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Chapter Text

“He’s gone too far this time, Hashirama-sama.” The one who had spoken, old and wizened with a twisted leg that had kept him out of battle for decades, shook his head slowly back and forth with the grave air of a man passing judgment. “Too many times has he offered flimsy excuses for the things he does and too many times have you given him more leeway than he deserves. He cannot hide behind your familial bond any longer. This transgression cannot be borne in silence.”

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Hashirama let it all back out as a heavy sigh. This was all happening so fast. It felt like he was drowning under the waves of what was happening around him. One moment his day had been perfectly normal and then the next one of the elders had come to him bearing evidence of a crime they had witnessed with their own eyes.

“You’re right,” he admitted softly, though it broke his heart to do so. “Surely there is nothing he could possibly say that might excuse this.”

“Sometimes a clan head must make hard decisions that others cannot,” the other man, Elder Hisao, reached out to pat him sympathetically on the arm. At his side, another of the elders sniffed delicately with her nose in the air.

“We understand that this may be painful for you,” she told him. “If you do not wish to deliver the news we will of course bear that burden in your place. Such a situation must be handled carefully.”

Hashirama shook his head, unable to believe it had come to this. “No. I should face him myself, he deserves that much after everything. But…perhaps it would be best if I had the council at my back for this. If I am alone I know he will sway me from my decision.”

It would be easy, too. His brother was clever and capable of being quite sneaky when he had the patience for it.  They both knew each other’s weak points all too well and Tobirama had proven in the past that he was not ashamed to use those weaknesses to get his way if he deemed something important enough for a little guilt-tripping.

“There are none of us who are not weak to the ones we love,” Hisao agreed easily, cementing his decision that he was right to ask their help.

If Hashirama were not so distracted by the devastation he felt over what Tobirama had done he might have recognized that they were all being just a little bit too sincere, a little bit too sympathetic. He might have stopped to realize that everything Tobirama had ever done was always rooted in solid reasoning with good intentions for the clan as a whole, never in malice for those around him. If Hashirama had been given time to think after hearing the news he would have been too calm to be manipulated by the elders like this.

But he wasn’t calm. He was indignant and hurt and so, so angry in a way he had experienced only a few times in his life. The last time he had felt this betrayed he had been only twelve years old and mourning the loss of a friendship he was never supposed to have, angry that his secret had been exposed and that daddy’s little soldier had followed orders where he himself refused them. No orders had been broken this time but no orders should have been needed. This wasn’t the sort of thing he should have to tell someone not to do.

Hashirama was holding back tears when he nodded once and murmured, “Send for Tobirama. I will speak with him now.”

Chapter Text

Exile. Several days later and Tobirama still could not believe the judgment his own brother had passed. A lifetime of devoting every waking hour to protecting his people, honing his skills to support their clan in the best ways he knew how, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing. Only the cold echoing in his ears of the last words Hashirama had spoken to him whispering through his brain again and again on poisonous repeat.

That he had been allowed to live was almost a worse punishment than if they had simply ended his life and been done with it. It would have hurt less. Instead he had been turned away from the only home he’d ever known with nothing but the clothes on his back, stripped of everything he had had ever loved both tangible and intangible. His weapons were taken, his lifelong projects left behind, and he was allowed to take with him nothing that bore the Senju crest. He himself could no longer bear the Senju name, banished from the only home and the only people he had ever known.

All he had left in this world was the name Tobirama and a heart that felt too heavy to bear.

For a time he wandered, aimless and unsteady. The cautious looks some of the elders had given him made it all too obvious they worried he would go against them in anger, though none of them dared to suggest Hashirama sentence him to death for his supposed crimes. A part of him wished they had. With the earth taken so quickly from beneath his feet like that he was left off-balance, harmless and fragile in his state of shock, but he knew that even if he was ever able to pull himself together after such a blow he could never bring himself to attack the people he had loved for so long. Without his clan, his brother, he was nothing. And as nothing he wandered.

Eventually he recognized the sensation of hunger and the ache in his feet from walking without rest but he hadn’t the care to solve either of those problems. His mind, always working too fast for his own good, planned and strategized and provided him with several different options for where to go. Even without the Senju name he would still easily be able to find allies, contacts that owed their loyalty to him personally rather than to the clan as a whole. He didn’t care for any of that either. All he cared about was the memory of how Hashirama had turned away from him, the broken-hearted sorrow in those beloved eyes that told him he had hurt his most precious person so deeply that they could no longer bear to have him in their life. A shinobi’s career was measured in terrible deeds but this, of all things, was too much to live with.

Eventually he collapsed. The human body can only go so long without sleep or water and he couldn’t remember the last time he stopped for either. It was possible he had been wandering for several days, although he hadn’t any solid notion of precisely how much time had slid by in his fog of denial. Tobirama felt his knees growing weak but he forced himself to continue walking until finally they bent and folded under him in utter collapse. He did note the trajectory of his own fall yet he didn’t bother to dodge the tree, simply allowed his forehead to crash in to the bark and welcomed the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.

When he woke again it was slowly and with reluctance, almost more upset with the tree for not finishing the job than he had been with Hashirama. A ridiculous notion, he realized, to expect a simple bump on the head to kill a man of his caliber, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood for thinking rationally at the moment. Tobirama gave himself another couple of minutes to wallow in his own misery simply because he thought he deserved to before eventually all the years of training kicked in and he cracked his eyes open to inspect his surroundings.

He expected nothing more around him than the same trees and bare dirt he collapsed in to before, perhaps the addition of a curious animal or a few more fallen leaves. What he found was bare wood flooring, a dark room with no windows, his arms unbound but his chakra made inaccessible by the seals painted on the walls opposite of where he rested. Tobirama lay still and waited for the anger, the panic, something; any sort of normal reaction for when one realizes one has been taken captive. It should have been worrisome that instead all he felt was empty. Nothing in the room gave any indication of who had found and captured him in his moment of weakness and he had no idea what they intended to do with him but the survival instincts he had relied on for so many years were just…quiet. Muffled. Banked down by the overwhelming pain in his chest whenever he thought about why he had collapsed in the forest.

They could do what they like with him, really. Surely nothing could be worse than the fate he was already suffering through.

It was hours before anyone came, more than long enough for his incurious eyes to wander around and take in a few more details about the space he’d been contained in. Sturdy looking metal bars kept him separated from half of the room, the half with a door leading outside. A single bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling of the far side of the room, unlit, leaving his only source of light to be the few rays creeping in from underneath the door. Were he inclined towards positive emotions at the moment he would have been impressed that wherever this was had electricity. Most clans and villages hadn’t bothered; some cleaved to the old ways while some were too poor to afford such a luxury. Other than a table and two chairs on the other side of the bars there wasn’t much else in the room, nothing to distract his mind from the vast emptiness inside.

Tobirama hadn’t bothered to move from his curled position on the floor by the time the door finally opened and confident steps approached, deliberately loud in the way only a shinobi could be. Civilians scuffed their feet when they walked. Trained killers put pressure in the heel and consciously rolled their foot in a certain way when they were trying to make noise.

“Still dead to the world, huh?” a voice asked as the light was turned on, tantalizingly familiar to his ears. Not that he could be bothered to wonder why it was familiar or puzzle them out. It didn’t really matter who had him. He would die as easily on one blade as he would on another.

Footsteps falling back in to habitual silence, the man came forward until pale feet and dark trousers properly bound for a mission came in to view. Tobirama stared apathetically at the dirt on the plain sandals just outside his little cage until his captor spoke again, words dripping with an attitude he knew even better than the sounds of that voice, identity revealed by the cadence of insults he had been listening to since early childhood.

“Ah, so you’re awake after all,” Izuna said. “You think you can ignore me, Senju?”

“M’not a Senju,” Tobirama whispered. His eyes continued to stare at the other man’s sandals for no reason other than that they were standing where he happened to be facing.

“Don’t pull that shit. You were identified on sight – not hard, you albino freak – and we made sure to check for transformations or any other nonsense before bringing you in.”

Closing his eyes, Tobirama curled a little tighter in to himself and said nothing.

“Awww, is the little Senju scared of the big bad Uchiha?”

“I am not a Senju,” he repeated, almost choking himself trying to force the words out. Something crashed against the bars of his cage.

“Don’t try my patience,” Izuna snapped. “You’re toothless in here. We need you alive as a bargaining chip but that doesn’t mean we need you in perfect condition. There’s a lot of things I could do to you that you would hate to live through, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh. Was that your plan?”

He laughed but it was a hollow sound, a broken sound. Tobirama felt his body convulsing with the need for food, drink, proper rest, and all he did was continue to laugh until Izuna kicked at the bars again in a fit of temper.

“What’s so funny? You think you’re too good for torture? Well I’ve got news for you–”

“I’m afraid your plan to ransom me or to bargain my life for the Senju’s cooperation will not work.” Opening his eyes again, he rolled them up to look at Izuna for the first time, distantly noting that the man looked incredibly different with his hair out of its usual ponytail. “Go get yourself a real Senju; they didn’t want me anymore.”

The man he had long thought of as his greatest enemy stayed for more than an hour trying to get him to talk again but admitting that much had been more reality than he was prepared to face so soon. Tobirama tucked his head down and set his eyes resolutely on the bare skin around his wrists, blocking out the world and letting his mind drift to better places. Izuna’s words ran off him like a gently flowing river until suddenly there was silence.

He was left alone with the slamming of a door and a furious extinguishing of the light but Tobirama hardly noticed. The darkness was bliss and he drifted once more.

Chapter Text

They came and went irregularly. Sometimes they brought food and sometimes they even forced his body to sit up and consume it. Other times there were words but he couldn’t focus on them. All that existed was the static in his head, the worst moment of his pitiful existence on repeat again and again and again. Until a couple of weeks ago he had thought no day in his life could be worse than when he had lowered a second brother in to a too-small grave, displaced the dirt with another too-small body, but he’d been wrong. He hadn’t known then the pain of Hashirama turning him away as though all the years between them had meant absolutely nothing.

If it was Izuna who came to him again and again he wouldn’t have known. If it was one person or more he could not have cared. Not until the day someone opened the bars of his cage and propped him against the wall, fingers under his chin to lift his face towards the light of a candle. Tobirama flinched away from the unexpected brightness purely on instinct, too used to the dark after so long in captivity, but the fingers holding him were unyielding and he too weak after so long inactive.

“What did you do?” were the first words that registered on him since he woke up to find himself in Uchiha custody. Tobirama’s mind churned sluggishly and he squinted passed the light to find Madara, the clan head himself, looking back with guarded curiosity.

“…do?”

“Yes. What crime could you possibly have committed that the Senju would dispose of their second strongest soldier? And not even have the foresight to kill you off?”

His heart was already shriveled but he felt the crumbled remains tremble as he murmured, “I only wanted to see them again.”

Madara had a dozen questions and more but it was no use. Tobirama shuddered and reverted inside himself once more. It took another week before his stupor was broken by a bucket of water dumped over his head. He wondered idly if he had been bathed before now and how any of them could stand to be near him if he hadn’t. The stench must have been quite unbearable.

When he rolled his head to the side with apathetic disinterest he found Madara glaring down, fire in his eyes and hair a wild cloud around his head.

“You will answer my questions,” the man snarled. For the first time, Tobirama hesitated.

“Will you let me die?”

“You – what?”

“If I answer your questions will you just let me die already? I’m…tired.” And he was. He hadn’t moved more than what it took to relieve himself in weeks and still he was bone-deep exhausted.

Madara looked taken aback, though he recovered quickly enough to hide his thoughts on that question. “If we don’t have any further use for you then I don’t see what the point of keeping you alive would be.”

Privately, Tobirama thought that he didn’t see the point of keeping him alive this long anyway but he kept that to himself. It wasn’t as though he had any hope of being set free even if they did believe him but on the crazy off chance they did…then what? He could eke out an existence somewhere else – there were dozens of places he could go – but the very thought of it turned his stomach. To never see Hashirama smile at him again, to never sit with Touka and laugh over something stupid one of her neighbors had done, to never roll his eyes at all the enthusiastic young pupils so eager for another lesson, it seemed an empty existence and he wanted no part of it. Better to end himself now than delay the inevitable when he went completely mad later.

His captor hadn’t used the clearest language, Tobirama knew that, but he still intended to give the man what he wanted. Madara’s roundabout hint was his first sign of hope for the end he wanted so badly; he would have done almost anything for such a promise, even a vague chance.

It felt like he talked for hours. After so long in silence his throat was scratched raw by the time he had the equivalent of one paragraph out. Each word was pain, both mental and physical. When his tale was finally done he felt as though he could drink an entire lake and his voice still might not return to normal after all that rasping.

It was quite the tale to tell, though. At its conception the Edo Tensei jutsu had been designed as a weapon, an attack to turn the tides against their enemies in a way that could not be countered or outrun. Every battlefield had dozens of dead cluttering the ground, broken and discarded, forgotten and trod on until the fighting was over and their bodies were returned to the earth for surviving loved ones to swear vengeance over. Most people wouldn’t think to desecrate the fallen and reanimate them to fight again – but Tobirama was not most people. He thought first of how to win and only after did he think of how to live with his own victories.

Somewhere along the line it had occurred to him that his enemies weren’t the only dead that might rise again. If he was going to breathe life in to people beyond the grave then why should he not have the chance to see his loved ones again? That was all he had wanted, to hug his little brothers one more time, to hold them close and apologize for failing them so poorly, to say the goodbyes he had been denied. But that wasn’t what the elders saw when they discovered what he was trying to do.

What they saw was the disturbed earth in too-small graves and dirt underneath his fingernails. They saw the aftermath and never questioned the intentions, never stopped for a moment to listen to his explanations. They brought their evidence straight to Hashirama and all he saw was the bones of his lost brothers desecrated after so long and the one brother left to him damned by his own mind, his own actions. That Hashirama at last had no more forgiveness for him was the thing that hurt the most.

Madara listened to his story without interrupting beyond for a few questions, only prompted him to go on whenever he fell silent. After he was finally allowed to stop talking Madara got up and left without a word. Tobirama assumed he had what he wanted but he came back a few minutes later with a pitcher of water and left it on the floor within reach.

For a while he merely stood there, everything about his stance projecting uncertainty, and silently watched his prisoner. Tobirama’s only interest was in the water that cooled his throat. It was difficult to resist the animal desire to guzzle the sweet liquid all at once but he forced himself to go slow, to sip at it bit by bit so as not to disturb his roiling stomach. Adding nausea on top of all his other problems when he could easily prevent it was just stupid. He wanted to die, not to suffer more.

Tobirama lifted his head, uncaring for how pathetic he must look.

“You promised,” he said, tired voice grating in the quiet room. “Will you let me die now?” He waited as Madara met his gaze with something unreadable in his eyes.

“I never promised you anything. And how do I know you’re telling the truth? We still have no confirmation that any of this is true. For all I know Hashirama is looking for you as we speak and all of this has been a ruse to prevent me from gaining any sort of advantage of your clan.”

The sound of the metal pitcher striking the bars was ringing throughout the room before Tobirama even realized he had thrown it.

“I have no clan!” he screamed. Hot fury rushed through him, lightning fast and unexpected, bringing with it a rush of energy that sent him surging to his feet. “What part of this isn’t getting through your skull? I. Have. No. CLAN! I am not one of them! I never will be again! I gave my fucking life to them and they turned me away like a begging orphan caught stealing! This isn’t for you to believe, Uchiha, its life! Life is cruel!”

“So you say,” Madara told him coldly, backing away before he could reach out with his withered arms. Tobirama bared his teeth at the man.

“There isn’t any more to say. I am nothing. No one. Your bargaining chip is useless!”

“We shall see.”

His captor slammed the cell door closed and spun around to leave, hair swaying around him like a dark waterfall. Tobirama kicked the bars as hard as he could, unprepared for the recoil that sent him stumbling backwards, having momentarily forgotten how weak he’d let himself become. When he regained his balance he balled his fists and bent himself double to scream as long as he could.

“You promised, you faithless dog! Lying Uchiha! Worthless waste of fucking space! You promised! Get back here! Just let me die!” Mindlessly he threw himself at the bars and rattled them with both hands, running on adrenaline and only half aware of what he was shouting. “Where is your honor!? I gave you everything and you promised! Just let me die already, I’m no fucking use to you! UCHIHA!”

Only when he had screamed himself hoarse again shouting the same words over and over did he realize there were tears streaming down his face. His grip loosened on the bars and Tobirama slid down to his knees, bowing his head as the tears dripped from his chin unchecked.

“I gave you everything,” he moaned softly, unsure who it was he was speaking to. “Just let me die…”

Chapter Text

Waking slowly to realize that someone else was in the room with him was so familiar at this point he almost allowed himself to slide back down in to sleep. The sweet bliss of unconsciousness was much more preferable to the pain of being awake anyway. He very nearly managed it until the two voices finally registered and he lay there listening to Izuna and Madara conversing in barely lowered voices, clearly not aware he had woken yet and just as clearly not worried their conversation might change that. Either they didn’t care or they were banking on his preference for remaining unconscious.

“But it’s his own brother…”

“Yeah. I know. You’ve said that eight times – nine now, counting that time.” Izuna sounded as though he were rolling his eyes and the familiarity of their banter sent a lance of pain through Tobirama’s chest. He’d had that familiarity in his own life too until recently.

Someone, most likely Madara, huffed indignantly. “It’s just shocking. I don’t think there’s anything you could possibly do that would make me turn you away. Unless you were…I don’t know…killing off all the clan babies or something.”

“He was messing with the dead.”

“I suppose. But – and don’t freak out – I sort of get where he was coming from? If you thought you had found a way to see Taro or Tamotsu again, wouldn’t you do it?” Tobirama vaguely recognized the names of the two Uchiha clan heirs that died long ago, surprised that he did so. His father had made him memorize every member of their enemies’ head family on the off chance he had an opportunity to kill one of them. He hadn’t so much as thought of those names in a very long time.

“Don’t ask me weird questions.” Several heartbeats passed in silence until Izuna sighed. “Fine. Stop looking at me like that. You know my answer.”

“Exactly! We would all do it! There’s not a person I know that wouldn’t give anything and everything for the chance to see the people they’ve lost just one more time. But Hashirama exiled him for that? Maybe he’s changed but that isn’t the Hashirama I remember.”

Tobirama squeezed his eyes closed tighter. It wasn’t the Hashirama he had known all his life either. He couldn’t begin to fathom why the man hadn’t even spared him the chance for an explanation or listened to his side of the story. If he had only been able to speak on his own behalf he was sure he could have made Hashirama understand.

What a world he lived in where his greatest enemies believed in him more than his own sibling.

“Kami’s beard, is he ever gonna wake up?”

One of them shifted and then Izuna yelped before Madara replied sternly, “I think he’d rather sleep his way to death if he could so don’t tempt him.”

“What are we gonna do with him when he does wake up?”

“I…don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right to kill him in cold blood now, not knowing what he’s gone through.”

“You know he’s our enemy right? Scourge of the Uchiha? Killer of our brethren?”

“How many of his brethren do you think we’ve killed in turn?”

“Good point… good point…”

One of them sighed again, probably Madara this time because the sound was quickly followed with his voice muttering, “That’s why we wanted to stop this war in the first place when we were kids. None of us hate each other for actual good reasons, it’s just an endless circle of ‘you killed so-and-so, now I’m going to kill you back’ and it’s all so pointless. We mourn our losses and then throw more soldiers away as if that isn’t exactly the cause of all our own misery.”

