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The gigantic paw of a feral feline spirit slamming on the floor right in front of him was the first hint Tobirama had that this already bad day would end up being terrible. Sighing in irritation, he looked up from the book he’d been studying, to favour the spirit with a scowl.

“That’s rude,” he informed the being.

The spirit didn’t seem to care, giving him a sharp grin that had way too many sharp teeth. Tobirama refrained from rolling his eyes. There was only so many different intimidation tactics you could use before they became redundant.

“You’re the rude one,” someone retorted. “Didn’t your mother teach you to respect your betters?”

Tobirama turned his attention to the boy who was talking to him. Blond, nasty grin, a typical arrogance that came from having a rather impressive looking familiar…

He had no clue who this was, but he certainly seemed like someone Tobirama wouldn’t like one bit.

“Your point?” Tobirama asked shortly, already tired of this.

For a beat, the blond’s grin faltered, clearly not finding whatever reaction he was seeking.

“Well,” the boy said, finding his footing again, “You ought to be more respectful to me. I was perfectly courteous to you, and you snubbed me.”

Tobirama stared, wracking his brain for whatever the guy was talking about. He was drawing a blank.

“Really,” said guy went on, unaware of Tobirama’s growing annoyance and confusion, “given you’re such a failure, you should probably know better than turn down someone’s generous offer to help.”

“Oh,” Tobirama said, things suddenly clicking. “Right. You’re that moron.”

The one who had tried to bully him into helping him to cheat for the latest elemental magic theoretical, in exchange for graciously not punching his face in. Tobirama had scoffed in his face, and gone to the exam without sparing him a single glance back.

It hadn’t been worth his time at all.

“Wh- Excuse me?” Blond Moron said, face blotching an unattractive puce colour that clashed quite badly with his hair.

“Anyway,” Tobirama sighed again, snapping his book shut. “Did you have anything important to say?”

Whatever the wannabe bully wanted would probably forever remain a mystery, as the bell chose this exact time to let out the enchanting melody that signaled the end of the lunch break. With an annoyed sigh – there went the last of his free reading time – Tobirama stood up, and dusted himself with a distracted gesture.

He was already moving towards the entrance to his lecture building, when the Blond Moron finally found his voice again.

“You act like you’re such hot shit,” he shouted after him, voice pitched to carry, “But the truth is you’ll never be shit! You can’t even summon a soot ball! How does it feel to be the oldest recorded case of invocation failure, huh?!”

Tobirama felt his irritation climb at the pique, and his fingers twitched. Drowning someone had never seemed quite so appealing before.

Unfortunately, doing that would end up with him needing to dispose of the body, and he’d be late for class.

So he swallowed his anger, and kept walking, ignoring the Blond Moron’s nasty laugh, and the few giggles from the peanut gallery.

It was just words, he told himself. It couldn’t hurt him.

It hurt anyway.

Once he got home, Tobirama wasted no time. Getting rid of his shoes and coat in the entrance, he grabbed his book bag a bit tighter and marched to his room.

“Oh, hey Tobirama! Welcome home!” Hashirama called from the couch.

Tobirama spared him a wave, not even looking at his brother. He knew what he’d find – Hashirama, lounging lazily on the sofa, lovingly pruning one of his many invocations.

The mere thought both hurt and added fuel to his already burning irritation, and Tobirama decisively went into his room. He slammed the door behind him.

“What-” was all that he heard of his brother’s startled yelp, before the seals inked all over his walls went into effect and muffled all sound coming from outside.

With an explosive sigh, Tobirama let his bag drop in a corner, and let his feet drag him to his bed. He let himself drop on the soft mattress, and with a groan pushed his palms into his eyes. He had a headache, and his chest hurt.

What a terrible, terrible day.

Between the Blond Moron, a few of his classmates dissing out the usual diatribe, and the fact that the Invocation Lesson had once more ended in a total failure… Well, it felt like the world itself had decided that he would be having a really shitty day.

Usually, Tobirama would have managed to ignore all of it. It was nothing new – the whispers, the stares, the mocking laughter, the comments, the pity in his teachers’ gaze, Tobirama had lived with it for his entire academy career.

