madness!” you shouted directly into his face. Your arms were beginning to shake under the weight of him, the locking of your joints being the only thing keeping Madara from pinning you down in his deranged rampage. But the fear and confusion in your gaze immediately widened as you met his gray irises. “Madara! Your eyes!”

“Clan Head, that is enough!” The doctor had since stood, stepping over Izuna’s body to ram into Madara with his shoulder. Your limbs were granted relief as the two of them stumbled back, nearly punching a hole in the paper wall. 

The doctor was not as large of a man as Madara, but he held his own against Madara’s unrestrained rage. His shoulder dug into the right side of Madara’s chest, and the doctor used all his weight to keep him from charging. But he was ultimately not enough to keep Madara restrained. 

Madara shoved him back with a violent push to the doctor’s chest.

“Who are you to cease treatment on my brother?! Who are you to attack your Clan Head— I’ll have you banished for your indiscretion—!”

“Madara, that is enough!” You shot to your feet, placing yourself between the two men. One of your palms splayed across Madara’s chest plate. He continued to scream over your head, gesturing pointedly somewhere behind you. Tears streamed down his face as his skin scrunched up in rage. — “Madara!”

— “You dare to impede me? My younger brother lies dying before my very eyes, and I cannot even see his face! And you dare stand against me when Izuna’s chakra weakens! You are traitors! You are traitors to the Uchiha; I will have you banished and then hunt you down myself— why do you refuse to help my brother? —”

— “Madara, please, I implore you to listen—”

Madara’s hand whipped across your face with enough force to make your ears ring. You fell to the ground with a heavy thud, the power of Madara’s strike making you almost spin as you went down. Your hand shot to your nose, which had begun to bleed. Your blood mixed with Izuna’s.

“Madara, that is enough…” Izuna began to sit up somewhere behind you. He groaned in pain, almost collapsing as he propped himself on one elbow. The doctor was already beside him, urging him to lie back down. But the sound of Izuna’s voice appeared to be enough to sate Madara’s mounting rage. He visibly melted, perking up as he tried to pinpoint where Izuna’s voice came from with a rapid gesture of his head. 

You were lost, hypnotized by the red that dripped from your nose and onto your hand. The droplets were thick and hot, only diluted by the tears of disbelief that seemed to fall in sheets from your eyes. You struggled to gather yourself as Madara knelt by Izuna’s side. 

“We will find a way,” Madara insisted with certainty. He nodded several times, taking up the straps of your medicine pack in his hand. He rooted around in it, searching for powder. “There is an ointment crafted for deep wounds—!”

“It is too late, Madara.” Izuna collapsed back onto his cot. A sharp hiss of pain tore from his throat. Izuna grabbed at his brother’s sleeve, willing him to come closer with his little remaining strength. The hold he had on Madara’s clothes was a death grip. “You must listen to me.”

Madara bowed like a child in prayer, lending his ear to Izuna’s lips. He crouched on his knees, hair cascading over his brother’s pale face as he blindly clung onto any part of Izuna he could reach. Izuna’s voice, perhaps meant only for Madara, faded in and out.

“For the good and future of the clan, you must not fall victim to Hashirama Senju’s trickery… promise me, I…” You could barely hear him. You hovered just behind Madara, sitting with your knees tucked under you and the fabric that made up the skirt of your robes balled in your fists. You tucked your chin to your chest. Hot tears continued to dribble down your face.

Your head spun, unable to listen to Izuna’s words even if you tried. You became lost in yourself, only resurfacing to reality when the sound of your name rang across the room. It was the doctor.

One moment, Izuna was speaking to Madara, and then the next—

“We will be performing an ocular transplant,” the doctor said. “Are you able to assist?” His grave gaze bore into you.

Your mouth gaped. You shook your head in disbelief. You turned toward Madara, who couldn't see you.

“You are taking his eyes?” you asked accusingly. Your tone held a harsh snap. “Are you so obsessed with battle that you dare take the sharingan of your own brother—?”

“Enough.” Izuna’s voice somehow found its way out of his throat. Just barely. His tired eyes met yours. “I forfeit them willingly… for the sake of the clan.” Izuna’s lids fluttered closed, even as you continued to stare. A new wave of tears welled in your vision. You were growing sick of weeping.

“For the sake of the clan…” you repeated, a part of you hoping that if you spoke the words, they would make better sense to you. You didn’t have to yield advanced jutsu to understand the implications of Madara obtaining Izuna’s eyes. With the Senju closing in, you knew there were few other choices.

Madara, the leader of the Uchiha, had exhausted his mangekyo sharingan. Izuna, the second strongest fighter in the clan, was fading quickly as he lay before you. And while the Uchiha had more than formidable soldiers, too many had been defeated in the ambush, and the rest had been injured during their retreat. It was truly up to Madara to protect you now.

Izuna spoke your name again. It would be the final time he would do so.

“I implore you… please, do not deprive me of my final wish,” he said weakly, the frailty of his words a stark contrast to the unfair burden he bestowed upon you. You glanced back toward the doctor. “I need you by my side.”

“I— I just make the medicine, although I— I…” You closed your eyes to shed more tears, but none fell. You tried to blink again, only to find your waterline dry. “I can administer some remedies.”

“The extra set of hands is more than plenty,” the doctor affirmed. “But we must make haste.”

Izuna’s hand found yours. His touch was cold. He gave your hand a weak squeeze.

*** 

It wasn’t enough to hang onto every moment you could. You tried to take him in during every second of the procedure, focusing so hard on being with Izuna for the dwindling amount of time you had left. You could feel the minutes slipping through your fingers. Your eyes searched every inch of him, trying to hang onto the patches of snowy white skin between the dirt and red stains. Izuna was here now, and you pulled a single moment into a thousand.

And when it was done, and Izuna was dead, you sat back on your calves. Madara lay to your left, his face bandaged with wrappings adorned with healing herbs. And Izuna rested to your right.

He had passed just moments before, long before the doctor had left the room. A thin sheet rested over his head, extending down to his blood-stained boots. But even as he lay such a short distance away, all presence of him had been vanquished from the room. The form under the cloth was an object, a thing taking a shape that certainly wasn’t Izuna. 

Your skin was taut from all your weeping. The tears still came in bursts, but the muscles in your face felt fatigued by it all. Any noise from the outside sounded muffled. Even Madara’s heavy breathing didn’t make it to your ears. 

You could see the light from the sun behind the paper walls. You stared blankly at the random swipes and spatters of red that dotted the room, staining the light eggshell color of all the fixtures. 

You lay down between them, letting your body go limp for the first time that morning. Some medics had since taken your bag of extra medication to use outside. The commotion in the village seemed to have dwindled some. You let your eyes fall closed. Exhaustion had grown so great in your head that your lack of energy made you wired. Your thoughts ran across your brain on their own, and you could do little to stop them.

You could sense that Madara was about to speak even before he parted his lips. He breathed in, taking a familiar pause before his voice dared to break through the silence in the room. 

“Your resentment radiates off of you like fire.”

In one of his final acts of life, Izuna had sated Madara’s rage, leaving his brother in this world quiet and pensive. Madara had been eerily silent. 

You let your eyes open lazily. They traced the outline of Izuna’s face beneath the cotton sheet.

“Now is hardly the time, Madara,” you muttered. 

“But it is true.”