“Whoa, hold on, I don’t know if I’m ready to get all deep like this so early in the morning. I only followed you down here ‘cause I wanted to know what you planned to do with that broken ghost over there.”

“Broken ghost?” Madara parroted his brother incredulously.

The two of them descended in to giggles and Tobirama would have been offended if he could muster the energy for it. He’d been called a lot worse, though, so mostly the insult just rolled on passed him like so many others had. Besides, he couldn’t exactly deny he was unusually pale, especially considering that most of his clan tended towards more medium skin tones than the lighter ones the Uchiha were prone to.

No, not his clan. The Senju. He was going to have to get used to that.

It took a while for the two brothers to calm down, repeatedly breaking out in to fits of sniggering. They were probably doing something to set each other off again each time but whatever it was he couldn’t be bothered to look. Eventually they trailed off and sat together quietly for several minutes until Izuna spoke again.

“You know, I never would have expected this sort of behavior from him, of all people.”

“What do mean?” Madara asked.

“It’s just…pathetic. His clan kicks him out and he just gives up on life? Granted, I can’t really say I know much about him other than how he holds his blade, but from what little I know of him he just doesn’t seem the type to let himself go to waste like this.”

“He lost his whole family,” Madara pointed out in a hushed tone. “And judging from the story he gave us he clearly values family as much as any Uchiha. Would you do any better in his situation?”

Izuna declined to answer – or at least if he responded it was not verbal. Tobirama wrinkled his nose with distaste. He was not enjoying their conversation but letting them know he was awake wasn’t guaranteed to shift the topic to anything brighter so he didn’t see the point in trying to stop them. All he could do was hope they grew bored and left soon. Or maybe he would get lucky and one of them would take the opportunity to put a blade through his spine while his back was turned.

Unlikely but a man could dream. There wasn’t much else he could dream of now anyway.

“You’re not going to like this. Actually, lots of people aren’t going to like this.”

“Like what?” Izuna sounded cautious, suspicious.

“I think we should keep him.”

“Keep–? Are you out of your mind?”

“Well, think about it! We can’t turn one of our greatest enemies loose, especially not while he’s this mentally unstable. He’s truly not a Senju anymore, you heard Hikaku’s report the same as I did, so technically he’s not even our enemy anymore. And I…Izu, I don’t think I could make myself kill him. Look at him. He’s like a big child having a tantrum except it’s a hundred times sadder to watch.”

Body going stiff with offence, Tobirama finally found something to react to.

“Fuck you,” he muttered. He was briefly satisfied to hear both of them jolt in surprise.

“Well look who decided to wake up.”

“Fuck you too, Izuna.”

Shuffling sounds met his ears and then nothing but the shifting of air as the two of them came closer, stopping at the door of his cell.

“My brother has good news for you but something tells me you’re not going to like it.”

“What could you possibly gain from keeping me alive?” he grumbled, rolling over to glare up at the two of them.

In a strange mirror of how they usually looked, Izuna had left his hair down again while Madara had his wild mane pulled back in to a thick braid, clearly thrown together quickly and meant more for convenience than for aesthetics even if the look was a good one on him.

“Who says we won’t put you to work?” Madara grinned and leaned against the bars. “Maybe I’m just looking for a little free labor around the compound. Don’t you worry S-…Tobirama. We’ll keep you so busy around here you won’t have time to think of anything but how much your back aches from carrying my laundry around.”

“So I’m to be a slave, then?” Tobirama growled. With some effort he picked himself up off the ground to stomp across to the bars and loom over the other man. His body might be withered from inactivity but he was still taller. Unfortunately, despite his lesser height, Madara seemed the taller between them with his easy stance and smug expression. He even had the gall to laugh and reach through the bars to poke Tobirama in the middle of his chest.

“You’re to stay alive and make yourself useful. If I’m going to feed you then I’m going to get something back for my efforts as payment.”

“I don’t need you to save me from myself.”

“Well then I guess I’m just doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Imagine that, eh? An Uchiha with a heart.” Madara draped one arm around his brother’s shoulder and turned them both towards the door, still looking back at his captive. “Probably doesn’t feel like its possible right now but you’ll thank me for it someday. You’ll see.”

Tobirama peeled back his lips in a sneer. “Not likely.”

He got no answer other than a shrug. As the brothers left him he could hear Izuna asking if they were really going to keep him like a pet, then Madara’s voice scolding him not to phrase it like that, and Tobirama despaired. He had hoped that was only a bluff to get under his skin.

Angry and made restless by his own irritation, Tobirama paced back and forth across the wooden floor boards, counting all the spots where it creaked beneath him. He had paced the circumference of his cell several times already before he thought to notice that they had left the single bulb burning, keeping light in the room for the first time. Until now he had been allowed to wallow in darkness, probably because he spent all of his time curled on the floor with his eyes closed anyway, seeing light only when someone brought him food or came to ply him with more questions he generally refused to answer.

Now the light had been left on across the room, wasting precious electricity. Tobirama eyed it and wondered if it had been left by accident or if they knew somehow that he was up and about at long last. He scowled as he resumed his pacing. He would hate to be so predictable to those jerk-heads.

Chapter Text

The seals on his wrists were hasty and clumsy, no sophistication in the symbols. They were drawn in the fashion of someone copying an image without truly knowing the meaning behind it. Someone in the Uchiha had clearly gotten their hands on some kind of chakra suppressant seal to use as an example but it was obvious that none here were masters of the art. Any self-respecting seal master would have cried themselves to sleep at just the thought of having their work bastardized as much as the mock cuffs that had been forced upon him the moment he woke up after his last visit from the two brothers.

Not to say that they didn’t work. Sophisticated or not the seals accomplished what they were meant to. He could feel his chakra seething just under the surface, boiling and rolling and crashing against the barrier they made like water breaks against a cliff, but they were sufficient to keep him from releasing anything and thus he remained powerless. Maybe if he hadn’t spent the last month motionless and flopping about on the floor letting his muscles atrophy then he might have been physically strong enough to think about another route for escape. Hindsight had always been a bitch.

All things considered, though, his situation wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. He had expected his jailors to drive him hard with impossible tasks but Madara hadn’t lied when he talked about hauling laundry around. It earned him all sorts of different looks, from curious to barely concealed distaste, but he supposed he could understand that. He too would have stopped to stare upon seeing his ancestral enemy waltzing through the compound to go wash clothes in the little stream running through the western quadrant. Knowing he would have done the same did not stop him from making each trip with a stiff back and a constant frown of discomfort, hating the feeling of so many hostile eyes on his back. It seemed a miracle that no one had yet tried to attack him while he was vulnerable. Whether they refrained because Madara had warned them to leave him unharmed or whether they all simply enjoyed seeing him lowered to this state had yet to be determined.

Tobirama hurried back to the Head family home as quickly today as he had every morning for the past couple of weeks. Working for Madara wasn’t so bad as long as he was able to keep his pride in check. And doing that was easy enough when he reminded himself that he was literally nothing now, no clan name to back him, no authority to wield. Honest work was about the only option he had left, though if he had found honest work anywhere else he would certainly have expected to be paid for it, but even if he would hesitate to admit it he was grateful in a strange way for a break from the horrors of the battlefield. So far the work he had been given was mostly house chores and it was a novel thing not to wash blood from his skin at the end of every day.

Letting himself passed the front gate of Madara’s home, Tobirama first made his way around to the backyard to hang the clean clothing up to dry. When the line was full and his basket empty he went in through the back door, eyed the dishes in the sink, and then dismissed them in favor of wandering down the hall towards Madara’s office. Easy his duties might be but some of them were still abhorrent. That particular chore could wait until the end of the day when he could get rid of them all at once.

Madara’s office was cushier than his own workspace had been in the Senju compound, one corner of the room piled high with pillows in case the man was too tired to crawl down the hallway to his bedroom at night, the other wall lined with squat bookshelves and ancient weaponry hung like decorations above. Tobirama made his way straight towards the pillows to flop down and stare morosely at the man kneeling at his desk, right under the window where he could make full use of whatever daylight came filtering through the protective mesh screens.

“Done?” Madara asked, not lifting his gaze from whatever he was reading.

“Clearly,” Tobirama drawled in return. Then he sank further down in to the pillows and closed his eyes to sulk pointedly.

“Hmm, that was quick.”

“Didn’t feel quick. Why do your clothes always require extra scrubbing?”

Madara chuckled. “I make sure they’re extra dirty just to frustrate you.”

Even if he knew that wasn’t true, it still sounded enough like something he would do that Tobirama gave a low noise of disgust. Actually he had noticed it was really Izuna’s clothing that always took longer to clean and from the dirt stains in certain places he suspected a harsh training regimen as the culprit. He hadn’t yet found the courage to ask whether his rival had always trained this often or if it was a newly developed habit; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Was he supposed to feel guilty about how much damage the man could do in battle without himself there as a shield, an equal force to cancel out the deaths either of them were capable of causing in a single encounter?

As if sensing his thoughts spiraling downwards again, Madara grunted from across the room and Tobirama opened his eyes just in time to catch the scroll that had been tossed at his head.

“You’re supposed to be a genius, right? Here’s your next chore.”

When he opened it to find columns of messily scrawled numbers he lifted one eyebrow with conflicted reactions warring inside him.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to let the prisoner do your accounting?” he asked. Madara waved his question off with one hand, still engrossed in his own work.

“There’s no names on there to tell you who our suppliers are, no locations to give away. It’s just numbers. You’re a scientist, shouldn’t you be good at numbers?” The man shrugged carelessly. “Reckon the columns and you can take a break. Just make sure you’re back here to cook dinner.”

“Seriously?”

“Like I said: they’re just numbers. What harm could you do knowing how much we spent on food the past few months?”

Tobirama held his breath, unrolling the scroll to take a second look. There was a lot of damage he could cause with these numbers, actually. Many people would pay handsomely for even small information like this; he could think of a dozen different weaknesses he could assume from just food budgets alone. He would have liked to say he could buy his way back in to the Senju’s good graces by providing them with inside information but he wasn’t that stupid. They weren’t that easily bought, as much as he wished suddenly that they were. Since the scroll in his hands was as good a distraction as any against such musings he buried himself in the task given to him without complaint.

It was oddly nice to be given something to do that used his brain again after so long. Working out simple arithmetic wasn’t exactly a challenge but the routine calculations were time consuming and it was better mental exercise than wondering what he could add to his detergent that would make the laundry a little softer once it dried.

When the damnable seals had first been applied to his wrists and he realized Madara was serious about putting him to work he had thought perhaps they intended to take advantage of his mind. He’d been infamous from a young age for his genius and his knack for creating new jutsu, new weapons, and for the sealing skills he had cultivated with the aid of books sent to him by their Uzumaki allies. As much as he appreciated not being forced to bring those skills to bear in a war that would inevitably find its way to the people he once loved, household chores did get boring after a while. Being asked to help with the accounting was almost like Madara was granting him a treat for good behavior.

He avoided mentioning that in case the fool grew contrary and took it away.

Although it only took him twenty or so minutes to work through the entirety of the small portion he’d been given, Tobirama neglected to mention he was finished for another couple of minutes, taking an opportunity to quietly study the other man in the room. Madara was more of a mystery to him every day. The most Tobirama had ever known of him before was a screaming battle persona and the exaggerated memories Hashirama liked to wax poetic about every so often. He had expected his time under the man’s thumb to leave him bone-weary at the end of every day from bring run in to the ground with work; he had expected to be humiliated and degraded, to have his temper tried at every turn.

Reality was much harder to wrap his head around. Madara was calm in the moments between the never ending string of disasters that made up his life. For making such an impressive figure in battle he was incredibly goofy in everyday life. He woke with his hair sticking out at funny angles and walked in to walls before consuming his morning coffee. He sat down on pins the clan children left on his cushion and hung his body out the window to shout at them without a care for how it left his rump on comical display. He tripped on rocks and absently stabbed people with chopsticks while making gestures and even stood on his own hair sometimes when he tried to get up from his desk.

But in the moments around those, when he was still and there was no one to disturb him, he was as calm and poised as any clan head should be. Under the screaming and the wild mane there was a good head with a smart brain. Beneath that lay a bleeding heart that gave in to a good set of pleading puppy eyes faster than Tobirama had ever seen.

Had he been captured by any other clan at odds with the Senju, Tobirama knew very well that most would not have taken the time to hear his story let alone believed him enough to look in to it themselves. And even less would have seen any point in keeping him alive once they realized that he could be of no use as a bargaining chip. Maybe Madara really did just want a slave to keep his house clean and his yard tidy but he was a kinder master than Tobirama would have found in anyone else. If he had been given the option to choose his own path he would have chosen death in an instant. But if he had to choose his own captivity, as much as he hated to admit it, he would choose Madara a hundred times over.

At least, based on his experience so far.

Warm and comfortable in the mountain of pillows he had sunk his body in to, Tobirama never noticed he was falling asleep in the midday sun until his eyes slid closed and he was already gone. The scroll of accounts slipped from his fingers to roll gently across the floor and bump in to Madara’s knee but Tobirama was not awake to see the soft look in those dark eyes as his greatest enemy sat and watched him sleep away the afternoon.

Chapter Text

She was twirling a blade between her fingers when she sauntered in to the room. Not a kunai because she was always very serious about how she treated the weapons that protected her own life and others’ during battle but instead a bare blade that had broken away from its handle, probably scooped up after it was shattered during some training session or another. She perched herself on the corner of his desk with a casual set to her mouth and a razor sharp focus in her eyes, hard as agates.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” she noted. “Is it because you’ve been thinking about what a massive fucking prick you are or is it because you’ve been wondering what other terrible decisions you might have made in your life?”

Hashirama lifted his brush away from the letter he had been composing and carefully set it aside before the tremble of his fingers could ruin the elegant calligraphy.

“Did you need something, Touka?” he asked in a steady voice. When he dared to peer up at her his cousin was staring over his head just as she had been for the past several weeks, looking through him as though he wasn’t even there.

“I need you to pull your head out of your own ass.” Her answer made him sigh.

“Touka, don’t start again. I have the Nara on the cusp of an alliance. If I can sign a treaty with them then the Akimichi and the Yamanaka are sure to sign as well. That’s a lot of lives that could be saved but to do it I need to finish this letter.”

Lounging back over top of some very important papers, she sniffed dismissively. “Funny that, you worrying about saving lives when it was also you that threw the best of us away like trash.” With her eyes turned away she couldn’t have seen how his hands fisted against his knees and squeezed tightly, veins rising along his arms as his knuckles turned white.

“Don’t,” he warned her quietly.

“Oh, did I hit a sore spot? Well, terribly sorry if I don’t actually feel very sorry about that. You see, I’ve got this sore spot myself nowadays, this gaping hole in my chest where I should have two living cousins instead of one, and it’s your fault he isn’t here.” Touka’s head snapped down to bore her heavy gaze in to his own. “I hope you were prepared when you made that decision to live with it because I won’t forgive you for this, Hashirama. I won’t. Not if we both live to be a hundred; I will never forgive you for sending him away.”

Staying calm was hard but Hashirama had been getting rather good at clinging to his own sanity lately. He forced his spine to stay straight and his voice not to waver.

“Tobirama”–they both flinched at the name–“desecrated the graves of children. He was discovered at the scene, committing the deed, and there is research in his laboratory to prove it was done with intent, not by accident. There is only so much–”

“Discovered by who? Were you there, oh mighty clan leader? Did you see this evidence with your own eyes?”

“Not the research, no. I…I could not bring myself to…”

“We’ve had this conversation a dozen times and your answers never get any smarter, you know that?” With a tired shake of her head, Touka lifted herself off the desk and turned away. When she reached the door she paused to speak over her shoulder without looking back. “We follow you, my lord, because we believe in your judgment. Because we believe you care about those you lead. What is there to believe in when a man will send his own brother away to die?”

Hashirama took a moment to breathe around the emotions that flooded through him at her words before he was able to gather himself enough to ask, “Did you come here for anything else?”

“You wanted to know when the patrols came back. Nothing unusual to report…my lord.”

She left without a reply, her duty done.

Once she was out of sight Touka stormed down the hallway as quietly as she could, not wanting her cousin to hear just how badly she was still affected by the situation, but she didn’t make it far. Mito sat in the living room calmly darning a pair of socks. By the time Touka saw her it was too late; she’d been spotted herself and there was nowhere to run.

“You are too hard on him,” Mito told her. Touka snarled.

“He sent my baby cousin out to die. His own brother!”

“There is no evidence that Tobirama has died.”

“Bull shit!” Forgetting herself, she neglected to lower her volume as she released the beast that hovered always just under the surface these days. “I tracked his path for hours. I saw which direction he went, saw the footsteps and the patterns and I’m no Inuzuka but I know an Uchiha stench when I smell it. His tracks were there and then they weren’t. He’s gone, Mito. My cousin is dead.”

Her matriarch lifted one stern eyebrow. “Then where is the body? Where are the celebrating Uchiha taunting us with their kill? You know as well as anyone how fast he can disappear when he wants to. There are a hundred other places he might be.”

“I WANT HIM HERE,” Touka screamed, her composure breaking entirely. “He belongs here! And your rat of a husband sent him away! Turned him out with nothing to die unarmed, thinking he was unloved!” Her fists tightened just enough to remind her of the blade she held, sharp against the skin of her palm just like the blade Hashirama had sunk deep in her heart.

“That was not my husband’s intention,” Mito said.

“Yeah well the road to hell and all that.” Touka turned her head to spit, uncaring of the rich carpet beneath their feet. She ignored it when the other woman narrowed her eyes with distaste.

Setting aside her knitting, Mito folded her elegant hands in her lap and lifted her chin until she looked nothing less than the princess she had been back in Uzushio. A gentlelady and a warrior both, she could have leapt across the room and torn out Touka’s throat in an instant if she wanted. Instead she kept her eyes steady and her voice gentle despite the undertone of steel in every syllable.

“You presume much and you accuse more. How many patrols have gone and come back in the past five weeks?”

“Uh…a lot?” Touka faltered at the sudden question, seemingly so off topic. “A lot more than usual, anyway.”

“And where have they gone?”

“Everywhere? They’re running double time around the borders and I know we’ve got scouts out to check on almost every clan we have even a tentative alliance with. What does any of that have to do with this shit?”

“If you think for even a moment that Hashirama has truly forsaken his brother then you have not been paying attention.” One brow raised to add an extra edge to her words, Mito picked up her needles and resumed darning socks as though they were talking about nothing important.

Touka stared, her jaw hanging loose. “He’s…”

“As I said, there are a hundred other places that he might have gone.”

“He…he was the one who sent Tobes away in the first place.”

“And if you found someone with their fingers in little Kawarama’s grave?” Mito asked softly. “Would you have been rational and waited for an explanation?”

It was a damn good question, one she didn’t want to answer. She didn’t need to.

“Mistakes were made. Should not every man have a chance to remedy the things they’ve done wrong? And believe me, my husband is more aware than you could possibly know of how wrong his actions were. He does not need your reminders.”

