Work Text:
Bang!
“Professor Madara!”
Madara’s in a good mood today so he doesn’t immediately throw his chair at whoever is so rudely interrupting the rousing discussion he’s having with his class about magical raptors. He turns to the doorway, mouth open, ready to bellow a reprimand only for the sight to stop him in his tracks.
He blinks.
His nephew Kagami is holding a child.
The child looks very familiar. White hair, narrowed red eyes, crossed arms, exuding a commanding air despite the small body, and almost completely swallowed by large blue robes of a particular shade that he knows only one man wears in the entirety of the school.
No way.
“Cat got your tongue, Uchiha?” The child’s high voice is only as loud as a normal speaking voice and yet it carries throughout the room, the cadence of words distinctly familiar. It’s weird to hear such articulate pronunciation from a young child, any sane person would at least expect some stumbling on words.
What the fuck. “Tobirama?”
The raised brow asking “Who else?” on a younger face didn’t make it less irritating to see.
Before Madara could interrogate the genius-turned-toddler further, he is interrupted by the dismissal bell. He lets out an inward sigh of relief—he’d much prefer discussing this out of the earshot of the students—and turns to his class. “Scram, we’ll discuss this further next meeting.”
Without a moment of hesitation, the students stream out with their goodbyes, having grown familiar with the faculty’s, particularly the white-haired Senju professor’s, antics and have grown long used to near-monthly instances like this, what with six years of studying here under their belts.
Madara gears himself up for a tiring discussion, stretching his neck side to side before plopping down unto a random student chair. Then he finally lays eyes back on the toddlerized Tobirama bundled in Kagami’s arms, motioning for Kagami to sit on the chair across him.
Kagami’s haggard self takes a seat and Madara’s sharp eyes don’t miss the near-imperceptible wince from Tobirama when Kagami adjusts his grip. Rough handling maybe? Odd, Madara’s sure that Kagami’s used to carrying kids with the Uchiha brats back home.
Putting that train of thought in the back burner for later, Madara takes a fortifying breath, looks Tobirama in his—less-narrow now—red eyes then says, “Weren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”
Twin condescending looks conveying “You should know better” is the only response he receives. Every sigh he lets out feels like another white strand added to his head of hair.
“Alright, stupid question—” He—all of them—should have known better than think that “vacation” would translate to “experiment” with this infuriating man who couldn’t cease thinking for a second to save his life. (Madara doesn’t get to talk. The school still remembers that one incident when he’d been forced into bed rest for weeks. Madara had nearly vibrated himself out of his hospital cot just for something to do in his boredom. Fire-natured mages never did do well with inactivity.) “—what happened?”
Tobirama spoke with his toddler-high voice, “I was testing an array I had formulated that was intended to reverse the body’s time to a specific moment.”
Madara doesn’t even ask for the reason for the array’s creation because it’s highly likely that it would be either “Why not?” or some deeply personal reason that Tobirama wouldn’t disclose.
Tobirama continues, “I must have made a mistake with the time formula and the focusing component. When I tested it on a piece of paper I tore in half, it reversed my body’s time instead. Thankfully, it did not reverse my mind to a toddler’s as well.” He pauses, a thought visibly coming to him with the light in his eyes, then quickly dissolves into murmuring theories about how he could have kept his memories even with the time-reversal.
Kagami picks up from there. “I found professor on the floor with his notes when I came in for my scheduled apprenticeship lesson this afternoon. I panicked but professor calmed me down, told me what happened, then took his notes with him before he let me pick him up.” He gestures at the blue sleeves Tobirama’s hands are drowning in, embroidered with seals and arrays of varying functions from the Underworld and back.
Of fucking course he did.
“Then I ran to get the nearest teacher.” A pointed look at Madara.
Madara runs a hand through his hair and suddenly stops.
Wait a minute. He breathes through his nose to calm himself down from the urge to strangle someone. Calm down. Calm down. “Are you telling me this happened hours ago.”
Hours wherein Tobirama most likely tried piecing together how he had inadvertently turned himself into a child without reaching out to at least let any of them know something had happened. Celestial gods, grant him patience; Tobirama likely could have kept himself in his lab for three days with none of them the wiser of his predicament. Even as a child, he’s an incurable workaholic. He’s jarred out of his musings with Tobirama’s short reply.
“Yes.” Tobirama’s nonchalant voice is what tips him over the edge.
“YOU—”
—
Madara calms after half an hour and in the end, Madara takes Tobirama out of Kagami’s hands to head to the faculty meeting for every end of the week.
Tobirama is bundled up in his arms, wearing his re-sized underrobes. Tobirama’s outer robes had been thrown over Madara’s shoulders for ease of movement. Madara holds him with familiarity and ease of practice, evidence of having taken care of his three younger siblings showing easily.
(Madara blinks. “Can’t you just walk?”
Tobirama’s wide, red eyes don’t falter and neither do his raised arms. Kagami, serving as his seat, isn’t trying to hide his amusement at all. Madara stares into Tobirama’s eyes, trying to will him into caving first but the adult in a toddler’s body only says, “Carry me,” his eyes resolute.
