Unchained
Talking about letters somehow wanders into talking about art again, so when Moreya-san brings Kiso-kun back for dinner Izuna is regaling him with an account of a mission where she spent two weeks playing decoy in a ryokan in a famous resort town, painting portraits of other guests and the staff –in… variously decent states of dress– as the rest of her squad carried out a range of thefts, impersonations and sabotage goals in the background. There are even paintings to go with the story; Tobirama isn't sure whether he should be amused or concerned that Izuna remembers all her subjects' names even two years on, or that most of these people are either very rich, titled nobility or both. Is her memory for others better than his, or does her bloodline allow her to remember things heard as well as seen? Tobirama knows he's not the best at faces, but he compensates with his chakra sense, his nose –people do truly all have different scents, even aside from perfumes and soaps– and his hearing to pinpoint identities even years later.
Or perhaps the concern is that all these people think Izuna's a man, yet a lot of otherwise respectable ladies were apparently fine with taking off their clothes in private and letting a presumably-male shinobi paint them true to life. That has implications, given Izuna's reputation.
"How many noble ladies are you on first-name terms with anyway?"
Izuna grins. "A lot of them," she confides cheerfully. "A couple of these ladies have married since I painted them; I think they wanted the illusion of adventure before having to set aside their furisode and become respectable matrons."
"And their idea of adventure was to strip naked for a shinobi nobleman with a perilously promiscuous reputation and let him paint them from life, said maidenly furisode artistically draped across the floor around them?" And slightly over their bodies in some cases, but that hardly makes the resulting paintings any more decent. Or the setting less scandalous. He almost has to wonder whether any of Izuna's escapades have made it into the pillow book Tōka took with her when she left.
Izuna chuckles. "Evidently, yes."
"Does your father know about these?"
"They weren't mission relevant." So no, Tajima does not. "Also, they're private." So her brothers likely don't know about them either.
"Yet you are showing me," Tobirama notes.
"I was asked to keep these," Izuna says mildly, "and a few of the ladies in question actually said, 'for you own enjoyment'. You're my concubine; it's not inappropriate for me to share them."
Tobirama wonders what kind of marriages those women were expecting to end up in, that they wanted someone they believed to be a nobleman of about their own age to use indecent art of them as fantasy material. He also really has to wonder what Izuna's reputation looks like from a Courtly angle, because the impression he is getting is that the rampant promiscuity is somehow considered less scandalously inappropriate than it should be. He must be missing something here, but it's not the first time the sensibilities of the nobility have surprised him and probably won't be the last either.
"How did these young ladies' families take these liberties?" He asks.
Izuna grins. "Who says they found out?" She asks mischievously. "There was a veritable conspiracy of young noblewomen in the ryokan over that fortnight, and their maids were all too happy to supervise and assure their employers that not once did I lay a hand on their mistresses in a less than appropriately respectful manner."
"Oh I'm sure you were very respectful as they whimpered their way to peak under your fingers," Tobirama says sardonically, huffing and rolling his eyes as his wife giggles behind her sleeves. The paintings are very good… but some of the poses have a languid look which he can now accurately identify as post-coital lassitude.
"Does my Treasure also wish to be so painted?" Izuna asks teasingly. "Or would he prefer to be the one holding the brush?"
The idea of Izuna painting him is not unpleasant, although he is not particularly moved by the thought of being naked, half-naked or even slightly suggestively exposed for it. However the idea of Izuna laying herself out for him to paint is… something. Definitely something. "I thought I wasn't allowed brush and ink."
"I'd be supervising you," Izuna says sweetly. "You couldn't possibly get up to dangerous levels of mischief while supervised." The implication being, that Izuna believes he can slide a certain level of mischief past her regardless. Tobirama tries not to be flattered; he is thoroughly caged, so any mischief he accomplishes will certainly be minor and possibly even accidental.
"My wife would let me paint her for my own enjoyment? So I can feel a little less lonely when she is away from home?"
"Would it please my concubine to do so?" Izuna asks coyly.
Tobirama can admit he's perhaps not as fluent an artist as Izuna evidently is –her freehand ink-work is superb– but given pencils and enough time he can produce a strong likeness to go over in ink for permanence's sake. Realism has always been the goal, not the elegantly suggestive simplicity of some of these ink paintings –some monochrome, others coloured, some intricately detailed, others left partly to the imagination– but that's because he learned drawing as a shinobi skill, not a noble pastime.
