Chapter Text
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“Anija, anija wake up!”
“Wake up you useless brat!”
A sharp slap to his right cheek had Tobirama awaken with a start. Struggling to catch his breath, the Sensor shakily took in his surroundings, eyes of merlot only widening at realizing just where he was.
No, no this wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be-!
“Tobirama!”
Fear grasped at his heart as the reality around him sunk in, mind screaming and soul crying out in knowing agony. There, only a few feet away, was Butsuma Senju, his sire and tormentor, a snarl marring his brutish features in anger and pure blooded hatred.
Stalking forward, the cruel man reached out a callous and uncaring hand and roughly grasped the collar of Tobirama’s navy yukata with a shout, “Get up boy!”
Tobirama shook in his father’s hold, tears threatening to blur his vision as he gazed into the brown eyes that forever haunted his dreams, unable to look away.
“I told you to care for Kawarama and Itama,” Butsuma howled, his grip on Tobirama only tightening with the height of his rage. “Yet here you are, reading foolish texts instead of fulfilling your duties! You stupid boy!”
A fist of fury struck Tobirama’s already aching cheek, the force behind the hit sending the white haired Senju out of his father’s grip and into the far wall, sending anija’s precious plants crashing to the ground alongside him. Tobirama was unable to hold back the cry like he knew he should have, for any noise only spurred the man on further in his mistreatments.
As he attempted to sit up amongst the carnage his father wrought, a hand threaded through the silver locks on Tobirama’s head, yanking him upwards with a shout, “On your feet, freak!”
He shakily stood to his feet, small streams of coppery crimson coloring his pale skin as pieces of glass and pottery littered his flesh, Tobirama wincing at the action. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, Tobirama was thrust to the ground in the middle of the room, air escaping his lungs as his chest slammed into the unforgiving wood floor without abandon. Sandaled feet and ruthless fists followed, striking him all over his body until Tobirama could no longer think anything but pain, mouth full of blood as his father threw his battered and ruined body to the ground.
The man came to crouched beside his aching form, a growl emanating from deep within his chest, “Remember this Tobirama, you are nothing more than the dust that colors the bottom of my feet and you will never be anything greater. Now, do your duties.”
Butsuma dropped him to the ground like a used rag, leaving the room with bloodied knuckles and an air of arrogance following him like a shadowy cloak. Everything hurt, his head, his side, his face, his legs where Butsuma had snapped his left tibia in two and his right femur was broken badly enough that the bone jutted out gruesomely from his flesh. All he could do was lay there on the ground, marinating in a puddle of his own blood as he shallowly breathed gasps of air, making sure not to breathe too deeply in hopes of preventing his broken ribs from puncturing his lungs.
“-ija?”
Tobirama, in the haze of his head wound, could hardly make out the small voices speaking behind him, fearing to move any part of his broken form. Tiny, soft hands touched his dislocated elbow, caution present in their touch as two sets of eyes came into contact with his own.
Itama whimpered as he came to fearfully kneeled beside Tobirama, tears spilling down the four year old’s chubby cheeks, “Anija!”
Kawarama moved beside their youngest brother, worry and determination coloring his dark eyes, “I’m going to get Hashi’ and Touka, they’ll fix you anija! Just hold on!”
All Tobirama could do was blink in the affirmative, his throat hoarse from screaming in pain and the strangling his father had given him amidst his beating, and watch as the five year old disappeared from his field of vision. The vibrations of small feet striking the wood floors echoed through the foundation, informing Tobirama of which direction the little boy was heading in his search for their eldest brother and cousin. His body was growing heavier with each passing moment, the blood loss becoming too much for his eight year old body, his sight slowly being swallowed by an all-encompassing darkness. He wanted to sleep, for all of this to be a bad dream, to get up and snuggle with Kawarama and Itama until they were fast asleep. They were too young to see something so traumatic, to witness one of their elder brother’s in such a ravaged state, and the simple fact that he had sent Kawarama for help corrosively ate at his core. Tobirama always did his best to hide his injuries from the boys and anija, Touka-nee being the only one clued in due to the fact she was the one who patched him up after a particularly brutal beating two years back. His brothers needed him to be strong, kami why was he so tired-?