He knew, he knew that it didn’t mean anything. As Hashirama and Touka were fond of reminding him, he was one of the best in many magical fields, and probably knew more about the theory than even their teachers. The morons that liked to insult him and taunt him were just jealous. As for his teachers, they wanted the best for him, and didn’t realize that what they did wasn’t helping at all.

Tobirama knew that, and some days he could listen to his family and ignore it, except…

Except Hashirama had been invoking all manners of nature-aligned creatures since he was but a babe.

Except Touka had bonded with a line of living weaponry when she was ten and already getting into fights that she intended to win even if it meant losing a tooth or two in the process.

Except everyone could summon something, and most of them did it accidentally even, before they even got to the Academy and to their first invocation lesson.

Everyone but Tobirama.

Safe in the knowledge that his seals would keep any sound or magical outburst or anything from getting out of his room, Tobirama grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at the wall with a frustrated yell. Then, when that did nothing to alleviate the burning hurt and anger in his gut, he grabbed the next one and threw it too. Then the next. Then he grabbed a notebook, and threw it as well.

Tobirama was so sick of it! So sick of feeling like less because of some stupid summon failure! So sick of being treated like that!

His magic churned and sparked, and with an angry, raw scream of rage and hurt and everything-why-too much-why-why Tobirama let it go, lashing out blindly around him.

It was only when the seals that protected his room and his shelves started sparking in a rather alarming manner that he came back to his senses, and reigned himself in again. He slumped down on the ground, watching the destruction he had stupidly wrought in his anger.

Everything that hadn’t been protected was damaged. His bed was a mess of cotton and feathers and ripped cloth, several pots and plates had broken, and a few pens laid in a mess on the floor. The potted plant Hashirama had gifted him a year ago was lying in a mess of dirt and pot shards, thankfully intact but still a sad sight on the floor.

“Shit,” Tobirama swore, suddenly remembering his book bag, and the old tome about obscure demonic invocation that had been inside. If he had damaged the library book, the librarian was going to kill him.

He dove for his bag, the air around him so charged with ambient power that it sparked around him. Tobirama ignored that – sure, he could feel it, his own magic resting heavy in the room like thunderclouds, but it was his. There was no danger to him, and he was worried for the book.

He fished his bag from under his desk, where it had landed, and slumped with relief on the ground when he found that it was intact.

Cautiously, he opened it, and grabbed the book.

It was intact as well, and still looking the same as before. Old, and dusty, and probably considered a very dry read to anyone else.

Leaning back against the foot of his bed, Tobirama opened the tome and set it on his knees. Reading always got him to relax, and he had meant to read upon some more demonic invocation lore anyway. Just because he couldn’t do it didn’t mean it wasn’t interesting.

Soon, he found himself engrossed in the tome, even though it was more fiction than fact. Little was known about the invocation it talked about, and the author had extrapolated many times. Many pages were just hypothesis, and some other were testimonies of dubious origins. Tobirama took it all with a pound of salt, but it was still a very fascinating read.

He was about to turn a page, when it happened.

His thumb brushed against one of the doodles the author had included in her report. The magic charged air sparked. Tobirama startled a little, and let out a small curse when he felt the paper cut his skin.

“Damn it,” he muttered, immediately sticking the digit in his mouth to prevent any blood from welling up and staining the book.

And with a sound like a lighting strike, reality broke and a man fell from the air and right on top of Tobirama.

Tobirama didn’t even think, pushing the person away from him and bringing his magic to bear, water flowing to his fingertips with barely a twitch. The man clearly had the same idea, because a large battle fan suddenly materialized in his hand and slammed in front of him, acting like a shield.

For a long beat, the both of them stayed like that, in a stalemate, staring with wide eyes at each other over their chosen weapons.

The already magic charged air sparked yet again, and Tobirama shuddered slightly at the feeling of static against his skin. He didn’t look away from the intruder, though – what he felt was just an over-surge of his own magic, nothing that could really harm him as long as he was careful.

His ‘guest’, though, reacted much differently. A deep shiver wracked his frame, and suddenly the battle fan was shimmering away, even as the man gaped at Tobirama.

“You- You summoned me?” He said, sounding absolutely stunned.

“What?” Tobirama said, eyes widening.

“You summoned me!” The being – and now that Tobirama was paying attention, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed earlier – repeated, this time with incredulous certainty. Blood red, glowing eyes went to the water still flowing like ribbons around Tobirama’s arms, and he gaped anew, this time with a hint of outrage in his voice as he spluttered, “A water mage? How?!”