"I would enjoy use of ink and paper when my wife is present," he says honestly, "both to paint her and for ease in taking notes on other subjects."
"That should not be too much trouble, Treasure."
He isn't quite sure if he believes it –how can it be that easy– but he smiles gratefully at her as Kiso dashes in from the genkan and throws himself over Tobirama's lab, babbling semi-incomprehensibly about his afternoon.
He's not going to get his hopes up. But it would be nice, to be allowed ink.
Madara and Hikaku arrive not long after dinner, which makes it rather more challenging to get Kiso-kun into bed, given the evidence of entertaining evening activities the toddler is being forced to miss out on. Tōnari-ba however proves her worth yet again, taking over with promises of bedtime stories and a wink at Izuna as she herds the boy into Izuna's bedroom.
Tobirama's bedroom now has a futon in it, stiff and new-smelling but covered in familiar sheets to offset the equally new blankets. Izuna assures him that all the bedding from the night of the assassination attempt has been burnt, which is a great relief, but it is equally nice to have his other sheets returned.
"So why are we drinking when Izuna can't drink?" Hikaku asks dryly once Kiso has been tucked in, kissed and Tōnari has settled into story-time behind the closed fusuma. One of the Hatake bedtime ones that were staples of his own childhood, going by what drifts through the wall panels.
"I will be drinking, just not alcohol," Izuna replies mildly. "And while I have shōchū for you gentlemen, I will be drinking my liquor-less plum. And if I end up finishing it, I will probably cry."
"Oh, good enough," the Deathblow capitulates, looking terribly incongruous to Tobirama in a simple spun silk kimono in peach-petal pink, printed with clusters of cherry leaves complete with dangling red fruit, a yellow soft obi around his waist. He hopes Tōka sees this one day; she will probably believe it's an illusion and try to dispel it. It's the first time he's ever seen the Deathblow in anything other than working indigo, which even the brightly-patterned armour was layered over.
Madara at least is wearing the same dull green and charcoal grey pine-branch-printed kimono with the red soft obi that he wore when he showed up injured to make ama-cha; it's almost comfortably familiar compared to Hikaku's pink with red and light green. Izuna is wearing her spun silk daylily yellow kimono with the red obi, which is evidently favoured indoor-wear, and Tobirama has put the kimono he wore earlier to wash and changed into his pale brown woollen kimono on the basis that it is the least formal thing he owns, with the rapeseed green soft obi belting it.
The room Izuna picks for the drinking party is the entrance hall facing the genkan, bracketed by their respective studies, on the basis that it means there're more walls between them and where Kiso is sleeping. Will soon be actually sleeping, hopefully. Tobirama watches as his wife sets out several rather large ceramic bottles, drinking cups and multiple dishes of sakana, from arare and vegetable pickles to dried sardine-crackers and even some grilled eel.
Tobirama immediately takes a slice of the eel; it is delicious.
"Hey," Madara says mildly, then lights up when Izuna also produces a small dish of inarizushi. "For me? You're the best brother –sorry, sister– I could possibly ask for."
"Do I not get a favourite food?" Hikaku complains spuriously.
"You are neither my spouse nor my sibling," Izuna retorts, but Tobirama notices how the Deathblow grins as she sets out a plate of tamagoyaki; evidently Hikaku is a favoured cousin.
"So, what's the plan?" Madara asks, pouring the first round of shōchū.
"Well, ideally we'd make conversation," Izuna says, carefully setting her bottle of alcohol-free umeshu next to her –the bottle is blue and white ceramic, unlike the brown glaze on the various shōchū bottles, to make distinguishing them easier– "but seeing as that's probably a bit challenging, I thought we could play a drinking game."
"What kind of drinking game?" Tobirama asks cautiously. He's seen the kind of things his cousins get up to when drunk and none of them were really very fun.
"It's called 'never have I ever,' and you'll like it," Hikaku says easily, picking up the thread as he takes a slither of pickles with his chopsticks. "We each take it in turns to say something we've never done, and if one of the other drinkers has done it, they have to empty their cup. If nobody's done it, we all have to drink." He smiles. "Honesty is paramount, and since Izuna's not really drinking she can keep the rest of us honest."
"So the goal of this game is to get everybody else drunk," Tobirama determines.
"And, ideally, to prompt the sharing of amusing stories," Hikaku drawls. "I'll start: never have I ever started a riot."