Unable to listen, Touka spun on her heel and rushed back in the other direction, not wanting to be so much as a step closer to Mito as the moment. Her intention had been to slip out the back door of the home but to get there her path took her up the hall again and passed Hashirama’s office. Her footsteps slowed and came to a stop for her to stare inside at the image of a broken man.

Hashirama held his head in both hands, the letter he had been writing completely ruined by the tears falling through his fingers, shoulders trembling with emotion. Watching him break down in the privacy of his home made her wonder how he managed to appear to be so calm in public. It made her wonder why. Why had he done it in the first place? What was it that stopped him from mourning in public or showing regret for his decision? Her cousin had never been a prideful man, he had never been afraid to admit to his mistakes. Only two things had ever forced him to rein in his own reactions and one of them had been Tobirama himself, forever exasperated as he guided his brother towards more appropriate public behavior. The other had been the rare time when Hashirama did not want someone to see him feel. She wondered who he could possibly be afraid of seeing him mourn.

Slowly, carefully, Touka reached out to pull the door of the office closed, doing her best to stay silent and not disturb the man inside. If she had been wrong about Hashirama she was still too angry to face it. When she was calm she would come here again and ask her questions but for now she needed to be elsewhere, she needed to be somewhere comforting.

Never had she been more grateful to be the only person Tobirama ever entrusted with the key to his ward seals. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in the corner of his private laboratory and pretend that everything was fine, that if she only waited long enough he would come home for dinner like a stray cat that finally wanders back to the place where he belongs.

Chapter Text

Tobirama woke to the sound of metal crashing against hardwood, the hallow thang of an empty pot hitting what must have been the kitchen floor. A glance at the window showed him that the afternoon had passed him by as he slept and evening was falling rapidly. It was dinner hour.

He was late for his duties.

So far his captors had yet to find a reason to punish him for anything. He completed every task given to him with minimal complaints and he did them all correctly the first time, not seeing a need to make things harder for himself. Bare feet rushed across the carpet as he scrambled for the door and hurried towards the other end of the house where the kitchen and the dining area had been built as one large room. If it hadn’t happened yet then he certainly didn’t want to give them a reason to start doling out punishments now.

Upon entering the room, however, he was flabbergasted to see Izuna brandishing a dripping ladle at his older brother, hunched protectively over their biggest stew pot. All the dishes were still dirty in the sink and more had been piled on top of them from chopping and preparing whatever had been dropped in to the stew – which, he realized now that he was standing still, was giving off an absolutely heavenly scent.

Madara was the one to notice him first when he turned away from the stove with a pout.

“Oh good, I was just about to come wake you. Dinner’s ready.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one who makes dinner?” Tobirama asked hesitantly, edging in to the room with a certain amount of caution. What was the point of a worker who didn’t do their work? Madara shrugged carelessly and passed him a bowl.

“Izuna likes to cook when he’s stressed.”

Too taken aback to respond, Tobirama accepted the bowl and then stood there like a simpleton just watching the two of them dish out some very hearty looking stew. Far be it from him to complain about someone else doing his work for him but he wasn’t sure if he was suspicious or just bewildered about what just happened. His role here amounted to little more than a slave even if the work wasn’t really all that hard and it struck him as very odd for one of the men keeping him to do any task they should have asked him to do instead. In his mind that couldn’t spell anything good.

When the siblings finally noticed that he was still hovering in the same spot with a glazed look on his face they both chuckled and Madara stepped around to push him gently towards the stove, ladling a generous portion of food in to his bowl and then steering him over to the table. Usually he ate alone after cleaning up from cooking dinner and washing the dishes they left behind. He’d never even tried to join them at the table before, naturally assuming he wouldn’t be allowed.

It was nothing less than surreal to chew on a bit of carrot and listen to Izuna yammer on about some other member of their clan who was being particularly difficult lately, constantly bothering him with questions he had already answered several times. Tobirama was so lost in the strangeness of it all that he didn’t even realize he was speaking out loud until the other two men paused to look over at him.

“Hashirama does the same thing. It’s incredibly annoying.”

Both of them stared for a moment until Madara burst out laughing.

“Sounds like him,” he agreed. “But I bet he at least gives up eventually. Not Tetsuo!” Izuna groaned and let his shoulders slump, exhausted just by the reminder of what he had suffered all day.

“I’m tempted to just tell him what he wants to hear and watch him go make a fool of himself with the wrong information.”

“Please, please do it. And let me watch.” Madara grinned, an echo of the manic grin he often wore when he was enjoying a particularly thrilling battle.

“The twilight zone,” Tobirama murmured under his breath. “I’ve entered the twilight zone. I’m going to wake up to a foot in my stomach and a list of more chores to do.” That sounded much more likely than what these two would have him accept as reality.

Either they didn’t hear him or they thought it would be funnier to pretend they hadn’t. They chatted as easily as though they weren’t sitting next to anyone who had the capability and motive to stab one of them with any of the sharp objects that lay within arm’s reach. He tried but he couldn’t think of a single thing that would be any weirder than this. Eventually the tension in his shoulders grew to the point where he was forced to speak up even though he realized it was a supremely bad idea, looking a gift horse in the mouth like he was about to.

“Is it normal for you to eat calmly at the same table as your prisoners?” Confusion shaded his words and softened them until he sounded less upset and more like a whining child. He watched Izuna and Madara share a long look before the elder turned to him with – of all things – a smile.

“You fell asleep across the room from me and slept away half the day like a little kid. Do you really have room to talk?”

Tobirama frowned, his insides squirming. “If I am tired then it is your fault.”

“For what? Asking you to do light housework? Geez, would you loosen up a little? We can’t all be as uptight as you are all the time; some of us like to relax when we’re at home.”

“Well some of us can’t go home so excuse me for not being able to enjoy myself.” His eyes narrowed but Madara only rolled his own.

“So make a new home somewhere else. If they’re being stupid then let them.”

“It’s hardly that simple!”

Deeply offended by the marginalization of his plight, Tobirama shoved his chair back and snatched up his empty bowl, deliberately not taking theirs. He brought his to the sink and dropped it in with a loud clatter of ceramic then stormed off through the house until he was banging through the back door. Very likely he would pay later for having such attitude but at the moment he didn’t care, at the moment he was full of a special kind of fury that in no way tasted like anger.

Soft grass crushed underfoot as he paced circles around the circumference of the backyard, restless and agitated and unsure why beyond the fact that Madara’s words had scraped at a wound he’d thought was finally beginning to scab over. He didn’t want to make a new home somewhere else, he wanted to go back to the home he’d always known and loved. He wanted to be welcome in his own house by his own brother. Not to start again kami only knew where.

And who the hell was he supposed to call family if all of his kin were snug and safe back in the Senju compound where he could never return to?

Eventually he realized that pacing circles was only making himself worse and he came to rest by flopping down at the edge of the koi pond with no actual koi fish in it. He was fairly certain Madara only kept the pond as a place to dunk Izuna’s head whenever they started bickering over something and it didn’t look like he would get an easy win. It was a good solution for someone who couldn’t use a suiton jutsu unless they copied it with their Sharingan. And even then Madara’s suiton jutsu tended to be much weaker than the ones that aligned with his natural affinity.

Since he was bare foot anyway, his sandals still neatly piled by the front door, Tobirama dipped his toes in to the water and let his own element sooth him. He would have loved to slip his body in to the pond and just float for hours on end, let the water fill his ears and muffle the world around him, drift in weightless suspension until nothing existed but the cool waves lapping over his skin. When he wasn’t so worked up he would have to ask if he might be allowed to swim here in his off hours – if he was still allowed off hours after showing such blatant disrespect.

Leaning back on his palms, Tobirama tilted his head back to look up at the rising moon.

“It’s not so bad here, Anija,” he spoke softly to the empty yard. “It’s almost nice actually. But…I don’t want it to be.”

And therein lay the problem. With each day that passed he grew more and more comfortable here but he didn’t want to; he wanted to be comfortable in his real home. Sitting here now with his feet in Madara’s pond and two shouldn’t-be-so familiar chakra signatures burning calmly a couple dozen feet away, he realized that he was eventually going to have to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t have what he wanted. The world was going to keep turning even if he wasn’t ready. In all other facets of life he had always been able to pick himself up and keep going no matter what and he was going to have to do the same now.

On the other hand he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to get too comfortable where he was now. He was a prisoner, a captive put to work. At a moment’s notice he could be turned out of the compound or thrown back in his cell. Unless the Uchiha brothers suddenly experienced dual aneurysms and invited him to live with them out of the goodness of their hearts it probably wasn’t smart to get too attached to anything here.

Chapter Text

“Did you have an aneurysm?” Tobirama continued to stare in bafflement as Madara snorted.

“Is that any way to talk to the man offering you your freedom?” he asked. Tobirama pinched his brows together and hesitated, unsure if he should speak his mind or not.

“Perhaps not but is it the best idea to offer your worst enemy free rein of your home?”

“I wasn’t offering you free rein,” Madara corrected him with an overly casual shrug. “And you’re hardly our greatest enemy now. You’re not a threat and you’re not a bargaining piece; actually you’re kind of alright to have around, much as it pains me to admit that. So I figured I would make the offer.”

Running his fingers across the seals on his wrists, Tobirama watched the other man closely for any signs of duplicity. “The offer that I can stay and live here with you. In the Uchiha compound. In your house. As…what? Your new pet?”

“Why are you making this so difficult? Ugh, just give it here!”

Madara grabbed his arm and began to pick at the seal with his own hands, looking for the right characters to push his chakra in to in order to deactivate them. It took Tobirama clearing his throat and using his other hand to point it out for Madara to set him free with a simple press of one thumb. He took care of the second one just as quickly and then unlocked the cuff-style bracelets while Tobirama was still settling in to the sensation of being able to access his own chakra again.

Taking his arms back, Tobirama rubbed at one wrist with the opposite hand and dipped his head to stare at the ground while his mind raced.

“So you’re asking me to, what? Become an Uchiha?”

“Fire and flames, no!” Madara huffed out a startled laugh. “Half a minute ago you were in cuffs, I’m not about to slap an uchiwa on your back and call you brother right out of the gate. But…your situation is quite unique and if I must explain myself for you to understand then I have to admit I’ve grown sort of – maybe a little – fond of your presence.”

“Oh. Right.” His lip stuck when he caught it between his teeth but Tobirama paid that no mind, chewing harder with thought. “Would I be expected to…”

“No. I would not ask that of you.”

He looked up to see all traces of amusement gone from Madara’s expression, replaced with solemn understanding, and relief crashed through him with unexpected force. Until now he hadn’t realized that was even a worry but now he acknowledged that it had always been there in the back of his mind, the possibility that he might someday be forced to attend the battlefield and face his own kin.

Or the ones he used to call kin.

Nearly three months had passed since his exile, just under two months since he had been sealed and put to work around the Uchiha compound. Thinking about it now, he wondered if Madara had simply pitied him or if even then he had intended for Tobirama to stay. It wasn’t something he cared to have clarified but it was something he knew he would be turning over in his mind a great deal from now on.

“If I stay,” he began slowly, “I would like to earn my way. Just…not with laundry. I’ll stay if you promise I don’t have to scrub your dirty underwear anymore.” Something thumped pleasantly in his chest when Madara tossed his head back to roar with laughter. It felt a lot like his heart, jumping and fluttering with a feeling strangely close to fondness.

“Deal. No laundry except your own.”

“I suppose I can live with doing my own.”

“Nice!” Izuna tumbled in to the room then, entirely giving up the pretense that he wasn’t listening at the door. “Now we can spar, right? I’ve been going crazy without any good sparring partners. Aniki likes to sleep in when I like to train and Hikaku is always busy running around with the patrols.”

Tobirama tried to bite down the comment but it slipped out anyway. “Are you sure you want your ass kicked by a former slave? Can your ego even survive that?”

His old rival’s offended squawk was all but drowned out when Madara began to laugh again, bent over double with no shame and clearly not intending to defend his brother’s honor in any way. Tobirama smiled faintly at their antics. Staying here might not be the worst decision he would ever make.

Adjusting to life in the Uchiha compound didn’t sound like it should be a difficult task when he had already been here for months and yet to Tobirama it felt like removing the seals from his wrist had thrust him forward in to yet another completely foreign world. The clan members within the compound looked at him differently. Not in a friendly sort of way of course, not at first, but at least mostly without the hostility and suspicion he had almost grown used to. Moving around outside the house no longer ended with him hurrying back to avoid the stares that followed him everywhere he went. It seemed they had finally had enough time to get used to his presence.

Now he was met with cautious nods and children wound around his legs just the same as they did to all the other adults, no longer warned to stay away from him. Izuna dragged him out to an open forest clearing within the grounds specially set aside for sparring every morning that he could. And when they returned to the house they usually worked together to cook a massive breakfast for when Madara finally managed to drag himself out of bed.

During the day he spent his hours rifling through the surprisingly well-equipped library Madara unlocked for him. By the layers of dust he could tell that not many had bothered with the treasures within for a long time but they found a new life in his hands as he learned the clan’s history, learned the truth of the rumors other clans told about them to cast them as villains. When he wasn’t learning he used the ink and paper freely provided to him and painted seals – proper ones, not the slapdash copy method they had been using until now. Never anything that could specifically be called a weapon but earning his place by making things useful for travel and for everyday life. A massive difference from how he had spent his time before, his efforts going always to methods of death.

The biggest changes came at night, though.

It took weeks to get used to having one or both Uchiha brothers lounging against him like some kind of body pillow as they all ended their day in the den, sprawled out on the couch or around the kotatsu, passing the evening with easy conversation or simply spending time in each other’s presence while they each entertained themselves with something of their own. It reminded him of his childhood, the days when he had three brothers to pull his head out of the library he’d grown up in and bully him in to playing silly games with them for no reason other than that they wanted his attention for a while.

Now he was grown and there were two men with unruly hair, both of them with a bad habit of snickering to themselves or gasping out loud when they were reading a book, who seemed to understand somehow his distaste for the idea of being alone, something most people misinterpreted. While he did indeed enjoy his privacy and the time he spent with nothing but his thoughts, he had also spent his entire life surrounded by family. He needed human contact just like everyone else; he just happened to be more selective about the humans he was happy to spend time with.

Five months to the day since he had been sent away from one home Tobirama looked to his side at Madara, peacefully sleeping with his reading glasses knocked askew by the book his face was resting on, and felt his heart skip several beats at once. It was possible he had built another without realizing it just as this man had advised.

“You’ve got that panicky look on your face again,” Izuna informed him from the other side of the kotatsu, covered in cards and the small handfuls of pretzels they were using as gambling chips.

“I’ve gotten attached,” he murmured back.

“Must be a good hand.”

“Not to the cards, you idiot. Although yes, this is a fairly good hand, you should fold now if you want to keep your snacks. But that isn’t what I was talking about.” Shifting on his cushion, he looked over at Madara again. The fool was drooling on his book. It should not have been considered adorable in any way and yet that was the only word he could think of.

Frowning at his own hand of cards, Izuna waffled back and forth before dropping them to the kotatsu with a sigh. “Alright so what did you mean then?”

“I was talking about you two idiots. You know, I still say this is all a big trick. You’re lulling me in to a false sense of security, making me care about you, and then one day–”

“Bam! We attack you with hugs and affection and other disgusting things!”

“No!” Tobirama rolled his eyes but couldn’t resist the smile trying to grow.

He was about to say something else when Madara gave a light snort and jerked upright, blinked around the room and then settling his gaze on the man at his side. After the short moment it took his sleep-addled senses to recognize who he was sitting next to his whole face lit up in a way it wouldn’t have if he were fully awake. Tobirama stared back at him, feeling his insides melting. He’d never seen Madara look at anyone like that except his own brother.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“No, no,” Tobirama protested mildly. “You just closed your eyes and we shut off the whole world for you. It was no trouble, really.” Madara shook himself a little to clear his head and huffed indignantly.

“Rude.” Despite his apparent offense, he still shuffled over and draped himself against Tobirama’s side.

From what he could tell it seemed to be an Uchiha thing, showing affection through copious amounts of physical touch: leaning against each other, brushing fingers against arms during conversation, even tucking hair behind each other’s ears. The first time one of them had touched his hair Tobirama had spent the next fifteen minutes puzzling over the action before finally caving and asking what the hell just happened. Even after they explained it to him it had taken a while to sink in that they kept touching him for no other reason than that they liked him.

Which was a whole other basket of eggs to upset. The members of his own clan had oftentimes deliberately avoided him. He wished he knew what quality he had which these two seemed to enjoy that few others had before.

“If you’re tired you should go to bed,” Tobirama told the spiky black hair now resting on his shoulder.

“But I’m comfortable here.” In deliberate protest Madara snuggled even closer against him, unbothered with the way he tensed suddenly at the gesture. He still wasn’t used to being touched so easily by anyone other than Hashirama. Even Touka had projected her movements as much as possible whenever she got close to him. That was just how shinobi acted around one another.

“Unless you are planning to sleep on me I think a bed would be the better option.”

“Well, if the offer’s open…” Madara was asleep again in the next moment.

Tobirama appealed to Izuna with a confused expression but the other man only covered his mouth with both hands to muffle his pitiless snickering. When he looked back down at his shoulder he couldn’t help but notice from this angle that Madara was blessed with fantastically long eyelashes. They fluttered when his eyes moved under their lids, brushing against his cheeks, and Tobirama had to look away when he noticed his hand was halfway lifted to see if they were as soft as they looked.

Clearly he was not the only one who had gotten attached. Tobirama reached for his cards with one hand and smiled as he turned them over, revealing the crappy set he’d been holding.

“Thanks for folding; can you push the pot my way? I would hate to disturb him so soon.”

“You lied!”

“It’s called bluffing and of course I did. What sort of shinobi reveals his hand so easily?”

Staying here definitely looked as though it had been the right decision, more and more so with every day.

Chapter Text

Having never had it taken away from him in such a significant way until he was a fully grown adult, Tobirama never realized that freedom had its own disadvantages. Now he found himself standing at the gates of the Uchiha compound with his arms crossed tightly against his chest and all too aware that he wouldn’t be half as torn as he was at the moment if he didn’t have the power to do something about it. Watching Madara and Izuna’s backs as they disappeared in to the trees wasn’t the hard part; the hard part was knowing who they had been called in to battle with.

Knowing it was the Senju advancing against their eastern border left him off-balance, unsure of how to feel. It was they who had cast him out after a lifetime of love and devoted service. Should he turn his back and hate them now, stop caring for their lives simply because they had stopped caring for his? Logic told him he should be allowed to do just that.

And yet…

The very thought of Hashirama getting wounded still broke a part of him he had thought couldn’t break anymore. Thinking about any of his second and third cousins perishing in battle, about Touka giving her life in protection of the clan she loved so deeply, he couldn’t deny that he still cared for them all. No matter that he wished he didn’t, he would probably still care for them even if they had chosen to run a blade across his throat as he had once begged Madara to do. It wasn’t as if he could simply turn off his heart whenever it pleased him.

Should he have tried to stop the brothers from going, then? Asked them not to face the Senju in battle? Without Madara and Izuna on the field the Uchiha would drop like flies. There was no one else who could hope to face Hashirama and survive but how many Senju lives would be traded for how many Uchiha if they did or didn’t go? It was like an impossible math equation with no right answer and Tobirama had always hated questions that had no answers.