You didn’t answer. You shepherded the silence back into the air, hoping that your ignorance of him would be enough. You couldn’t handle his talk in the face of your bubbling and agitated emotions. 

“It is true—"

“Silence, Madara,” you snapped, your words lashing across the silent atmosphere you tried to curate. You held your arms close to your chest, nuzzling your cheek into the side of one of your hands. You curled farther in on yourself, only isolating Madara more. “Izuna just...”

“He is passed,” Madara rumbled solemnly with all the clarity of the world. You cast your gaze to the light just outside the paper doors. It looked warm. “And you believe it should have been me in his place.”

“I said no such thing.” Your face was tired and puffy.

“You would be right.”

“Cease with your grandstanding—” You sat up, propping yourself on your palm as you faced Izuna’s body. You could barely keep yourself from collapsing from the mental exhaustion alone. — “It is inappropriate at a time like this.” You could feel the sting of tears shocking the nerves behind your nose, yet your eyes remained dry. “Why must you make these things so difficult?”

“I am making the death of my own brother difficult?” He sat up somewhere behind you.

“Do not twist my words. Timing has never been your strong suit, Madara.” You also rose to sit up straight, now sitting cross-legged near Izuna’s knees.  

“You believe that I am not in grief?” He held a thundering bite to his words, although even the slightest increase in volume sounded like a storm within the context of the hauntingly quiet room. “Do you believe that I do not feel deep despair over one who I have loved so dearly?” 

“You were not the only one who cherished Izuna!” You snapped around, knees hitting the opposite side of the mat floor. “Of all the times where you must be a fool, Madara! Why must it be now? Why must it have been this past visit to my apothecary? Why must it have been on the battlefield where you could have saved him a hundred times over, and yet you condemn yourself to play the fool!”

You weren’t used to seeing Madara’s face bandaged. He looked like a ghost, sitting upright where he was with his legs outstretched before him. Even blinded, you could almost feel his gaze boring into yours.

When he spoke, his voice was low.

“I am well aware,” he growled, trailing a tense silence in his wake. Madara sat up farther, and it wasn’t until the faint shadow of his large form eclipsed half of your face that you realized how quickly he bridged the gap between the two of you. “I am not blind enough to reflect on my hubris, nor am I blind enough to recognize my own twisted nature in my jealousy.”

You found yourself once again face to face with bandaged eyes, hypnotized by the infinity of cloth strips layered over each other. You took in every fold, watching where blood slowly seeped through the fibers. And perhaps if it had been a more tender moment and if you had loved Madara more, you might have tenderly taken hold of his jaw. But instead, you sat, slowly sobering up to the reality of what just occurred a few moments prior as your face was contorted by a demon of despair. 

Your resolve imploded.

“A mere reflection is hardly recompense,” you hissed, your voice coming out as barely a whisper. “How must it feel to have sacrificed your only living blood and continue to prove yourself so fruitless in your rivalry with Hashirama Senju? You have no excuse for your arrogance!” You steadily grew in volume, suddenly finding yourself standing. “So lost in your fruitless rivalry with him, you have indeed been left blind, with your flesh newly broken and easily swayed heart—no, you do not view clearly enough the hubris in your ways! You are a soft man, Madara!”

The tears came back all at once. You shed them like a waterfall as the wind caught in your throat. You gasped for air, hiccupping and choking all at once as the words tumbled from your lips. 

“Izuna—" You could hardly get his name out between gasps. “He—! Izuna, he thought—!” 

And perhaps if Madara had loved you more, he would have done something other than take the brunt of your broken rambling in silence. To him, that was gesture enough. To you, it was an indulgence in self-pity.

He let you leave, and no one stopped to question you as you quickly pushed through the crowd of people back to the apothecary. Although things seemed to have settled compared to the roaring chaos that captivated the late morning, people still milled around, collecting food and fluttering around the loved ones who were fortunate enough to make it home. 

You needed more time to analyze things. You honed in on the apothecary doors, barreling through them without regard for the medics coming in and out. 

You said little aside from your curt and adamant wish not to be disturbed before retreating into your loft at the far end of the apothecary. You curled in on yourself for what would feel like days, wrapping your cotton sheets around you as you buried yourself further from the world. 

The tears seemed to flow without you completely now, soaking the fabric of your pillow to create a wet circle just below your ear. Your thoughts ran on without you, and your heart ached from what felt like a hole sliced clean through it. The grief rested over you like a blanket, coating you from head to foot in numbing density. You would stay like that for what felt like days, unaware of what was happening outside. 

And the world would turn upside down, disrupting the mundanity you were trying so desperately to cultivate. 

When you weren’t lying in bed, you spent your hours lazily picking at things in your garden. In the rare moments of mustered energy, you would bathe and tend to your hair— more out of a necessity for maintenance than anything else. 

You didn’t even know that Madara had left until he returned. And when he returned to the village, he did not seek you out. Instead, a member of Madara’s council visited you at the apothecary. 

A young man with a severe face around Izuna’s age, he stood with his back erect on the porch behind the apothecary. You sat in your herb garden, absentmindedly fiddling with a particularly large flower blossom as a small collection of random herbs sat in a basket at your hip. He had called out to you in that militant voice that soldiers tended to use. You had hummed in response.

“There is a truce,” he said. “The Uchiha and the Senju have agreed to unite.” 

***

There were so many questions that the village hall overflowed with people. Members of the Uchiha even stood outside, hoping to catch an explanation. 

Madara and what was left of his council sat before the crowd, still adorned in their light wrappings from the Conquering of King’s Neck and the second face-off Madara had apparently had with Hashirama Senju. The room chirped, filling with murmurs and speculation. But when Madara began to speak, all fell silent. 

“The time has come…”

You watched from just barely inside one of the wide doorframes. Madara stared straight ahead, his voice confident, stern, and sure. 

He held himself like a clan head.

“The time has come for wartime to end,” he announced, surveying the gathered crowd. “It is time to put a stop to a violence started long ago, one that has forced our children to pay the price for a conflict started by the fathers of our father’s fathers. For I challenge you to find me a soul in this room that has not been exhausted from war and the act of burial.”

The room remained eerily quiet. You stood on your toes, trying to catch a better view over a man’s shoulder.

“Let me do away with your primary concern; The Uchiha stand on the same ground as the Senju, as equals, and in collaboration with one another. Our combined power has the potential to create a village where all people shall live without fear of violence, and small hands may never know the handle of a kunai nor the weight of the metal. This is a thing that Hashirama and I agree upon, and as the leader of the Senju clan, he has agreed to honor our terms.” 

The room erupted in a low clamor, everyone wanting nothing more than for Madara’s words to be true. They held their questions high, finally breaking their collective silence at the mere mention of Hashirama Senju. 

The sound of his name struck your heart no differently, and before you could even think, you were a distance away from the meeting hall. Your spot by the door had filled in swiftly. You had one place to retreat, one sanctuary, and you hid yourself in the loft.

***

“I need you by my side.”

You thought it was cruel for Madara to use Izuna’s last words in such a way, but you doubted that Madara even remembered his brother’s last words to you. 

The meeting had adjourned late into the night. The people had many questions, at least, that’s what Madara would tell you later. You hadn’t needed him to tell you to believe it.

It startled you when lantern light from the street flooded through the open door of the apothecary. You sat up in your bed, already halfway between wakefulness and mental exhaustion that kept you from falling into a meaningful slumber. Madara always swung the door open wider than he needed, and aside from that, you could place his hulking form anywhere.