Izuna sighs, picks up her cup and drains it. "Such a waste of good umeshu," she laments, taking a handful of sardine-crackers.
Tobirama gapes. "You started a riot?"
"Not directly," Izuna grumbles as the other Uchiha present chuckle and start digging into the snacks. "It was while I was in Water Country the second time; a bunch of sailors on the waterfront were having a loud argument with their employer over wages. I was trying to avoid it turning violent, so I started up a song." She pops half a cracker into her mouth.
"That song being, 'Pay Me My Money Now'," Hikaku says drolly, sipping his shōchū. Assured that the drinking game is just about emptying his cup rather than dictating who gets to drink at all, Tobirama cautiously sips his own; it tastes very pleasant despite the faint bite. A very faint bite; he was right that this is something it would be very easy to overindulge with. He should try to eat first; if food is being digested it slows the effects of alcohol. Tobirama reaches for the pickles.
Madara sniggers over his own shōchū. "Pay me or go to jail; pay me my money now," he sings, deep voice pleasantly tuneful, then eats an inarizushi.
Tobirama can see how that song could start a riot, even when not sung by someone as persuasive as Izuna is.
"My turn," Izuna declares after swallowing the last of her crackers and picking up a handful of arare. "Never have I ever… been mistaken for a woman when in armour."
Why. Why this. Tobirama sighs and drains his cup, then realises Hikaku has just done the same and all three Uchiha are staring at him. Ah, so he wasn't the intended target. "I was fifteen," he says tiredly, "we were in Tea Country, it was raining so we were all in hats and my voice hadn't broken yet. The client had been told to expect 'Senju Tōka' and they thought that was me." He takes another slice of eel.
"That's less undignified than mine," Hikaku says drolly, selecting a tamagoyaki. "I had a mission to find a runaway onna-bugeisha, and got mistaken for said lady twice after locating her. While she was right there. She thought it was terribly funny."
Tobirama's lips twitch; yes, that is funny. "My turn?" He checks after eating a few senbei and having his cup refilled by Madara.
"Hn," both Izuna and her brother agree simultaneously.
"Never have I ever… set my opponent on fire." Tobirama smirks as all three Uchiha glare at him and drain their cups.
"Dirty," Hikaku announces, taking another piece of tamagoyaki and then some pickles.
"So dirty," Madara agrees, pouring more shōchū out as Izuna serves herself more umeshu. They both also eat, Izuna stealing one of the inarizushi and Madara taking some sardine crackers and pickles.
"My turn," Madara says after a comfortable interval has passed. "Never have I ever fallen into bed with my enemy."
Izuna sighs in a very put-upon fashion as she drains her cup again, then snags a slice of tamagoyaki; Tobirama also drains the rest of his cup. That's two entire cups of shōchū already and the evening's barely started. The alcohol is going to hit him all at once, isn't it?
Madara sniggers at them. Tobirama suspects he's tipsy already. That was very fast; he expected Madara to be more like Hashirama, needing entire bottles to get even slightly tipsy, as higher chakra levels generally mean more effort is needed for drunkenness.
There's a pause as Hikaku tops up everybody's cups and they all eat more of the sakana; Tobirama exchanges a slice of his eel for one of the Deathblow's tamagoyaki, which wins him a light smile. Izuna is making steady inroads on the sardine-crackers and the pickles, but there's no shortage of anything so it's hardly an issue.
"My go again," Hikaku says conversationally. "Never have I ever impersonated my father to get a laugh."
Izuna and Madara both pick up their cups; Tobirama hesitates, then does likewise.
"You too?" Madara asks curiously as he eats inarizushi, pickles and arare.
Tobirama rolls his eyes and picks up another slice of eel as Madara pours the next round. "Campaigns are terrible and sometimes orders are stupid."
Madara nods solemnly, setting the bottle aside. "Indeed."
Izuna hums, fingertips tapping the rim of her cup. "Never have I ever hid in a henhouse to avoid a girl."
Hikaku drains his cup. "I hate you, cousin," he informs Izuna, who smirks at him as she helps herself to pickles.
"It was before he started seeing Yori," Izuna adds helpfully to Tobirama after swallowing. "He was desperately smitten and terrified of being rejected. Yori eventually put everybody out of his misery by dragging him out of his latest hiding place and kissing him senseless."
Tobirama smirks over his own sakana, then tries to think of something that will catch more than one Uchiha. It's harder than it might be. He hasn't exactly had time to prepare for this game. "Never have I ever been to Court," he says eventually.
