Work Text:
“Who are you?”
The foreign prison was cold, and Tobirama could feel it bleed into his skin through his clothes. He had to admit; he hadn’t expected this to be the outcome of visiting a neighbouring settlement for groceries. However he should have expected it. His brother was involved, after all.
Hashirama had wanted to tag along, and Tobirama had allowed it despite his better judgement. And now, instead of walking home with ripe tomatoes (unlike the tomatoes in the Senju’s latest harvest), he was stuck in a prison cell with an unknown person, most likely a shinobi, a few paces over.
He didn’t want to question the idea of putting two shinobi together. But he also did; whoever had made that decision clearly had a few screws loose. Tobirama had no worries about getting out.
He just had to wait a few hours to get his chakra back, and then he was going to be off on the road to seek out his brother and make sure he understood that Tobirama taught him his chakra concealing technique for a reason.
Tobirama considered replying to the voice. He could potentially get help and escape earlier, however, the voice could also belong to an enemy. After a few seconds of contemplation, he decided to just get it over with. Either he replied or he didn’t, but to not reply might potentially encourage the foreign ninja to approach him from his separate corner of their prison.
“I don’t know,” Tobirama slowly said. He could always fake amnesia. It would play on the shinobi’s morals, perhaps.
It wasn’t the most prideful idea, but it would work in his favour not only because he wouldn’t have to give his name and thus would avoid the consequences of being renowned, but also because it might inspire sympathy.
He would prefer to know he was talking to, but the shinobi was submerged in the dark, just like himself. All he knew was that the shinobi was male, and wore armour that made a harsh noise when knocked against the cold opposite wall.
“You don’t know?”
“No. I can’t remember.” Perhaps his acting had a lot to be desired because the shinobi didn’t sound like he believed him at all.
Armour from the opposite side of the cell knocked, not for the first time, against the wall hollowly. “Really?”
“Really.”
The voice sounded eerily familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
Tobirama shuffled closer to the wall and hugged his legs. Despite his open position, he was on his guard. He knew that the shinobi wouldn’t be able to see him, but the secret to keeping up a lie was to keep it in place even when it seemed like no one was watching.
He didn’t know what the shinobi’s capabilities were, but luckily he seemed to be the sympathetic kind of person; he was assuming since he hadn’t been verbally attacked. Tobirama could use that to his advantage.
“Right.” The voice trailed off, “So are you a shinobi?”
“I think so.”
“Do you remember how to fight?”
“Unfortunately, no. If I were to attempt to do so, I would have to rely primarily on muscle memory.” Tobirama planned on playing defenceless until an opportunity arose for him to act on his capabilities.
“That sucks,” The shinobi bluntly said, and Tobirama was eerily reminded of his brother.
“My apologies, shinobi-san.”
“Shinobi-sama, actually,” He said. Tobirama did his best to not tense. Either the shinobi believed himself to have a sense of humour, or he was a shinobi of high status. He had no choice but to play along, unfortunately. Defenceless shinobi didn’t question others on things like that. Tobirama only hoped that he didn’t eventually recognise the shinobi as an enemy if he truly were high-status.
“Ah, yes. Shinobi-sama.” It was humiliating to bow his head like this, but he had his own interests at heart. He had to prolong anonymity for as long as possible.
“And nice to meet you, shinobi-chan.” Shinobi-chan?! “So, can you think of a way out of here?”
“...No.”
And even if he did, after that remark, there was little chance of him helping the other out.
“Great. Do you also have cuffs?”
Tobirama blinked. “No.”
Interesting.
So the shinobi was deemed to be important enough for chakra-suppressants, but not himself.
He considered the idea that their captors only had one pair of chakra-suppressing cuffs. It seemed likely. Despite Tobirama’s chakra exhaustion, he was a strong enemy. If their enemies had more than a singular pair, without a doubt they would use one on himself.
So they must’ve just had one. And since the other shinobi had it, their captors evidently believed them to be the bigger threat. Interesting.
Interesting, but not good.
“Hm. Come over here.”
Tobirama frowned.
“Well?” The shinobi pressed, “If we’re going to get out of here, I need to have these cuffs off.”
“I’m unsure as to whether that’s a good idea.”
“I’m sure you’re unsure of a lot of things, being an amnesiac. Come over here.”
He didn’t even bother to consider it. A stronger shinobi and potential enemy being freed? Not happening.
Tobirama had fatigue clinging to his limbs, a significant effect of chakra exhaustion, but he could push past it. No, Tobirama didn’t need to help the shinobi at all.
Unless, of course, he wanted to leave early.