Several moments pass in tense silence but Madara inevitably caves anyway. With a sigh, he scoops up the miniaturized Senju in his arms but the heavy blue robes give him a bit of trouble.
“How the fuck did Kagami even carry you in these things?!” Madara huffs, trying to adjust his hold to not let the voluminous robes spill out onto the floor. He notices Tobirama’s almost unnoticeable wincing once again and gentles his robe-wrangling.
Tobirama sighs. “Just re-size my underrobes. I don’t have enough in my reserves for spells, just seal activation.”
Madara does just that, spelling the underrobes smaller with a wave of his hand and just heaves the outer-robes on his shoulder.
Then, they finally set off. They’re already late.)
They arrive at the meeting to the eyes of every faculty member staring at them. Everyone is already here.
Incredulous silence follows. Madara doesn’t blink. He doesn’t think Tobirama does either.
“Madara… why do you have a child?” Hashirama finally breaks the silence. “…Why are you carrying Tobirama’s robes?”
Madara’s face flattens into a deadpan. “Why do you think?” He holds out the toddler in his hands as much as he can with only one arm, trying to direct their gaze to the toddler’s features.
“Is that Tobirama?!” Hashirama jumps out of his seat with a squeal, completely erasing any illusion of dignity he had with the younger faculty. Well, whatever illusion was left after all of Hashirama’s undignified actions in the last half a century they had been teaching in this school since they founded it, anyway.
Not even halfway to them, Hashirama’s already crying. One would think Hashirama the water mage of the family with all his crying. “OTOUTO, YOU’RE SO CUTE!!!”
Ow, that hurt his ears. Madara tries glaring Hashirama into shutting up but, alas, like all the years before, Hashirama keeps on, blubbering about how cute his little brother is. “Oh, you’re so little like this, otouto! How cute!!” The plant mage then pokes at his brother’s chubby cheeks. Tobirama slaps the offending hand away but it inevitably returns to poke again. This goes on for a while.
Hashirama’s squealing dies down after what feels like an eternity and a half, the arm carrying Tobirama feels tired, sagging just a bit. Hashirama backs off to give them a seat, finally. Madara sets Tobirama on his lap, the small hands don’t seem to want to let go of his robes anytime soon.
Mito keeps to her poised demeanor but Madara’s eyes see the sparkles in brown eyes alighted on Tobirama’s small form.
Touka, meanwhile, look positively delighted with her little cousin being actually smaller than her once again, her usually sharp grin a bit softer than usual. She reaches her hand out to give a quick hair ruffle that Tobirama often denies her.
Izuna couldn’t resist and leaps from his seat and starts squeezing Tobirama’s chubby toddler cheeks incessantly, exclamations of how cute and adorable and how soft his cheeks are, paying no mind to the glare Tobirama is giving him. The fun stops when Tobirama starts tearing up, a dark aura suddenly filling the room. Izuna’s hands are slapped away by a brown hand.
Hashirama’s bright face had darkened at the sight of the tears. “Tobirama is very sensitive to pain, please don’t do it again.” The smile he puts on doesn’t comfort anyone.
Madara wipes away Tobirama’s tears with the hem of sleeves as Izuna says his apology. Tobirama nods his acceptance once his tears are wiped dry.
The younger faculty members don’t dare touch Tobirama but do exclaim much about how adorable he is.
Before it could go on any further, Tobirama holds out a chubby hand. “You have tarried enough. We can discuss my situation later. Go on with the agenda.” His small body doesn’t detract from his inherent commanding presence.
With that, the meeting proceeds as is usual with only without Tobirama’s input on his classes since he’d been put in mandatory vacation for the past week. Tobirama doesn’t miss the chance to interrogate his current substitute, Namikaze Minato, about his classes and students though.
None of the faculty members could keep themselves from taking glimpses of the miniaturized Professor Senju throughout the meeting but Tobirama, admirably, doesn’t snap at all.
The meeting is adjourned after a few hours and the younger members of the faculty leave, leaving only Senju and the Uchiha behind.
Hashirama gestures for Tobirama to start. Tobirama starts with what he told Madara earlier, gesturing for Madara to hand him his robes’ sleeves where he pulls out three thick scrolls from a seal with a pulse of magic. Madara’s willing to bet that each of the scrolls is at least fifty feet long. The Senju and the Uzumaki’s reactions are much less explosive, more amused than anything. It’s a testament to how well and how long they’ve known each other. Izuna is as incredulous as Madara had been earlier.
As he hands the scrolls to Mito, Tobirama says, “I am fairly certain that the spell will fade in a day. You can look through my notes for reference, aneue.” He gestures with his short arms at the scrolls.
Mito hums, not at all bothered by the sheer volume of the notes, more than used to Tobirama’s methods by now. “The failsafe should work.” She raises her head to look back at Tobirama. “If the spell doesn’t fade by tomorrow, we’ll figure it out then.”