"Mean," Madara says reproachfully as he and Izuna both drink. Then the older man eats an inarizushi and some more arare, expression pensive as Hikaku pours a fresh round from a new bottle; no, that's definitely a 'thinking of revenge' face. "Never have I ever exploded something by accident."
Izuna makes a miserable whimpering noise as she pours herself another cup of umeshu and Tobirama drains his own cup. The perils of fuuinjutsu, indeed; he eats more eel and takes some arare as well.
Hikaku takes a chunk of pickle. "Never have I ever," he says blandly, "impersonated somebody while naked."
Izuna silently drains another cup of alcohol-free liquor. Opposite her Madara chokes on his arare.
"You, you?!"
Hikaku grins. "Well–"
"Never have I ever fled goats," Izuna interrupts vindictively, taking a pointed bite out of a sardine cracker.
Hikaku stops. Glares. Drains his own cup and instantly pours another round before taking more tamayoyaki and pickles. Madara's demanding gesture goes pointedly unanswered by either of the other two; the wonders of mutual blackmail between cousins. Hikaku must have all the good stories, no wonder they've got it out for each-other.
Tobirama tries very hard not to giggle through his food as he thinks about what to pick next. "Never have I ever," he enunciates carefully after swallowing, "yelled my opponent's name across the battlefield like a jilted lover."
Hikaku roars with laughter, rocking back on his ankles and slapping his hand on his thigh. Izuna sniggers behind her sleeve, surreptitiously stuffing more arare and sardine crackers into her mouth. Madara stares at him in bewildered betrayal for several long seconds, then drains his shōchū without a word and eats two inarizushi, one after the other.
Tobirama sniggers as the laughter gradually dies down and helps himself to more pickles and another slice of eel. Food will help; Ōka-ba says so.
Madara half-fills his cup with the last of the bottle, glares, sets the empty jug aside next to the other one and tops up his cup from the third bottle. "Never have I ever hit my brother with a fish," he announces, all wounded dignity.
Tobirama sighs and drinks. He is at least in good company; Hikaku and Izuna both drink as well.
"When did you do that?" Izuna asks him as they all eat some more and Madara pours another round.
"Several times," Tobirama admits. "Mostly when he interra, interrupted me while I was practicing healing jutsu when I was younger. We practice them on fish." He sighs; fish always tastes bad after being used for jutsu practice. "You?"
"When he was moping about Hashirama killing his squad-mates," Izuna replies easily. "It made him really mad at me but then he cried, so it helped."
That… doesn't quite make sense, but Tobirama nods anyway. And eats more arare.
Hikaku goes next. "Never have I ever slept up a tree to avoid cows."
Tobirama drinks again, then carefully takes another slice of eel. He can't remember how many cups he's drunk, so eating more is good. Madara also drinks.
"When were you avoiding cows?" Tobirama asks his brother-in-law over the pickles. It probably wasn't Inuzuka-related like Tobirama's incident was.
"I was in Grass," Madara says, tone petulant. "They have really mean cows in Grass."
Tobirama accepts this wisdom and eats some more pickles. Avoiding mean cows is very sensible.
Izuna takes a slice of eel as she contemplates her turn, so Tobirama steals one of Madara's inarizushi.
"Never," his wife says sweetly, "have I ever ended up in somebody else's bed by accident."
"Boo!" Madara jeers, downing his cup.
"Dirty," Hikaku agrees longsufferingly, doing likewise.
"I was asleep on my feet," Tobirama complains, also draining his cup. "An' I know you end up in other people's beds a lot, Lord-Wife."
"Yes I have," she agrees as they all take more food from the rather depleted-looking plates, "but it's always been on purpose, not by accident."
Tobirama contemplates this. "That's fair," he decides, "an' I like you in my bed on purpose." He shuffles around the tatami to lean into her, wrapping an arm around her waist and propping his chin on her shoulder. "You're warm."
"Gone," Hikaku says drolly.
"Shush," Izuna says, then as Tobirama's about to ask what's going on, she turns and kisses him. She tastes sweet-sour like the umeshu.
"Never have I ever," Madara says pensively, chakra flaring and wavering erratically, "signed a summoning contract."
"That's mean," Tobirama enunciates, pouting as Hikaku sighs and knocks back his drink. Izuna kisses his cheek.
"You can have my umeshu this time."