A tiny hand timidly rested on Tobirama’s bruised forehead, Itama’s voice small and trembling like a leaf above his prone form, “You have to stay awake, anija! Don’t leave me!”
The tears racing down his youngest brother’s cheeks thrust the exhaustion from his mind, Tobirama shifting his body minisculely and doing his best to keep eye contact with the two toned haired boy. Shaking like a mountain enduring an earthquake, Itama shuffled closer to Tobirama’s position, pure unadulterated fear shining true in his pools of dusty brown. No four year old should be subjected to this.
“-it okay, Itama,” Tobirama rasped, pain flaring angrily in his blood-crusted throat. “Anija, okay.”
Itama shook his head in vehemence, tears violently sent flying left and right, “No you’re not anija, father hurt you!”
There was no way Tobirama could deny it this time, there had been witnesses after all, but he could not allow his brothers to become upset on his behalf. If father knew that his anija and otoutos were sympathetic or supportive of Tobirama, the excretion of the Senju, the White Demon, the individual of the warning tales that the Uchihas told their children around the hearth at night, they would most likely endure punishments of their own. He was often grateful for his anija’s childish ignorance and his otoutos innocence, they rarely took interest in the bloom of bruises that colored his pale skin or the scrapes that littered his legs and arms due to the fact they were shinobi. Bruises and injuries were all a part of the life of a ninja, especially of someone of his caliber and appearance. Touka only knew because she had silently walked in on father beating him for not being tougher on Kawarama and Itama, hiding behind supply crates in horror as her uncle battered his six year old form with anger fueled fists. So insistent had she been to inform anija of what was happening, of giving his father a piece of her mind because “abuse is abuse Tobirama, this is unaccept-!”, but he had somehow convinced the haughty kunoichi that what he suffers at his father’s hands prevents his brothers from having to deal with the same.
Moving to deny the reality set before him, Tobirama shakily reached his fingers out to Itama, ignoring the weak ache emanating from his dislocated elbow, “Father, near. Stay quiet.”
Any of his attempts to diffuse the situation at hand shattered before the albino as the sliding door flew open, three shadows casting over to the two Senju boys.
“Otouto!” “Itoko-kun!”
In a blur of movement, Kawarama was snatching Itama backwards, Hashirama and Touka coming to kneel beside Tobirama on the tatami, horror and outrage consuming their dark eyes.
Anija came to cup Tobirama’s aching skull with a shaky hand, murmuring in terrified realization as tears threatened to fall down his elder brother’s usually grinning facial features, “Tobi, oh Kami what on earth did he do to you?!”
“Gone too far, that is what he has done,” Touka growled, ripping the fabric of her haori and wrapping it tightly around the gough in the Sensor’s blood-saturated thigh. “Tobirama has been undertaking beatings from your father for years!”
The temperature in the room dropped drastically at Touka’s heated statement, Hashirama’s orbs of dark brown falling on the quietly sobbing forms of Kawarama and Itama a few feet away before falling upon Tobirama. Even with his vision limited due to the swelling around his right eye socket, Tobirama could see how his anija unraveled before him, guilt and so many other emotions beginning to feast on his ever-sensitive heart, the one their father had tried so many times to harden and corrupt with bloody arrogance.
A tan hand came to carefully cradle Tobirama’s outreached hand, Hashirama bearing a saddened confidence and comfort in his body language and voice, “It will be alright, Tobi’, anija is here now.”
His hand began to glow green, the relief Tobirama did not realize he was in desperate need of filling his veins and as he came to settle, exhaustion ate aggressively at his already unstable consciousness.
“Rest now, otouto. Anija has you.”
The world was enveloped in black, his will to stay awake, to protect his brothers, slipping through his fingers like water.
“ ANIJA!”
Tobirama gasped, thrusting his body forward into a sitting position, reeling as he took in the scene around him. No longer was he bleeding out surrounded by his brothers and cousin in the Senju compound, but now swarmed by battling Senju and Uchiha, fire devastating the landscape.
“Die demon!”