Tobirama would have taken offense to the disbelief in the being’s voice, if he didn’t notice the way his hair was flowing, the ends of it glowing and flickering like flames. Much more obvious was the blue spirit fire that was flaring right above the single horn on the man’s forehead.

Tobirama wasn’t an idiot. This was a demon. A clearly fire-aligned demon.

“There must be a mistake,” he said, faintly. “I haven’t summoned you.”

“Of course you did,” the demon said, and shivered again, eyes fluttering. He pinned Tobirama with a stare, “That’s your magic. It’s practically choking.”

Now he was looking around, wariness and shock giving way to curiosity. He eyed the destruction, and the seals etched on the walls, and tilted his head like a strange bird. He looked back at Tobirama.

“Now whatever caused you to call for one such as me? Is there a war to be won? Fallen gods to destroy?” Slowly, his curiosity was ebbing into excitement. “It’s been so long since anyone managed to invoke me, there must be a truly dire battle to be fought!”

Tobirama couldn’t reply, his words all clogged in his throat, heart hammering in his chest.

He had summoned something.

He had invoked something.

Finally.

This was- this was incredible, and yet impossible, and he couldn’t believe it. Yet there it was, right in front of him, in the shape of a surprisingly human looking fire demon. Given that this was Tobirama’s first invocation, said demon couldn’t much more than a minor one, but still! He had finally done it!

The demon seemed to realize he was still in shock, because he tilted his head again, peering at Tobirama with a slight scowl.

“Well?” He demanded. “I know I’m impressive, but just gaping at me is rather counterproductive.”

Oh lovely, Tobirama thought, a tad hysterically. The minor fire demon had an ego.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he finally managed to say, remarkably dry past all the emotions that were still creeping up his throat, “This is my first invocation.”

“Oh,” the demon said, blinking a burning eye at him. “You must truly have been desperate, then, to try to invoke me on your first try.”

“Actually,” Tobirama said, “It was an accident.” He took advantage of the fact that the demon was suddenly gaping at him to add. “I have no idea who you are.”

“You- you-” the demon said, slowly puffing up. His hair was slowly rising, fluffed up like an angry, flaming cat’s tail. He screeched, “You summoned me by accident?!”

Tobirama winced at the volume. The magic in the air sparked when he finally lowered his arms, letting the water he’d still been holding vanish. The demon’s mouth snapped shut as he shuddered, and Tobirama gratefully took advantage of that to scowl at him.

“Why is that so surprising?” He asked. “Accidental invocations happen all the time.”

Sure, not to him, but well. He wasn’t about to bring that up. Not when he’d finally, somehow, succeeded in summoning something.

“Not to me, it doesn’t!” The demon said, volume rising once again in outrage. He pointed a clawed finger at Tobirama, and declared, “I’m Madara, of the Uchiha Clan! I’m no lesser salamander that appears at any whim of a human!”

“Alright,” Tobirama said, wryly. He didn’t point out that he recognized neither the name Madara, nor the Uchiha clan, and that as such he really doubted the demon was really all that important. “I take it you’re powerful?”

“Of course I am,” Madara said, and puffed up again, although this time in clear pride. “I’m the head of my clan. I’ve waged many wars, and won many battles!” He grinned, showcasing very sharp teeth, as he suddenly showed Tobirama a hand full of blue fire. “I can call down ruin on my enemies, end countries in fiery destruction!”

“I’m sure you can,” Tobirama agreed flatly, and ignored the subsequent squawking and flailing that got him.

Really, Tobirama wasn’t a novice. Just because he had never managed to invoke anything didn’t mean he hadn’t read on the subject. He knew that no first invocation could ever be that powerful.

Maybe Madara just was delusional. Or he was trying to trick him into forming a bond with him. In fact…

Tobirama hummed, tilting his head.

Maybe that was it. Maybe Madara wasn’t just a lesser fire demon, he might have been good with illusions too. A trickster spirit, of sorts. It would explain much better how Tobirama was able to invoke him – while he had no affinity for fire, he liked to prank people when he was in the mood.