He almost felt like he should be there himself except he wasn’t at all sure what he would end up doing. Could he face his own brother in battle? Or his cousin? Yet to not take action would be just as terrible. To stand to one side and watch someone he cared for cut down someone else he cared for, no matter what crest they wore on their armor, he wouldn’t survive it.

Conflict raged back and forth inside him for hours until finally Madara and Izuna returned with the rest, dirty and tired, some of them bearing injuries but with no fewer clansmen than when they left. Tobirama didn’t stop to think. The two brothers had barely set foot in the house they all shared when he crashed in to them and pulled Madara in to his arms, holding on more tightly than he could ever remember doing in his life. His breath hitched when Madara gripped him back just as tightly.

“Are they–?”

“No deaths on either side,” the other murmured in his ear. He felt suddenly weightless without the leaden feeling that had been pulling at his stomach the whole damn day.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. Thank you.” A quiet noise of confusion escaped him but he leaned back gratefully for a moment when Izuna joined their embrace as well from behind, sandwiching him in the middle. It was hard to tell what he was supposed to be feeling in this moment but all he could focus on was how grateful he was that everyone was alive and well.

Madara pressed his forehead in to Tobirama’s hair, speaking very quietly. “Don’t ever apologize. Everything’s alright, Tobirama. We’re fine; they’re fine; no one got seriously injured.”

“I shouldn’t care.”

“Should or shouldn’t, you do. And that’s not something you need to apologize for.”

“Take him to sit down or something,” Izuna said, breaking away. “I’ll bring a pot of tea.”

Madara led him to the couch and tried to make him sit down but Tobirama insisted on helping him out of his armor first. When Izuna returned they both helped him as well to unstrap the minimal plate armor typical of Uchiha battle garb. Tobirama fretted internally over how they were leaving themselves too exposed and started planning arguments in his head for how he could convince them to wear something more protective until he was dragged down on to the couch at last and pressed firmly in between his two companions.

“How is this the first time that it’s hitting me?” Tobirama grumbled. Some genius he was letting his mind forget about something so big as the fact that his new benefactors were still at war with his old family.

“The Senju have been strangely quiet for a while now,” Madara told him slowly. “I think this is the first time we’ve faced them on such a large scale since we took you out of the dark. Until now it’s been mostly border skirmishes and chance meetings in other territories but no big clashes.”

“Quiet isn’t really how I would put it though,” Izuna chipped in. Madara nodded.

“I guess, yeah. They’ve been sighted absolutely everywhere but they’re not picking any fights. It’s eerie.”

Tobirama frowned and turned that over in his mind, looking at the information from all angles. It felt as though it should have been significant somehow but without any other information he was at a loss for how to interpret it properly.

After sipping his way through several cups of tea he settled down against Madara’s side in a mirror of how the older man usually treated him like a human sized pillow. He squirmed deeper in to the arm that wrapped around his back and closed his eyes to revel in the feeling of having precious ones close, appreciating it like he hadn’t before. Not all of the people he still considered precious were here but they were all confirmed as alive and for now that was enough. He trusted Madara not to have lied about that.

“Look at you cuddling,” Izuna teased, pushing on his arm to press him deeper in to Madara’s embrace. Tobirama huffed.

“I can cuddle if I want to.”

“Yeah, no one but Mads though. Unless you want to come over here and put your head in my lap?”

“Don’t be disgusting.” Turning his face in to the chest holding him up, he hoped the tips of his ears weren’t turning pink.

Although he would have to admit that Izuna was a little bit right. He did have a preference for Madara’s affection over anyone else but really his social circle wasn’t exactly large among the Uchiha yet so he figured it didn’t say all that much. Of the several who were friendly with him now he was still only quite close to these two and some of the children who had been shyly requesting his tutelage lately.

Tobirama stayed in his curled position for so long he had begun slowly drifting in and out, only half listening to the conversation still going on above his head, when he felt Madara’s fingers begin to absently trace up and down his arm. It should be illegal, he decided. No one should have the power to make him feel so safe and comfortable in a world so full of danger and hurt. It made him never want to sleep on his own again and he recognized that as a stupid thought even as it entered his head.

“Does he snore? Is he gonna start snoring?” Izuna sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“Hush. No, he doesn’t snore.”

“You would know.”

“Shhh! Keep your mouth shut! What if he hears us in his sleep or something!?”

Madara’s whisper yelling almost made him smile but Tobirama found himself too interested to hear what they were talking about to interrupt them with a clean sign that he was still awake. Although he certainly was close enough to sleep that he felt ready to snore whether or not it was a usual habit.

“If he hears you in his sleep then he’ll just chalk it up to a dream, no worries Aniki.”

“Just keep quiet, alright? Quit it.”

“Oh come on. Everyone knows except him.”

An offended huff ruffled the top of his head. “None of you should be discussing this behind my back. It’s no one’s business but mine. And his. No, not his, I don’t want him to know yet!”

“Well good news for you, I don’t think he’s going to figure it out unless you dance naked in front of him with a banner that says ‘I have a massive dorky crush on you!’” Izuna laughed to himself, muffling the sound behind what sounded like a pillow, and it was all Tobirama could do not react. Staying still was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life as Madara whined piteously above him.

“I don’t want him to figure it out! The last thing he needs is to think I’m trying to trick him in to staying here or something.” Izuna’s laughter faded awhile while Madara continued. “He’s gone through a lot and he’s still dealing with it. Now isn’t the time to be adding something like this on his shoulders – especially since he clearly doesn’t feel the same.”

“Clearly, huh? I would say differently.”

“You would say wrong.”

“Says you. Haven’t you noticed how much closer he is to you than me?”

Madara’s body jerked as the arm around Tobirama lifted away for a moment, followed by the sound of Izuna getting the back of his head swatted.

“End of discussion.” Madara declared sternly. He returned his arm to where it had been, holding just a little bit tighter.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut. But let the record show that I think the smartest thing to do would be to tell him how you feel now so he can come to terms with his own feelings too and you can both live happily ever after.”

“Ugh. Don’t be such a sap.”

No answer came but after a minute Izuna got up and left the room, probably heading to bed. Left alone, Madara returned to stroking Tobirama’s hair in silence for a while, seemingly content to remain where he was for the foreseeable future. Eventually he did move but it was only to gently maneuver them both a little deeper in to the corner of the couch so that Tobirama could rest against his chest and he could snuggle his own head back against the cushions, ostensibly making himself comfortable for the night.

Tobirama remained silent and still until Madara’s breathing evened out and only then did he gently lift his head to stare up at the man who had taken him in and given him everything he thought he would never have again.

Apparently Madara had feelings for him. What he was supposed to do with that knowledge was something he would need more than one evening to figure out. Dating and romance had never been his forte. It hadn’t been on his mind in quite some time even before his exile and he certainly hadn’t expected to encounter those things here.

It could all wait for another night, he decided. Knowing he was dooming himself to a good round of teasing in the morning – and a little bit of extra confusion for his own heart – Tobirama laid his head back down and closed his eyes to enjoy the warmth of the embrace so freely given. Whatever complications may come from this revelation, here in Madara’s arms was still the safest place he had been in a very long time.

Chapter Text

Tobirama checked himself over one more time before knocking on the door of Madara’s office. If his business were something actually important he would have let himself in without bothering to knock as he and Izuna usually did, the only two people welcome to do so, but he could feel how focused and concentrated the man inside was and if Madara did not wish to be disturbed then Tobirama was loathe to interrupt him for something that could wait.

“Quit lingering and just come in, Tobi.”

His lips twisted in a wry expression. Sometimes he forgot that Madara was quite a skilled sensor as well. Not quite on his own level but certainly nothing to be underestimated. He was smiling when he opened the door, pausing to appreciate the sight of the man’s reading glasses before stepping fully in to the room. Then he paused to enjoy as well the widening eyes taking in the first sight of him and the reason he had come to talk.

“What…are you wearing?”

“Ah.” Looking down at himself as though he hadn’t already checked it all a dozen times already, Tobirama let his arms hang awkwardly at his sides and resisted the urge to shift from one foot to the other with nerves. He felt as awkward and coltish as a teenager showing off a new outfit. “It took a bit of digging but Izuna was able to find me a set of armor that does not bear the Uchiha mon. We thought it was about time I have something ready just in case I need it.” He was already spending his days wearing whatever scraps of clothing Madara had been able to rustle up that didn’t bear the uchiwa crest, he hadn’t been able to think of a rebuttal when Izuna protested that he didn’t have any armor to wear and offered some from the clan armory.

Madara twitched a few times in a way that was neither good nor bad. Then he carefully stood from behind his desk and came across the room to fold both arms within his voluminous sleeves and drag his eyes slowly down then back up, inspecting Tobirama in a way that left him feeling oddly exposed. Even more oddly: he didn’t really mind the feeling. Silence stretched between them while Madara made his inspection but Tobirama refused to allow himself to fidget under that gaze no matter how anxious he was for the man’s opinion.

“It fits you well,” was the final verdict, allowing him to slump with a relief he hadn’t expected to feel.

“The decision is yours and I will accept it, whatever you choose, but…I thought…I could be useful to the clan in other ways than simple seals and teaching the younglings to read.” Tobirama thought he bore up rather well under the weight of the stare that earned him.

“We would never ask you to–”

“I know. Not against – no, I know you would not. But in other battles. After all you have done for me you must know that I would stand beside you if you asked. Surely there are smaller missions that I could help out with as well until I earn the trust of more people in the clan.” He tried not to look like he felt, a child asking for permission to leave the nest for their first time.

The way Madara looked at him definitely had some kind of strong emotion behind it but he had trouble defining what that was until the man turned and went to retrieve something from the desk. When he came back he was holding his ink brush so tightly the wood looked ready to snap yet his touch was gentle and his strokes precise as he lifted it to draw upon the breastplate Tobirama had been given. With both brows pulled together in concentration and his eyes sharp with focus it was almost surprising that his Sharingan never activated to capture whatever it was he was doing.

When Tobirama saw the completed work his breathing shuddered and paused in his chest, now overwhelmed with his own indescribable emotions. The hand drawn rendition of the uchiwa fan was ever so slightly crooked, he noticed. It was also the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

“We, all of us, are honored that you chose to stay.” Madara held his eyes, trapping his gaze and not letting him look away. “You may not bear our name but you carry the weight of us all at your back wherever you choose to go. You’ve earned more trust here than you might think.” There was a certain lilt in his voice that gave the impression he was holding back the ‘yet’ from that part about bearing their name and Tobirama wondered suddenly if he asked right in this very moment if they would stitch an uchiwa on the back of all his clothing.

The idea was as thrilling as it was terrifying, though he chose not to share such thoughts that he wasn’t quite ready to face himself.

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured instead. Madara cleared his throat gruffly, probably realizing he had created an emotional moment and attempting to backpedal as quickly as possible, as was his habit.

“You say thank you, obviously. Don’t you have any manners?”

“Of course. Thank you.” Tobirama bit the inside of his cheek harshly to stop anything else from falling out of his mouth. His fingers itched to trace around the unintentional gift and already he was flipping through several different options in his mind for how best to preserve the ink. Something so precious should be kept carefully, after all. And perhaps there was also a small part of him that wanted to show it off to as many people as possible.

“Hmph. Well. I was rather busy, I should get back to this.”

Madara hustled himself around the table with purpose but when Tobirama followed to look curiously at what he was doing he all but threw himself down to cover the paper with a low shriek. “No! It’s…it’s not done. You can see it when it’s done!”

“What is it?”

“Nothing! You’ll know eventually! When it comes back!”

“Okay…you’re being weird.” Shaking his head, Tobirama shrugged and allowed the odd behavior to carry him away from the sticky emotions he was trying very hard not to deal with or even examine too closely just yet. “Although that isn’t very different from usual, you’re always weird. I only came to make sure it was alright that I kept the armor. Oh and Izuna mentioned he was running a delivery to the Aburame and I thought I’d go with him if that’s alright too.” The last part came out all in a rush and he finished with the same overly cheerful smile Izuna always used to play innocent when he knew no one would believe him anyway, dodging out of the office as soon as he’d finished speaking.

He made it in to the hall and halfway across the living room before he heard Madara’s voice hollering behind him, “Wait, what? Leaving? Get – you better come back safe, you ass!”

Not slowing his steps, Tobirama rolled his shoulders to settle the gifted armor in a better position and tried not to think about how nice it felt to have someone tell him to be safe. It had been a long time since anyone bothered considering his track record of successful missions. His steps were lighter as he made his way towards the front gate where Izuna waited with a weapon for him to borrow and a path for him to follow. With every step he reminded himself not to do anything as embarrassing as trace the drying ink now marking his chest.

It would be nice to get back out in to the world again. Sparring so often with Izuna had built up quite a lot of the muscle he’d allowed to go to waste in his initial poor handling of his own situation. Now he was eager to put that training to good use even if he did nothing more than run to the Aburame compound and back without a single skirmish. It was strange to do it with an Uchiha by his side but Tobirama was glad to be living again.

His old rival stood waiting for him just outside the house and the double take he did when he spotted the aesthetic additions to Tobirama’s armor was both amusing and worrisome. But then his face lit up with a feral grin and Tobirama relaxed enough to answer with a quiet smile of his own. It didn’t matter that he would probably be teased about this at every opportunity for the foreseeable future, what mattered was that Izuna approved, agreed even, and it meant the whole world to Tobirama knowing that his place here was growing more certain with every day that passed.

-

Alone in the quiet of his own home, evening blanketing the world outside in cricket song and moonlight, Hashirama stared at the scroll on his desk and considered rubbing at his eyes for a third time just to be absolutely certain that he was seeing it clearly. Perhaps he had been working for too many hours and begun to hallucinate. In a sentence the words made perfect sense; as a concept he was having trouble believing this was truly happening.

Uchiha Madara had sent him an overture of peace.

After all these years, after all the countless times he had extended an olive branch only for that very man to deny him again and again, he had before him a letter in Madara’s hand demanding a ceasefire between them.

There was no other word for it, really. He had already read through the letter half a dozen times; in no way could he describe those phrases as a request or a plea. This was a demand for peace and yet it contained none of the veiled threats that one might expect to find hidden between the lines of such aggressive language. Nothing on the page suggested that anything violent would follow should he choose – stupidly – to reject this call for peace.

Although he wasn’t entirely sure peace was what his old friend was after here. Madara spoke of a ceasefire, of ending the violent hostilities between their clans, of no more lives lost to either side. What he did not speak of was an alliance or any chance to work together towards the dream they had once shared. Hashirama stared at the scroll on his desk and felt the rekindling of those dreams like a muted candle shining light around the corner from another room: tantalizing, beckoning, yet hidden still from sight.

Obviously there was no path he could possibly consider but to accept these demands, no matter their impolite language. Hashirama’s fingers trembled as he lifted the scroll to read through it just one more time. Even though he knew he would sign it in the end he also knew he was very much going to look this gift horse in the mouth. Why now, he wondered. After all this time what had happened now that could prompt Madara to send a message demanding the very thing he had rejected so many times? Especially considering his behavior when they met on the battlefield a few days ago, even more angry and standoffish than usual. If anything he would have said Madara despised the Senju now more than he ever had before.

Something big was happening, all of his instincts were crying out to tell him something else was going on that he didn’t know about but with most of his concentration taken up by the mystery of Tobirama’s disappearance he simply didn’t have the time to add a puzzle this big to his own plate. Hashirama wondered if anyone in their informant network was close enough to the Uchiha to find out more or if he would even have the people to spare investigating this in the months ahead. It seemed the elders had finally gotten the point that he would not allow himself to be manipulated the way they had tried to accomplish by sending his most trusted advisor away; his attention would surely be turned inwards soon to counter whatever idiocy they were brewing behind his back.

The contract was signed and sealed and on its way back to the Uchiha compound long before Hashirama calmly stood from his desk and sent word for the council of elders to be gathered for an impromptu meeting. It promised to be an interesting one. They weren’t going to like this turn of events but Hashirama honestly could not care less for their opinions on the matter.

They had lost that luxury when they lost him his brother.

Chapter Text

He was only gone a few hours for the first mission, barely half a day of running and an easy tradeoff of the goods Izuna had brought for the exchange, but it was enough for the wind and the forest to settle in to his blood again and Tobirama knew before he returned home that he would soon be itching to go back out on another mission. It felt incredible to be doing something with himself again, something more than lounging around the compound and moping about things he couldn’t change. But even more so it felt good to be truly useful again. He hadn’t yet worked up the courage to ask for a space where he might set up one or two of his beloved research experiments but that wouldn’t matter anyway until he could earn a few coins to purchase the equipment for them.

After everything they had already given him there was no way he would ask Madara or Izuna to fund something so frivolous even if the results of his experiments did have a tendency to turn out useful for the masses. The clan treasury was much better spent on food and other necessities. He could find a way to pay for his own hobbies once he started earning his own salary instead of relying on the charity of others.

The second mission he took was only supposed to be a recon excursion around Iwa territory looking for another pair of clan members that disappeared in the same area, a mission he shamelessly used his own reputation as a sensor to get assigned to, but it turned in to a four day hullabaloo when he discovered the missing Uchiha captured and on the verge of being tortured as revenge for some wrong committed two generations back. Apparently it wasn’t just Fire Country that suffered from the stupidity of a pointless revenge cycle. Things descended in to blood and mayhem in the blink of an eye but it was worth it to know that everyone he had come looking for would make it home safe. No amount of singed clothing or band-aids could be worth more than human lives, after all.

Stumbling back towards the compound almost two full weeks after he had left, Tobirama might have predicted at most a heartfelt ‘thank you’ from the men and women he had liberated, though he honestly expected little more than a brief acknowledgement. He was shocked when one of them approached him in the evening to press their palm against the ink where Madara had drawn their clan symbol on his armor, barely visible after the wear and tear and blood of the mission but clinging to the protection of his fading stasis seal.

“This belongs to you,” she told him in a tired but grateful voice. Tobirama was so stunned he merely stood there like a jackass until the second person draw closer to them with a sheepish expression on his face.

“If I am honest,” the man said, “I thought Madara-sama was crazy when word spread that he had invited you to stay with us. Now I am glad. Tamiko is right, you belong with us now.”

Overwhelmed, Tobirama nodded wordlessly and chewed on the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t sure what to say in the face of such honest gratitude. With their leader as somewhat of a misguided exception, the Uchiha seemed to be much better at expressing themselves than the Senju, a strange turn of events considering which of the two clans was rumored to draw their strength from the power of their love. By the time they set off the next morning Tobirama had been personally thanked by the other two rescues as well and all four of them were speaking to him with the ease of lifelong companions.

Such a visible sign that they trusted him as one of their own left him reeling for most of the journey back home, though they didn’t seem bothered by his lack of conversation. For the most part they seemed to take it in stride and he realized that they had come to know him as a man who chose not to partake in most idle chatter – and they seemed oddly fine with that. Tobirama found himself baffled when each of them began finding excuses to reach out and brush their fingers against him even as they talked amongst themselves, the same way that Madara and Izuna had been doing for months now, accepting him as he preferred to be without trying to force him to socialize in the way they enjoyed for themselves.