The sweet-sour bite is a shock after the mellow flavour of the shōchū, but Tobirama feels slightly more awake for it. Is it late? He feels like it's late. Time is spinning, it must be late.
"Never, have I ever," Hikaku says carefully after swallowing his pickles, "been hired for relationship advice."
Izuna groans and pours herself another cup of the plum liquor, then drinks it all. "That was one time, Hikaku!"
Hikaku blinks at her, face solemn with a tamagoyaki flopping between his chopsticks at chin level. "It was a daimyo, I-nee. A daimyo. Hired you. To help him woo somebody." He shoves the omelette in his mouth.
Tobirama considers this. "Did they fall for him, or for you?"
Hikaku cackles though his mouthful of egg, then coughs repeatedly into his hand. Izuna leans forwards and pokes her cousin in the ribs as the choking sounds finally fade again. "Hush you; I was the very soul of discretion! The lady in question did not see me once! Well, not to recognise me. I provided advice, coaching and set up some appropriate events."
"And sang in them," Hikaku blurts out after swallowing, still wheezing slightly.
"Well yes; and it worked, they're happily married!"
"My honoured cousin," Hikaku manages, "taught a daimyo soft interrogation to woo his beloved with."
Tobirama blinks, then blinks again. "How do you woo somebody with interrogation?" Interrogation's not nice. Not soft at all.
Izuna kisses his cheek again. "Active listening, Treasure. Everybody likes to be heard." She turns to glare at Hikaku again, who is wetting his throat with more shōchū. "And it worked, I got paid and everything!"
"Hired for courting advice, I-nee."
Izuna huffs, so Tobirama catches her chin and kisses her; kisses always make him feel happy. Sure enough, she softens in his arms, chakra warm.
"Well," she says after pulling back, smirking conspiratorially at Tobirama, "never have I ever claimed reading was 'unnecessary' for a warrior."
Hikaku groans, sagging forwards until his forehead touches the tatami. "So mean, I-nee," he whines into the mats. "Ta-ji laughed at me!"
"And now you know why," Izuna says cheerfully, pouring her cousin more alcohol, which he dutifully sits up and drinks.
"Bein' a warrior is all reading," Madara grumbles, emptying his cup, eating the last of the inarizushi and then poking at the empty plate with his chopsticks as though more of his favourite food might appear if he glares at it long enough. Tobirama pushes the remnants of the eel towards him.
"Have eel," he says generously; "s'nice. Not sad at all. Wife never gives me sad fish."
"Sad fish, Treasure?" Izuna asks as Madara obediently takes some eel and stuffs it in his mouth.
Tobirama shuffles sideways a bit so he can wrap both arms around his wife. "Senju fish is sad fish," he says mournfully. "Been used for jutsu training firs'. Terrified and choked to death by chakra poisoning. Tastes so sad." He hiccups, trying not to cry.
"Well you don't have to eat sad fish anymore, do you?" His wife points out, kissing his cheek.
"No, you give me good fish," Tobirama agrees, tears forgotten as he nuzzles her neck. "Fresh and sweet and wriggling, the best fish. Nobody else ever gave me so much fish; that's how I know you love me best."
Izuna quivers with laughter; he made her happy! Her chakra feels lovely when she's happy, all sparkly and cosy. He wants to wrap her around himself and sink into her and stay there forever.
Madara collapses sideways with a loud thump, giggling madly; Hikaku sighs and eats another tamagoyaki. "I want my Yori," the Deathblow says thoughtfully. "She's gonna roll her eyes at me for getting drunk with you and Dara-nii, I-nee."
"Are you drunk, Hiku?" Izuna asks. Tobirama frowns; isn't his name Hikaku, not Hiku? Is this like Tōka-nee calling him 'Tobi'?
"Yup," Hikaku says firmly, nodding solemnly. "And so's Dara-nii." He leans closer, then whispers loudly: "He's giggling."
Tobirama looks at Madara; he is giggling. Giggling a lot. He's never heard Madara giggle before, it's funny.
Izuna nods. "So he is." She looks at the remains of the food. "Tobirama, d'you want the last of the eel?"
"Yes," Tobirama says instantly, not letting go of his wife. She's the best thing he's ever been given and he's keeping her.
"I'm keeping you too, don't worry," his wife murmurs, bringing the eel within reach. Tobirama still doesn't let go of her; wife is more important than fish.