In a blur, Tobirama was on his feet, blocking an attacking Uchiha’s aerial blow of death with a katana and using a kunai to slit his throat, blood splattering wetly across his face. Wiping the coppery crimson from his eyes, Tobirama looked around amidst the chaos, only to see an older anija in battle with a younger Madara, the two boys dealing blow after blow to each other’s person. Father was not too far away, taking on Uchiha Clan Head Tajima Uchiha with deadly intent, each grown man aiming to maim the other with a life ending hit as they danced across the battlefield.
“ANIJA!”
That voice, NO!
Spinning around Tobirama saw Kawarama across the field, the seven old doing his best to fight off the group of Uchiha pursuing him relentlessly, his younger brother wearing fear on his young face.
Tobirama could not help but cry out, racing to his defense, “Kawarama!”
Kawarama looked to him, dark eyes desperate and searching, and the young boy sprung off the cliff with a cry, “Tobi!”
Fresh, warm crimson slapped Tobirama’s face as Kawarama’s descending body convulsed, a spear sticking through the boy’s chest as he choked out a cough of blood. The tip of the spear struck the ground first, tearing further through Kawarama’s limp form until the seven year old was midway on it’s pole, arms and legs hanging lifelessly as a river of blood gushed from his mouth and chest.
A scream tore its way out of Tobirama’s throat, pure unadulterated horror and grief coating the shriek as it struck the atmosphere, “KAWARAMA!!!”
He rushed to his otouto’s position, tears blinding his vision as approached his mangled form, "No, NO!!!"
Calloused hands cradled the slacked face of the young dirty blonde, of the seven year old boy Tobirama loved and raised to the best of his ability while being a child himself. Kawarama’s dark eyes were still, drained of life as a stream of crimson slipped over the crevice of his pale lips, skin becoming more pallid in color by the second as blood continued to saturate his grey armor. The air stunk of fresh death, his senses screaming in despair as Tobirama desperately searched for his otouto’s chakra, for his heartbeat, for just one sign that would tell him that the seven year old, the child, was still alive. Yet, as precious seconds passed, ticking away loudly in his mind, the Sensor cheeks came to be overrun with a river of tears, a guttural scream of overwhelming grief ripping out of his throat as the dark skies above roared with thunder and madly flashed with lightning. Heaven’s own tears came barreling downwards, soaking Tobirama to the bone as he helplessly kneeled beside his otouto’s lifeless body, unable to look away from the boy he had sworn to protect. A flash of lightning disoriented him momentarily through the swarm of hot, salty droplets brimming on the edge of his silver eyelashes, harshly shocking him enough to snap his merlot colored eyes shut.
When he reopened them, Kawarama was gone and so was his previous surroundings. Scrambling to his feet with kunai in hand, Tobirama swiftly took in the landscape around him, the battlefield having been replaced with dense woods that were vaguely familiar.
“ANIJA!”
That voice…
No, Kami do not do this to him, please…
“ITAMA! ITAMA!”
Please…
Tobirama instantly was taking off through the treeline in the direction of his elder brother’s desperate cries, senses thrashing outward in hopes of finding his brothers quickly. He could only sense one individual point of chakra, warm like sunshine and earthy like the soil beneath his sandaled feet.
Hashirama.
But where was Itama’s tangy citrus, his fresh spring breeze that often filled his lungs with life when the world around them became too hard to bear?
The clearing he came to was littered with fallen Uchiha bastards, so much blood coating the various surfaces around the albino that it was difficult to be able to take a step without coating his sandals in the coppery, wet substance. Yet he cared not for the state of his footwear, nor his own state of health.
Only a few yards away, amongst the blood soaked chaos, was Hashirama, his anija cradling the stiff and broken form of their sweet, innocent otouto, maddened sobs loudly escaping the mokuton user’s lips, “Itama!”
Reality slapped Tobirama harshly across his face, the scene before him forever etching itself into his mind just like Kawarama, to become another origin of sleepless nights and nightmares. It had only been ten months since they had been forced to bid farewell to Kawarama, to return him to the earth from which he came and for Tobirama to do everything in his power to preserve what little of their family they had left. First mother and Madoka in childbirth, then Kawarama amidst one of the worst Senju-Uchiha clashes in history, and now Itama, his brother, his responsibility, his surrogate child. He had been the one to change him, to teach Itama to walk and speak, to show him how to hold a kunai correctly and to avoid father’s ruthless ire, and he had been too late to save him just as he had been for Kawarama.