And he did.
But that was before he realised that the shinobi was deemed a bigger threat than him. Rules of self-preservation dictated he should lie low and wait for an opportunity to escape by himself.
“I don’t think I will,” Tobirama said to the pitch-black cell.
“So you’d rather be stuck here, then?”
“Yes.”
The shinobi groaned. “Come on, I’m going to get out of these anyway!”
“Do that.”
Admittedly, he wasn't the best at lying low.
“Fine!”
That was fast. Tobirama squinted at the other side of the cell. His eyes had adjusted enough for him to see a very faint outline of a sandal. His eyesight, as a result of his albinism, was bad. But it was alright enough. The shinobi gruffly settled back, and Tobirama noticed his sandal move closer to the opposite wall as he adjusted himself.
“If you were a part of my clan,” The shinobi said, “I’d move you down a rank for this.”
“So I’m not?” Tobirama asked, still playing his role.
“No, I’d recognise you if you were. Your voice, anyway, I can’t see anything in this damned place.”
“You know a lot of people in your clan?”
“I’m the head. It’s expected.”
Well shit.
And funny, that. Hashirama was nearly the head of their clan, and yet he constantly forgot names. Sometimes when he forgot the name of shinobi, he made his own name up for them. Whoever was talking to him seemed like a more capable leader than his brother would be. He wondered how old the shinobi was.
He should be playing the role of a curious amnesiac, he realised after a moment of being lost in his thoughts. He ought to be asking the man things, for fear of being found out.
And asking questions was also good for getting information; which was clearly needed.
“I see.” He paused and deliberated. And then, “Do your civilians respect you?”
“What kind of question is that?” The man barked a quick laugh, and Tobirama immediately froze. “I pay their wages, they’d better respect me!”
Madara.
He was talking to Uchiha Madara. He would recognise that laugh anywhere.
Shit.
He had to escape before Madara realised who he was. Luckily Madara had the chakra cuffs on, but Tobirama wasn’t naive enough to think that those alone would make Tobirama a winner in battle. No wonder he wasn’t given the cuffs.
Indeed, it would be best if he escaped.
Or.
Or, he could kill Madara.
It wouldn’t be an honourable win, but after years of cousins turning up dead on his doorstep, he was past the point of respecting the idea of ‘honour.’ Hashirama would hate him for it, but Tobirama had his own values to respect. He could hide his crimes if he needed to. He had his own values, and that included looking out for his clan. He would destroy his name for his clan’s benefit.
And he would destroy Madara too.
However, he couldn’t approach the task brashly. Madara, as the admittedly stronger warrior, would be able to easily beat him in a fair fight.
‘Fair’ being the key word there.
Tobirama’s instincts had done him well, with the fake amnesia. He only had to paint it on thick for a while longer, before finding a kunai and striking him through.
He had to account for the Uchiha’s eyesight, however. Madara, once freed or once his eyes adjusted, would soon see who he was. No doubt Madara would be inclined to follow the same thoughtful path that Tobirama had. Murder was a key practice of shinobi, and Madara was one of the most murderous of all.
“So. You ever tried dango?
Tobirama face-faulted.
Madara kept talking as if Tobirama had replied, “Well, I guess you wouldn’t remember. But you should know, it’s fantastic food. They sell it in the village I was caught up in. They didn’t even take me off guard, you know, or fight me to get me here. Izuna — my brother — was having a spat with me and tied me up and tossed me over a bridge. Thankfully one without a river under it. Long story short, that’s why I’m here.”
“What.”
“And I didn’t even get dango in the end!” Madara complained to, to his knowledge, was a stranger. Tobirama stared in his direction in befuddlement.
“He threw you over a bridge? And then let you be captured by bounty hunters?” And he just told Tobirama that, with no hesitation or secrecy?
“These shinobi are bounty hunters?”
Tobirama slowly blinked, thinking quickly to cover his mistake. “It’s a reasonable assumption to make.”
“Perhaps,” Madara drew out slowly. “That would mean that you have a bounty too. Tell me, what do you look like?”
A dilemma arose. To explain truthfully would easily allow Madara to identify him, sooner than when he wanted. However, to not say anything would be seen as suspicious. What to do?
“I have white hair,” He settled for eventually. “But I can’t remember my eye colour.”
“White hair, eh? Maybe a Hatake… Not a very good identifier.”
“My sincerest apologies.”
Madara cackled loudly.
Amid his laughing, Toburama interrupted. “Do you have any weapons on you?”
“I do. But you’ll have to free me to see it.”
“‘It’?”