“Why did you summon me?” Madara huffed suddenly, crossing his arms, hair still bristling behind him. When Tobirama arched a brow to remind him he hadn’t, the demon waved a hand, “Yes, not me, I got that. Why did you try to summon anyone, and then somehow got me? What is the task you wanted me to do?”

Well. Tobirama didn’t grimace, but it was a near thing.

“There is no task,” he said, because lying would be of no use.

“Excuse me?” Madara said, brows climbing up.

“I told you,” Tobirama sighed, “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

For a beat, Madara was still. Then-

“You are telling me that you summoned me for absolutely nothing?” He shrieked. Then, even louder and incredulous, “How did you even do that?! You can’t summon without intent!”

“I’m aware of that!” Tobirama retorted sharply. “I don’t know how I-”

He cut himself off suddenly, cold dread washing through him.

He didn’t know how he had done it. He had no idea, not even the slightest clue. He wasn’t even sure he could repeat the feat a second time.

Suddenly feeling like he could choke, he forced himself to take a deep, trembling breath, and to swallow.

Shit. Shit. What if he couldn’t do it again?

He needed to be able to invoke something anything to become a fully fledged mage. Having a bond helped stabilize one’s magic, and was a safety measure. Tobirama would never graduate, no matter his expertise in other fields, if he couldn’t perform an invocation again. They would ban him from using magic, shackle him and-

“Oi, human, what the hell did you just think about?” Madara’s voice cut through his thoughts. Tobirama crashed back into reality to find the demon barely an inch from his face, burning eye pinned into his. “Human?”

“Tobirama,” Tobirama corrected without thinking. “My name is Tobirama.”

“Alright, Tobirama,” the demon said, rolling his name out slowly. “You’re aware you made the temperature drop, right?”

Tobirama blinked. Indeed, now that he was paying attention, his breath was coming out a little foggy. He frowned – he hadn’t lost control like that in a long time, why-

“It’s all that magic in the air,” Madara guessed, and his presence was warm, a welcome furnace so close by. “Allows you to control it so much more easily. Smart.”

Well. It hadn’t been the intended result, but Tobirama wasn’t about to tell Madara that either.

Instead, he focused on undoing that change. Ice magic, while not his specialty, came to him easily enough. Heat magic, on the other hand? Much like fire, it was far from his affinity.

“You’re really not good at this,” Madara noted, head tilted as he felt the changes in the air. His tone held a measure of wonder. “Fire isn’t your thing at all, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Tobirama said, still focusing on his magic.

“Allow me?” Madara asked suddenly.

Tobirama opened his eyes, and stared at the demon. As a fire demon, he would probably be able to warm up the room again much more easily. Temperature changes were parlour tricks, really. And Tobirama was admittedly curious.

“Alright,” he accepted, nodding slowly.

Madara shivered, eyes fluttering close, and with a small flare of magic that felt like embers the room temperature rose again. Tobirama felt himself relax a little. With a lazy hum, Madara opened his eyes again.

“So,” he said, “Tobirama. Do you still need me here?”

Tobirama bit back the retort that he had never needed Madara at all. The demon knew that. And it would serve no purpose.

Except that Tobirama did need Madara. He needed a companion, needed a familiar, needed something or someone to invoke at will. Madara was the first – the only one – that he’d invoked.

Tobirama couldn’t let him go, not when he didn’t know how to summon him again if he needed to.

Not when Madara was possibly his only chance to keep his magic in the future.

“I-” Tobirama started, then paused, hesitating. In front of him, the demon cocked his head with a curious but wary look. Tobirama steeled himself – worse case, Madara said no, end of the story. “Would you agree to a bond?”

Madara’s jaw dropped open.

“Excuse me?” The demon said.

“A bond,” Tobirama repeated, and lifted his chin to meet the demon’s eye fearlessly. “I have none. You are powerful,” Although he doubted it was true, it wouldn’t hurt to pander to the demon’s ego at the moment, “And good with fire, something I am not. So, I suggest a bond.”

“You- You can’t-” the demon spluttered, and pointed a clawed finger dramatically at Tobirama’s face, his own face slowly growing red – in anger, Tobirama guessed, as Madara seemed quick to get irritated at the smallest things. “You can’t just spring something like that on the first summon!”

“Well how else am I supposed to spring it?” Tobirama asked, legitimately confused. “I don’t even know how I summoned you. If we don’t bond, it might just be the last summon.”