Hashirama’s wails began to peeter off as Tobirama’s scenery began to slip away, blurring and shifting disorientingly as he struggled to join his brothers, crying out with horror, “Anija, otouto!”
“Tobirama!”
Pools of claret snapped open at the call of his name, a gasp scratching its way out of his throat as he attempted to sit up, only for a firm hand to hold him down in urgency, “Careful Tobirama-san, it’s alright now.”
His vision slowly settled around the Sensor, revealing the familiar walls of his and Madara’s bedroom, the Uchiha and Senju crests decorating the wall space above their shared dresser. Much to his confusion, Tobirama had an audience, with a worried Mito settled to his left as Saida sat on his right, the Nara healer possessing a tired smile on her heart shaped face.
Glancing to his sister in law in confusion, Tobirama groggily spoke, “What is going on? Has something happened to the village?”
“The village is well, otouto, there is no need to worry,” Mito pressed, soft hand coming to take hold of his larger one, concerned shining in her dark eyes. “What do you last remember before you awoke?”
Tobirama began to wracked his brain, trying to piece together just what exactly the Uzumaki princess was implying, when suddenly, like the winds of a hurricane off Uzushiogakure’s shores amidst its summer storm season, it hit him.
His hands instantly went to his swollen stomach, arms cradling his unborn child, “NO!”
Saida was quick to calm him, placing a soothing hand on his clothed shoulder, “Both Hashirama and I have already inspected you, Tobirama-san. You and the child are unharmed.”
Relief flooded the albino’s rigid form as he collapsed against the mound of pillows behind him, hands continuing to rest on his abdomen, “I see. Has Madara been informed?"
"Izuna is fetching him as we speak," Mito crooned softly, squeezing his hand with a touch of comfort. "We sent Hashirama for Touka and Hikaku so when you awoke, my husband wouldn't smother you to death."
Tobirama quietly nodded his thanks, his focus solely set on his distended stomach. Firm kicks littered his steadily taut growing skin, little bumps of flesh rising against the surface as his unborn child moved about his shrinking space of movement.
"Tobirama."
Eyes snapping to meet his sister in law's worried ones, Mito calmly moved closer to his position, "There are matters we all need to discuss, otouto."
He swiftly brushed her off, voice curt and unmoving, "I am fine, just as you reported. There is no need to discuss anything else."
"Tobirama-san, you collapsed out of exhaustion, something that could have put both you and your child at risk," Saida stubbornly pushed, her almond colored irises nailing him to the futon. "What if Mito-hime and Izuna-san had not been present? You could have laid there for hours until someone found you!"
The guilt already teeming inside him coiled darkly at his core, the soft kicks from his womb only deepening the dark feeling further. Mito and Saida patiently waited in tense quiet, both women actively watching him as he internally drowned in the sea of guilt, shame, and broken memories thrashing within his soul, the very soul that had failed his otoutos when they needed him most. Now he was failing his unborn child.
Will he lose them too?
"Let it out, otouto. Let it out."
It was in that minute that he realized that tears were wetting his cheeks, vision blurry with the clear and visible sign of emotional distress in an individual. The Sensor, much to his utter embarrassment, felt the dam within him break, a quiet sob escaping his lips as he curled into himself. Warm arms of comfort wrapped around his neck, Mito's scent of lavender and sea salt calmly assaulting his nostrils as she smothered Tobirama with her kimono.
"Where is he?! Where is Tobirama-?!"
"In your room with Saida and Mito, Madara wait-!"
"Out of my way, you stupid tree man!"
The bedroom slammed open with utter urgency, revealing a panicked and disheveled Madara, the Uchiha clan head looking around the room with desperation. Then, the man's ink black eyes locked with Tobirama's crimson, and the Sensor watched with timidness as relief and concern battled for dominance throughout Madara's entire body.
Before the Senju could even move to hide his vulnerability, Mito was pulling away with a demeanor of perfected neutrality, "It seems my husband is in need of me. Come along, Saida-san."
The fiery Nara shifted her gaze between Tobirama and Madara with protective possession, voice as firm as steel, "Tobirama and the child have already been under enough stress today. If I hear any hint of an argument or distress, I will not hesitate to have you removed Madara-sama. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Madara quietly replied, eyes never leaving Tobirama.