“Izuna took my gunbai, but I do have a kunai. Come over here and get it,” He taunted.
Tobirama frowned and settled back even more. He wasn’t too sure why Madara was being so... lax, around him, but he could only assume that Madara was confident in his own safety and strength, and fairly, too. It was annoying. Tobirama wished he had enough chakra for a henge. This would get dangerous fast. As the minutes progressed, his eyesight only got better, which meant that Madara’s was doing the same.
“I would prefer not to.”
Madara snorted, “Come on! We both don’t want to be imprisoned for more than we have to be.”
“Your imprisonment is hardly an issue of mine. I will free myself when the time comes.”
“Interesting — ah... oh.” His voice suddenly became sharp and piercing. “You.”
Shit.
He’d figured it out.
All of Tobirama’s lies were suddenly under immense scrutiny. No doubt Madara could free himself if he truly cared enough to do so, and by the sound of things, this new development had gifted him that care. All Tobirama could do at the moment was play up the amnesia, and hope that Madara was amused enough to not proceed to violence. Or sympathetic, although unlikely. Even if it was concealed, Madara had his chakra and Tobirama didn’t. That didn’t speak well for his chances.
He needed sympathy.
And if Madara was as stupid as his brother, then maybe he’d get it.
“Who?”
“Tobirama Senju.” The name was said bitingly, and Tobirama did his best to not grit his teeth or roll his eyes in response.
“Ah.”
“‘Ah?’” Madara hissed, “You’re — you’ve really lost your memory then, have you? Did you? You just wanted me to let down my guard!” There was a clinking noise as if he was struggling against chains. As seconds passed, Tobirama couldn’t help but realise that maybe Madara couldn’t get out of them easily after all.
“I have. So, you know me?”
“Yes, I know you!”
It was starting to be amusing. Tobirama rested his head on his hand, knowing that Madara could fully see him now. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to see his face in return. But he could imagine it. The image, for whatever reason, made him want to laugh. With the trepidation in his gut, it made an unholy combination.
“I see.”
“I see? You’ve fought against my family for generations!”
“With reason, no doubt.”
“Like you would know,” Madara said sharply. “Once I get out of here, I’ll strike you through!”
“You will, will you?”
“Even without memory, you're infuriating.”
“My apologies.”
Madara scoffed. “Fuck you.”
“Only if you watch.”
Tobirama smirked openly and revelled in the dumbfounded silence that his words had earned him.
“Shut up,” Madara spluttered.
Tobirama thought over that, rose to his feet, and trudged over. A few steps towards Madara allowed Tobirama his full view. Tobirama debated shamelessly leaning down and trying to find the kunai Madara had — his cover was blown, yet he hadn’t been attacked. That could only mean that the cuffs were competent enough to actually hold the man. Either that or the amnesia act had truly inspired actually sympathy. Tobirama would be safe in his pursuit.
Madara sat, glaring up at him. Tobirama held back his own. “I’ll be taking your kunai,” Tobirama said simply. “Where is it?”
“You won’t find it!”
“I will.” Tobirama crouched and avoided Madara’s pointed glare as he started to look over him for any hidden pockets. As he progressed to pat his arms, Madara’s hands, still in the cuffs, grabbed his wrists tightly. Tobirama halted and tried to yank his arms back, but Madara held him in place.
“No, you won’t,” Madara said simply, with no tone in his voice. “You don’t stand a chance against me.”
Tobirama tried to yank his hands back, but Madara’s grip held firm. Tobirama scowled freely, wrists turning white. Unfortunately, Madara’s assessment was true. Madara vastly outmatched him, and it was infuriating.
His attempts to steal from him were misguided. Even bound, he was strong.
Madara’s hostile look vanished in the face of Tobirama’s badly concealed annoyance, and a cocky smirk overtook his face. “So,” Madara said smugly, “We should escape then, shall we? You’ll help, lest you wish to die.”
“If you could kill me,” Tobirama replied, “You would also be able to escape. You’re relying on me; I have the upper hand.”
“You may believe that as much as you’d like, Senju scum.”
Madara smiled wider. Tobirama angled his knee and drove it into his side, but the armour protected him from any damage. Madara’s grin looked mad, and Tobirama scoffed and leaned back. Due to the harsh grip, he wasn’t able to lean too far back.
“Deny the truth as much as you’d like.”
“It is not truth. I could kill you at any moment, chakra or not. I could kill you right now. You’ll help me, and I’ll let you go. I’m an Uchiha, and thus virtuous.”
Virtuous? Ridiculous. A cocky idiot more like.