He waited wordlessly as you descended from your tower. You did so lazily.

“Are you ill?” you asked at the bottom of your set of steps that wasn’t quite a ladder or a proper set of stairs. “A physician would have an easier time tending to you than I. At the meeting, I do believe I saw—”

Madara pulled you close in an instant. Your sleep-addled mind had little time to process the action as you stumbled over your feet. Your face hit Madara’s chest. He had a strong scent to him, which, while not unpleasant, was as overpowering as the man. 

A sliver of light trickled in from where the door sat ajar. It cast a faint highlight around Madara’s figure. Your tired eyes traced the shadows that the faint glow created on the fabric of his sleeve. 

It felt out of place being in his arms like this. You weren’t used to him not wearing armor. You could feel it in the tension of your muscles and the awkwardness of not knowing how to touch him in return. You let him hold you, and yet, for how none of it felt right, there was an odd, fragile comfort that had never belonged to Madara before. 

Madara, who imposed himself in every space he ever stood and could never be found wearing not even a piece of armor, felt soft. 

“I need you by my side,” he had told you. You felt his cheek against your hair. “I need confidence that I am making the right decision.”

“Madara,” you spoke softly, pulling back to meet his gaze in the dimness. “How do you expect me to give guidance on these things? I am not—”

You stopped yourself right there, feeling foolish in less than an instant. Nothing but the chirp of insects outside disrupted the silence of the apothecary. It felt as if so much of your time with Madara was filled with silence. But Madara’s eyes held no judgment. 

“Izuna watches over us from the heavens, and I have thought little more than the day he passed and the terrible way I behaved toward you,” he said with a slow nod. His voice held the rich timber that it typically had. Madara brought a hand gingerly to the side of your face. His skin was rough and scarred. He spoke lowly, surprising you with more softness. “I would feel confident with you by my side. You need not labor yourself, nor would you have to speak a word… For you just to be would be enough.”

“What do you speak of, Madara?” 

Madara cast his gaze off to the side, his jaw tensing slightly. 

“Perhaps Izuna would think it weak of me to bring a woman to such prestigious negotiations…” He pulled back, taking his warmth with him. Madara turned with one hand on his hip and the other clasped over his face. 

“Of what do you speak?” You nearly choked on air. 

— “But what if said woman was close family? 

When Madara whipped back around, he did so in the middle of a thought he did not bother to share with you. You blinked a few times, letting your eyes flutter closed as you tried to gather your thoughts, and to your dismay, Madara didn’t speak a word in your silence. You stared at him for answers, prompting him to elaborate.

“Izuna should be by my side,” he finally said, perhaps a bit louder than he needed to have been. When he continued, he did so with a lowered tone. “Our parents passed when we were young. Izuna was my one and only brother, and he is now gone… And so, I implore you…”

Madara took in a sharp breath, not daring to speak the rest.

“Is that what we are now?” you asked. “You consider me family?”

A familiar silence once again took hold of the space between you.

“Is a wife not considered family?”

It was only due to a moment of shock that you let the question sit in the air.

You turned on your heel, your hands coming to your face as you shook your head with fatigue.

“Madara, must I remind you how terrible you are with time? —” 

Your name shot from his lips, as did a hand to your shoulder. 

— “Perhaps you should see a physician—”

“You are the closest thing I have!” Madara’s desperate cry halted all words on your tongue. He grabbed you hard enough to leave bruises, forcefully spinning you around as he moved forward, caging you against a nearby counter. His face was so close to yours, and when you looked deep into his eyes, you saw Izuna. 

“You and I have known each other for as long as I can remember,” he said with faintness. “Has it not always been you and I? Have you not always thought it was destiny how we have always been brought together like this?”

You couldn’t say why tears began prickling at your eyes. It felt as if anything could make you cry nowadays. Madara brought a hand back up to your face, skimming the wetness from your cheek. 

“Please—” It was the first time you heard Madara use such a word. — “I can assure you that things will improve, that I shall improve. Be with me by my side. I do not ask you to marry me tomorrow, but perhaps if you may see— perhaps you may come to see things as I see them.”

“You have always been one to set your expectations far too high.”

“Can you deny that we are as close as family? We have only each other.” Madara’s hand traveled down your arm to grasp your fingers in his. “I do not ask for your commitment. I ask only for the openness of your mind.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, and you breathed out a deep breath. Unconsciously, you leaned into him. Nothing made you feel right now.

“With your track record of anger and empty promises? What have we ever agreed upon?” Your words came out weakly as you met Madara’s gaze in the dimness again.

You wanted so desperately to stop staring into his eyes.

But… Izuna…

“You would have protested such things not too long ago. It all seems quite ridiculous, does it not?” You found yourself laughing, and Madara cracked a smile for the first time in a long while. 

It was thin-lipped and, indeed, did resemble a crack. The wrinkles that ripped across his face made him look young, a lot younger than he had been looking as of late. A small chuckle shook his chest and hardly made a sound in his throat. You let out a light laugh. What you said hasn’t been funny, nor was it meant to be. 

A handful of memories from when you were a teenager sat at the back of your mind, and perhaps if you tried not to think about them, they wouldn’t hold any importance. 

***

That had been a foolish thought in and of itself, and in the days following, you wondered why you had let Madara persuade you. You decided that he had beaten you down with sentiment and nostalgia, knowing that considering any other reason would only disturb what little peace of mind you had. 

It would have been wiser to give it all some thought. It would have been wiser to have turned Madara away in the first place rather than humoring his charged words, and yet, a part of you wanted to move forward. Even on your way to the neutral meeting ground, you wanted to be a part of the new dawn, spurred on by a nagging curiosity and a morbid sense of fate. 

Foolish. Foolish, with little sense to it at all!

You caught a glimpse of white, and you purposefully averted your eyes. Madara stood next to you, sporting his best robes as members of the Senju unfurled two banners to be hung. The amount of Uchiha who came in support of the agreement surprised you. Most of your settlement gathered somewhat behind you, still unsure what to make of the crowd of unarmed Senju directly ahead.

The two groups remained segregated for the most part, standing around awkwardly even as the banners featuring the Uchiha and Senju crests were hung side by side. You glanced to your left toward Madara, feeling the stuffiness and tension yourself. But Madara remained stoic and upright, hardly regarding you even as Hashirama approached.

“Today is a day for celebration! Why must everyone be so serious?”

And from the tales you had been told of Hashirama, he had not been what you expected him to be. He instantly spotted the two of you as he emerged from the crowd. His round, kind eyes seemed to glitter, along with the perfectly white teeth he bared with his smile. 

“Madara! My friend!” Hashirama, an already tall man, held his arms up. He only needed to take a few long strides before he was upon Madara, wrapping him up in a hug great enough to cause Madara to take a half step back. (You almost took a step back with him.) Just as quickly as Hashirama embraced him, he pulled back, planting his hands firmly on Madara’s shoulders. And Madara let him. “It is good to see you!”

Hashirama turned to you and positioned himself directly before you, eyes remaining as wide as his smile. 

“Madara, how could you not send notice that you would be bringing a goddess to smile upon the union of our clans?” He fell quickly into a deep bow as you gaped. You instinctually turned to look at Madara, a girlish grin of your own contorting your lips. Madara rolled his eyes with a knowing sigh. Hashirama returned to his full height. “You may call me Hashirama. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you hummed, offering your name in return. “I hope you do not consider primary names informal as we have just met.”