Mito placed a tender kiss on Tobirama's temple, murmuring softly with loving eyes, "We will be just down the hall if you need anything, Tobi."
With that, the two women slipped out of the room and shut the door behind them, leaving the couple to their lonesome. Air thick with tension and heart constricting with anxiety, Tobirama shifted himself back into a sitting position, which quickly proved to be difficult with his imposing stomach.
"Do not strain yourself!"
Madara was at his side in a blink of an eye, the Uchiha wrapping a firm yet cautious hand around Tobirama's upper arm. Both men looked at one another with questioning eyes and with tender movements, Madara was carefully assisting his pregnant partner in sitting up against the mound of pillows.
Tobirama gave the man a nod once he was settled, hands intertwined and resting upon the spot their child continued assaulting, "Thank you. It has become more difficult to maintain a comfortable position with their recent growth in weight."
Madara looked from Tobirama to his stomach and back, hand twitching at his side, "May I?"
With a nod and a small smirk in confirmation, Madara came to settle his hand beside the Sensor's, heart fluttering in fondful excitement at feeling the firm movements of their child. Time passed with neither man speaking, simply reveling in one another's company as they soaked in the small but attention grabbing blips of activity that appeared across the expanse of Tobirama's rounded abdomen.
Then, finally, the silence was broken.
Inky eyes slid up to meet chalet, Madara's other hand coming to cradle one of Tobirama's with love and concern, "Tobirama, why did you collapse?"
Fresh tears began to brim in Tobirama's eyes as he turned to look away, putting all his time and effort into ensuring his voice would not falter with emotion, "As I told Saida and Mito, it is nothing! Some individuals experience fainting spells during pregnancy-."
"Do not dare lie to me Tobirama! Izuna told me everything," Madara barked, his grip on the Senju's hand tightening in warning earnest. "You collapsed out of exhaustion and stress, caused by an ailment that no one but you seem to know of, yet you are unwilling to seek assistance from your husband nor any of your confidante! By doing so, dear husband, you allowed said stress and exhaustion to overwhelm you to the point of collapse and possibly further injury had my brother and Mito not been there!"
Shame curled cruelly in Tobirama's stomach, the Sensor refusing to look at his husband.
He only continued to rant, face growing red, "It is no longer just about you Tobirama, it is you and our child and you both are my everything! I have already lost my father, mother and my three youngest brothers, I cannot bear the thought of losing either of you!"
The Uchiha's eyes brimmed with tears of his own, voice cracking as he cupped Tobirama's face in his hand, "Please, allow me to help you. If not for your sake, then for our child, Tobirama."
An earth shattering and honest sob escaped Tobirama in that moment of vulnerability.
Damn these pregnancy hormones!
Having grown accustomed to the albino's enhanced emotions since the beginning of the pregnancy, Madara simply positioned himself to sit beside his husband and pulled Tobirama as close as he could without straining either of them. Tobirama could not for the life of him stop the sobs, they continued to fall from his lips as tears did the same from his eyes, the grief of loss heavy within his soul.
Soon, the tears fell short and the sobs were replaced with quiet, the couple intertwined within one another in their bed. Before Madara could even move to speak, the white haired man beat him to it with a voice so uncharacteristically weak.
"I cannot stop seeing them, no matter how hard I try," Tobirama started, hand gripping the sheets in a white knuckled hold. "I was given the responsibility of caring for them and they died. How can I be a good parent if I was never a good one to begin with?!"
Madara knew who his husband was speaking of for the moment the words escaped the albino’s pale lips. They were the same ones that he had been berating himself with from the very moment Tobirama revealed his impending pregnancy a little over four months ago now. The siblings they had lossed were sore subjects for both of them, so much that they were only spoken of during prayers and random conversations here and there over the years.
"Kawarama loved to explore anything and everything. He would drag anija, Itama, Touka, and I on his "adventures" during what little free time we had as children."
"My twin brothers, Kasai and Kaji, they were quite the pair. Always getting into trouble from pulling pranks on the elders or doing something they were not permitted to do. Our mother, Amaterasu bless her, they kept her on her toes nearly 24/7."