But his threat was true to form. Tobirama’s amnesiac act must have succeeded in earning a limited amount of respect; if he wanted to survive, chances were he’d have to stick to it until out of deep water.
“Fine,” Tobirama grumbled. He’d strike when he had the chance, but for the moment he had to act like he was weak. It was humiliating.
“Great! Now, release these handcuffs.”
He stared blankly.
Madara paused, and then let go of his wrists and helpfully pointed his nose to a pocket on his thigh partially concealed by his red armour. “The kunai is in there.”
“I do hope that the kunai truly is in that pocket and that you’re not attempting to seduce me.”
Madara’s face burned red. “Shut — shut the hell up, bastard!”
So perhaps there was another way to undermine the Uchiha; he was prone to flirtatious comments.
Tobirama would use that fact fantastically. Tobirama smirked, and it only got wider when he noticed how Madara’s face flared a brighter red.
Tobirama retrieved the kunai under a heavy glare and eventually held it in his hand an arm length away from Madara. He was just about to strike a deal so he wouldn’t be struck down after helping when a fantastic idea came to mind —
“So shinobi-sama,” Tobirama said, because he wasn’t meant to know Madara’s name, “Are we perhaps courting?”
At that, even Madara’s ears went bright red. His shoulders raised defensively, and broken sounds escaped his mouth. He swallowed twice, and all the while Tobirama revelled in his own composure.
“No!” Madara hissed, “We’re not! Why on earth would you…? We’re not courting! We’re enemies.”
“Romantic,” He deadpanned.
“No, it’s not! Shut up and give me the kunai.”
“How cruel, to speak this way to an amnesiac.”
Madara clenched and unclenched his fists. “You’d better be glad you are, else you’d already be struck through the chest. As an Uchiha, I know mercy — unlike you. Hand it over.”
Tobirama didn’t laugh, but he wanted to. As an Uchiha, I’m an Uchiha — Ridiculous.
Tobirama held the kunai whilst Madara was shackled down. He did not want to hand it over in the slightest, and even less at his words. What a horrific claim to make, when his brother had been killed by adult Uchiha’s. No, Uchiha’s did not know mercy.
“Scum, hand it over, else you’ll be killed.”
Tobirama bristled. “I’d rather be killed than answer to a name like that.”
Madara glared into his eyes.
Tobirama glared back.
“Fine,” Madara said shortly, anger twisting his features. “Darling.”
Tobirama coughed so hard that a tear almost came to his eye. What the hell. What the hell? What the hell. That wasn’t meant to happen. Why the ever-loving hell would Madara say that?
When he came back to life, he noticed Madara’s lip twitching. Now that wouldn’t do.
“I thought you said we weren’t courting, my love?” The sentence made even himself shudder, but he stuck with it anyway. Madara blanched.
“Whatever will make you hand the kunai over faster, sweetie.” Tobirama coughed.
He frowned down at Madara, who looked just as in pain as Tobirama felt, and let the kunai fly forward. But Madara caught it.
Tobirama scowled but didn’t feel too surprised. The two cuffs fell to the ground seconds later.
“I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d actually help me.”
Yeah, neither did he.
He’d meant to kill him. Unfortunately, chakra exhaustion had the extra side effect of giving him terrible aim and weak limbs. Tobirama took a long stride back, but before he could get too far, a large hand held his wrist tightly.
“And where are you off to?”
Tobirama scowled. “Away.”
“We agreed to escape together,” He said. Tobirama scoffed. Did they really?
“I don’t need your help.”
Madara breathed in sharply. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, honeybun.” Tobirama’s face twitched. “You’re a Senju with amnesia, of course you need help. And since I have honour, I might even let you go without killing you.”
He didn’t know why he said it, but, “Because we’re courting?”
“We're not courting!” His face was scarlet.
Tobirama grinned. He was starting to believe Madara, oddly enough. Despite his better judgement. If he hadn’t been killed already, then logic dictated that he truly wasn’t going to be killed by the man. And that he was just a flustered idiot.
But of course, he had once befriended Anija. So was it too surprising?
“I’m curious about how you’re planning to escape,” Tobirama said. “Are you going to use that kunai to dig us out?”
Madara regained his composure and scoffed in disapproval. “That would take weeks! Unlike you, Senju, I’m completely rational. I have a better solution.”
He raised his hands and started signing. An earth jutsu proceeded to decimate all four walls surrounding them, causing catastrophic damage and sound; successfully drawing all attention to them. The two men made eye contact atop a pile of dust.
“Rational,” Tobirama said slowly.