Wife feeds him the eel with her chopsticks as Madara giggles and hiccups in the background and Hikaku finishes off the tamagoyaki. It's nice. Tobirama yawns widely and slumps forward, cheek resting on Wife's shoulder.
"Tired," he mumbles.
"Then sleep, Tobirama."
"Can call me s'm'th'n shorter," he mumbles, tipping his head to kiss the bite-scar on the back of her neck. "I don' mind."
"I will think of something then," she assures him, chakra coiling around him tenderly. It feels so good when she touches him like that.
"Gonna fuck me, Wife?" He wants her to. Wants to be eaten up and pinned down and left breathless and tingly.
She chuckles, chakra caressing his skin through his kimono. "When you're sober, dear heart."
She means that; Tobirama succumbs to sleep, utterly content.
Tobirama wakes to a new futon with old sheets, no wife, no baby and a bed full of leopard; he is briefly upset, then the previous night comes back to him all at once and he rolls onto his face so he can groan into his pillow. He said all of that! In front of Madara and Hikaku!
He was right; that shōchū is lethal. He didn't even notice inebriation creeping up on him, stealing his reason and restraint. The game hadn't even lasted that long! At least he's not suffering the clouded memory that various kin have claimed is a regular side-effect of over-indulging; then again, not remembering would probably be less uncomfortable.
All those things he said without thinking. Yes, he's learned a lot about his wife –and about Madara and Hikaku as well– but he's also given a lot away.
Most of it trivial, admittedly. But some of it…
At least Madara and Hikaku were probably drunk enough to miss those bits.
Tobirama would rather like to stay in bed for a while longer, but his bladder is now insisting on a trip to the washroom. So he gets up –realises that wearing his cotton persimmon-print sleeping yukata means his wife undressed him while he was passed out– and slides his feet into his slippers, grabbing the wool kimono draped over his screen to wrap around himself before braving the cool outdoors. It's raining steadily –he can hear it drumming on the roof overhead– so it's not at all warm.
He's glad she didn't put him in the silk sleepwear; he's sweated out some of the alcohol in the night, so this yukata needs a wash before he wears it again.
He can still sense Madara in the house; in Izuna's bedroom, in fact. Tobirama is reminded of Izuna's comment about sleepwalking; presumably his wife didn't bother trying to put her brother to bed elsewhere, seeing as she knew he'd end up on her futon regardless.
Considering Madara, he decides he's grateful for his wife putting him in his own bed, however lonely it was to wake up with only Tōnari for company. He would not have enjoyed waking up to Madara at close range; might even have reacted instinctively with violence, which could only have been incredibly awkward. Especially if he accidentally provoked his sleeping brother-in-law into injuring him.
Leaving the washroom he finds Kiso bouncing on the engawa. "Do you need the toilet, Kiso-kun?"
The toddler nods, grabbing a handful of his kimono. Tobirama takes the boy into the washroom and helps him wrestle his sleepwear into submission, then picks him up afterwards so he can wash his hands properly in the sink. "Better?"
"Hn." Kiso looks up at him after drying his hands. "Wan' to sleep wif Keifu, always."
Tobirama's heart aches. "You can move your futon into my bedroom, Kiso-kun." If it comes to it they can move the sleeping toddler into the adjacent room, futon and all, while he and Izuna are being intimate.
The toddler squirms around in his grip and hugs his neck. "Tanks, Keifu," he mumbles into the exposed yukata collar.
Tobirama kisses the top of Kiso's head. "Shall we go for breakfast now?"
"Hn!"
Breakfast with Madara there is odd. Not bad –his brother-in-law is wonderfully quiet and civilised at this early hour compared to Anija– but definitely very strange. Naka-Dragon hands up the food to Madara, who brings it into the iori room and passes the bowls of katemeshi around.
"Ii for Ii-chan," he says teasingly, chuckling softly as Izuna rolls her eyes at him.
Tobirama realises then that it's not 'i-nee' that Hikaku has been calling Izuna, but 'ii-nee'. "Are you calling your sister food?"
Madara grins. "I am," he confirms lightly. "Little Izuna-chan used to scream if a meal was even slightly late, and even now she eats like she's going to starve to death if she doesn't clear her plate and her second serving within a quarter-hour of sitting down."
Tobirama has not noticed this at all. Hasn't had the chance to, he corrects himself; she had brought meals to them in the Diplomatic Quarters and eaten regular portions with them, but he has no way of knowing what she has been eating beyond that. He's never thought about it either.