Hashirama let out a boisterous laugh.

“Are you not all Uchiha as we are all Senju?” Hashirama chuckled, eyes drifting to the crowd of Senju for a moment before he did a double take. “Ah!” He turned back to you and Madara, gesturing to his right. “Speaking of Senju, might I present my brother, Tobirama.”

“Everything is prepared, brother, the people are waiting on you—” 

Tobirama’s gaze latched onto yours like a magnet, causing him to stop short just to Hashirama’s right as his mouth snapped shut instantly. Your jaw dropped, and you quickly clasped your lip closed to not bring attention to your light gasp. You prayed that neither Hashirama nor Madara, who stood between the two of you, noticed your out-of-place surprise. Hashirama seemed to breeze past the micro-interaction entirely as he spoke your name.

“This is my brother, Tobirama. Tobirama, this is…” You didn’t take your eyes off Tobirama’s red irises for a second, lost in the pounding that threatened to burst open your chest. You couldn’t stop yourself from moving. Your foot slid back, positioning you just behind Madara’s shoulder. Your hand tightly grasped the back of his sleeve.

Your movement didn’t escape Hashirama. When you looked back at him, you found his gaze anchored directly to the grip you held on Madara’s arm. You watched as his face seemed to droop, his broad smile wavering for a moment as an expression of what you could only describe as genuine sorrow swept over Hashirama’s face. It was a contortion so sincere that you almost felt bad for how your body reacted. But Hashirama recovered quickly as he faced Madara once again with a friendly smile. 

“... your wife, Madara?” 

You hadn’t realized that Hashirama was still talking. 

You and Madara gazed at each other simultaneously, expecting the other to answer, but instead, you found yourselves engaged in a silent, second-long debate.

“This is, uh,” Madara started, now as thrown off as you were. His forehead twitched as he glanced back toward you instinctually. 

“I am an…” You made the mistake of accidentally making eye contact with Tobirama once again. He stood stoically by Hashirama’s side, quietly awaiting an answer. Your panicked gaze once again darted between Hashirama and Madara, who didn’t appear to be in a rush to come to your aid. — “advisor.” You nodded with pseudo-certainty. “I am an advisor on the Uchiha council.”

Hashirama wasn’t allowed time to comment. 

“Pardon us.” Two members of the Senju tentatively approached your group. Hashirama pivoted a foot to acknowledge them.

“Yes, what is it?”

“All has been prepared for us to begin. We wait only on the two of you.” 

Hashirama turned to spare a half-glance over his shoulder.

“Ah, that is what you were here to notify me of, was it not? Telling me to quit my chatter, eh, Tobirama? Why did you not speak sooner?” Hashirama laughed. “Let us make haste and not leave the people waiting longer than they have already. I am certain that everyone would rather be at the banquet than listen to my dry speech!”

With Hashirama having decided to begin, you retreated to the Uchiha side of the crowd and Tobirama to the Senju.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Hahaha would you believe that I forgot that healing jutsu existed for, perhaps, this entire fic?? I certainly wrote other things with healing jutsu. Hell, I’ve written whole stories centered on it, but this?? WHOOPS.

I thought to myself that I might add another section to this chapter but I saw that 6.8k and went hahahahaha nope!

My grammar checker no longer works on the document that this was originally written on, so I took the chapter and isolated it to do edits... resulting in weird indentation issues. Ah so goes the world...

@gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

Edit: I think I’ll drop the next chapter when this one reaches 100 notes.

[invalidname19]

Their just soo ‘okokok’ ‘~lalala~’

[miminazumin]

so this has been on my head for a while now and I couldn’t get it out, really.

I like tbiz. yes, almost everyone hc Izuna as the bottom and Tobirama as the top. but what iff??

I saw a fanart where it's shown, idk though, that Izu tops. But it’s not what I’m thinking about. It’s the fact that Tobirama is the BOTTOM. yes, I like thinking about that.

I don’t know the artist because I just found this on tiktok and the creator didn’t credit the artist, so yeah. Here’s the photo:

so yeah. Izuna looks so fucking attractive here I might kms or anyone just to be in Tobi’s place.

[yowyowyaoi]

*Tobirama, after another fight with Madara*

Tobirama: You know what? I’m sick of this, I’m sick of taking the diplomatic stance with this guy. Fuck the Uchiha!

Hashirama, pulling on his coat: Will do. Thanks for the advice, brother. Be back in the morning!

Tobirama:

*later that evening; a knock on the front door*

Tobirama: *opens it* 

Tobirama: Izuna? What are you doing here?

Izuna: You’re gonna let me crash here, Senju. There are unspeakable things going on at my house, thanks to the “advice” you gave your idiot brother. *pushes past him* You got anything to eat?

Tobirama: Good lord, you’re as insufferable as Madara! And our couch is being re-upholstered, so where do you intend to sleep? The floor?

Izuna, head in the refrigerator: How ‘bout your bed, Tobi?

Tobirama: Excuse me?? My bed? You expect me to let you have my bed and for me to sleep on the floor in my own house??

Izuna: Are you sure it’s our brothers that are the only idiots here? No, dumbass. You and me. Together.

Tobirama: D-d-did you fall and hit your head on the way over here?? Why the hell would I —

Izuna: Ah, you’re right. We need to go on at least one date first, right? *closes the refrigerator* Perfect opportunity; since you haven’t got anything decent to eat, you can take me out to dinner. Then when we come back, well … *kisses Tobirama’s cheek* We can see what happens. Go comb your hair, it’s a mess. I’ll wait outside. *walks out the front door*

Tobirama: I can’t believe he thinks he can just come in here and push me around like this! Well, I’m not Hashirama; I’m not going to be wrapped around some Uchiha’s finger! I’m gonna tell him to leave, and then —

Izuna, from outside: Tobirama! Put on something blue; you look really handsome in blue!

Tobirama:

Tobirama: *slowly pulls a blue shirt out of his closet*

[mysticlovendeath]

I wanted to hop on this trend lmao

Ref:

[ladykissingfish]

*Tobirama about to leave on a diplomatic mission with Hashirama* Tobirama, packing: So ... you're going to be okay with me going? Izuna: Yes. Tobirama: You're sure you're not upset about me going for so long? Izuna: No. I understand; it's for the good of the village. Tobirama: Mm, I have to say, you've really come a long way in terms of maturity. *chuckles* Remember the last time I had to go with Hashi on that trip to the land of snow? The tantrum you threw when I said you couldn't come with? Izuna, blushing: Awwww, Tobi ... why'd you have to bring that up? You're making me sound like the neediest boyfriend in the world! Tobirama: *puts his arms around Izuna and pulls him close* Soon to be the neediest fiancé, then neediest husband, if I can manage to get permission from your brother. Izuna: Hmph; good luck with that. Now kiss me goodbye and get out of here. Tobirama: *gives Izuna a deep kiss* Love you. Please keep yourself safe until my return. Izuna: Love you too. And you do the same. *the next night, finally having arrived at their destination* Hashirama: Whew ... either I'm getting older or travelling so far by cart has gotten harder on my body. Tobirama: I know what you mean. I can't wait to take a nice long soak. *puts his suitcase up on the bed* Just let me unpack and -- Tobirama: *unlocks the clasp and jumps back a step, startled* What the -- Izuna, rolling out: Surprise! Hashirama: Izuna?? Tobirama: What the fuck are you doing in there? HOW DID YOU EVEN FIT IN THERE?! Izuna: Foolish Senju; I'm sure I've told you before that Uchihas are known master contortionists! Tobirama: But ... but didn't we have a talk about you being more mature -- ? Izuna: Oi, I AM more mature. I didn't cry this time, did I? I simply decided that I needed to come along with you, so I did. Izuna: *shakes himself out, then wraps himself around Tobirama* You really thought I'd let you leave me for so long? Idiot. Hashirama, laughing: Oh my God, this is hilarious! I can't wait to tell Madara what a crazy guy his brother is! Izuna: Oh yeah? Well you won't have to wait long to tell him; just unpack your suitcase. Hashirama: M-my suitcase? What do you -- "Hashirama's Suitcase": For God's sake, hurry up and unlock this dusty thing! Your clothes smell like you haven't properly washed them in weeks! Hashirama:

[belit0]

Izuna with an only fans account and Tobirama obsessively watching/requesting videos

THIS GOT DARK PRETTY SOOOON

TW: Dark! Tobirama.