"Hashirama and I have, had, a fifth sibling much like you. The baby was merely hours when she passed and our mother with her, there having been complications during the birth. Before she died, mother told us her name as I held her for the first and last time. Madoka, for her cycle of life had ended so soon after arrival."
"Ryuma was merely six when he was killed in battle. At times, I ponder the man he would have become. Would he follow the path of the shinobi like our ancestors or would he be something different, something better? He thrived when working with animals, particularly birds such as crows. His whole life was ahead of him until suddenly, he was gone."
Losing their younger siblings, enduring countless years of abuse and neglect from their respective parents, and the heavy, bloody responsibilities that came from being shinobi of their skill level and social standing had made both men bitter and hesitant to trust anyone around them, including their own persons. Nights following their union, particularly after long days of delegating or rough missions abroad, had often been plagued with nightmares of new and archaic memories, ones they had sworn that they had come to terms with and put to bed. Shouts and sometimes screams of desperation ripping out of either of their throats jolted the other awake respectively, leaving them to soothe one another as they attempted to fall asleep once more. Sleep rarely came in the beginning of their marriage, many nights spent in silence as they rested under the covers, staring at the ceiling until the first rays of sunlight began to seep through the curtains.
Calloused fingers gently wiped at the salty droplets coursing down the milky white planes of Tobirama’s face, the need to comfort his hurting spouse overwhelming Madara’s already tense form. Yet, how could he provide comfort when he himself was in need of Tobirama’s tender caress, of his firm and steadfast voice that made the strongest of shinobi tremble, including Madara himself. His husband rarely ever showed such in-depth vulnerability, especially in front of others like he had with Mito and Saida, such emotions typically bottled inside the Sensor until he was safe within the confines of their home, nestled in the Uchiha clan head’s arms like he was now. As moments ticked by and they settled into pained silence both knew so well from their years of enduring disappointed looks and harsh clan gossip, Madara couldn’t help but brood over Tobirama’s last tear soaked statement?
“How can I be a good parent if I was never a good one to begin with?!”
How could they be? Both of them were rigid, nonsensical individuals that often struggled with socializing with their peers and relied heavily upon their remaining siblings to undertake the role of upbeat social figures to make up for their faults. Hashirama was the charismatic, optimistic leader that the village was in need of as Izuna served as one of Madara’s links to their clan specifically, assisting Madara in effectively leading their people without stepping onto too many toes or feelings along the way. With too emotionally stunted parents, would their child suffer from their misgivings and become a social outcast amongst their peers? Were Madara and Tobirama capable of providing their unborn child with everything they would? Money was no trouble, they had set aside plenty since their marriage was arranged, and they already had built and paid off their home that still had a substantial amount of room within its walls to house any future children.
Children…
Both he and his husband were already fretting over one child and here he was thinking about future children like a damn fool!
Madara silently mulled through his thoughts with a frown, his hand shifting to cup Tobirama’s swollen stomach, soft kicks meeting his limb with fervent energy. A small smile formed on his wary face, hope and fondness blooming inside his chest as he soaked in the movements of their child, the one they created out of passion and the love they had for one another. The same child Madara would do anything to protect from danger and to shower in the love and attention he had so desperately craved as a child. He had experienced the mistakes of fatherhood when he was a child made soldier through observation and action; his father and mother, Amaterasu bless them, had failed their five sons in so many ways and yet, they had done their best they could given their own upbringings and situational circumstances. Madara had tended to his brothers in the only ways he knew how, the ways he had copied when observing his parents, and for having been a child himself at the time with little resources to draw upon, he had done his best even when his best wasn’t good enough. Both he and Tobirama had done their best, as children, to be the parents their younger siblings needed and deserved in a world of killed or be killed. The odds had been stacked against them from the start but now they had gained a considerable amount of knowledge and support from the family they formed within Konoha, one both men would do anything to protect and knew that their loved ones reciprocated with just as much passion and dedication as they. They already had shown just how dedicated they were with how they doted on his pregnant husband, studying books of expectancy and assisting in accruing all the items necessary to successfully raise a child. Tobirama and him were doing the same, his eyes flickering over to his bedside table where a book on pregnancy sat, his bookmark sticking out from the pages like a sore thumb, waiting for him to pick up where he left off. In the end, Madara and Tobirama could never be held at fault for things that should have never been their responsibility to begin with, including their younger siblings’ early and untimely deaths.