He would admit that it was nice – more than nice, an incredible gift actually – but it was still a relief to shut himself away in the privacy of the house that he had come to think of as his own, completely dark this late at night and free of anyone but the two men he felt safest with. Both of his housemates would be well asleep at this hour though so he made sure to keep his footsteps silent when he entered, depositing his armor on one of the stands by the front door. Shadows guided his path as he made his way through the halls and he had already begun tugging at the obi securing his underpadding when he stepped in to the bedroom he’d been given all the way back when he had still been considered a prisoner.

Then he stopped. Stared. Tried to comprehend.

Why was Madara sleeping in his bed?

Actually it was more that the man was sleeping on top of the bed rather than in it, curled up with his head on the pillow and the blankets undisturbed beneath him. His hands were both fisted tightly and his brows pinched together in a worried expression that made Tobirama’s fingers itch to smooth out the wrinkles even as he stood there wondering what to do with this surprise he had found.

Should he wake Madara up? Or should he just go sleep on the couch for a night and ask his questions in the morning? Both options promised to end with an awkward conversation but at least one of them meant that he would get to sleep right away rather than suffer that awkwardness before he was rested enough to deal with it.

The decision was taken out of his hands when the idiot in his bed stirred and gave a sleepy moan, one hand coming up to scratch at his unshaven cheek with a quiet rasp. Then he cracked an eye open and went still upon seeing Tobirama there with him. Quite likely it was his very presence that had woken the man from his dreams, their chakra reacting to each other unconsciously. Considering the fact that he had just been thinking about his own need to rest Tobirama almost felt a little bad for disturbing the man’s sleep. It didn’t look like he’d been getting much since the last time they saw each other.

“You’re home,” came the sleepy murmur of greeting.

“Sorry I’m later than expected. Things got a bit out of control for a while there. Everything’s fine now, though, and everyone made it home alright. I can give you a full report in the morning if you like.”

“C’m’ere.” Madara motioned him closer with a floppy hand waving in his vague direction. Tobirama folded one leg underneath himself to sit down next to the man’s form, curious and confused and startled more than anything by how much the image of Madara in his bed struck a few very significant chords inside him. Something that felt like possessiveness rose up in approval until he almost wanted to puff his chest out with pride. Which was absolutely ridiculous. What, precisely, was he proud of right at this moment? That he owned a bed so comfortable other people wanted to sleep in it too?

Memories of a whispered conversation he was never meant to hear dangled just out of reach where he still had yet to properly deal with them. Tobirama judiciously turned his mind’s eye away from them to concentrate on the sleepy fingers reaching out blindly to feel around for a grip on his dusty sleeve.

Then he was startled more than ever when he was pulled down to rest on the pillow, his body instinctively tensing for a fight until Madara rolled over to sprawl on top of his chest. With all of his senses on high alert for the smallest movement he was only just able to hear the soft inhale of Madara taking in his scent before the man melted over him in an all too familiar way – although this was definitely a less familiar backdrop for their almost ritual habit of cuddling. And he certainly couldn’t remember ever stretching out on their backs together in such a deliberate manner.

“Worried,” came the slurred explanation. “Missed you. Welcome home.” Tobirama set his eyes on the ceiling and told himself to keep it together.

“Do you wait like this in his bed when Izuna goes away too?” He asked. Madara nodded and gave an affirmative hum and he wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or not. “Are you going to fall asleep on me now?”

“Mhm. Keep safe.” By the way his sentences were so broken and each syllable slurred together it was obvious he wasn’t quite fully awake, already slipping back in to unconsciousness even as he spoke. The grip of his fingers was still pretty strong where he had attached himself to Tobirama’s shirt and buried his face against what he apparently deemed to be a pleasant scent. He looked much too adorable to so much as consider disturbing him.

“I’m safe,” Tobirama assured him, capitulating before he could allow himself to consider the implications of allowing this to happen. “Go back to sleep.”

That was all the convincing he needed to do. Madara was out like a light a moment later and Tobirama realized too late they were still on top of the blankets instead of underneath them. It took only a simple kage bunshin to fix that part, sending his copy over to steal an extra blanket from the pile of them kept in the living room, and had the added benefit of testing out a jutsu he still hadn’t worked out all the kinks for. As for the problem of what he would do when Madara woke up again and it really registered that they had spent the night cuddling in his bed, that would have to wait until the next morning. He was far too comfortable himself now to do anything about it.

Ignoring the fact that he hadn’t even had a chance to remove his travel clothes, nor had he had a chance to bathe and probably stunk to the high heavens, Tobirama closed his eyes to shut out the world and settled his arms around Madara’s shoulders. Cuddling in a bed shouldn’t be any different than cuddling on the couch. Just this once Tobirama allowed himself to reach for sleep without overanalyzing the situation, enjoying the way Madara felt against him without guilt and leaving his worries for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Waking up with Madara wasn’t half as embarrassing as when Izuna found them and threw himself across their legs like an asshole, snickering and yelling something about a family group hug. Madara and Tobirama made a team effort to beat him back off the mattress, at which point Madara hauled himself up as well to chase his brother around the house while Tobirama flopped back down on his bed to catch the lingering warmth of their embrace.

He was going to have to figure out what the hell was going on with his emotions sooner or later but, like in all things of this category, he was set firmly on the ‘later’ option. Emotions had never been the easiest thing for him to delve in to but now it felt as though each step forward he made towards healing was accompanied with his slowly recovering heart pulling away and cowering under the covers, afraid of making progress when he knew damn well it would only leave him vulnerable again. It was, he had discovered, incredibly frustrating to be so divided within himself. His mind may have finally accepted the idea of moving on, his head trusted the Uchiha – Madara and Izuna specifically – but his heart was wary, terrified of going through the same hurt all over again.

Fool him once and apparently he started looking for fools around every corner.

Breakfast that morning was mostly filled with bickering to start, the two brothers snipping back and forth at one another in full-on sibling mode, tossing salt in to each other’s bowls, kicking each other’s legs under the table. They stopped only when Izuna accidentally kicked Tobirama’s knee instead and earned them both a level stare that jerked both of their spines upright. Tobirama went back to eating his porridge with a deceptive air of calm that they knew very well could snap at a moment’s notice if they disturbed him like that again. Not wanting to risk his temper before at least one full cup of tea, they did the same.

It was after they all finished eating and the dishes had been piled lazily in the sink that Tobirama was delivered the latest shocking news in his ever changing life. He could tell something was up by the way Madara kept peeking at him from the corner of one eye but he let it rest until the man cleared his throat and opened the subject on his own, inviting Tobirama in to his study with an apprehension that spoke of uncertainty. Whatever the news was he didn’t look overly positive that Tobirama would like it. Thoughts already struggling not to slide down that familiar dark slope, Tobirama followed him with a tight chest.

He was surprised to see Madara place a single scroll on his uncharacteristically clean desk as soon as they both sat down in his office. When he reached for it, however, Madara kept his hand over it and chewed on his bottom lip, eyes darting from side to side with obvious anxiety, nervous for some reason about what he had to say. 

“I was angry that things had to be so difficult for you,” came the first attempt at explanation. “Nothing more than this has been decided. We’ve written a few more times than this but I’m being vague until you can help decide where to go forward from here.”  Then he nodded decisively and pushed the scroll forward.

Even more curious now, Tobirama gently unrolled it and let his eyes skim through the contents quickly. When he was done he went back and read it through again, then very carefully set it down lest his shaking fingers drop it unintentionally.

“Peace,” he whispered.

“A ceasefire,” Madara corrected him hurriedly. “At the moment, anyway. It’s not an alliance right now. It won’t be anything you don’t want it to be.”

“You did this for me?” he couldn’t seem to lift his eyes away from the scroll, the words hidden from him now that they were rolled up again yet imprinted on his memory in such a way he knew he would never forget them. He could easily recognize both the original hand that had penned the letter and the hand that had scribbled a heartfelt, tear-stained response down below, though it was taking a few moments for the reality of what he had read to settle in. It was hard to believe.

Madara huffed as though with great offense. “I have more important things to think about than just you.”

From the way he didn’t quite let their eyes meet Tobirama deduced that statement was only half true but he stuck a mental pin in that train of thought to save it for another time. Right now he already had something mind-bending to focus on. Like the fact that the hostilities between the two infamous rival clans might finally be seeing an end of sorts after countless generations and it was all because Madara had seen how hard the current situation was for him.

Lives saved. Children allowed to grow. Families kept together without being torn apart by untimely and gruesome deaths. All because Madara had seen his struggle and found a way to make things easier for him.

“You said that the two of you had communicated further?” he ventured. Almost immediately there was a handful of other scrolls on the desk.

“He’s proposed half a dozen other things of course but I’ve been keeping my answers vague without committing to anything just yet. I didn’t know what all you would approve of and I thought perhaps you might have a few insights to share besides. You would know his thought patterns better than I would. What’s the point of having insider information if I don’t use it, right?”

“Right.”

“Not that–! I didn’t meant to say–!”

“Hush.” Tobirama rolled his eyes with a small smile. “I understood what you meant.” After all the things this man had done for him there wasn’t a single part of him left that could believe Madara had been grooming him as a convert of some sort. Though it had taken a great deal of time, he had finally come to accept that he meant more to the people here than a sink of information on their oldest enemy. Just as he had been thinking earlier, he trusted this man, knew him better than to believe such things.

It was amusing to watch Madara deflate with such heavy relief. “Oh. Good then. Well, if you wanted to read through these you are very welcome to. He’s covered pretty much every option from a more formal peace treaty all the way up to building that ridiculous village he and I used to talk about.”

“The village. He never…he never did stop talking about the village.” Tobirama reached out to run his fingers over the rolls of parchment, wondering which one of them contained those familiar dreams he had heard about so often, indulging or ignoring them as his mood dictated. After all the times he’d listened to it he could probably recite the speech by heart.

“Really? Huh. I knew he kept asking but I just thought he was stubborn.”

“Bull-headed, I would say.”

Madara snorted. “Now that’s a word I think would apply more to you.” Tobirama resisted sticking out his tongue but it was a close thing.

“This village, though. Wasn’t that your dream too?”

Oddly enough, Madara shifted uncomfortably and looked away before answering.

“I dreamed about that a long time ago,” he agreed, avoiding the real question.

“Yes,” Tobirama pressed, “but do you still?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, to be honest. The idea was to create a place where I could protect the last of my little brothers but I feel like I’m strong enough to do that myself now. Doubly so with your strength added between us. What do I need a village for now?”

“To protect everyone else’s little brothers,” Tobirama suggested quietly.

He shrugged when Madara gave him a long look. He could practically hear Hashirama’s voice in his head and it was messing with his own morality system in a strange way, making him think about things he normally wouldn’t consider. Actually it was sort of annoying. If this was what it was like to have more of a conscience then he didn’t like it very much; it just felt like guilt before he’d even done anything and he sort of resented that. The village had never been something he believed in. Normally his reaction whenever Hashirama started going off about it was to roll his eyes and repeat that the chances of both clans agreeing to peace was so slim they were better of discarding the whole idea to never bore him with it again.

Sitting here with Madara now, staring across the desk at the roll of parchment sitting innocently as though it contained anything less than the beginning of momentous events, he wondered if he might have been wrong all this time. Could there have been a way to convince Madara if he had never come here? It was a pointless tangent to think about because he had come here and they would never know how things could have been otherwise but it gave him more to think about. All the arguments Hashirama had made in favor of peace over the years came rushing back for him to turn them over and over again, giving them proper consideration for perhaps the first time.

Both of them were quiet for a while, meeting each other’s eyes and looking away to disappear back in to their own thoughts. In the silence between them Izuna could be heard puttering around somewhere else and singing to himself in a terribly off-key voice, cutting through the tension even without realizing he was doing so. Finally it was Madara who spoke up again.

“We won’t agree to anything that would make you more uncomfortable,” he said. Tobirama twisted his mouth to one side with indecision.

“But you cannot consider my comfort above what is best for the entire clan. Don’t the children deserve somewhere safe to grow up? Not everyone has a brother as strong as you, after all.” He watched Madara shift between preening over the compliment and frowning over the reality of the situation.

“If we build a village with the Senju”–his voice stayed low, soothing, the sort of voice one might use to keep a wild animal calm–“you would have to see him again. And all of them.”

Tobirama sighed. “Not necessarily. He’ll hardly expect to get to know every single member of the clan and his chakra is fairly hard to miss; he’s rather easy to avoid and even easier if I have an entire village to maneuver around him. Without me the Senju are weakened by their lack of natural sensors. If I put in a little effort I’m sure I could disappear in to the ranks and never interact with any of them if I so desired. All I’d have to do is stay within the boundaries of my own people.” With a cock of the head he set his eyes upwards to look out the window and give himself a moment to think. It was such a clear morning, the sort of morning he had often taken advantage of to serve breakfast on the back porch so Hashirama could point out what birds were nesting in the bushes of their garden.

As much as the man had hurt him, Tobirama couldn’t bring himself to believe that Hashirama had ever had a single bad intention. Their beliefs and their morals had never matched exactly but each of them had always done what they believed was best for their clan. It hurt, of course it did, to know that Hashirama considered it best to have him gone but one upset between the two of them could not convince him to wish any ill on the other. Hashirama deserved to have those mornings with whoever he chose to keep by his side.

Just as Tobirama himself deserved the same. Watching a flock of birds wheel and turn, he tried to imagine what a village like that would look like, how peaceful it would be to serve breakfast on the back porch with Madara and know that no one could ever take what was precious to him again.

“Write him back,” he murmured. “And tell him he can have his village. Tell him to invite any clan he sees fit and that we will do the same. My past should not inhibit other people’s futures.”

“If you are absolutely sure…”

“Yes, I am.” Tobirama nodded, breathing deep. He wasn’t sure the pain of what happened would ever go away but it was lessening, softening, and he had only the man before him to thank for that. Madara eyed him for a few moments to be sure he wasn’t hiding his feelings or anything and then he nodded too.

“Alright. Well. Get out of here, then. I’ve got a lot to do today and all of it is math. Ugh.” One hand gestured to the other scrolls all pushes off to the far side of his desk where he always left the clan accounts as the last task to complete.

Not even bothering to hide his amusement, Tobirama gratefully allowed the emotional moment to slide away in favor of lifting one eyebrow and pointing out, “You’re good at math.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I suppose. Perhaps if you asked very nicely I might be enticed to help you.”

A scroll filled with monthly accounts hit him in the chest a moment later but it wasn’t followed by any insults and Tobirama figured that was about as nice as he could expect Madara to be.

Chapter Text

Negotiating the terms of an alliance and designing the blueprints for a brand new village probably would have gone a lot faster if Tobirama had been willing to go to the gatherings himself. The famous trio of intertwined clans, the Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi, had all agreed to throw their lots in with this venture even before the first roads were paved. Being able to say that the meetings were crowded enough already with so many people there to protect their own interests was quite a convenient excuse for Tobirama to avoid them.

Madara refrained from calling him out on the lie, though it was clear he had spotted it. It was Izuna that ribbed him about his choice to stay behind – very gently, though, so he knew it was only a way to help the situation feel normal. Tobirama appreciated both of their efforts and he showed his gratitude by pouring over every scrap of cramped notes they brought home to him, writing out suggestions for changes or additions and pointing out the occasional flaw in someone’s logic. The shadows had always been his favorite place to work from anyway. Credit was nice but in situations like this it was more important that things be done right than for everyone to know who came up with what idea.

Whether or not anyone from the Senju clan recognized his influence was unknown but Madara and Izuna both mentioned that his name had not come up more than once, not after one of the Akimichi got halfway through his name only to be cut off by a wild look from Hashirama, dangerous eyes and a lips pressed so tightly together they turned white. Even Madara admitted he had no idea how to interpret that look and no one had dared to mention him again after that. Tobirama tucked that information away, unsure of what it meant but certain that it was important.

Then finally, after almost five long months of arguing, compromising, and general idiocy, construction of the village began. With Madara and Izuna – and nearly half of the clan, actually – away at the construction site, Tobirama and Hikaku were left behind to defend the compound on the off chance someone was stupid enough to think of this as an opportunity. Hikaku stood in as de facto clan head while Madara was absent since he was the one who wore the crest and bore their name but it was Tobirama to whom the people came when they had a problem. Luckily Hikaku didn’t seem to mind, joking that it was less work for him.

Most of the ones who had gone to help with the construction came home a couple days a week, rotating on a schedule so there were never too many absent from the worksite at a time. Quite often when it was Madara and Izuna’s turn to come home they fell asleep the moment their bottoms hit some sort of comfortable surface and their bodies finally accepted that they were allowed to rest. For the rest of the time, however, Tobirama spent most of his days alone in the house they had all shared until recent events separated them.

And he was lonely. It was ridiculous to consider how close they had grown in just the one year they had been together and yet he couldn’t help himself, meeting them at the gate each time they returned and reveling in the affection when one or both of them fell asleep on top of him. It was a treat to run his fingers through their hair and whisper all the little things they had been missing while they were away. He said absolutely nothing when Madara followed him groggily to bed once or twice, only smiled to himself when the man curled up on top of his chest.

Despite now having the opportunity to spend copious amounts of time with the person he had once called his best friend Madara hadn’t changed the way he treated Tobirama in the slightest. Things between them were just as they had always been, they greeted each other after each separation with the same warmth, and Tobirama didn’t even notice until the tension unraveled that he had been silently holding his breath to be set aside in favor of the original duo. Keeping the place he had earned in Madara’s heart was more of a relief than he could say. Whether Madara and Hashirama struck up their friendship again was honestly not important to him but to be pushed away to make room for another would have been devastating.

When everything was prepared and at last it came time for each of the clans to officially move in to the compounds built specifically for them, Tobirama found himself hesitating finally, all packed up but not ready to go. Izuna found him sitting on the empty frame of his bed, sheets and mattress both sealed away for easy transport. The second their eyes met his friend flopped down beside him and fell over sideways across his lap like a massive rag doll.

“I hear cuddling a stuffed animal is good for when you’re having a pout,” he said. “But all my stuffed animals are packed away so I suppose you’ll have to live with just me.”

“You don’t have any stuffed animals.” Tobirama looked away and tried to look offended.

“Well that just means you’re extra stuck with me then, doesn’t it?”

“Ridiculous.” A light shove didn’t shift the man and Tobirama wasn’t much inclined to try any harder at the moment. Instead he crossed his arms and leaned his weight on them, balanced over Izuna’s hip.

He could have just admitted to what was wrong, that he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk even the slightest chance of being seen by Hashirama quite yet, but it wasn’t in his nature to share unless prodded to. Playing along with the teasing was more bearable than opening up his own vulnerabilities even if he had done so for his two closest people several times before. It still never got any easier.

Which was stupid. They had already seen him at his very lowest. What could possibly be more embarrassing than knowing they had watched him literally giving up on life?

It was still easier to return Izuna’s teasing – and more fun, of course, so Tobirama did just that. After living together for so long he knew exactly what to say to press the other man’s buttons in all the best and most terrible ways.

“So what you’re saying is that you want to cuddle on the couch as soon as we get there? We could do that. I’m sure all the ladies would just be falling over themselves to get a piece of you if they see how much of a cuddle-bear you are.” Pressing down, he deliberately put more of his weight on Izuna’s hip. “Especially if they see you aren’t afraid to cuddle with another man. No wrong impressions to be gained from that, surely.”