“Hey!” Madara yelled, even as a siren loudly filled the air. “Don’t say I’m irrational when you’re the idiot who assumes that the person they’re trapped in prison with is their lover!”
Tobirama deadpanned. “Oh no, you’re not? That’s a shame.”
"I already said I'm not!"
Madara’s hand yanked him in a specific direction and together they leapt through the trees. Tobirama didn’t have the slightest clue why he was following the man, especially as they were enemies.
Madara opened his mouth, no doubt ready to fire another angry response when his eyes saw something behind them. His hands flung out and pulled Tobirama close — they narrowly avoided shuriken in the back.
Tobirama stared at Madara, flabbergasted, from his place in his arms.
What?
Before he could question it, another row of shuriken flew towards them. Tobirama caught some out of the air and threw them back, and one he pocketed. Madara constructed an earth wall that hid them from sight and stopped more weapons in their path. Then, he pulled on Tobirama’s arm and lead him further away.
Tobirama knew that following Madara was a bad — no, a terrible — idea, but unfortunately, without any chakra he was alike a sitting duck with or without him.
And for once in his life, he had a better chance of surviving with than without him.
He didn’t know what his life was.
They fled their pursuers, all the whilst Madara flung jutsu, along with genjutsu, behind them. Tobirama returned the occasional thrown weapon. He did his best to not look at Madara’s eyes; in a way that seemed unpurposeful.
An hour later, they found themselves hiding in a cave together whilst panting. It looked to be safe, so they retreated deeper inside.
“I’m going to kill Izuna when I get home,” Madara grumbled. “All I wanted was weapons.”
“I thought you said dango, lover of mine.”
Madara grimaced, even as his neck tinted pink. “I thought your memory was meant to be bad. Forget I said that.” He kneeled onto the cave floor and started gathering sticks discarded from the trees outside.
Tobirama smiled. “No.”
Madara looked very close to popping a vein, until he turned around from the fire he was starting, and caught the smile on his face. Madara faltered in his actions and stared.
“You can smile.” Madara swallowed. “I thought it was impossible.”
Tobirama immediately quit it.
It was odd that Madara hadn't left yet. Now that they’d safely escaped, it would be reasonable to leave Tobirama to fend for himself. The Uchiha had upheld the mercy he’d promised already, somehow. Tobirama hadn’t believed he would.
But then again.
Tobirama remembered him destroying the prison.
But then again, Madara was not one for reason.
Tobirama stretched his back muscles and politely pretended he didn’t notice Madara’s staring. He dug into one of the many pouches hidden in his clothes and retrieved a brush. With ink found in another pocket, he drew up a seal array upon the floor and sat back.
“Could you put chakra into that?”
Madara raised his eyebrows. But, since he was an idiot, did what Tobirama requested without challenge.
Like Tobirama expected, a pack appeared with a bed scroll and other necessities. The sky outside was turning dark, and they’d have to settle down soon. Madara gaped at the supplies.
“How did you…?”
“Muscle memory,” He lied shamelessly, “I have most likely painted this seal enough times.” Muscle memory, and a personalised pocket dimension. And not muscle memory at all.
Tobirama set the bed scroll up and laid a blanket over it.
He carefully didn’t show his back to Madara. A fragile bond of trust had been built up between the two of them, but he did not trust him as far as he could throw him. Which, as he was currently exhausted, not very far.
He had little option but to trust the Uchiha. He’d already tried murder, so this was the next thing on the list. Madara really did, oddly enough, appear to have honour. As long as Tobirama faked amnesia, he was safe.
Tobirama was aware that the only thing getting him through this was the fact that Madara was a fool. And he was also aware that the flirting was very entertaining. It was like seeing a kitten get riled up.
A fire was soon crackling, and the two men settled down in front of it.
“I don’t suppose you have another bedroll somewhere, do you?”
No, he didn’t. Most Senju knew enough about sealing to carry around their own.
Madara sighed at the blank look on his face. “I thought so.”
Tobirama blinked, then a devious idea came to his head. “We can share.”
“Yes we can — what? What do you mean we can share? There’s no way I’m sharing with you!”
Just like a kitten.
Tobirama smirked and took great pride in how that made Madara lean back. Madara’s eyes were darting all over the place, yet he wasn’t running away. Or turning his head. And for some reason, that made Tobirama feel smug.
“Ah,” He said, “But if you don’t, you’ll be cold.”
“Uchiha’s run hot.”
“Indeed they do.”
Madara made a strangled noise. “When you get your memory back…!”