Releasing his discontent in a grunt, Madara moved to rest his head atop Tobirama’s, shifting his hand to better cup the swell of his husband’s abdomen, “We were given responsibilities that should have never been ours to begin with, Tobirama. Our parents turned to us to raise children while we were still ones, setting expectations and standards that were nearly impossible to achieve. How were we expected to raise our siblings when they themselves failed to raise us?”
“We are not our parents, no matter how hard our peers and even family members attempt to say otherwise,” Madara murmured, thumb softly rubbing against what the Uchiha believed to their child’s hand. “We have done everything with our power and capabilities to ensure we learn from our past mistakes and to improve the future for those to come, including the child you carry now. All we can do is try Tobirama, because that is what our parents failed to do, and we will do it together.”
Quiet filled the room, the only sound coming from their breaths, and when Madara thought that his words had fallen on deaf ears, Tobirama finally spoke.
“Madara.”
Tobirama began to squirm against Madara, trying to sit up as much as he could with his distended stomach in the way of things, and the Uchiha swiftly made right of his attempts as his Sharingan came alive, the additional clarity allowing him to assist the albino in his movements until they were eye to eye with one another. Orbs of chalet clashed unrelentingly against crimson ones tainted with three midnight tomoe each, so many emotions flashing between them that Madara was struggling to grab hold, even with the assistance of the Sharingan.
“Promise me, Madara,” the Senju’s gaze never wavered as he spoke. “That we will do whatever it takes to protect this child. I cannot lose another one.”
Without hesitation, Madara gave his partner a bow of his head, “I promise.”
He watched with avid attention as Tobirama took hold of his hand with his own, calluses rubbing against each other with loving familiarity, before resting his palm against the curve of his stomach. Madara’s eyes traveled to the very spot of contact, eyes wide with surprise and awe as an especially strong kick met his hand, informing both men that there was indeed a living lifeform inside Tobirama, growing with every passing moment, made from their genetic properties and giving them an opportunity neither had encountered before. To be parents to their own offspring.
A fond smile bloomed on Tobirama’s tattooed face as he took in Madara’s reaction, his own gaze settled on his baby bump, “I believe he enjoys hearing your voice, my husband.”
“The child, it is a boy,” Madara looked at the Sensor with surprise, mouth agape like the koi in the garden pond.
“I do not know for certain,” Tobirama commented nonchalantly, his smile transforming into a knowing smirk. “But I have an inkling that the child happens to be a boy.”
Madara grunted, defiance in every inch of his body, “Yet they could still very much be a girl, husband of mine.”
Both men looked to each other with playful grins, simply soaking in the moment of loving fondness as their child moved about with indifference within Tobirama’s womb.
“-will be the child’s favorite uncle!”
“Like hell you will, tree man! You-!”
Their brothers’ bickering echoed from outside the door, shattering the peaceful quiet the couple had enveloped themselves in, Madara releasing an annoyed growl as he pulled away from Tobirama, “I swear on Amaterasu’s blessed soul, I am going to kill them if they continue to wage war over who will be our child’s favorite uncle!”
“Do not worry,” Tobirama mused with a smirk. “With our combined intelligence, our child will surely choose neither of them to be their favorite uncle seeing as how they both are practically children themselves behaviorally. I believe that position will fall to Hikaku.”
Madara gave his husband a sideway glance, a smirk of his own growing on his face as he reached out an inviting hand, “Shall we inform our idiotic brothers of this observation?”
Tobirama took the offered limb with fond certainty, pools of wine glittering with amusement, “We shall, dear husband.”
With a few moments of exertion, Madara and Tobirama were on their feet and traveling out of the room with a bit of pep to their step. Both men still carried the trauma and guilt of the past but for the moment, all they could think about was the future of possibilities they had ahead of them and their child.
Three months later when their child arrived, Tobirama couldn’t help but give his husband a shit eating grin at hearing Saida announce that the baby was indeed a boy, just like the Sensor had said.