Money rains down, and Izuna enjoys his dirty secret with animosity.

That is, until the whole thing gets weird.

Of course, he can't admit to his Aniki how he got a non-traditionally accepted way of earning money, achieving financial independence, and no longer needing him to survive. Madara was genuinely angry when Izuna dropped college, and even more so when he refused to take a position in his company.

The Uchiha does not want to live off his family, to rely on his older brother to make ends meet, and began to explore ways to generate money without needing a degree or contacts.

The world of nudity is something he was already a part of, sending explicit photos to a thousand men a night just because he felt aroused and eager to receive compliments, seeking approval from hundreds of strangers and validation.

What difference did it make if he suddenly started doing it for money?

Instead of giving away his content just for the sake of masturbating under other people's flattery, he could monetize that feeling, and receive payments for the same thing.

It would take some work, of course. He would have to create a platform, make it gain momentum, and an audience, attracting those who would want to consume and pay for his content. The first step was to create such material, using his existing dirty pictures and taking more. He puts to use all the sex toys in his possession and takes the sexiest videos in preparation.

Evaluating the decision of whether to show his face or not, of what would happen if his photos got out and reached his older brother, he decided it was a risk to take. Men seemed to love it when they saw his pleasure expressions, and Izuna would exploit it to the fullest.

He dedicated himself to hiding all his personal profiles, making his Instagram private and deleting unknown followers, erasing identifiable traces on his Twitter, eliminating any strangers from Snapchat, and clearing his TikTok. No one could find a trail of Izuna Uchiha online, nothing that could connect him to that fictional person he created under the username of “IzU02”.

His official OF opens for the first time, and he works on all descriptions, personalized and private messages, ways to attract and make his audience feel special. Then he follows on with Twitter, a new account where he creates a page worthy of a bot, and fills it with provocative images. Bait for all the morbid ones to click on and get to his home page.

He considers opening an Instagram but prefers to opt for TikTok. A social network where he will have to be careful about the explicitness of his videos, but it will also serve to gather an audience.

With the plan in place, the first few months are slow, without much activity. He still has to rely on Madara, but less and less. A donation here, a little money there, someone buying access to his photos. Little by little, his OF starts to gain traction, and he progressively gains people interested in him.

He builds up a small group of men who would love to have him, who think he's theirs, guys who fall in love with his figure and his videos. They pay a ridiculous monthly amount for his content and a few extra dollars for exclusive posts.

Izuna is soon able to pay the rent on his own, without needing his brother to take over his life, and everything starts to seem simple. Some ass here, dildos there, and the money rains in.

One man, in particular, stands out among the crowd, a guy named SnowBunny69!

Whoever is hiding behind this user carries a disturbing obsession with him, to the point where he pays for absolutely all of his photos and videos, follows him on all of his networks, and slides on his DMS on a daily basis. SnowBunny69! Seems to believe he is in a relationship with Izuna, sending him bizarre messages bordering on psychotic.

"Why don't you talk to me, did you get bored? You don’t have a choice."

"You looked beautiful in today's picture, but I wish not everyone could see it."

"You're mine, stop showing off like a whore in front of anyone."

The Uchiha assumes he is one of those persons with a lot of money and no life, who spend their time browsing porn profiles and trying to feel something through donations to strangers. He pays no attention to it, for as long as he keeps paying, he doesn't care. Either way, his DMS leaves him a little uneasy, and he doesn't like the feeling it creates in his chest every time he sees a notification coming from that username.

At some point, he'd love to be able to tell Madara, to release the tension he's been carrying inside since this profile started behaving like a lunatic, but that would mean revealing... everything. His older brother would freak out, force him to move back in with him, and not leave him alone for a second.

Not a chance.

Everything functions merely normally, until Izuna receives a horrible blood-chilling message.

He's about to jump in the shower and take his usual premium photos when he sees a notification on his phone. It's a text message, not coming from any of his pages. His first reflex is to think Madara texted him for some reason, but he's horrified when reading it.

"Missed you today, who is that man in your ig pics?"

If he has to guess, he knows for sure it's his stalker, which means SnowBunny69! got his number somehow.

He has to be referring to his private, personal Instagram, because Izuna never opened one for his sexual endeavor. With dread, he opens the app on his phone and remembers how yesterday he uploaded a photo with Madara, together and hugging. A harmless selfie after his brother invited him to lunch, to catch up.

It's like he's watching him, keeping an eye over his moves, in the spotlight of this man's insane head who thinks he owns him and believes to have power over him or his life.

Whoever is behind that profile managed to gain access to his privacy, and the Uchiha desperately checks his followers, hoping to find an account or a profile he forgot to delete.

Another text arrives, and he only dares to read it without opening the notification.

"I told you you're mine. If you don't want anything bad to happen, you'll learn to behave."

Izuna gives up on his knees on the bathroom floor, tears of shock rolling down his cheeks involuntarily, and his phone crashing to the floor. He feels observed, abused, and violated. He did everything he could to maintain his privacy, hide his true identity and protect his personal life, but it seems to have been in vain.

Even with the broken screen, he can see the terrible message present in the notification center, and all he can do is cry in despair.

[mysteriouscrimsoneyes]

The Founders giving gifts to Sakura for her birthday! From Hashirama; a cherry blossom hairpin. Tobirama; scrolls about medical jutsu and more. Madara; her favourite dessert, Anmitsu. And Izuna; a deck of Hanafuda cards. Enjoy!

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter VIII

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including graphic violence. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

Notes: For those of you who have been saying "wow! I wonder what's going to happen next!"... me too.

Following the last Senju raid, which had nearly decimated the Uchiha village in its entirety, the reconfiguration of the land shifted. The newly appointed clan head, Madara, led your clan up the mountains to higher ground as the Senju more than doubled their already sizeable territory, spreading across the sprawling forests. 

One of many wooded mountains in the range that bisected the Land of Fire, the one that the Uchiha chose to call home was the largest and was appropriately dubbed the “Grandfather Summit,” which boasted three great peaks. The smaller outer two were called the “Guardian Shoulders,” while the peak in the center was simply called the “Crown.” 

You supposed that some ancestors long ago had thought the sizeable structure to be anthropomorphic enough to be a golem or perhaps a god. You could see it, although the shape took on little more than what you thought a child could draw. Madara never believed that the Grandfather Summit looked much like a man at all.