"It's not really obvious right now," his brother-in-law concedes, "seeing as she's not fighting, but usually she eats like she might devour her fellow diners if there's not enough food being served." He smiles. "And she's always snacking."
Tobirama considers this. It's true that last night Izuna did make good headway through the sakana, and also that she does seem to keep quite a bit of food in those sleeve-seals of hers. But in the Diplomatic Quarters he only saw her eating at meals, and when she brought nibbles to eat with the alcohol-free liquor or the sweets for having with tea.
"My wife is a glutton?" He asks tentatively.
Madara snorts, easily ducking the floor cushion Izuna hefts at his head. "No," he says easily, "it's just something that happens sometimes when you're Fire Natured. The inner furnace runs a bit hotter than usual; got to keep it stoked to keep chakra levels up. Usually people with those issues don't become warriors, but well." He shrugs. "Izuna didn't have a choice."
Something metabolic then? That could well explain why Izuna has always looked like she's running a few meals short. Evidently not fighting is doing wonders for her health in that sense; she's not put on weight that Tobirama's noticed, but her face is slightly less thin.
"An explanation for why my wife fights like a demon but looks like a stiff breeze could blow her away," he teases, accepting the light slap to his shoulder as inevitable as he digs into his own meal.
Naka-Scallion arrives to collect Kiso right after breakfast; Madara dresses the boy in a much-mended little green padded coat and tiny sandals before letting him run out the front door, then follows after him at a more sedate pace once he has put his own coat on over his house kimono and slipped his feet into geta.
Then it is once more just Tobirama and Izuna in the house as the rain patters on the roof and whispers over the garden.
His wife joins him on the engawa, looking out at the rain and the clan compound beyond the garden, shrouded and misty through the low cloud.
"I'm going to work on music today," she tells him, "and do some crafts. Would you like to write?"
He will really get to use ink? "Very much," Tobirama admits instantly. He's wearing the fish kimono today, over both the rich green kimono and the shrimp print one –as well as a nagajuban– because it's chillier than it's been for a while and the Amaterasu Residence lacks fuuinjutsu heating, but that's still all kimono with masculine sleeves so he won't have too much trouble keeping them out of the way while writing.
"I'll get a desk out for you then."
Tobirama turns and catches his wife before she can leave, drawing her close and kissing her. "Thank you," he tells her in between kisses, the feel of her body in his arms and her chakra nestled against his warming him even through all the layers of silk.
"Not much I wouldn't do for you, Treasure," His wife murmurs as they step inside and close the shōji.
Tobirama is reminded of Susano-o in the Diplomatic Quarters. "How much did you have to eat, after running to my rescue?"
Izuna smiles. "Quite a bit; I was well-rested though, and it made all the difference."
Implying that Izuna has not been 'well-rested' when fighting him for… some time. Tobirama feels vaguely dissatisfied by that; he has always prided himself on equalling Izuna despite the advantage granted by the sharingan, and to discover that Izuna was always teetering on the edge of starvation, so had to fiercely ration her energy to not succumb to chakra exhaustion, is vaguely humiliating. Then again, their last fight proved decisively that Izuna can outsmart him if she really puts her mind to it, so he's probably better off letting his pride go.
Especially since he recently sold it to Izuna for a summer wardrobe without even thinking to add conditions on what said wardrobe should and should not include.
Tobirama loses himself in writing; there's so much he wants to write, to jot down so he can read it later and annotate it and so many things he's been working on in his mind since getting the waxed boards that, while much appreciated, aren't anywhere near as good as the high-quality inkstick Izuna set out for him on the inkstone and the fine brush on its stand. Can't come close to matching his joy at having lengths and lengths of cheap hemp paper to write on, quick small characters conveying a wealth of ideas and hopes.
He's been practicing all many the new characters he's learned since getting the boards, but this is his first time drawing a lot of them in ink; he starts with calligraphy practice on various scraps of paper as his ideas coalesce, then turns to writing with fervent determination.
He surfaces with a dry throat when the inkstick vanishes; his wife faces him across the desk, the partial stick held hostage in one hand and a cup of tea offered with the other.
Tobirama drinks the tea, then the second cup as well. "Have I earned the ink back yet?" He asks dryly.
Izuna laughs, barely hiding it behind her sleeve. "I'm concerned for you, Treasure; it's been several hours and you've not drunk anything since breakfast."