“Alright! Alright! Get off!” Tobirama let him wriggle helplessly for a minute before letting him go. When he was back on his own feet Izuna made a show of straightening his clothes until he was entirely presentable. “I just thought you would like to know that Madara promised to try and lure the Senju clan head away while the rest of us are moving in so you can slip by without drawing attention. If you want.” Because of course he would. Of course Madara would understand without Tobirama having to shame himself by spilling his guts. Izuna winked conspiratorially and Tobirama paused before answering, an old idea reoccurring to him when he least expected it. When it would be most useful.

“I may have a better idea,” he said. “You already know which house we will be living in, correct?”

“Yeah, I helped build it. Why?”

“Can you bring something in there for me?”

Izuna gave him a strange look but Tobirama only grinned. He’d almost forgotten about this; felt a little guilty thinking about it now, actually. That jutsu had first been conceived as a way to fight the man standing in front of him, had been intended as his ultimate end, and Tobirama could hardly believe how grateful he was that such a thing had never come to pass. It was incredible to think of all the things he wouldn’t have in his life now if those plans had come to fruition.

Staying behind while the rest of the Uchiha emigrated away from their ancestral lands was hard. He had to force himself not to check the position of the sun every five minutes, distracting himself with a dip in the pond – sans clothing, just because he could. It didn’t negate how utterly alone he was in the large empty compound but it did entertain him while he waited.

As soon as dark fell and he was absolutely certain Izuna would be inside the new house with the special kunai he had agreed to carry, Tobirama was ready with his clothes back on and his hands together in a seal he had only successfully activated once before. It felt like the world collapsing in on him for an infinite second, like his body being torn apart and reassembled all in the same instant. It was, in a word, incredibly uncomfortable. Luckily he was prepared for the sensation and consciously blocked the resulting wave of nausea.

Madara and Izuna gave matching shrieks of surprise when he appeared between them without any sort of warning. He probably could have informed them of what he intended to do, explained how he planned to get in to the village without being noticed by a single member of the Senju clan, but he was glad that he hadn’t. This way was much more amusing and he got the extra treat of seeing the impressed looks they both tried to hide from him.

The first thing he took note of was that he could feel Hashirama’s chakra burning as brightly as ever less than two miles away, sorely missed yet entirely unwelcome. Fragments of him sparkled all throughout the village, remnants of his chakra left behind in all the wood he had grown to help their village spring up from nothing. To distract himself from the conflicting desire to rush out and find the man he asked Madara and Izuna to show him around. It was an opportunity they snapped up eagerly even without knowing about the internal conflict he’d just run in to. Both of them had a hand in designing and building this home and they were both quite proud of it, ready and waiting for the opportunity to finally show it off to him.  

His bedroom, he noted, was much bigger than before and set right next to Madara’s while Izuna had made sure his own was all the way at the other end of the house instead. The kitchen was more spacious and there were two bathrooms, thank kami. In the backyard he was not surprised to find where another little pond had been dug out then shored up and lay waiting for him to fill it with water.

What he was more surprised to find was the lab, hidden away in the sizable back shed and presented with a dual flourish and knowing grins. Tobirama stood in the entrance with what was probably a very stupid look on his face as he stared unabashedly around at all the shiny new equipment.

“You built me…a laboratory?”

“Look, we know you said you wanted to fund it yourself. But we thought you deserved to be just as happy here as anyone else and that this might help you settle in or whatever.” Madara gestured vaguely to the contents of the room. “We didn’t say this stuff was for us, just for the clan as a whole. And we didn’t order it all at once. I’m not even sure anyone realized we ordered a whole lab full of glass and tubes and crap – or if they did I’m sure they wouldn’t guess who it was really for. Don’t know if we got everything though. I don’t even know what most of this stuff does.” He scratched awkwardly at one cheek while Tobirama stumbled in to the room with wide eyes, trying to see everything at once.

It was perfect. It was better than the set-up he had built for himself in his first home with more advanced equipment and better quality tools. He could hardly believe anyone had gotten him something this amazing as a gift. Already his mind was racing ahead of him and planning out all the incredible work he could do with this equipment but first he turned back to the ones who made it all possible.

Izuna, he noticed, had slipped away sometime while he was distracted with his shiny new gifts. He was grateful for the privacy as he took double fistfuls of Madara’s robe and for once his heart ran ahead of his brain in an effort to express his gratitude.

They were both equally surprised by the kiss. As soon as Tobirama realized what he was doing he froze and the two of them stood there staring in to each other’s eyes with their lips mashed together uncomfortably.  They sprang apart at the same time, clearing their throats and looking absolutely anywhere but at each other. Madara was the first to brave the silence with his voice cracking under the strain.

“You like it. Good to know. I should – right? Yeah. Lots of things to unpack.”

“Right. Yes. I have – mhm. Unpacking is – yes. We all have that.”

Nodding very seriously, they turned and stepped towards the door at the same time, pausing before running each to each other and then spending several minutes in an awkward back-and-forth dance trying to figure out who would leave first. Eventually Madara stomped his foot and bulled forward to storm back to the main house. Tobirama watched him go, resisting the urge to press fingertips to his lips like a deflowered maiden in some terrible romance novel.

All other possible ramifications of the unexpected kiss aside, at least he wasn’t concentrating on any of his other problems anymore. Hashirama’s signature continued to flutter from place to place while Tobirama closed the door of the lab behind himself and slowly followed in Madara’s wake with only one thought on his mind.

Izuna was never going to let him live this down.

Chapter Text

For the first couple of days after they kissed Madara and Tobirama avoided each other as well as they could, a bit difficult when Tobirama was mostly confined to the house they lived in together but they put in the effort anyway. Occasionally he braved visiting other parts of the enclosed Uchiha compound to peek in on some of the clan members he hadn’t seen much of since construction began. Mostly he stayed in his new lab to go through and mentally catalogue everything he had to work with now. He could feel Madara floating about the village, probably taking care of whatever his new duties were as co-founder of this groundbreaking venture, but it fell an exasperated to Izuna to drag them both to the table for dinner at night.

Conversation was mostly a bust, though. A few sad attempts were made, all of which ended up with matching blushes, two pairs of eyes avoiding each other, and one other pair rolling with exasperation.

Halfway through the third day Izuna hauled them both in to the living room to sit them down and demand they speak about whatever happened since neither of them had dared to confess what was wrong even if it was clear something went down between them. By the way he kept wiggling his eyebrows it was obvious he had a few guesses as to what that something was. Tobirama felt safe from being caught by any of those guesses because he knew that whatever was happening in Izuna’s mind was probably much dirtier than something he would ever do.

Before at least a first date, anyway.

He still didn’t appreciate being sat on the couch and lectured like a naughty child who couldn’t get along with his peers. Neither did Madara, apparently, as the man squirmed in place continuously until finally his younger brother had finished his speech.

“Fine,” he growled. “We’ll talk. But not with you around!”

“Oh come on! I think out of everyone I’ve been the most miserable from having to deal with the two of you! Don’t I deserve a little compensation for that?”

“No. Now get out.” Madara pointed to the door, holding his arm up until Izuna gave in and slouched across the room, peeking over his shoulder like he might be able to catch the start of whatever drama could be about to happen. He always had thrived on the drama of others.

When he stepped out of the house at last Tobirama held up one finger back inside, closing his eyes and concentrating, waiting until the man’s chakra was at least far enough away that it was safe to believe he wouldn’t come running back to hear the embarrassing conversation they were about to force themselves through. Then he let out an explosive sigh and cocked his head in Madara’s direction without turning to look at him.

“So. Talking about it.”

“You should start,” Madara blurted. “You were the one who kissed me!”

“I was–!” Tobirama cut himself off before he could offer the excuse of being excited over the gift of a new laboratory. The last thing he wanted to do was give the impression that it had been careless affection without meaning and yet the idea of confessing his growing feelings was also mortifying. More so because feelings by their very nature mortified him rather than any shame but that made them no easier to deal with. He stared helplessly until the other man sighed.

“Did you…like it, at least?”

Tobirama jerked like he’d been burned. “What? Yes, of course! It was – ah…it was a fine kiss.”

“Excuse me? Just fine?” Madara huffed indignantly. “I’ll show you just fine!”

“You don’t – mph!” The attempt he was about to make to clear up the misconception he accidentally gave was cut off when Madara lunged at him and crushed their mouths together. Even with prior experience it was no less mind-blowing the second time around.

Madara was good at a lot of things. Apparently kissing was one of them.

At least this time neither of them fled once they pulled apart, slowly and with great reluctance, though they did repeat the whole staring process. Tobirama noticed that there was still a hand curled around the back of his neck right around the same time he noticed that Madara was unfairly attractive with that particular shade of red splashed across his nose. He put off saying anything at first solely to enjoy the warmth of that hand against his skin for just a few more moments. Then he cleared his throat and took a deep breath in.

“I stand corrected,” he mumbled. “That was more than fine.”

“Damn right.” Madara’s voice wobbled dangerously, though neither of them pointed it out.

“I assumed you were avoiding me because you had gotten over whatever attraction to me you felt before.”

He was forced to dodge when the other man’s limbs suddenly began to flail. “What!? How did you know that!? I was really careful not to say anything! Did Izuna tell you about it!?”

“No, you did. Sort of. Well, actually, I suppose it was Izuna who told me but he was speaking to you so no one really told me, per se, I just happened to still be awake when you both assumed me to be asleep and began discussing the matter with me right there between you.” Tobirama clamped his jaw shut to halt the flow of words. Rambling wasn’t something he was usually afflicted with. Times of emotional intimacy were the occasional exception to that rule, mostly because he had no idea what to do with himself in those moments and often tried to fill that void of knowledge with endless useless words.

“You…” Stringing together several disconnected syllables, Madara clearly knew exactly which night he was talking about. “You were awake. And heard us talking. That long ago?”

“I remember you saying something about not wanting to add to the things I was going through and I…appreciate that you wanted to give me the time and space to adjust to everything on my own. As it turned out, I needed that time. My feelings have been growing for probably longer than I’ve allowed myself to notice but the thought of things changing between us was…well.” Embarrassed, he rubbed at the back of his neck, trying not to verbalize that it had terrified him. Getting closer only meant having more to lose and that made it scarier than love had any right to be. “I also apparently needed something to kick my ass in to gear to realize that if I felt the same I would need to express that eventually or we would never get anywhere. I was, I think, too comfortable in the status quo.”

“So, what now? Are we–? Is this…a thing?” It should not have been so comforting to know that Madara was just as bad at this as he was but it made Tobirama smile anyway.

Adjusting his weight to settle just a little bit closer to the other man, he muttered, “It could be a thing. If you like.”

“Like a dating thing, right? I don’t want to get any signals mixed here or misinterpret anything.”

“Yes, like a dating thing. We could go on a date.” Tobirama frowned. “Is there anywhere to go on a date around here yet? I didn’t think there was much more than residential housing built at the moment, although anything outside of the compound would be off limits anyway.”

“Right. We could kick Izuna out for a night and have dinner alone?”

His frown cleared away again immediately. “That works.”

The two of them sat there nodding in agreement, bobbing their heads while it slowly became awkward again, then they looked away from each other and reached up in unison to scratch the backs of their necks. Madara broke first, bringing his hand down to wave it through the air in a deliberately casual manner.

“You want to make out again?”

“We could do that.” Tobirama hardly had the words out before he had a lapful of enthusiastic Uchiha, corded thighs on either side of his own and warm lips against his stealing his breath away. He was hardly an innocent himself but there was something in the insistence of Madara’s kiss that left him feeling like this was all brand new. It felt like his first kiss all over again and Tobirama was a little embarrassed to realize how much he liked that.

Things got just a little bit heated pretty quickly, unsurprising since they were both adult men who hadn’t had a chance for these sorts of activities in quite some time, but whether or not things would have progressed very far was a question that went unanswered. Tobirama was rather enjoying the hands slipping under his shirt to trace the shapes of his abdomen when the front door opened and they both froze in place to look over and see Izuna inching his way down the front hall.

He had both hands over his eyes and a shit-eating grin on his face and it was clear to see that the party was over. For now, at least.

“Did I wait long enough, is it safe now?” Izuna asked teasingly. “Am I going to see any naked bodies if I uncover my eyes? Or blood? If there’s blood please don’t tell me whether it’s sexy blood or not.”

“You might see my fist in your face,” Madara growled while Tobirama narrowed his eyes in confusion over how blood could be sexy. He didn’t dare ask though; that was probably something he didn’t want to know more about. Izuna laughed and dropped his hands, fanning himself with one ostentatiously as soon as he caught sight of their compromising position.

“Well, well! Looks like the two of you used that time alone to do something productive.” His leer said he knew exactly what he had interrupted but didn’t care at all.

Madara hurled himself off of Tobirama’s lap and across the room at his brother, fingers bent in to claws and reaching for revenge. Watching the two of them snip at each other while they chased around the room, Tobirama sank back in to the couch to pull his feet up on to the cushion with him, wrapping both arms around one of his knees and resting his chin on top to watch the show unfold.

He couldn’t say this is how he thought life in the new village would begin but he also couldn’t say he was disappointed. It definitely beat out his image of laying low while everyone else got to grow and seek their new place in this revolutionary endeavor and left him alone to hide in his lab. Not everything was figured out quite yet, he hadn’t come up with a solution to every problem he had, but already he could tell that coming here had been the right decision – not just for the clan as a whole, not just for the future or the children or the people he loved, but for him too.

Chapter Text

“You seem distracted, husband.”

Hashirama jumped, the sudden motion knocking his chopsticks out of his hands and sending them spinning across the table to land in front of an empty chair farther down. Ironically it was that empty chair he had been mindlessly contemplating for most of their meal.

Although, to his credit, he was able to say that for once he wasn’t thinking of the one person that should have been there to fill it. While Hashirama did still spend a large portion of every day wondering what had ultimately become of the brother he still refused to give up on, today his thoughts had been a little closer to home as he imagined another person he would have liked to join them for dinner. Clinging to one problem did not mean he couldn’t also think about another. Despite what some people believed he did know how to multitask.

When the first missive had arrived from Madara all those months ago he’d noted the strange tone to it, demanding peace even while making the whole idea sound somehow detestable. He recognized that something was off at the time but after looking in to the matter and coming up with nothing he’d mostly chalked it up to the other man’s unique style of communication. As things progressed and each meeting spawned more and more incredible ideas from all sides he had thought things would improve between them and this strange hostility would fade. He’d thought things might go back to the way they once were, that living in the same village would give them a chance to rekindle their lost friendship and grow together the way they had been denied when they were twelve, standing on opposite sides of a river bank while their fathers dictated their paths.

Yet here they were more than a full month after moving in to the newly coined Konohagakure and not once had he been able to tempt Madara over for dinner. The man refused all offers to come meet his wife or even do something as simple as meet for tea on their lunch breaks. Every day their interactions in the office left him more and more confused about where they stood with each other.

Some days the way they fell in to easy conversation left him hopeful that their friendship was finally rebuilding itself. Other days Madara was nothing but business and refused to let himself be distracted by personal conversation, finishing their meetings and then leaving the moment he was able to do so without giving Hashirama a chance to ask so much as a single question. It was never easy to predict which Madara would be coming to work on a given day, the happy friendly one who was willing to engage in distracted conversation or the standoffish closed one who seemed to want nothing to do with anyone outside of his own clan and especially not Hashirama. At times it felt like he was dealing with someone suffering from a split personality.

It was possible that he was just having trouble adjusting like many still were. Hashirama had seen countless near-incidents out on the streets and not all of them were the fabled Uchiha-Senju tension. Just last week he had witnessed a Yamanaka women stop in her tracks and immediately seek shelter when she saw a group of Senju shinobi returning from patrol in full gear, blood spattered on their clothes and weapons in full view. It was an automatic response built from years of living in a blood-soaked environment of shifting alliances. It was understandable.

But it was still saddening every time.

Retrieving his chopsticks, Hashirama hummed quietly to himself and made a snap decision. The day’s work was done and Mito would survive one evening without his company. It was time he did something to clear up this mystery on his own since sitting around and wondering clearly wasn’t getting him anywhere.

“You wouldn’t mind terribly if I popped over to the Uchiha compound for a while, would you?” he asked. His wife lifted her head to regard him quietly.

“Are you positive he will welcome you?” A frown touched her lovely brow. “The behavior you describe from him is worrisome at best.”

“Oh I’ll be fine. It’s only Madara! He would never hurt me, I’m positive of that.” Hashirama sat up a little straighter with his own confidence boosted. They had been dear friends once, surely Madara would honor that bond. Even if the other man didn’t quite see them as friends at the moment Hashirama was certain he could find a way to rekindle things between them.

Mito did insist that he stay behind long enough to help with the dishes as he usually did but that wasn’t exactly a hardship. He would never understand why other men didn’t enjoy spending those few quick minutes every day doing something together with their wives like he did. The cooperation, the closeness, the chance to flick bubbles at a beautiful lady. What wasn’t there to like? Doing the dishes after supper was one of his favorite parts of the day and he was as glad he ever was to partake in such a pleasant ritual.

After he had dried his hands off Hashirama bussed his wife on the cheek and stepped out of their home with an enthusiastic spring in his step. Today was the day he set everything back to how it should be!

Several of the people he passed along the way waved to him cheerfully and he waved back to each and every one of them. It just filled his heart with so much joy to see all these clans living here together in peace, working side by side harmoniously despite the little hiccups along the way. He still woke up some days hardly able to believe that this dream had come true. He couldn’t wait for the day he finally found his absent brother so Tobirama could share in this joy as well and then absolutely everything would be right in the world.

Oddly, something in the air seemed to change when he made his way past the entrance of the Uchiha district. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why but the air felt somehow chillier. Maybe it was the way the people he passed on the street had stopped smiling and nodding or waving in a friendly manner, although he supposed that was just the way they were. Not everyone had to be as open as he was. None of them tried to stop him or asked him to leave, though, so he figured he was welcome to continue on his way. If only he could remember where Madara and Izuna had said they were building their home. The two of them had been oddly secretive about the whole thing.

When he looked around to catch someone’s eye, hoping to ask for directions, he noticed suddenly that all of the nearby adults were giving him a wide berth. None of them looked directly at him, making it impossible to catch their attention without marching right up to their faces and interrupting the many whispered conversations he could see going on. Strange, he thought, to whisper when they were safe inside their own compound. Undeterred, Hashirama waved at a young child passing by who was peeking at him with an undeniably curious expression.

“Hello there,” he greeted the boy. “Would you be able to tell me where Madara’s house is?”

“Perhaps I could assist you?” a voice interrupted. Hashirama blinked at the woman who seemed to have materialized from nowhere. When he offered her a smile she stared back with absolutely no expression.

“Yes please! I’m looking for your clan head’s home.”

“Back that way,” she told him with one hand gesturing vaguely to her right. “Go east for three blocks then turn north and you’ll find what you need.”

The way she spoke had strange overtones of forbidding but before Hashirama could question it they were both interrupted by the child tugging on his sleeve to insist, “No! That’s not where Madara-sama’s house is. You got it wrong, obasan!”

“Oh? Can you tell me where it is then?” Hashirama asked him politely. The boy paused to eye him with increased curiosity while the woman, strangely enough, looked frustrated.

“Uh, I don’t know if I’m supposed to.”

“That is excellent vigilance! It’s alright though, I’m a friend of his. We built this village together!”

