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The only good thing about having a massive Clan House in the city again is that there’s enough space for the sort of gatherings where everyone can come without traveling to the middle of nowhere, gatherings that would normally cause noise ordinance violations to be issued. Add to that the fact that nearly every police officer in the city is here - there would be a lot of egg on the collective faces of the Clan and the Police if they hadn’t been able to put up silencing wards. Afterall, it’s not everyday that a Clan Head gets married, even if it had been put off due to an ...unexpected death in the family. Fucking Setsuna. Tobirama leans over to murmur, sounding slightly shocked, “For the Water God’s mercy, please tell me they’re not planning on firing off all those fireworks.” Madara looks, then makes the executive decision to choose to ignore the absolutely illegal number of fireworks being set up, and pretend that Tobirama is breathless from the kisses he can’t stop himself from sneaking and not the fact that Kagami very well might kill them all in the next 10 to 15 minutes.
Not that either of them can do anything about it - Water God tradition dictates newly weds have to be given milk and honey shots for luck and blessings, Fire God tradition dictates the couple remain bound together until the day is over for a long marriage, and both say they have to personally receive all gifts and thank the giver(s). The receiving line is still long, so Madara resigns himself to making repairs to the newly finished house. Half formed, there’s a subtle tremor under his feet as the House - as of yet unnamed, but when she finds one she likes she’s promised to tell them - quakes in fear, oh-no-please , and for that alone Madara nearly sics Mikoto on Kagami. Not that it would do any good, but maybe the Four would grant clemency today?
He sends off an idle wish to his venerable ancestor. The fire in the diwa next to him flickers with the sensation of a laugh, the warm brush of a Not today , and Madara gives it up as lost and instead takes and down the milk and honey shot one of the many Senju relatives - Four Above, he’s going to need to learn their names, isn’t he - is offering. Then it’s someone Madara doesn’t recognize - thin and nondescript and androgynous and the badge pinned to their suit lapel says they’re with the Kusa embassy. They bow, just enough to be polite, and murmur the usual felicitations and congratulations for a strangers coming upon a wedding, then hesitates. It feels important, and Madara can feel the way his fire sits up and takes notice, the subtle mirror of Tobirama doing the same. “I’m sorry to intrude, Clan Head Uchiha and Lord Tobirama, but this cannot wait. Is there somewhere we can speak, privately?”
Madara turns towards to Tobirama, and sees the moment when Tobirama decides, the subtle strengthening of his spine and shoulders that mean they will speak to this person. He quickly squeezes their bound together hands, lets the squeeze back Tobirama gives bolster him. He nods, “Please this way.”
They lead the way in unconscious synchrony, feet falling together in harmony on the fossilized wood floors - with no tugging on the ribbon tying them together and it’s thrilling in a way Madara cannot place to be so together with someone, with Tobirama! - to the room that is their shared study-office space. The shoji doors are all open, to let in the cool night air, and the garden is peaceful in counter to the raucous celebrations happening on the other side of the house. The Kusa representative settles onto the sitting cushion, formal and stoic. “First, let me offer my sincerest apologies for interrupting the celebrations, but as I said, this matter is urgent. We have in our care a child, and need to place him in a home as quickly as possible.”
There’s something the representative isn’t saying, and something about it itches at Madara’s mind. “Why would this concern us?” The fire lights in the garden glow a bit brighter as Madara’s magic rises unconsciously, and the pointed look Tobirama sends him tells Madara that he really needs to get his magic under control again soon. It’s not his fault his venerable ancestor decided to get involved - and frankly, if it weren’t for Tobirama, his venerable ancestor wouldn’t have had to do anything! - but Madara takes Tobirama’s meaning plainly.
The Kusa representative fidgets, uncomfortable. “I’m not sure how briefed you were of our political situation, but there was recently an influx of refugees from Mizu, due to the Civil War there. During that time, our social support systems were overwhelmed, as well as our public health. There was rampant inflation and many people died or went missing, and many children ended up in orphanages.” They shuffle again, “It took some time to get things into order, but we’re now able to start placing children with their next of kin, and notifying next relatives of deaths or hospitalizations. Unfortunately - .”
The flame of his magic dances , and some distant part of Madara goes oh . There’s a still-quiet-realization echoing in Tobirama’s water, and Madara knows the two of them both know what this stranger crashing their wedding celebrations is going to say next. “We have a child in our care who we have been able to track down as being named Obito Uchiha, but we don’t have much else beyond an Ayame Uchiha being his parent. We were unable to locate any other next of kin.” The beyond Clan Uchiha goes unspoken, and Madara knows what this Kusa representative is asking. For him to do his duty, as Clan Head - take in the unfortunate and care for them - but the timing. The Kusa representative lowers their head, beseeching. “I know this is sudden, so please discuss it and let me know what you decide.” They softly pad out, and the house lets Madara know when they’re out of hearing range.
Tobirama’s hand is cold where it’s laced with his own, bound in red and tying their fate as one. As much as his heart yearns to say yes, it’s not just his life he’s agreeing to upend. Hasn’t been just his life for a while, and no matter how right it feels to agree to take in kin, to give them a hearth to warm themselves at and a home to plant roots in and all the things a house and family gives, it’s not his alone to decide. Still he’s heating up, magic flaring with desire, and he can’t hide it. “Tobirama, what do you want in this moment?” Their connection betrays nothing, Tobirama all still and quiet and his thoughts lying well below the surface, but Madara knows what he wants is writ large across his face.
In the distance, fireworks boom. Tobirama watches Madara carefully, weighing something hidden but there’s a softness to him that Madara hopes on. Slim cold fingers squeeze his overheating hand, gentle yet firm. “It would be a big responsibility, to bring a child in. A possibly traumatized child, if the conditions were especially bad and they are old enough to recall.” Tobirama’s voice is soft too, but his eyes are far away, considering and planning, and Madara knows what this means. Are you ready to take this on, with me?
Warmth floods him, overwhelms him and drowns him, and he can’t tell if the incandescent joy and happiness between them is him alone or Tobirama in equal part. It’s the easiest thing in the world to pull Tobirama close and kiss him, kiss him again and again until the need for air burns in his lungs and he still wants more. The house rumbles in warning, before things get too heated, and they disengage with a sigh. “One day, I will get used to hearing the house,” Tobirama grumbles fondly under his breath as he rights the ceremonial clothes from where they were mussed.
Madara bites back a snicker, steals another kiss, “We need to tell that Kusa person our decision.” Then he pauses, “Thank you, Tobirama. You didn’t have to, but - .”
A firm press of lips against his own shuts him up, and familiar feel of Tobirama’s forehead against his own is comforting, “I want to. Take them in, raise them. Fill this house you built for me with laughter, with you, with as many memories as this house can stand to have. That is what I want, in this moment. ”
Oh - sometimes Madara forgets Tobirama is just as much a sap as he himself is. He’s held back tears enough today to force back the ones on the verge of falling from his eyes, but it’s a near thing. “Then let’s bring little Obito home.”
Another squeeze and it keeps Madara centered and anchored safely home. “Yes, lets.”