"I drunk two cups of tea just now."
Izuna grins, not annoyed in the slightest. "Yes, you did," she agrees, "but I know if I give you back the ink a third cup will just sit and go cold."
Tobirama can concede that is true; it has happened many times before. He gets focused on things to the point of obsession, or so he has been told. He's not sure how his long-term academic focus is different to his cousins' meticulous practice and passion for their various specialties, but apparently it is.
"So this is fair warning, Treasure: I am giving the ink back now, but I am likely to steal it again later, so you drink more." She sets the inkstick back on the inkstone; Tobirama snatches it up.
"So noted, Lord-Wife." At least she's not trying to drag him off away from his writing. That never helps, as he loses sleep later because his mind is too full for him to rest until he's poured all the ideas out of it.
Noon arrives far too soon and brings Kiso back into the house; Tobirama regretfully lets Izuna pack away the ink, brush and desk, rolls up his dry notes and moves the still-damp ones into his study, then tries to take an interest in the toddler and his tale of his various morning activities. It gets easier as lunch progresses, and by the time Kiso is up from his nap after the meal he feels settled again.
An afternoon in the house with a toddler still feels very challenging –what is he supposed to do in this setting?– except that Izuna already has a plan, and that plan involves her shamisen. Tobirama is therefore treated to a run-through of what Uchiha consider child-appropriate music and is dragged into dancing with a two-year-old. Not that he minds in the slightest.
In between the lively dancing music there are clapping songs, counting songs, story-songs and call-and-reply songs like the one being sung by the warriors going through the field on his second walking day. Most of them are sung several times, so by mid-afternoon Tobirama can pick out half a dozen of the tunes and is getting started on memorising the words. It's both more fun and less effort than he was expecting, although he can tell that Izuna's hands are a little sore from so much shamisen playing; it's in how she flexes her fingers after putting the instrument away.
Kiso is thoroughly tired out from so much play, so he snuggles against Tobirama's side as Izuna makes tea and seems happy to spend the rest of the afternoon cuddled quietly in somebody's arms.
Tobirama takes advantage of this to talk to Izuna about future indoor activities for entertaining small children.
"What kind of things to Uchiha do on rainy days?" He asks as he picks up one of the senbei. "With children, I mean." He can't really remember what he did with his younger brothers on wet days; not indoors anyway. He does remember a lot of going out in the rain. Not that he ever minded; rain is pleasant.
"The normal kind of indoor things, generally," Izuna says, sipping her tea. "Cleaning and mending jobs, cooking, crafts, storytelling, music, writing letters, teaching… and games, of course."
That is rather more than Tobirama had ever contemplated counting as child-appropriate indoor activities.
"Children just want to be included, mostly," Izuna goes on. "So that's what you do; everything's new and exciting when you're small." She smiles at him, taking a senbei. "I'm sure Kiso-kun would be interested in learning to braid; he might lose interest after making a bracelet for himself and come looking for his wooden animals, but you'd have done something together. And he'd probably come back another time to try again, or just to cuddle while you're working."
"He's very quiet boy." Tobirama isn't sure how to say any of the other adjectives that spring to mind, or ask about what the Uchiha do with children who very clearly aren't going to grow up able to contribute to the clan. Kiso-kun is still giving him mixed signals there; if he is mentally lacking he won't be able to become a warrior, but Tobirama already knows the Uchiha have farming and crafts and trade open to them too, and he's not sure what the requirements for those are, to judge whether Kiso will be able to engage in them when grown.
"He knows what he likes," Izuna replies easily. "If he was very energetic I'd be encouraging him to put on coat and sandals and run around the garden for a few hours, then giving him a wash before we did indoor things. It's just a matter of working with what's there." She sighs. "Then again, I only know that from extensive babysitting experience, so."
"You did a lot of babysitting?" Izuna's been on the battlefield since she was ten, when did she have the time for babysitting?
Izuna eyes him over her tea. "I was never going to be a warrior, Tobirama. But then there were assassins in the house, another of my younger brothers was dead and I had sharingan. My father made a choice and I lived with it; but before that I was being trained up to keep house for Madara-nii and learn all the proper womanly skills my station required."
Tobirama stares down into his teacup. If he'd been fighting an adult as a ten-year-old and not Izuna…
He was very good, even at ten. But he's fairly sure he was not that good.
What a terrible irony, to owe his life to Uchiha Tajima deciding to drag his daughter onto the battlefield.