Tobirama couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. Madara sniffed huffily and edged back, carefully avoiding eye contact. That, of course, encouraged Tobirama to laugh louder. The situation was just so ridiculous.
“If it makes you feel better,” Tobirama said when he’d calmed down, “I get cold at night. So you’d be helping me as much as I’d be helping you.”
And that did seem to make him feel better, as he turned back around to meet eyes again. Tobirama did his best not to flinch back.
“Okay,” Madara muttered petulantly. “Fine.”
Someway or another, it seemed like Tobirama had taken an authoritative position despite his apparent disposition. Madara respected him in some way, or perhaps he was just flustered enough to be embarrassed and allowed him respect out of that. Either way, Tobirama was treated well; better than he’d have ever believed.
They did not eat that night. Madara didn’t hunt. He feared what Tobirama would get up to if he was alone, and Tobirama didn’t hunt because he didn’t feel like it. He’d packed pills.
And when the sun was completely down, the two climbed into the bed together. They faced different directions, while their backs pressed against each other. Madara’s armour lay a few feet away, and seal arrays placed whilst Madara wasn’t looking guarded them from the open air. They were hidden well.
“So, Tobirama.”
Tobirama hummed.
“What do you think about a village between two opposing clans?”
Seriously?
They were in bed together and Madara wanted to talk about Hashirama and his village? Tobirama admittedly hadn’t planned to sleep, as that was impossible with Uchiha Madara in proximity. But he hadn’t planned for small talk either.
And he couldn’t exactly default to saying ‘whatever Hashirama wants,’ because he wasn’t meant to know Hashirama. He found himself in a dilemma.
“I have no opinion,” He replied eventually.
Madara hummed, but let it rest.
Madara’s back was incredibly firm and well-built. And, as he’d said, he did burn hot. Tobirama subtly inched closer, enough to hear him breathe, and tried not to laugh at how Madara’s breathing hitched.
“I can feel your shoulders shaking, bastard.”
Tobirama snorted in response.
Madara’s grumbling continued for a while. Tobirama could make out a few words; most of them were insults. But he didn’t feel threatened by him at all. He hadn’t felt threatened for a while. When had that happened?
Tobirama stayed awake, even as Madara’s grumbling eventually merged into snores.
By some way or another, Tobirama found himself pulled against Madara’s chest. Muscled arms pulled him close to his ribs, and he could feel Madara’s heart beating.
But he didn’t move, because it was best to preserve warmth. It was a cold night, and eerily silent; for better or worse, being hugged by Madara seemed to be his best option. It was… logical, to stay. For even if Madara did act like a kitten, he was also useful as a shield while Tobirama waited for his chakra to return.
And his chakra was indeed returning. Slowly. Bit by bit. And it was just enough to sense his surroundings in a large radius; the village they had both been in was three hours away by foot, and the closest shinobi or person was just as far. Their pursuers had given up; which was fair, seeing as Uchiha Madara was one of their targets, and him the other.
In his head, he came out with numerous ways to come out of the situation unscathed. Interestingly enough, seduction was an option. He eyed Madara’s peaceful expression, and couldn’t help but think that it would be easy.
The sun rose outside, and light crept in shyly from the cave entrance. Madara snuggled deeply into his side. As it slowly became morning, he threaded his hands through Madara’s hair.
Admittedly, it was not the safest manoeuvre to make. But it looked tempting to touch; hours awake in a mildly stressful position made sure he needed some form of escape and braiding Madara’s hair was the solution to his problems.
Madara rose with the sun. As soon as the first three braids were completed, Madara’s eyes fluttered open. But he stayed in position. Tobirama didn’t blink.
Madara made a confused yet satisfied humming noise. “…Izuna?”
“Guess again, buttercup.”
Tobirama was shoved to the side as Madara scrambled to his feet.
“Bastard! You — how — I swear to the blessed, Tobirama, I’m going to kill you. Stop laughing.”
He laughed harder.
“One day, mark my words…!” He furiously blushed and glared.
Tobirama opened his mouth, ready to give a cocky response when he froze in his tracks at the familiar feeling emitting from Madara’s aura. It was the same feeling that couples typically emitted in proximity. And yet that didn’t make sense. Tobirama closed his mouth and scrutinised Madara harshly.
“What?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Weirdo. Well… I’m going to catch breakfast, so you should clean up and get the fire going again.”
Madara trudged off, all the while Tobirama stared after his figure.
“Have fun, Madara.”
He got flipped off.
He came back with six fish to a bustling fire and clean cave. Tobirama tried to hide his delight at seeing the fish, but Madara must’ve sensed it, as he was smirking when he passed half over to him to prepare.