“It is a large pile of stone and nothing more,” he would frown and perhaps cross his arms with a tilt of his head. But his unimpressed notion of the Grandfather Summit didn’t stop him from relocating what was left of his friends and family up the mass of rock following the most destructive blow on the Uchiha tribe in recent history. 

You couldn’t believe that Madara had been able to set his pride aside for such a move. While all the clans in the Land of Fire bordered on nomadic in some way or another, a clan as large as the Uchiha typically opted to stake its claim in a sizeable plot of fertile land. After all, a clan’s ability to keep their territory was a marker of status in and of itself. 

But in the end, Madara moved you away from the patch of forest you had called home for all of your life in pursuit of the Grandfather Summit. You were almost certain the remaining elders were unabashed in sharing their thoughts before they were forced to submit under Madara’s domineering presence. And you knew just as certainly that if the previous clan heads were alive, they would have given him an earful. 

“They are buried so deep, the earth fills their mouths too much for chatter,” Madara would surely say.

He hardly followed rigid tradition, even when it mattered, so you weren’t surprised when protests fell on deaf ears. Madara’s changes were apparent, even from the distance you hid yourself. Only strong young men filled the war room, with no wrinkled brow or shaky joint to be seen. Just like Madara, they were all chosen through combat. 

Madara took his place in the center of the room, stroking his chin gravely as he studied the map. Izuna stood at his side, both wrists folded and resting on the hilt of his sheathed katana. Four stones sat each corner of the table, holding down the corners and pulling the artisanal paper taut as the band of Uchiha warriors took turns gesturing and poking at the depictions drawn below. 

The Uchiha settlement sat between the Crown and the southern shoulder, which offered the most fertile and settleable land. Although despite resting on the lower of the collection of peaks, the southern shoulder still undoubtedly offered the highest ground compared to the land in the surrounding radius. The current positioning of the Uchiha compound was second only to the treacherous northern shoulder and the Crown itself, which reached the clouds in the heavens above. 

It was no wonder the Senju were beginning to close in from the north. 

At least, it made sense to you. You were no military strategist.

“It would be impossible.” One of Madara’s councilmen scoffed. You saw the flippant wave of a hand through the crack between the windowsill and the closed shutters. “Say the Senju manage the northern Guardian. The chances of their warriors taking on the Crown are slim to none in and of itself. There is too much to lose in an attempt to ambush us from the skies.”

“Nay, save such speculative talk, for we are far past speculation.” Another flippant wave. “The Senju have already sunk their claws deep into the northern shoulder. Farther than we could have ever anticipated. Perhaps your words would be true if we had only heard rumors of their traveling north, but it was only a sennight ago that my brother carried a Senju crest back with him from patrols.”

“An ambush from the highest peak of the Grandfather himself?” A third voice scoffed. A shadow teetered back and forth, swiping across your eyes from where you hid, wavering in the candlelight. “What must Hashirama Senju be thinking? He is certainly out of his own head! He thinks himself a god!”

“He thinks himself nothing.” Madara’s voice was low and raspy, churning in his chest like a beastly growl. His nose scrunched to the side, contrasting the nonchalant bob of his brow and shrug of his shoulder. He rested his elbow on his knee, allowing his forehead to rest in the area between his index finger and thumb. Madara took a deep breath, letting another growl-like rumble resound in his chest. “He thinks himself nothing.”

The light from the candles that lit the room flickered, casting shallow shadows across the warriors gathered. They littered the room silently; all turned toward their clan head with watchful eyes.

No one dared speak but Izuna.

He leaned down, bowing at the waist, to speak directly into his brother’s ear. Madara quirked an attentive brow.

The red pattern of your already ignited sharingan swirled in your irises as you watched from your hiding place. Your breathing slowed to steady streams of hot air, and all of your attention focused on Izuna’s lips. 

“It is worth considering that the Senju…” A curtain of hair fell over the side of his face, obscuring your view. He continued to whisper as you tried to track the movements of his mouth from behind strands of hair. 

A chill came over you. Goosebumps began to pop up across your skin. A shiver worked its way down your body in a wave, starting from your shoulders and ending at your thighs. It was only then that you met Madara’s eye.

He peered directly at you, straight through the tiny slit between where the window and the shudders were supposed to meet. Your breath hitched in your throat, everything around you slowing as you felt the hairs on your arms rise. 

And with the slightest breeze, you were whisked away like smoke in the cool summer air. 

***

The meeting didn’t adjourn until late into the night, and it was only when the candles were snuffed out that the soldiers began to head home. The moon shone brightly overhead, appearing more prominent in the sky than it had during any of the previous seasons. Even without lanterns, the entire Uchiha compound remained well-lit. Madara and his forces trickled out of the meeting building’s doors, exchanging formal nods with each other as they set off onto the moonlit paths. 

Madara paused before the wooden steps, eyes focused on the trees that swayed gently in the evening breeze. Izuna stood on the porch behind him, silently following his brother’s gaze from the trees back to Madara. 

He lingered on the Uchiha clan head for a moment before making his way down the steps. Izuna approached him with certainty, placing a firm hand on Madara’s shoulder. Only through touch did Madara snap out of his trance, blinking a few times as he tried to conceal his acute surprise. Izuna returned his hand to his other in their usual resting place at the hilt of his katana, offering his brother a knowing nod.

Madara wordlessly understood, making his way down the dark path toward home. 

Izuna loitered in the middle of the dirt road. His shoulders relaxed under his robes, and his hands never once left their slack position across his weapon as he watched Madara disappear farther and farther into the distance. 

Only when Madara disappeared over the small dirt hill in the distance did Izuna set his sights on the trees. He peered at the spot where Madara had been fixated on, slowly pivoting himself in the earth to face the patch of dark forest. 

“Reveal yourself,” he commanded. His gentle voice carried a great sternness. 

He stood patiently in the open, ever so sure of himself and not in need to prove it.

You respected a man’s ability to manage his seriousness devoid of aggression. That was likely why you obeyed him, moving out of the shadows to step into the moonlit patch of road not too far of a distance in front of him. 

If it were up to you, Izuna would be clan head.

Not that you had any power to make those decisions in the first place. 

Izuna eyed you with mild incredulousness. You expected no less from him.

“I told you to reveal yourself,” he repeated, voice ever-neutral. You sighed softly, bowing your head as the double before Izuna melted into the atmosphere. Your true body emerged from behind a nearby tree a distance away. Izuna continued to eye you wordlessly.

“I deemed it worth an attempt,” you said, clearing your throat. Izuna didn’t humor you.

“You forget yourself.” 

Quiet overtook the night once again. You dared to venture farther from your hiding spot, stepping through the grass toward the ever-still Izuna. Your limbs protested, your instincts locking your joints like those of a wooden doll. You stopped at the edge of the path, protected by the shallow shadows of the trees and feet still planted in the line of the forest. 

You could see the tension build in his neck. Having already been lost in thought with the Senju affairs, you were sure your woman’s trick hadn’t been the most well-thought-out plan in the face of Izuna’s clear vexation. Quite a few Uchiha women were known to unlock their ocular abilities, but unlike their male counterparts who were expected to partake in battle, the Uchiha women’s sharingan techniques were almost entirely passive. 

Most of them centered on making illusions, for an image of a beautiful, vulnerable woman alone in the woods may distract enemy warriors long enough for a mother to escape with her children. The mother often taught these techniques to the young in her home for similar survival reasons. 

