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Tobirama liked to consider himself a calm and rational individual and most would agree, outside of his occasional research binge. However, listening to the absolute buffoon of a man drunkenly insult the one who held his heart without killing the drunk where he stood was taking every ounce of calm in his body. Honestly, Tobirama had no idea why the shinobi thought this was a good place to voice his unflattering opinion when literally any Uchiha could walk in and hear him insult their clanhead. Rolling his eyes at how peace had made some forget why only the “God of Shinobi” could match Madara, Tobirama finishes up his meal and leaves the establishment. If he marks the drunken idiot with his chakra as he passes, well that’s no one’s business but his.
The next morning, Tobirama’s not even surprised when his office door bangs open and Madara strides in. “Senju,” he states in an arrogant tone, making Tobirama raise an eyebrow as the door clicks shut. “So why did I have to punch that guy?”
“Found him already?” Tobirama can’t help but chuckle, a smirk twisting his lips.
“I always find your chakra,” Madara points out as he crosses over to the Senju’s desk; it was a game they’d started playing early on in their relationship. Whoever left first would mark something with their chakra for the other to find on their way to work. Given that few sensors were as powerful as the two, it was just a trace amount and the other shinobi hadn’t noticed the marks yet. “So I’ll ask again,” Madara mutters, bracing his hands against the solid wood to get right in Tobirama’s face, “why did I have to punch him?”
Tobirama takes a moment to enjoy the way the tendons of Madara’s neck shift as he speaks, looking oh so biteable, before he speaks. “The idiot decided alcohol entitled him to speak some rather unpleasant lies about you.”
“Ah,” Madara sighs, slouching a little at the truth. It was hardly the first time anyone had badmouthed him, he just wasn’t as friendly as Hashirama, but he hated it when people did it around Tobirama. The Senju, too used to whispers behind his own back growing up, couldn’t stand to hear people speak ill of his precious people. “I should have broken more than his nose then.”
“That should be enough to make him hold his tongue next time,” Tobirama says with an uncaring shrug, pulling Madara down for a kiss, “or I’ll break his jaw next time.”
“He’s going to think I was watching him,” Madara chuckles against Tobirama’s lips, kissing the younger man again, “I like it.”
“Maybe I’ll start marking people then,” Tobirama ponders, releasing Madara so he can step back before Hashirama bursts into the room. He didn’t care if they had both professed their love for each other, neither man wanted to let others know yet.
After that day, Tobirama had started marking people that deserved a good punch in the mouth for speaking ill of his Madara. It had taken less than a week for citizens of Konoha to start thinking the second most powerful shinobi in the village were constantly spying on them. Hashirama had pleaded with Madara to stop, but even that had only decreased the frequency of the game. In the end, it was Mito that had realized what Tobirama was doing and revealed it.
“Excuse me,” Tobirama mutters harshly under his breath, leaving a bewildered Hyuga sitting at the table with Mito. The man had wanted to present an issue to the Hokage and his advisor, however Hashirama was needed in a meeting with Madara, so Mito had stepped in. His issue had turned out to be nothing more than 20 minutes of Uchiha bashing before Tobirama had left.
“Rude,” Otoshi Hyuga mutters, frowning at Tobirama’s retreating back.
“You really shouldn’t speak ill of the Uchiha around my brother-in-law,” Mito points out, sipping her tea.
“And why not?” Otoshi huffs, glaring at the redhead, “they are a menace to our village and it’s well known Lord Tobirama hates Uchiha.”
“Oh?” Mito asks, her tone deadly, a clear warning for Otoshi to choose his next words carefully.
“Surely you’ve noticed Lady Mito,” Otoshi plows on, ignoring the warning, “the Uchiha as a whole are too uncontrollable and that madman that leads them is the worst!” The Hyuga sips his tea before continuing. “With how prone he is to snapping at people, I’m surprised our esteemed Hokage doesn’t keep him on a shorter leash.” Otoshi chokes on his next words as the air around him suddenly becomes heavy with a thick, oppressive chakra.
“Surely you’ve noticed Tobirama and I are rather fond of said madman,” Mito states, her tone calm as she sips her tea, Kyuubi’s chakra pulsing off her.
Otoshi tries to respond, but the swirling chakra presses down on him, hard. Just before the Hyuga can pass out, there is a flash of black before him and Madara is standing between him and Mito, his chakra easily pushing hers back.
“Oi Kitsune,” Madara snaps, frowning when Mito just smiles and withdraws the demon’s chakra in the blink of an eye, “why are you trying to rob me of my fun?”
“So that’s why Tobirama left chakra on him,” she chuckles, “and I was wondering how you always knew who to hit.”
Despite the quiet tone, everyone in the restaurant hears Mito, everyone had turned to see who had been unlucky enough to piss her off. Suddenly they understood how Madara always knew who spoke ill of him; Tobirama had done it. None of them had realized he didn’t agree with everything they were saying, so none of them gave it a second thought before they badmouthed Madara.
“You know how protective Senju get,” he says with a shrug, offering a hand to Mito to help her up.
“I’m aware,” Mito chuckles, accepting the Uchiha’s hand, “I am married to one after all.”
Madara hums in agreement, escorting Mito back to the Hokage Tower before Tobirama can’t keep Hashirama from panicking any longer.