Together they silently gutted and prepared them with both Madara’s singular kunai and the shuriken Tobirama had pocketed earlier. Soon enough, all fish were roasting above the fire on sticks.
Madara stood up to collect some extra sticks to the fire — because it wasn’t good enough for him apparently — as well as some leaves to be used for plates, and exited the cave. Tobirama tended to the fish.
He was still surprised at the temporary truce. Madara hadn’t moved to take his life, and Tobirama hadn’t felt the urge to do so in return for a while. Hopefully, Hashirama would never find out about this. Tobirama sighed and leaned forward to move a fish away from a dying ember when Madara’s voice lowly spoke from behind him.
“You haven’t lost your memory, have you? Or you have, but you’ve gained it back.”
It was said confidently and lowly. It was clear he did not doubt what the truth was. Tobirama swallowed and turned around to look at him — to his surprise, Madara didn’t look like he was preparing for an attack. Despite his confident demeanour and tone, he looked oddly nervous.
Fuck.
Chills went down his spine. “I have never lost it,” He agreed after a short moment of hesitation. “How did you figure it out?”
“You called me ‘Madara.’ I haven’t told you my name yet.”
“…Should've stuck with the pet names.”
Any thread of sympathy Madara must’ve been maintaining snapped.
And in a blink, two strong arms were pinning him to the cold cave floor. Madara’s dark eyes glared at him from above. Tobirama’s arms were pinned beside his head, and his chin was pointed upwards, almost defiantly. Madara’s knees boxed his legs in.
“You’re confident, aren’t you Tobirama? I’ll give you that.”
Tobirama, despite all factors indicating that he should be on the offensive or else readying a kunai (or a singular shuriken), didn’t feel threatened at all. And how could he be, when Madara’s chakra was stubbornly emitting that same feeling from before?
Because it was attraction. Somehow, Madara was attracted to him. Even if he was maintaining a perfect glare, Tobirama could see behind it.
“You like it.”
“And flirtatious.”
“Well, it’s working,” Tobirama deadpanned.
He didn’t say anything in response — it clearly wasn’t a denial. “You’re intelligent,” Madara said after a short pause. “And a devout Senju. I don’t understand why you haven’t attempted to kill me already. Killing me could mean the end of the war, in your favour. Why is it that you haven’t made a serious attempt?”
Madara glared when it was clear there was no immediate response in the making.
How could Tobirama respond, when there was no clear answer to even himself? Because it was true; Tobirama was a loyal Senju, and if Hashirama wasn’t here then it would be easy to pass off murder as either an accident or an act done by enemies. And yet he hadn’t tried seriously, save the lone attempt back in the cell.
“Perhaps I’m just a kind person.”
Madara paused, then cackled. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said so far.”
The stone felt cold against his back, and Madara’s armour chafed against his skin. They weren’t in a very comfortable position; but he did appreciate the view.
“I suppose that answer doesn’t meet your expectations. How about this; maybe I would feel bad hurting a hair on your,” He tried not to laugh, “Pretty head.”
He immediately started spluttering. “I — you — how — you —”
Tobirama felt particularly hot from the flames nearby. “While you get over that, the fish are burning.”
Madara swore and jumped to his feet — once again displaying a peculiar show of trust — and fled to tend to the meal.
Indeed, it was clear that both of them were showing trust in the other, even when they should have been at each other’s throats. Madara was right to be confused; Tobirama was, too. Although his confusion was rooted in a slightly different issue, and that was because he knew why Madara didn’t wish to attack him.
It was because he was genuinely attracted to Tobirama. And Tobirama didn’t know why.
Madara fretted over the fish while Tobirama sat back up and leaned on his hands silently.
What had endeared Tobirama to Madara?
Madara stared at Tobirama from across the fire.
Tobirama wrote an equation for a new seal down in a spare scroll. Now that there was no need for secrecy, he could do his hobbies out in the open.
Madara started glaring.
Tobirama absently took a bite out of a fish and eyed the problem carefully. His ink brush dotted a few i’s, and he sat back to look over it once more.
“We’ll leave in an hour.”
He looked up and noticed Madara crossing his arms petulantly over his chest. His armour was once more fully adorned — when had that happened? Tobirama packed up his work and raised an eyebrow carefully. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Madara sniffed. “I have a little brother who needs to taste dirt. We can’t stay here under a truce forever.”
Tobirama took another bite out of his fish. “Why not?”
Madara choked on his mouthful and spiked up like an angry cat. “Hey! You said you’d stop flirting!”