Madara floundered, mouth closing and opening silently. Then he harrumphed, crossing his arms and looking at the ceiling, face still red.

Tobirama arched a brow at the stubborn silence. It seemed that admitting Tobirama was right wasn’t something Madara could do. His pride was really something.

“If you don’t want to, just say so,” Tobirama said.

“It’s not that,” Madara said, face snapping back to stare at him. The demon scowled. “Maybe other demons or spirits do things differently from my clan, but you can’t just ask to bond with me without offering something in return.”

Oh. Tobirama blinked, taken aback. He had heard that some demonic species, and a few spirit types demanded some very specific bonds. He just hadn’t expected this one to be a part of that.

Maybe there was more to Madara than met the eye, then.

“What do you want in return?” He asked, both curious and wary.

Madara seemed surprised by the question, before he narrowed his eyes, considering. Tobirama tried not to show his trepidation. If the demon was truly a trickster spirit, there was no doubt he’d try to get Tobirama to agree to something ludicrous without his knowing.

“Well, for one such as I,” Madara said slowly, “Three conditions.”

Tobirama stayed silent, not agreeing to anything until the conditions were named. Madara huffed at his silence.

“The first one is magic,” the demon said, “Freely given.”

“That would be provided by the bond,” Tobirama said, brows furrowing in confusion.

“No, it’s not,” Madara said, staring at him with those unsettling eyes. “The bond provides just enough to travel between the planes, and stay there, and that’s all. With a bond to help facilitate the journey? That’s almost nothing.”

“Then what do you mean?” Tobirama asked.

“This,” Madara gestured vaguely around them. Tobirama’s magic, still heavy in the air, sparked against his skin, and the demon hummed, “Except freely given. Ambient magic is nice, but it doesn’t have purpose. I can consume it, but it’s not meant for me. It’s not a gift.”

Consuming magic was something all manners of beings did, so it wasn’t really a worrying demand. The freely given part, though, was puzzling. It took Tobirama a few seconds to understand.

Intent, Tobirama realized, was what the demon wanted. He had mentioned something similar before – how intent mattered a lot. And it made sense. Intent mattered for many different branches of magics. Even seals depended a lot on intent.

Magic intended for Madara would probably have more power, in a way that only the demon understood.

It sounded unwise to grant that much to a demon, no matter how minor, but at the same time-

“Sounds doable,” Tobirama said, carefully. “What are the other conditions?”

“My clan,” Madara said promptly, although he seemed a bit more relaxed now that Tobirama hadn’t rejected his offer immediately, “As I said, I’m the head of it. You can bond with me, but if they don’t meet you, and you don’t get their approval then it will be moot.”

Tobirama paused. That seemed reasonable, in theory.

“Would I need to do something specific for that to happen?” He asked.

“If you agree, they’ll come to you,” Madara said, and gave a small, lazy grin. “If they accept you, then you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“I see,” Tobirama said, and although that sounded a bit ominous, he nodded cautiously. “Sounds reasonable. What’s the last condition?”

This time, it was Madara who paused. For a moment, he just watched Tobirama. It felt like he was weighing his very soul, trying to see if he was worthy.

Finally, he said.

“Time,” he said. “I want time.”

“Time,” Tobirama echoed. Time magic was not only dangerous and difficult, it was expressly forbidden. Messing with time was courting death, in many instances, and giving time to a demon seemed like a terrible idea. “That’s not-”

“No?” Madara said, expression unreadable.

Tobirama hesitated, torn, before asking.

“What does ‘time’ even entail?” He asked, tensely.

“Your time,” Madara answered simply. “I want you to summon me regularly, and to give me some of your time. How you wish to do that is your choice.”

Oh. Tobirama blinked, taken aback. Of course. Being in someone’s company was literally spending time together. By summoning Madara often, and bonding with him, Tobirama would give him years of his life, if only figuratively.

Once again, it was something that depended on intent.

There was a pattern in this, that Tobirama absolutely intended to explore later.

In the meantime, though…

“Alright,” Tobirama said, before he could think too hard on this and miss his chance. He met the demon’s red eyes squarely, “I agree to those conditions. What do I have to do?”