You waited for Izuna to speak again. It was best to wait, as unlike Madara’s explosive, violent fits of predictable rage, Izuna kept his rage artfully, dangerously restrained. Like storm clouds slowly rolling in to cover the sky above, you knew that Izuna’s thunder could crack at any moment.

“I will have no more of your nonsense, and neither will Madara,” Izuna harshly proclaimed. He slowly turned away from you, hands never moving from where they sat on the hilt of his swords. The skin of his nose crinkled a bit as if he were holding back a bitter snarl. “You know not what you involve yourself with. A woman knows nothing of the matters of men, nor should she be as involved as my brother has allowed you to be. If I were clan head, an apprentice would have replaced you as apothecary long ago.” 

You stared at him as he tried to fight off the bitter look that threatened to contort his face. The redness of your sharingan had long extinguished, but you hardly needed the enhancement to study the man before you. 

“There is none more knowledgeable at the present. Makihara was… Makihara was far too liberal in his ideologies. And with the war effort, we cannot afford a lesser medicine maker.” His stoic exterior faltered for a moment with a dip of his lip. Izuna gazed somewhere in the distance, lost in an anger caused by something greater than you. “But above all, Madara wishes not to take more from you than has already been stripped of you by the Senju.”

Izuna drew his attention from the ground to the moonlit sky overhead. A full moon peaked from behind the thin clouds, illuminating the road in a silver sheen. He pivoted a foot as he regarded you, the cracks in his exterior beginning to sink back into his cold exterior. 

“Then, it is not in your control,” The gentle evening breeze carried your level voice. It was soft and undaunted, like an Uchiha woman should be. “Nor is it in mine.”

“Why do you stay?” he asked in an even tone. “I ask myself why you forget yourself so, and why has fate encouraged you?” Izuna gazed up once again at the sky. 

You stood in the darkness, shrouded by the forest.

Izuna stood elevated in the light, blanketed by the glow of the night. 

“An Uchiha, yes,” he continued coldly as if the words he recited were nothing less than factual. “But you boast no living blood. You, a woman— you have no interest in the value of tradition. Instead, you busy yourself with matters that do not concern you.” Izuna’s gaze sharpened but didn’t narrow. “Your heart is easily swayed. Your flesh is soft and bleeds when it is struck. You consider not what is done on your behalf; I implore you to consider it.” 

Izuna’s sword drew from his hip in a flash, and the tip of his katana drove into the ground. The polished metal sunk a few inches before stopping.

He finally breathed. He hadn’t realized that he had begun to heave or that his sword had been pulled from its sheath. Izuna stared at the hilt for a moment; hand still gripped around the woven handle. 

“I advise you to retreat from this place,” he muttered, heaving another deep breath as he removed his weapon and slid it back into its usual place by his hip. Izuna turned once more, squaring his shoulders back as if the mere act of speaking to you angered him to the core. His robes snapped with the motion, flowing in the air as he stormed off, ever-militant. “Our world as we know it thrives on deception, and you are no different. Retreat before your illusion fades like the fog before a flame.”

He stalked off down the path, leaving you where you stood in the darkness. Your form remained shaken but undaunted. 

***

The Uchiha’s most formidable forces were venturing off to defend the northern shoulder. It was the talk of the village from as early as daybreak, and the entire compound bustled with life as everyone made preparations. 

The journey that the warriors were to be making was most perilous. Due to the incline, there was no better way to reach the northern shoulder than to pass around the Crown summit. If Madara were to lead them upward, the warrior party would encounter a few narrow routes that led directly north. If only a few warriors were leaving, the journey might have only taken about a day or so, but with a battalion the size that Madara selected, you anticipated that it would take them a few days to reach the northern shoulder.

Women carried back firewood and prepared provisions. Children ran across the village, delivering messages and small amounts of raw materials. Metal on metal sounded from the forge. The ovens churned the scent of bread products into the air. And just shy of the center of town sat your apothecary.

You propped the door with a large rock and tied the shudders open that morning. Warm natural light trickled into the main chamber, where you stood, slaving over a mortar and pestle at the counter. 

The apothecary didn’t appear too dissimilar to your old workspace. Made of mostly wood, it stood on giant tree trunk supports. Five wooden stairs led up to the entrance, and a small patio housed a few pots of herbs. 

Large cabinets lined the walls, reaching about hip height with sturdy shelving just above to house a tall arrangement of medicinal goods. A half counter bisected the room, separating the entrance lined with goods from the back of the building, which flared out a short distance on either side. Heavier jars and handling tools were stored in this section farther into the apothecary, leaving room on the extended countertops for you to use as a workspace.

In the very back stood a winding wooden staircase. At the top sat a loft with a small library, and at the bottom was a door out the back into the small plot of land you called your medicinal garden. 

Madara’s warpath kept your counters as messy as ever. To your left, you kept trays of various herbs and mixtures laid out, ready for the adolescent soldiers to pack into bags to put into field kits. 

“You should be able to administer the wound ointment.” You frowned, stopping your work to hold up the two halves of your concoction. “First, you are to place the powder—”

“I am aware of the ways in which to administer medicine,” Madara groaned, letting his head tilt back. He rolled it from shoulder to shoulder, gazing off toward the ceiling as if that would make you stop talking. “I have not the time to learn your convoluted experiment. Where are the items I requested from you? Izuna should have notified you.”

Madara leaned over your counter, and you met his gaze. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought he was bored, but the mischievous glint in his eyes was unmistakable. With you behind the counter and Madara imposing himself onto your workspace, it was almost as if you were sixteen again. 

“Some things never change,” you sighed. You turned to grab a small bowl from an eye-level shelf and placed it down on the counter with a huff. Madara caught your eye again, but despite the glimmer of curiosity that continued to swim in his dark irises, you knew better than to test him like you would have just a few years prior. “I insist that we try the deep-wound treatment first. The fibrous characteristics of the vallestinia, in combination with some moisture and the accelerant-type factors of the lamortens grand, can quite plainly sew tissue together with chakra in a matter of moments—”

“Unnecessary.” Madara placed his entire hand into the bowl, scooping up a palmful of pills. He let them slip through his fingers, falling back into the pile as he considered them. “The Senju will not allow us any time to spare to make use of lengthy healing processes.”

“But you wanted me to create these,” you posed, holding your tongue from making more than an implied criticism. 

The last of the pills fell back into the bowl. Madara stared at the small compilation.

“I do not doubt that Hashirama Senju will be present on the northern shoulder,” Madara drawled, pausing between phrases. “The surrounding clans grow weary of battle, and I must admit that I have grown… tired of the state of affairs.”

“You?” you hummed an amused laugh behind tight lips. “The grand Madara fatigued of battle?” 

“Fatigued from the act of burial,” he swiftly corrected. The corners of his lips twitched upward for only a moment. “Fatigued from my home being disturbed.” His words drifted off into a growl, a soft, bored rumbling in his chest. Madara often let his voice stall in his throat, the noises turning over as they churned into a low rumble. 

“This is why I implore you to bring my latest ointment. There are but a few of them—”

“The Senju do not climb upon the Grandfather Summit to entertain prisoners. Should a warrior of the Uchiha sustain a fatal blow, he should take it upon himself to give his life in a suicide attack. It should be an honor for the final act of a soldier to be making his enemy pay.” He rose to his full height from his leaning position, glancing from the trays of herbs to the pile of pills on the counter. “Are these all you have crafted?”