“I can’t recall ever saying that.”
“Yes, well — you don’t need to anymore.”
Tobirama snorted. He rolled up onto his feet and walked over to Madara’s spot on the opposite side of the fire. It was interesting to see him turn a brighter shade of red with every step in his direction.
He squatted by Madara’s side and revelled in the pleasant feelings that emitted from Madara’s chakra signature. Tobirama casually leaned his chin on one hand and blankly stared. “Ah, but it’s too amusing to stop.”
Madara gawked. “Hey! I could beat you in a fight, you know!”
“Yet you haven’t attempted to fight me. I wonder why that is.”
Madara leaned back on his hands, and his fish lay forgotten on a leaf. He was looking everywhere but at Tobirama.
Tobirama noticed the braids he’d put in Madara’s hair earlier were still there. Curiously, he reached out and played with one with his spare hand. Madara didn’t stop him. Madara’s fingers fidgeted with his sandals while Tobirama lightly tugged on the soft black hair.
“Asshole,” Madara cursed at him. Yet he didn’t move.
Tobirama smirked, but let up. He stretched his back and rose to his feet, before retreating to his own abandoned breakfast. All the while Madara didn’t look at him, too busy being flustered.
Later, they set off.
“Let’s stop here,” Madara said and pointed to yet another cave, covered in ivy.
Tobirama raised his eyebrows and paused in the trees. They didn’t have long to travel; he didn’t understand why they stopped. “Don’t want to leave me so soon?” He deadpanned.
“Don’t say things like that with a blank face! It’s creepy.” Madara landed before the cave and leaned in to inspect it. The cave was shallow, so it didn’t take long for him to report that it was safe to occupy for the time being.
He tried his best not to chuckle. “My sincere apologies, honey-muffin.”
“Shut — shut up!”
“But why is it that you would like to break? Are you tired?” Tobirama turned his back to Madara and inspected the scenery.
They were surrounded by trees and mossy rocks. He could feel a large array of chakra signatures nearby, including both Madara’s brother and Hashirama’s. Madara and Tobirama were standing amid a rather peaceful setting; but it was still curious that they were there, rather than still running.
Tobirama hummed and continued to inspect the trees.
Madara snorted. “Ha! As if. I rarely get tired unless I’m fighting with your beast of a brother.”
“Oh? That’s good.”
“Be quiet.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You implied something dirty! I know you did, you bastard.”
Tobirama smirked. “‘Something dirty,’ hm?” But really, why were they stopping? Tobirama expanded his senses; maybe Madara had sensed something he hadn’t. But like thought, he soon turned up empty.
There were no threats in the area. Unless a large anthill counted as a threat; unlikely.
“Something has been on my mind.”
Tobirama frowned. “Hm?”
“Back when we were imprisoned, you tried to stab me with that kunai. But you weren’t trying, were you? You’re a capable shinobi; you wouldn’t attack someone like me head-on if you were trying. So Tobirama, I think there’s a possibility that, maybe…”
He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe?”
Admittedly, he fancied Madara — and he was half convinced that this stop was a ploy of his to reveal it.
“Well, you know! You weren’t trying. And, and lately… Don’t think I haven’t noticed your flirting! I haven’t heard any rumours about you doing that with anyone before; it’s said that you never do seduction missions. So that must mean that you like me!”
He was very careful not to turn around. Actually, he was debating escaping.
Yes, he fancied Madara. But how could he not, when he was so strong and unflappable on the battlefield? And outside, he was like — like that!
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” He lied futilely.
“Yes, and I suppose that’s why you’re not looking at me.”
Well.
Madara leapt forward and spun his shoulders around. Then, before he could blink, Madara’s lips fastened over his. Tobirama made an embarrassing noise, before his shoulders relaxed and he sunk into it. A few moments passed, the only sounds around being their beating hearts and the bustling sound of peaceful wind.
Madara’s lips separated with a wet smack, and he glared into Tobirama’s eyes, red meeting red. “You insufferable asshole,” He chided. He kissed him again and then separated once more — “You’re annoying, you know that?”
Tobirama moved so that Madara was kissing the side of his mouth. “I’ve been told once or twice.”
“Not surprised. Fucker.”
They fiercely kissed under the light of the morning sun.
“Ah,” Tobirama said to the side. “So you stopped here so you could kiss me?”
Madara separated and glared at him. “Well, you weren’t going to do it!” His pinched expression was incredibly amusing.
“Well,” He said. Perhaps one day he would have.
“You take too long, love.” Madara leaned forward and they joined lips again.