He was satisfied to see the boy light up and grin. “Oh! Cool! I’m not supposed to let any strangers find sensei’s house but if you’re a friend then that’s probably alright! Madara-sama said we would all be safe here in the village and he was right so I’m really glad we came – come on, it’s this way – ‘cause I really like it here and it’s nice to be able to play outside without running drills for if we get attacked and–”

The boy chattered like an unending fountain of words as he turned around and led Hashirama off down a random street that he had almost walked right passed. It was so cute watching those dark curls bounce with every step and that brilliant smile flash over the boy’s shoulder every few feet. His energy sort of reminded Hashirama of himself but it did make him wonder how such a happy child had come out of such a reserved clan. Every other Uchiha he’d met since the village was built tended to be cold and standoffish, refusing to make conversation and only speaking to him when they were absolutely required to. None of them had been rude, precisely, but they certainly hadn’t shown themselves to be friendly the way this little boy was.

“Right here!” came the announcement when they stopped in front of a sizeable yet otherwise unremarkable home. “I live right next door so sensei helps me learn my kata sometimes because he’s almost always home and I don’t know if the other two are home right now but you can knock! Mom says it’s polite to knock first and wait for someone to let you in!”

“Thank you very much for such excellent directions,” Hashirama praised him before he could go off on another tangent. The child beamed. “What’s your name, little one?”

“Kagami!”

“Ah. Well thank you very much Kagami, you have been an invaluable help.”

One more smile and then he was gone in an instant, flying down the street on the wings of youth before it occurred to Hashirama to wonder why it had sounded like there were three people living in Madara’s house, Madara, Izuna, and whoever Kagami meant by ‘sensei’. As far as he knew neither of the brothers were married. Did they have a relative staying with them? That wouldn’t make much sense; the village had only just been built and it was Madara himself who had brought up the idea that they should build more housing than they currently needed to make room for expansion and growth. Unless it was someone who had been injured or an older relative who couldn’t live alone. Really the possibilities were endless when he thought about it. Perhaps one of them had even decided to take on a protégé.

Setting the question aside for later, Hashirama shrugged and headed up the short path to the front door. He would find out soon enough so there was no sense worrying. No answer came when he knocked the first time. Or the second time. He could hear voices inside, distorted by the protective wards around the home, yet it seemed they were laughing too loudly to hear the sound of a guest arriving.

But it was only Madara, Hashirama reasoned to himself. Surely his best friend wouldn’t mind if he let himself in to say hello. The wards had yet to respond negatively to his presence and that was about as close to a warm welcome as any shinobi could expect from another.

Izuna’s voice was the first thing to wash over him when he opened the door, halfway through what appeared to be some sort of impersonation of another person. By the way he kept sprinkling his words with a very distinctive clearing of the throat it seemed he was imitating the current Nara clan head’s husband. He was a good man but he did tend to get lost in his own thoughts halfway through a sentence and trail off without finishing whatever he’d been trying to say. Having a conversation with him was often an exercise in frustration even for someone as patient as Hashirama.

Someone else down the hall murmured a question, voice too low to be properly identified, and Izuna broke off his impression to have a snickering fit.

“He does!” the man cried. “Oh kami he does sound like Elder Fu! Fuck me, I never even noticed until you said something!”

Not wanting to startle them too badly, Hashirama announced himself even as he popped his head around the corner, cheerfully calling out, “Hellooo! Is Madara home?”

Then he froze, just the same as the two men in the kitchen did. Izuna recovered after a handful of seconds but he moved only to shift his own body in front of the other man standing behind him who wore an expression that should have been as familiar as the one wearing it – although if they were as shocked as he was then they had never experienced anything quite this surprising.

“To-…Tobirama?”

Chapter Text

His eyes could see the man standing there in the doorway but his heart refused to accept that this was happening. The only thing inside his head right then was a tiny voice that sounded suspiciously like himself as a child crying out that he wasn’t ready, he just wasn’t ready for this yet. Honestly there was no way to tell if he would have ever been ready no matter that his heart had wanted this right from the very start.

But the universe rarely cared for whether or not one was ready for something and Tobirama had known he would have to deal with this eventually when he agreed to move in to the village. No one could stay hidden completely forever, not if he wanted to start taking missions again at some point since putting his name on the roster would have been a dead giveaway. The surprise of it all was his own fault, really. If he had been infusing chakra to keep his sensing abilities active then he would have felt their guest approaching and disappeared long before the surprise meeting happened. It seemed even he was growing complacent in the safety of their new home; he’d stopped keeping his sensing active so often after the first couple of weeks. He sort of regretted that now.

“Hashirama,” he softly greeted the man stared at him. Izuna shuffled a bit closer and Tobirama felt his heart swell even as he gently touched his friend on the arm to let him know that it was okay. Hashirama was hardly going to attack him or anything but it was nice to know that if he tried anything else there was someone here that wouldn’t let it happen.

“You’re…here. You’re here. You’re alive.” His eyes were quickly filling with tears and Tobirama blinked, nonplussed.

“Did you think I was dead?”

Hashirama took one step forward and then jerked to a stop when Izuna snarled protectively. “Oh god you’re here! Touka – she followed your trail until it disappeared. We didn’t know what to think. I…please. Please believe me, I never stopped looking. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Tobi!”

“You have no right to address him in such a familiar way,” Izuna growled. “You have no rights here! Not to talk to him! Not to apologize to him! Not even to look at him!”

“Izu, it’s alright.”

“No it isn’t! He sent you away! He broke you! Everything that you’ve gone through in the past year is his fault and he should know that! He should know exactly what sort of cowardly, conniving, backstabbing, shameful, kinless, asshole-”

“I do know! Not a day goes by that it doesn’t haunt me but I didn’t mean to! Tobi, please, I never wanted any of this to happen, I beg you to believe that!” Hashirama took another step forward but this time he had eyes only for the one he had turned away more than a year before, barely seeming to notice the way Izuna snarled at him again. “I have scoured every inch of every place I could possibly think of since that day to try and find you because I love you! Of course I love you! I…I would understand…if you can never forgive me. Or if you don’t even want to speak to me again. What I did was terrible and awful and I don’t think I would forgive me either in your position. Kami knows you shouldn’t. But I…”

Tobirama crossed his arms behind the protective barrier of Izuna’s body and held his own chest tightly for fear that he would fly to pieces if he didn’t. But he listened. How could he not? After everything he had gone through he still loved this man more than his own life. Just hearing that beloved voice again was a balm on the withered corners of his heart.

“You deserve a real apology. And to know that I regret everything. If you are willing to listen I will explain what happened and anything else you want to know but please understand that I am not offering that as an excuse. I should never have – well. You know. I should not have done what I did to you. I want nothing more in this world than for you to come home, to have my brother back.” Tears streamed freely down Hashirama’s cheeks and his expression had never been more broken. It was surprisingly difficult for Tobirama to watch. Logically he thought he should have enjoyed this petty revenge for all the pain he had suffered but here in this moment all he wanted was for his big brother to stop crying.

Still he continued to say nothing, only stood there and let the man get through what needed to be said. From the half-coherent way he was stringing himself together instead of blubbering aimlessly it was clear that he had practiced this speech quite a bit and the thought of that was oddly touching. To think of the man picturing this moment, preparing for it, spending the precious hours of so many days thinking about it just as Tobirama himself had, it was a comforting thought.

“If you have it in your heart to let me then I will spend the rest of my life apologizing and making sure you always know how much I love you. How much I regret doing what I did to you. I will make up for the wrongs I have committed in whatever way you deem fit. But if you…if you want nothing more to do with me then I am prepared for that too and no one could ever blame you for it. I promise that I will accept whatever decision you make without arguing. You hate it when I argue. Just please know that I am sorry.” Wilting as he ran out of words, Hashirama drew in a shuddering breath and whispered once more, “I’m so sorry Tobi, brother, if I may call you that one more time.”

Then he fell utterly still in a way he would normally be incapable of to await his judgement. It wasn’t in him to deceive, Tobirama knew that very well, so every word that had just come out of his mouth was entirely sincere. Hashirama had never been the type for any sort of manipulation, much preferring open honesty. It was something he used to tease the man for – when he wasn’t also dealing out irritated lectures on giving their enemies too much leeway. What he had said was probably a mish mash of a hundred different speeches that he must have laid awake preparing in the inevitability they ever found each other again.

And now Tobirama had to decide how much honesty to give in return. No matter how many hours he too had sat by himself and imagined this moment he had never been able to decide exactly how he wanted to react, what he wanted to do. Hashirama was sincere in his words now but could he trust that something like this would never happen again?

Could he survive this twice?

With one more tight squeeze he unfolded his arms and ran both hands through his hair. As much as he would like to ask for more time to think about his reply he knew it wouldn’t help. The best thing to do now was something he had always been terrible at: following his heart. And his heart was crying out for Hashirama to drag him in for a big hug just like old times, which the man wouldn’t do if Tobirama didn’t tell him it was okay. Overzealous he might be but he did understand boundaries when they were given. First, however, there were certain things he had to make clear.

“You hurt me,” he began slowly. “You took everything I have and everything I am away from me. When you sent me away you broke a part of me that I had always believed unbreakable because I trusted that my family – you – would always be beside me. Would always believe in me. But…if you hadn’t then I wouldn’t have what I do now. What you did was not okay. Saying sorry does not make it right.” He watched Hashirama’s face crumple and added softly, “It’s a start though.”

“So you…you don’t hate me?” For such a big man he sounded incredibly small. Tobirama sighed.

“No. I don’t think I’m capable of hating you.”

Izuna huffed and muttered, “You should.” Before Tobirama could scold him Hashirama echoed his sigh, scratching at the back of his head with shame on his face.

“He’s right, you should hate me. But I’m glad you don’t and I just can’t tell you how much it means to me that you don’t. Gods above, Tobi, I’m sorry. If I could take it all back I would in a heartbeat.”

“None of us can change the past.” And if he were honest he wasn’t sure he would.

Yes, he had been through hell and worse trying to work his way through what had happened to him but the beautiful things he had gained along the way, weren’t they worth it? Could he ever say that he would give them up for the chance to go back and live as if none of this ever happened? He couldn’t imagine waking up to any face but Madara’s for the rest of his life. He couldn’t imagine never cooking breakfast with Izuna or helping Kagami with his kata forms or listening to the old lady down the street complain about her nephew coming home late every night.

Tobirama looked at the tense man still standing like an immovable barrier between them and bit down on the inside of his cheek. Maybe this wasn’t what he had asked for but being with the Uchiha was where he needed to be, even if it had taken him a long time to admit that it also the place he now wanted to be.

Breaking the news that he would never be ‘going home’ as his brother had phrased it would not be easy but after all the work and time that had gone in to making his place here he had absolutely no intentions of leaving, not for anything. If Hashirama still loved him as much as the man claimed then he would have to accept that. Living in the same village, it wasn’t as if they would never see each other again just because they wouldn’t be living in the same house again.

With trembling hands plucking at each other nervously, Hashirama drew a few trembling breaths and looked around as though hoping to find a few answers for their myriad problems written on the walls.

“So can we…I don’t know where to go from here,” he said. “Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? Would that be okay? You can tell me whatever crazy story led to me finding you…in the Uchiha district. I’m sure that one’s a doozy.”

“I don’t know that I would be comfortable going in to Senju territory just yet. A restaurant maybe?”

Hashirama flinched but nodded understandingly. Then he shifted his weight back and forth until it began to look like a dance, fingers wringing themselves together while he darted his eyes away and back, away and back, gathering his courage to finally blurt out what was really on his mind.

“Can I hug you? If you’re uncomfortable that’s okay, I won’t! I just had to ask! I’m sorry, I’ve just missed you so much and now you’re here, you’re alive, and I just – I want to hold on to you and never let go. I never should have let you go in the first place!” The force of his own rambling left him panting for breath, his hands going still to clasp each other again as his expression settled in to the familiar puppy-eyed gaze he used when he only wanted someone to let him show them his love. Tobirama folded in on himself, feeling like nothing so much as a little boy again, and nodded ever so slightly.

“Yes please,” he said.

“Oh thank kami!” Hashirama lunged around Izuna to throw himself at Tobirama, engulfing him with both arms and burying his face in pale hair. As soon as Tobirama hesitantly patted him on the back he let out a muffled sob that sounded like a confused mixture of sad and happy.

Tobirama melted in to the embrace, afraid to close his eyes just in case it wasn’t real, desperately trying not to break the spell. It took everything in him not to whimper with relief. Hashirama’s scent filled his nose, the warmth of his hug, the home-bright-welcoming feeling of his chakra, it was everything he’d thought he would spend the rest of his life quietly yearning for and then feeling stupid for doing so. He loved his place among the Uchiha, he truly did. But he had loved Hashirama first and it was the sort of love that just never goes away no matter how the staying aches.

A large patch on his shoulder was soaked through with tears by the time the front door opened and Madara’s chakra hurried in to the house feeling tense and purposeful. Tobirama didn’t give much thought to moving, too caught up in his own drama to think about whether he might cause more, so he was just as surprised as Hashirama when they were suddenly wrenched apart for Madara to angrily drag him aside.

“Get away from him!” he was shouting, eyes red and spinning wildly, immediately taking up the same defensive stance as Izuna had before. Hashirama looked devastated to be separated again so soon and Tobirama couldn’t say he felt much different, though he managed to calmly lay his hand on Madara’s wrist.

“It’s alright. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Madara pinned Hashirama in place with a dangerously sharp look and waved at an all too willing Izuna to watch him before turning to gather Tobirama in both arms and press their foreheads together, stroking the markings on his cheeks. “What did he say to you? If I had known he was coming I would have intercepted him, I swear. Koemi came to get me but all she said was that there was an emergency here at home and to come at once. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tobirama smiled helplessly, charmed by how much this man cared for his wellbeing. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Good.” Madara pet his cheeks a few more times and then gently guided his chin up to gift him with a soft, lingering kiss.

“EH!?” They jolted apart again to look over at where Hashirama had dropped his jaw down to somewhere around his knees, staring at them like they had both grown several new heads. “What are you–? HUH!?”

“Ah. Yes.” Tobirama tilted his head contemplatively. “I hadn’t quite gotten around to explaining anything to him yet. Perhaps we should all sit down; it’s going to take a while to get the whole story out. Especially so because I know I am going to be interrupted a hundred times by each of you.” He rolled his eyes and patted Madara consolingly when his partner gave Hashirama one more suspicious look, still holding him protectively close.

On his part, Hashirama looked like he was ready to faint. He didn’t seem to be dealing very well with so many surprises. Tobirama herded them all towards the living room with a faintly worried crease between his brows and hoped that his wayward sibling was up for just a few more shocks.

He wasn’t looking forward to explaining that he had spent several weeks as a prisoner of the man he was now in a relationship with.  

Chapter Text

Explaining everything he had gone through since leaving the Senju clan took even longer than he’d thought it would. Night fell and the moon had risen high in the inky black sky before they finally covered everything, stopping frequently for all the interruptions he‘d predicted and more besides. Laying it all out at once made him realize just how much his life had changed so rapidly and, although he didn’t say so out loud, Tobirama was sort of proud of himself for how well he had handled it all. Sure he’d had his low points. Who wouldn’t have? But for each stumble he had been able to pick himself back up eventually and that alone helped him keep his head up high.

He was overly aware as well that he owed that strength entirely to the Uchiha brothers. Without them he would have given up and wasted away, either right there on the forest floor where he had fallen or in whatever backwater town he eventually ended up in. Just thinking about the sort of empty shell he could have become made him shudder and turn his mind to other things.

After he was finally finished speaking it was Hashirama’s turn to explain his side of the story. Strangely, it wasn’t nearly as hard to listen to as Tobirama had thought it would be. It had all happened already and everything had turned out alright in the end – so far. More than that, finding out the reason behind all the pain he had suffered, finally accepting that Hashirama hadn’t stopped loving him and that his big brother had not lost faith in him after all, it was a bigger weight off his chest than he had words to describe.

Now he knew the true culprits who deserved his anger, though he was extraordinarily proud of Hashirama for figuring out that he was being manipulated without Tobirama there to pessimistically point it out. Apparently even Mito sat back and allowed her husband to come to that realization on his own. They had all known that their own council of elders was capable of being just as manipulative as their worst enemies but none of them had ever suspected they would attempt something on this scale. Getting rid of Tobirama in an effort to weaken Hashirama might have seemed like a good plan in theory, he just wondered what they planned to do in the inevitable event of Mito and Touka banding together to provide a backbone should their clan head ever completely lose his own. There had never been a chance of the council taking full control of the clan no matter that everyone had always known they’d wanted to, even in his earliest memories. He wondered why they had even bothered to try when the odds of success were so low. 

He also wondered how they were enjoying their new total lack of power, removed from their seats on the council of elders and the very positions they had held for so long abolished entirely. From what Hashirama said, many people had enjoyed seeing their faces upon being told that the practice of requiring the elders’ permission for the Clan Head to perform most of his duties was ancient and outdated. Tobirama wished there were a way his brother could share that particular memory.

From the look he could see Madara and Izuna sharing, he gathered that the elders’ punishments had not yet ended. He wasn’t the only one who was glad to have answers, apparently, and it just warmed him straight through to the core seeing the matching looks of evil anticipation on their faces. As clan head Hashirama could only do so much to them without being named cruel by the rest of the Senju. Outsiders, on the other hand, well there were a lot of things that Madara and Izuna could do without being caught or laying a trail of evidence back to the wrong people. He wondered if they would let him help or if they would insist on doing everything in his honor.

When all the words had been said and all the explanations given, after Tobirama had been given a chance to gloat maniacally over Hashirama’s decision to do away with the council of elders entirely, spitting in the face of all their traditions without so much as a hint of regret, it was finally time for Hashirama to go home so all of them could get some sleep for the next day. A village-wide poll was to be conducted tomorrow to choose the very first Hokage who would be tasked to guide and protect Konohagakure – and both prospective leaders were sitting in the same living room trying to hoard attention from the same man.

Clearly reluctant to be parted from the one he’d been searching for, Hashirama asked if Tobirama would please walk him home in a voice that was so soft it bordered on being afraid.

“I’m coming too,” Madara declared brusquely before Tobirama could answer. He’d made no secret of how he felt about Hashirama’s actions and still had little flare ups of protectiveness, though hearing that it had mostly been a case of manipulation had cooled him a great deal. There were countless signs that the two of them would be friends again soon now that all the misconceptions had been cleared away. It would likely take some time for that too but Tobirama had been picking up hints for weeks in the man’s speech and from the way they interacted it was clear they were well on that path already.

While Izuna opted to stay behind the rest of them set out in to the night at an easy stroll. The few Uchiha still out and about at this hour managed to give them a polite berth while at the same time keeping close enough that they could leap to aid if they were needed, all eyes trained on Hashirama mistrustfully with every step he took.

The moment they passed through the front gates of the Uchiha compound and in to the rest of the village Tobirama could immediately feel eyes on himself instead. He did understand; no one but the people he lived with had seen him in more than a year. The few missions he had run didn’t count since the people he encountered then usually ended up dead or caught in a genjutsu from which there was no escape, depending on who accompanied him. Now that he had been discovered by the one person he’d been avoiding the most, however, he refused to keep himself squirreled away. He prowled along unfamiliar streets like he owned them, unafraid of whoever saw him passing by.