Everyone voices their agreement without much debate, Tobirama and Mito are the foremost masters of seals and arrays after all.
Then Izuna asks the question, “Who’ll take care of you while you’re all… mini-sized, though?”
“OH—”
Tobirama interrupts Hashirama immediately, “I’ll stay with Madara.” At the sound of a sniffle, Tobirama glares at Hashirama before he could start wailing and crying. It’s clear as day that he will not be willing to put up with his smothering for the remaining hours he will be in his small form.
Seeing as Tobirama won’t budge, Hashirama wilts but accepts with a pout. Madara doesn’t even try to put up a fight.
They leave with Mito finally giving in and giving Tobirama a pat on his cheek along with a brief hug , Touka ruffling his hair—Tobirama gives token resistance but melts into the warm hand in the end—, Izuna tweaking his nose, and Hashirama embraces him.
(Madara had noticed Tobirama’s wince once again when Mito’s arm shifts to his legs. He doesn’t bring it up there. Tobirama would gut him if Madara’s comment would end up with him coddled by Hashirama.)
—
They’re almost done with eating dinner in Madara’s rooms when Madara finally asks, “You kept wincing when someone brushes against your leg, why?”
Tobirama starts opening his mouth to protest but Madara’s insistent gaze makes it clear that he won’t be deterred. He sighs instead. “I was planning on treating them myself.”
“As a fucking toddler?!” Madara says incredulously.
“…Yes?” Tobirama sounds confused.
Madara walks away to get his medical supplies and healing salves before he explodes again. He comes back not long after, starting to treat the deep welts on Tobirama’s calves with gentle hands.
It’s too quiet. He breaks the silence. “How did you even get these?” He gently massages the healing salve onto the wounds.
“I assume the spell reversed me to a certain day where I got punished by one of the elders. Caning was the preferred form of corporal punishment by the clan before Hashirama gave the order to disallow such punishments.” Tobirama says matter-of-factly.
Madara knew those days all too well. They hadn’t been as bad as Tobirama’s, though. Madara’s brows furrow in concern but he doesn’t press further. He opts for a lighter comment instead.
“Itama would have had your head if he wasn’t at that medical conference.”
“Oh shush.”
Not long after, they ready themselves for bed. Tobirama toddles into the bathroom by himself, Madara keeping an ear out just in case.
Madara spells a smaller duplicate of his bed for Tobirama to use as Tobirama prepares for bed, laying Tobirama’s large blue robes just beside it in case Tobirama grew in the middle of the night.
They sleep not long after that.
—
Madara is suddenly woken by small hands shaking him awake in the middle of the night, his room awash with moonlight. His eyes blearily open to see Tobirama insistently shaking him awake with white brows furrowed.
“What is it, Tobirama?” Madara asks, voice rough with sleep.
Tobirama hesitates, bites his lip, but speaks up after a moment. “…Nightmare.”
Madara softens. “Wanna sleep beside me instead?”
“…Yes.” Madara lifts his covers in invitation and Tobirama doesn’t waste any time scurrying in and snuggling into Madara’s side.
He was out like a light within seconds.
Madara huffs out a quiet laugh and follows soon after, falling back into sleep.
—
His bed is dipping with a growing weight beside him.
Madara’s eyes snap open to meet an awake and naked Tobirama back to his original size, small form now large and muscled once again, eyes back to their sharp narrow shape, red tattoos streaking down his lithe body in patterns he still hasn’t deciphered. The only thing saving his modesty is Madara’s bed cover. Heat creeps up his face but he calms himself down before his cheeks self-combust.
At least he manages a comment that doesn’t embarrass both him and his ancestors. “I did not at all expect the man I’ve been courting naked in my bed before the third gift but I can’t say I’m at all disappointed.” His lips pull up into a wild grin after.
“Oh shut up,” Tobirama huffs, grabbing a spare change of clothes from one of his sleeves’ many storage seals in more of a reflex than anything. He puts it on as quickly as he could then nudges at Madara still in his original position. “I’m still tired. Shove over.”
“Far be it from me to keep you from the sleep you always deprive yourself of.” Madara teases, moving to make room for Tobirama’s taller frame in his bed. He gets a pale hand over his mouth for his trouble. It just makes him smile.
To Madara’s surprise, it’s Tobirama who takes initiative and wraps Madara up in his arms. Not that Madara’s complaining, he’s very much comfortable with Tobirama’s hold on him. People would think the water mage would run much cooler but the warmth Madara’s feeling right now very much disproves it. He feels even warmer when he feels a kiss on his forehead and a hand boldly intertwining in his.
It’s a good thing he’s not fully awake or he would have been sure to implode right then and there.
Tobirama shifts into a more comfortable position before he falls back into sleep, Madara following not long after.
They fall asleep mere minutes before the sun rises, Madara a comforting weight on Tobirama’s frame. They don’t wake when the sun greets them through the window, basking in the presence of their beloved, entwined hands warmed by the heat of the sun.