Madara’s whole demeanour shifted instantly, from lazily considering to eager anticipation. The demon grinned at him, showing Tobirama sharp teeth. Tobirama’s heart gave a small flip at the sight, something fluttering in his stomach that had to be apprehension.

“Where do you want your contract?” Madara asked.

“I can choose?” Tobirama said, truly surprised. Most contract marks just appeared without notice somewhere random.

“Of course,” Madara scoffed. “This isn’t some cheap, hasty bond, made between small fries.”

Tobirama felt his lips twitch in a small amused smile. The demon’s ego was back, and it seemed he had decided that bonding with him made Tobirama alright by extension.

It was strangely touching.

Curious, he looked at the demon.

“Will the contract be in the same place for the both of us?” He asked.

“Oh,” Madara said, looking startled by the question. He looked away, scratching at his cheek, a strange look on his face, “If you wish. I intended to have mine here.”

He indicated his throat with a clawed hand. Tobirama hesitated for a beat, before asking.

“Around your neck?” He asked. At the nod he got, he asked, “Any reason why?”

Madara turned back to him, and shrugged lightly, a faint flush growing on his cheeks. Perhaps in embarrassment.

“It’s traditional,” Madara admitted, almost softly.

“Oh,” Tobirama said. Once again, the proof that Madara’s clan had a culture, one that might differ from other demons. Well then. “Alright. Around the neck it is.”

“Really?” Madara said, eyes snapping up to him.

“You said it’s traditional,” Tobirama said, shrugging. “I have no such tradition, so why not follow yours?”

Madara seemed at a loss for words. He stared for a beat longer, before ducking his head and mumbling something indistinct, hidden behind his hair. Then, with a deep breath, he tossed his hair back and nodded.

“Alright,” he said, and gave Tobirama a surprisingly warm smile. Tobirama’s heart flipped again at the sight of it. “May I?”

Tobirama stared at the clawed hand reaching out towards him. On second thought, maybe giving Madara access to his throat wasn’t the wisest decision he had ever made. But what was done was done, so Tobirama nodded wordlessly.

Gently, surprisingly so, Madara put three fingers to his throat. He gestured with his other hand, and Tobirama hesitantly reached out to do the same. When the demon didn’t protest to his approaching hand, he softly put three fingers on Madara’s throat the same way.

“What do I do?” Tobirama asked, a bit lost.

“Call your magic, with the intent to bond,” Madara said – and there it was again, intent. “You’ll know the rest instinctively.”

“Alright,” Tobirama said, slowly, dubiously.

Madara didn’t call him out on it. His magic rose, deep and dark and yet burning bright in Tobirama’s sense, a heat that he could feel through the three digit on his skin. Tobirama breathed out deeply, then did the same, feeling his magic rise to the call easily.

The ambient magic sparked again, making the both of them shudder.

Madara’s magic rose and rose and rose still, right along with Tobirama’s. Just when it started to feel so intense it was almost scorching, the demon gave a shuddering breath.

“I, Madara of the Uchiha Clan, hereby swear myself to this mage,” he said softly. “With Fire in my soul, and Magic as my witness. I swear, and so mote it be.”

Tobirama felt his throat start to itch, but he couldn’t focus on it. Suddenly it was like something was tugging at his very soul, and before he could think of it, he had opened his mouth.

“I, Senju Tobirama, swear myself to Madara of the Uchiha Clan,” he said. It might not be the proper way, but it felt right, to put himself on equal terms with Madara. From the pleased spark in Madara’s magic, he had made the right choice, “From Water, to Death, and with Magic as my witness. So I swear, and so mote it be.”

Their magic suddenly rose again, sharp and unstoppable, flooding them like the tide. Tobirama could feel Madara’s magic wrap around his throat, searing hot. He gasped at the feeling, but couldn’t move even though he wanted nothing more than to be able to put a hand to his skin and summon water to cool himself down.

Madara’s face betrayed the same sort of pain, his jaw clenched tightly, skin almost white. Tobirama’s gaze found his fingers through the haze of pain, and he couldn’t help to think, a little delirious, that at least the mark that he was currently branding Madara with was pretty.

Lines unfurled from the tip of his fingers, curling and flowing around, stark red on pale skin.

The moment it stopped moving, darkening and settling, the flow of magic cut short.