Marking his own freedom came to an end when they stopped at the entrance to the Senju compound and he heard a familiar voice screeching his name, rough-sharp-loving signature inbound with enough speed that he would have defended himself from attack if he hadn’t heard the note of desperation in her cry.

Touka impacted him so hard he stumbled backwards under her weight, startling Madara in to a defensive stance of his own before Tobirama waved the man down.

“You’re alive! Shit’s sake, you’re fucking alive!” Her thick arms constricted around him like twin vices but Tobirama didn’t have the heart to ask her to loosen them. It was good to see her again. Of all the people he had missed she’d been one of the ones he yearned for the most, the only person he knew with absolute certainty who would have questioned Hashirama’s decision, at the very least.

“Alive and well,” he reassured her. At the sound of his voice she shivered and held tighter.

“You came home,” she breathed, syllables wavering. She didn’t cry because Senju Touka never cried but he could certainly hear how affected she was by his supposed return. Gently, Tobirama patted her on the back and avoided Hashirama’s gaze over her shoulder.

“I…made a new home for myself.”

Touka pulled away from him, keeping a reassuring grip on his upper arms, and leveled him with a confused frown. “I don’t care about any other place you might have gotten off to, we are your home. We always have been and we always will be.” Her brows furrowed even deeper when Tobirama shifted uncomfortably and narrowed her eyes when Madara stepped closer to place a soothing hand against his lower back.

“Not anymore,” Tobirama murmured softly. From the corner of his eye he could see Hashirama curling in on himself with guilt but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad for saying it. “I lost everything when I was asked to leave. I don’t think I can ever go back and pretend like nothing’s changed – because a lot of things have changed.”

“Bullshit!”

“I know.” He smiled against his will; it was just such a her reaction.

She protested when he slipped away, leaning back in to Madara’s touch and releasing the tension in his shoulder’s when his partner slipped one arm around them. Incredibly, it was Hashirama that shushed her and pulled her back from ‘rescuing’ Tobirama from the big bad Uchiha.

“I’ll explain everything to her, I’m sure you don’t want to go over it all again so soon.” He smiled that same old open smile. “Thank you for hearing me out. I’m…I’m just really happy you’re okay, Tobi.”

“Whoa, hey, wait a fucking second. It’s been an entire damn year since I’ve seen him; give me more than two seconds before you send him away again you heartless bastard!”

“Enough.”

To Tobirama’s surprise his brother did not flinch from her words, only closed his eyes to take a deep breath. Evidently the man had done some growing up while they had been apart. It should have hurt that he hadn’t been there to see it happen – it should have been irritating that of course Hashirama only grew the hell up once Tobirama was no longer there to mother him – yet instead all he felt was pride. It was good to see the other man standing tall and facing the problems he had created without asking someone else to help him take the fall.

“Don’t you ‘enough’ me like I’m going to listen to you when I finally have my baby cousin back!” Touka jerked her arm out of Hashirama’s grasp. “It’s your fault he was gone!”

“I know. And it is also my fault that he will not be returning. Please, Touka, just let me explain what’s happened–”

“Why should I? I’d rather have him explain it to me! Tobes, you’ve been gone for over a year and you show up getting cozy with an Uchiha!? And I’m supposed to just let you go again? Not a chance!” The way her weight settled in that stubborn stance he knew so well told him that she was digging herself in where very few things could convince her to move.

Lucky for him he knew just the thing that would.

“Touka, do you love me?”

“Sorry, what? The hell kind of question is that?” He smiled, recognizing her way of saying ‘yes’.

“Out of everyone in the Senju clan I knew that I could count on you to believe in me even after I was gone.” His own way of saying it back without embarrassing them both. She still frowned uncomfortably, much to his amusement. “But I no longer consider myself a member of that clan. I was exiled. That Hashirama regrets his decision does not change the fact that it happened. And just because he is willing to welcome me back doesn’t mean I am willing to come back.”

“I don’t understand,” she admitted in a small voice.

Tobirama shook his head. “You will if you listen but…I’m sorry. I’ve missed you every bit as much as you’ve missed me – more, I would say – but I’m done. I’m tired. Hashirama will explain everything to you and I swear that you will see me again. Every day, if you want. If you care for me still then you will let me go for one more night.”

With her bottom lip caught between her teeth to hide the quiver of her own emotions, Touka balled her hands in to fists and shifted her gaze over to Madara.

“If you hurt him I will tear out your throat. Not even the Hyuga will be able to find whatever pieces are left over when I’m through with you.” She narrowed her eyes when Hashirama took hold of her arms again but didn’t bother to fight him this time.

“You know something? I believe that.” Madara didn’t even seem all that offended to be threatened. He looked more glad than anything else that there were still people in the Senju who had never lost faith in Tobirama.

A few moments passed in which no one said anything and Tobirama felt like a wall had dropped between them all with the two Senju on one side while he stood with Madara on the other, two worlds colliding but not yet ready to merge together. It was time to leave.

“Goodnight Hashirama, Touka.” His words quiet and his tone colored with only the barest shades regret, Tobirama didn’t bother to resist when Madara gently steered him away. It certainly wasn’t something he indulged in often but in situations like this it was nice to just let someone else take charge and lead him to where he needed to be. Right now he needed to go home and curl up somewhere he could feel safe after exposing himself to so many raw emotions. Meeting his brother again had been trying enough. Running in to Touka was pleasant in a way but also jarring in how little he expected to be assaulted with even more things to feel.

Behind them he could hear the other two in a heated disagreement and he was glad Hashirama was able to prevent his cousin from following after him. She hadn’t had the same chance to come to terms with seeing him again but he felt empty after so much upset and his brother was right, he simply wasn’t feeling up to going over it all again so soon. He needed time to recharge before he could even think of facing those emotions again.

He was grateful that Madara seemed to understand his need for silence at the moment. Neither of them spoke for the entire walk back and it gave him the time to quietly process everything that had happened, filing it all away in his mind, down below the surface where he could think about it without feeling like he would overwhelm himself again. A shinobi needed to function around their emotions and he had always been a very good shinobi. By the time they arrived home he was feeling much less out of balance, well enough that he could enjoy Izuna fussing over him for a little while before he decided it was time to sleep and dragged Madara off to his room.

There were a lot of things that came to mind when he thought about the concept of home but out of them all this was the one that always came first now, the sensory memory of how it felt to lie on his back with Madara curled up against his side, wild mane braided back so the man could press his face in to Tobirama’s neck as they slept, warm breath on his skin and a steady heart beating against his own. If the two of them kept crawling in to each other’s beds so often they were going to have to just call it eventually and combine their belongings to one room. Tobirama couldn’t say he would be all that upset about it, really. It felt inevitable in the best way possible.

He fell asleep that night feeling lighter than he had in over a year, cut loose from the weights that had been holding him down. The world wasn’t entirely set to rights quite yet but it was on its way there and that was all he could ask for. When his dreams reached out to take hold of him he was smiling in to Madara’s hair, cozy and content, ready for whatever tomorrow had in store.

Chapter Text

“Wakey, wakey, sleepy head. You look stupid with your hair sticking up like that.”

Tobirama frowned through the lingering haze of sleep. He knew that voice. That was the beloved voice of an annoying asshole. Cracking one eye open, he tilted his head down to glare at the face grinning up at him from below. Madara snickered and Tobirama noted that he looked much too awake for – well, for whatever time of the morning it was. Odd for a man who usually stayed in bed until he was physically dragged out of it.

“How do you always have worse bedhead than me?” Madara asked. “You hardly have any hair to mess up.” He lay his head down to muffle a few quiet chuckles against the chest he’d been using as a pillow and the sound was so joyful that Tobirama found he just couldn’t stay mad when he got to wake up to such sweet things as a happy Madara. Not that he would ever say so while the man was still laughing in his face.

“Rude,” he grumbled with a pout. “At least I don’t have an entire rat’s nest on top of my head twenty-four-seven. Get off me so I can get up, you octopus.” Instead of contrition, Madara’s face took on a suggestive look.

“Why get up? I’m sure I can think of something that might entice you to stay in bed a little longer.” With a raunchy leer he shifted until he had one leg thrown over Tobirama’s hips to perch above his lap, eyebrows waggling in way that was probably meant to be sexy but really only made Tobirama bite his lip to hide a rush of amusement at such a ridiculous expression.

He did find himself interested in what the man was offering, though.

Running his hands up the outside of the thighs straddling his own, he hummed with rising interest and tilted his head like he was giving the matter deep thought. “You know what? Keep talking. You’ve caught my attention.”

Madara gave a low, dark chuckle and bent down to kiss him. Their lips had only just touched and Tobirama’s fingers ventured further inward to cup two handfuls of firm buttocks when the bedroom door slammed open without warning, Izuna strolling in unannounced.

“The hanky-panky can stop!” he cried. “I made breakfast so now you have to eat it!”

“Get out!” Madara snarled. The pillow he snatched up and threw was easily blocked and thrown back at him without mercy.

“Nope! Breakfast! No sexy times while I’m still home; that’s just gross to think about.” Izuna grinned, not even having the decency to wither under the combined weight of their annoyed glares. Tobirama cleared his throat to catch the other’s attention. After a year of living together he would be supremely unimpressed with himself if he didn’t have a perfect comeback for that.

“What makes you assume we haven’t already done those things while you were still home?” he asked innocently.

Izuna’s disgusted screeching was almost worth the interruption. Madara, at least, was laughing so hard he almost couldn’t stand to make it back to his own room so he could grab some clean clothes for the day. After Tobirama had wrestled Izuna out in to the hall as well and slammed the door shut for a bit of privacy, he started getting changed himself. It was little surprise to be interrupted yet again before he’d done more than pull on a clean pair of pants but at least this time it was only Madara letting himself back in to the room.

His partner was wearing a sheepish look that quickly turned to hunger at the sight of so much exposed skin. Tobirama smirked and simply let him look. Regular exercise had replaced all the muscle he’d once let melt away in his hour of weakness and it was always nice to have such accomplishments admired. He was still preening when Madara cleared his throat and came forward to tug the shirt he was holding out of his hands and set it aside, his ears pink and his expression oddly nervous.

“I have something for you,” he said. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I wanted to get them all done at the same time but I didn’t want to presume…”

“What is it?” Tobirama blinked in surprise when Madara revealed something from behind his back. It just looked like a lump of material until it was unfolded to become a short tunic in his favorite shade of blue. Then Madara turned it around to reveal the Uchiha crest carefully stitched on the back just like every piece of clothing a proper member of the clan wore every day. Tobirama’s fingers trembled as he reached out to accept the shirt being handed to him. Once his hands were free Madara rubbed his palms together awkwardly, not looking away from his unexpected offering.

“Don’t just wear it because you think you have to, okay? You know you can stay here even if you never decide to officially adopt in to the clan. O-or marry in or whatever. I just wanted you to know that the offer is there and I already have the approval of the rest of them – we had a clan meeting while you were away on a mission–”

“Madara,” Tobirama cut him off shakily. “I don’t want to misunderstand what you’re saying. Are you asking me to wear your colors or…?”

Shaking his head, Madara straightened his back and visibly braced himself to speak. “Whether you choose to take the Senju name again or not, there will always be a place for you here. As of this moment you bear no clan name and, maybe it’s selfish of me, maybe a little territorial, but I would like to gift you mine to carry. Whatever your answer, as clan Head I hereby grant you the right to wear our crest to show the world that we consider you one of our own – uh, if you want, that is.”

Finding it suddenly very difficult to breathe, Tobirama clenched his fingers tightly in the material of the shirt and blinked his eyes rapidly to clear away the strange mist in his vision. What Madara was offering him was more than just a home. He didn’t have the words to describe just what he was being offered but what touched him the most was being given the choice and being assured that Madara would not resent him for whatever path he decided to take.

It took a few tries to clear his throat before he realized it wouldn’t work, he was simply too overwhelmed at the moment. Shyly, embarrassed to show such blatant emotions even if this was by its very nature an emotional moment, Tobirama shifted closer and drew Madara in to his arms. The two of them stood in a silent embrace for a long time while they both waited for themselves to calm down. Tobirama clung to his partner with one hand and let the other rub the material of this most precious gift between his fingers, feeling the soft cotton like a gentle kiss against his sensitive skin. He wondered how long Madara had been planning this for.

“Are you two coming to eat this damn food or not!?” Izuna hollered from the kitchen. The indignation in his voice had Tobirama pulling away with a snort, smiling when he noticed Madara trying to wipe his eyes discreetly.

“We’re coming, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” he called back. Then he ignored Izuna’s retort in favor of dipping his head to press a messy kiss against Madara’s lips. “Hold this for me, will you?”

He handed the shirt back to Madara to hold so he could slip his arms in to it, humming pleasantly over how nicely it fit. It was obvious that this had been tailored specifically for him; if the cut of it and the lack of traditional high collar wasn’t enough of a clue, he didn’t know any Uchiha who wore such bright colors. Most of them preferred their clothing in black or deep shades of purple.

“Does that mean…?” Madara eyed him as he tied the shirt in place and Tobirama flushed, standing still so that could be admired in his new clothing.

“You mentioned you wanted to have my entire wardrobe updated. I would honored.”

“But are you just carrying the crest or…”

“Uchiha Tobirama does have a certain amount of appeal,” he murmured. “If you think it would suit me then I will do my best to uphold the honor of the Uchiha name.”

Madara pressed his lips together, nodded, and lunged forward to drag Tobirama in to him again.

From the kitchen they could hear Izuna yelling, “Fine! Watch me eat all these damn eggs myself! You guys don’t get any now! I slave and slave over a hot stove and what do I get? Ignored!”

“Should we go tell him the news?” Tobirama murmured, glad for something to focus on other than his thundering heart.

“Maybe he’ll change his mind about the eggs,” Madara said, holding in a hysterical giggle.

Tobirama bit his lip and distracted himself with making sure his shirt was settled perfectly, smoothing out a few imaginary wrinkles. He knew that as soon as he had an entire closet full of things with his new clan symbol on them he would feel comfortable being less careful with them but for now this shirt was his most prized possession.

As it turned out, Izuna did indeed lift his ban on eggs in celebration of a new member joining the Uchiha clan. The three of them ate their breakfast with smiles on their faces and then afterwards they headed out together towards the village center where the polls were to be held to vote for the very first Hokage of Konohagakure. Whoever led their village needed to be strong, intelligent, and a good leader, caring for his people yet willing to make the tough decisions. There were only two names on the ballots though and from what Tobirama heard from others the race was pretty much over before it had even begun. Most people seemed to be under the misguided impression that the village existed thanks to Hashirama alone. Considering that, it was no wonder most favored him and his big dreams to lead them all towards a new future.

That didn’t stop Madara from coming out and enjoying the excitement of the day anyway. He didn’t particularly want the job, although he did think he would have been good at it. If popular vote went to Hashirama as seemed likely then he would still have everything he had ever dreamed of having in his life. Tobirama was sort of proud of him for being so self-assured.

Walking through the village in daylight was interesting and more than just because it finally gave Tobirama a chance to properly see all the places outside their compound he hadn’t yet seen in daylight. Someone with an active gossip chain must have spotted him the night before because none of the people stopping to gape at him as he walked by looked truly surprised. All of them had the same look of someone confirming a rumor they hadn’t fully believed until the proof dared to stroll by with his head held proudly and a carefree lightness in his every step. By the time they reached the village square the crowds were all but parting before them as people stepped aside for Tobirama and broke out in to whispers in his wake.

Hashirama met them with a brilliant smile and dozens of curious Senju at his back. An uproar nearly broke out when the first of them spotted the Uchiha fan so prominently displayed between Tobirama’s shoulder blades but Hashirama only gave the crest a long, sober look, closing his eyes and nodding once.

“I understand,” he murmured.

“The decision was not made to reject what I once had,” Tobirama leaned in to assure him quietly, “but to celebrate and honor all that I have been freely given since.”

“No, I mean it. I understand. What I said last night, I meant that with all my heart. I’m just happy that you’re happy now.” Hashirama reached out to take hold of his hand for a brief squeeze and they shared a smile knowing that every eye in the village was watching them. Then they let go and Tobirama stepped back in to the circle of Madara’s arms. Just this once he would allow such an ostentatious display of public affection as cuddling, marking his territory without having to say a word.

He took note of Touka’s expression as she slipped up beside them, lips pinched tightly and dark eyes unhappy as she took in the way they were wrapped around each other, but Tobirama was pleased when she did little more than settle herself close enough to his side that their arms brushed together and caught his eye for a long wordless stare. In a clan of people who had very little problems expressing themselves, he and Touka had always been outliers. She was probably worse than him when it came emotions but they had always understood each other even when no one else did. By the time she took a deep breath and struck up a deliberately casual conversation about something random they had already held an entire silent conversation and Tobirama knew the two of them were going to fall back in to old habits just fine.

As soon as the crowds around them settled down in to gossiping amongst themselves Hashirama and the other clan heads announced the official opening of the polls. Several booths had been set up for each villager to go in and fill out their ballot anonymously without fear of being judged for their decision, Madara and Hashirama standing together to one side in abstention.

Tobirama waited in line with Izuna and Touka, occasionally wrangling an enthusiastic Kagami when his protégé-slash-neighbor got a bit too enthusiastic for his mother to handle. It felt odd being allowed to cast a vote when he hadn’t even been an official member of the Konoha until this morning and it felt even stranger, when it was his turn in the booth, realizing he had to choose between his no-longer-estranged brother and his captor-turned-boyfriend. Knowing who was inside, he could hear several members of his new clan shooing people away outside when they murmured about him taking too long. In the end he slid his ballot in to the box without checking a name. Just the idea of making an impartial decision had always been difficult; in his current circumstances it seemed impossible.

When he told Hashirama what he had done he was surprised to receive a beaming smile in return.

“Excellent! Then you’re completely neutral and you can be the one that counts the ballots! It’s kind of poetic in a way, don’t you think?” His smile softened and Tobirama rolled his eyes but he could see where the man was coming from.

He wasn’t the only one counting ballots, of course. The polls were opened in the early morning but it took well in to evening for all the votes to be cast and tallied by a group of volunteers who had also abstained from voting. Each of them brought their numbers to Tobirama who added them all together and then stepped up on to the raised wooden dais where Hashirama and Madara were waiting, idly passing the time with friendly chatter.

Unsurprisingly, the crowds fell silent at seeing him step up between the two men with a small card folded between his hands and no discernable expression on his face. He felt as if the world was watching him as he looked from Madara to Hashirama and back again and then down at the card in his hands to allow himself the tiniest of smiles.

Then he lifted the red and white hat that had been prepared as a badge of office and laid it gently atop Madara’s head.

“Congratulations, Hokage-sama,” he announced in a clear voice.

As the village erupted and even Hashirama broke out in to wild cheering, Tobirama held his stunned partner’s eyes just long enough to appreciate how ridiculous he looked with such a shocked expression. Then he tossed his head back and laughed long and hard and joyful, free and happy.

When he had been asked to leave the Senju clan it had felt like his life was over, a dark emptiness that could never be filled. He had thought it was the end of his journey. Now he stood between his two most precious people with the future stretching out before them filled with so many possibilities for everyone, for the village, for everything he held dear. This wasn’t at all where he had thought his life would take him – but he was happy that he stuck around to enjoy the ride.