“There are several more jars in storage. The herbs consist of a standard selection for minor wounds… for the journey home, of course.”

“Very good.” Madara nodded, not sparing you a second glance as he exited.

You wouldn’t see him again until the battalion departed. After a few short days of preparation, the gathering of some of Uchiha’s best warriors and other volunteers left before daybreak. You watched them go from the porch of your apothecary. Madara led them out of the compound, donning his infamous red battle armor and gunbai. Izuna followed close next to his brother. He didn’t look back at you either. 

There was much fanfare, but it was soon over, and the Uchiha compound was left in peaceful stillness.

You busied yourself with foraging in the woods near the compound, enjoying the time you were left undisturbed. The doors and windows to your apothecary remained open so you could enjoy the cool summer air. Despite the sun, which shone brightly overhead, the temperature remained comfortable.

Something about the stillness didn’t feel right.

***

The Uchiha never made it to the northern shoulder.

The Senju made their approach toward the Crown, and both clans clashed on the rocky terrain that plateaued between the two summits as you tended to your garden at home. Madara and Hashirama engaged in combat, as they had for years, clearing out a massive section of the battlefield for their duel. The blistering heat from the sun beat down on the unforgiving field, leaving little but hot stone and wilted grass. 

Not a far distance away, Tobirama’s sword clashed with Izuna’s. Their weapons crossed, shaking with the sheer force of their strikes as the two came face to face. Izuna flashed his sharingan, the deadly crimson pattern swirling to life in the heat of battle. Tobirama quickly closed his eyes, and Izuna used the opportunity to strike.

Tobirama tumbled back, slamming his back against a nearby boulder. A strangled noise tore from his throat at the impact. He wasted little time readying his hand signs, completing his jutsu before his eyes reopened in time to counter Izuna’s great fireball jutsu. 

Steam filled the battlefield.

Not one to underestimate his life-long rival, Izuna held the reds of his irises at the ready, scanning the rock for signs of movement. Kunai flew toward him from the front. He hummed to himself, unamused at the feeble attempt. 

And for a moment, he considered himself blessed to have been blessed with the sharingan eye.

“Flying Raijin Slice!”

At home, one of your flower pots fell from the railing on the apothecary patio. The sound of shattering clay startled a flock of crows, which flew overhead from a gathering of nearby trees. You stood just at the top of the wooden steps, staring down at the pile of shards, dirt, and upheaved roots. 

You could feel it.

Something was terribly wrong.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: The last chapter, this one, and perhaps part of the next are a bit Uchiha-centric in order to set up for what I have planned. You know, I didn't even intend for Madara to have this much of an impact on the story nor did I even consider writing any Izuna, but here we are... I knew I had to kill him before I posted this.

Sorry for keeping everyone waiting. It's been really cool seeing the Foul Creature notifications roll in all the time. Especially when it's someone starting from Chapter 1. Always feel free to chat; I know my posts are few and far between.

@gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

[luccacaca]

Hashirama lost one sibling but Madara was the last one left out of five.

[luchicm04]

Sorry, I couldn't help myself😅

[yowyowyaoi]

*Tobirama having dinner with Hashirama and Madara*

Hashirama: Not to brag, but, I think my cooking’s getting better all the time! 

Madara: We’re 30 minutes into this meal and I have yet to be hit with debilitating stomach cramps, so, I suppose I’d agree.

Tobirama, quietly: Very good, elder brother.

Hashirama: Oh; smells like my dessert is about finished! You two keep eating while I go tend to it! *gets up and leaves*

Tobirama, softly, to Madara: Did you tell him — ?

Madara: No. Does he know how you got that black eye?

Tobirama: I told him I tripped over a rock in the dark. *touches his face* Hurts like a son of a bitch.

Madara: I won’t apologize, because I think you deserved it. Senju or not, I would have had the same reaction if I had walked in on anybody kissing my baby brother the way you were.

Tobirama: I see your position, Madara. But you never even asked me mine. I know you don’t like to hear such things, but, I’m in love with Izuna. And perhaps we shouldn’t have been sneaking around behind your back all this time, but —

Madara: No, you shouldn’t have been. It’s not just a matter of him being my brother; I am the Uchiha clan elder. All matters of … of courtship, need to go through me. It’s tradition, and a matter of respect. Or maybe courtship isn’t what you had in mind. Maybe you’re just after my brother to satisfy your physical needs.

Tobirama: That’s not it, at all. I am very much in love with that man. I want to make him my husband some day. And if groveling to you is what I need to do, to help that happen …

Tobirama: *leaves his place at the table and crawls on his knees to Madara, bowing when he gets to him*

Tobirama: Please, I beg of you; allow me to enter into courtship with Izuna Uchiha, according to the customs of your clan.

Madara: Well …

Hashirama, coming into the room with a large cake: Just say Yes, Madara. End this nonsense between you two. It’s bad enough you hurt his face like that.

Madara: Wait … you knew that was me?

Hashirama: Of course I did. Tobirama senses everything, all the time. There’s no feasible way he’d “trip over a rock” and fall in the dark. And then I saw Izuna a few days ago in the village, and he was acting so shy and nervous … not to mention when I invited him for dinner tonight, and told him you both would be here, he all but panicked. So I put two and two together.

Madara: Your brother says he wants to marry Izuna some day. Honestly, truthfully; do you feel like he’d make a good husband?

Hashirana: Mmm; difficult to say, really. I’ve known Tobi my whole life, after all. He can be really stubborn sometimes, and when he gets wrapped up in writing or inventing new jutsus, he can go silent for days. But I also know your brother brings something out of him that I’ve never seen before. Izuna makes him smile, and laugh, and just enjoy life more. I don’t doubt that he loves him, and I think, I know, that he’d be the best husband possible for him. He —

Madara, gruffly: Alright, Hashi … you needn’t get so emotional about it. A simple “yes” would have sufficient. 

Tobirama: Indeed, big brother. Most unbefitting behavior for a Hokage.

Hashirama, blushing: You two are certainly rude. But is the matter settled then? Can I send for Izuna to come eat this cake with us, so we can celebrate?

Madara, sighing: Very well. I suppose … I suppose Izuna could do worse than Tobirama. But Senju, you can’t just jump to proposing to him. You have to take him on a series of dates, some with Uchiha clan members as guardians, some with Senju as guardians, and sometimes both. If both clans find your behavior and your union to be acceptable after an appropriate period of time, THEN you can ask him for his hand. *sticks out his own hand* Agreed?

Tobirama: *shakes Madara’s hand* Agreed.

Madara: Good. Now that that’s settled: feed me.

Tobirama: Excuse me?

Madara: Mm? Didn’t you say you’d do anything to be able to court my brother? Well, here’s your chance to prove it. Feed me, and then when Izuna gets here, you’ll let him sit on your back, like a chair. And afterwards you’re going to carry the both of us back home. Clan tradition, you understand.

Madara: Also, you better learn how to bake, and fast. See this cake? Izuna will eat more than half of this if he’s not stopped. If you marry him, he’ll expect something sweet like this every day for the rest of your lives. And if you bake something he doesn’t like — *pulls off his glove, revealing a series of bite marks on his hand* Lets just say he’s not too forgiving.

Tobirama:

Tobirama: What have I gotten myself into?

[lgcllyanx]

a normal couple would just get matching tattoos guys