Tobirama immediately jerked away, clutching at his throat, stumbling. Madara did the same, panting harshly-

But the pain was gone, suddenly. Instead, a pleasant warmth remained, gentle on his throat. Soothing the phantom ache that remained. In front of him, Madara blinked, and his hand around his throat relaxed, his expression almost awed.

“This was,” Tobirama managed to get out, feeling a bit awed himself, even if the memory of the pain had his wincing, “Intense.”

“Yes, it was,” Madara agreed softly, but now his expression was edging towards pleased. “You are very powerful, for a human. The bond is strong.”

“Oh,” Tobirama said, at a loss of how to respond. He settled for a quiet, “That’s good?”

“Hm, yes,” Madara hummed, and yes, he definitely looked pleased now.

With what was almost a purr, the demon crossed the space between them, and very gently reached out to Tobirama’s throat. With the contract still fresh on his skin, Tobirama let him, knowing deep in his bones, in his soul, that Madara wouldn’t hurt him.

“A very complex contract mark, too,” the demon said, and smiled down at Tobirama. “You honour my clan, with it. No one will be able to say I didn’t chose well.”

“That’s,” Tobirama started, and faltered when he felt his voice vibrate against Madara’s palm still against his throat. Cleared it, and went on, “That’s something significant for you clan, the mark’s complexity?”

“For every creature, I’d wager,” Madara said, blinking at him. “But yes, it is. Why?”

“No, I just,” Tobirama hesitated, then decided to throw caution in the wind. He had agreed to a lot for this bond. Madara owed him some answers, “We’re bonded now. So I’d like to know more about your clan. I’m curious.”

“Oh,” Madara said, and smiled with sharp teeth and a pleased light in his eyes. “Of course. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. But first…” He looked around at the still destroyed room. “We can’t stay in such a mess. Do you mind if I fix it?”

“Please feel free,” Tobirama said, rather curious to see the demon’s magic in action again.

Madara didn’t even spark a lot of magic for it, just extended a hand and made a vague wave. Suddenly, everything seemed to go up and backwards, time rewinding itself and leaving the room intact as it had been before.

Tobirama stared, and then turned to the – his – demon.

“That wasn’t time magic, was it?” He asked.

“Of course not, that was just a repairing trick,” Madara said, but he looked pleased by the question. “Of course, I am able to use time magic, but for this it would be overkill.”

Ah. The ego was back. This was why he looked so pleased – he thought Tobirama believed he could actually do such powerful magic.

Deciding that indulging him wouldn’t hurt at the moment, Tobirama simply hummed.

He felt suddenly a lot more tired.

Madara, apparently feeling the same, suddenly let out a yawn, exposing a pointy tongue and many many sharp teeth.

“Ah, we expanded a lot of magic,” Madara hummed drowsily. He stood up, and offered his hand carefully to Tobirama, “We should rest.”

“Sounds good,” Tobirama said, accepting the hand. He stumbled up, and then towards the bed, dragging the demon along with him, “Come on, then.”

A nap sounded divine right about now.

“Wait, what- with me?” Madara squawked.

“Well, yes,” Tobirama said, and let himself drop on the bed. He looked up at the demon, feeling even more tired now that he had realized how much power he had used, “I promised you time, didn’t I? And you told me you’d tell me about your clan…”

Madara’s face was red again. Tobirama hid a smile in his bed, glancing at the demon from one eye. Really, the demon got embarrassed for the silliest things. Simple reminders shouldn’t make people blush.

Not that he was complaining. It was a very nice blush.

“I suppose you did promise time,” Madara said, still flushed a bit. He mumbled, “I just thought humans were more particular about sharing beds… But then again, we just bonded, and so quickly, so I guess it’s par the course…”

Tobirama tuned him out, deciding that the demon was just rambling nonsense, and shifted to the side, before making a beckoning gesture.

Madara flushed a bit darker, for some reason, but this time did carefully climb on the bed. He crawled next to Tobirama, putting them at eye level. A hand hovered in the air.

“May I?” Madara asked.

“Hm, sure,” Tobirama mumbled, already feeling half asleep.

The last thing he was conscious of was Madara’s arm carefully settling around his waist, and a furnace of a body pressing closer to him, nuzzling into his shoulder.

His throat tingled pleasantly, and Tobirama fell asleep.