More music is shamelessly paraphrased.
Unchained
Izuna has Tobirama wrapped up in a yukata and cradled in her arms as she leaves the bathhouse, trying to breathe through her righteous fury over his father sending assassins after him. This isn't the right moment; Tobirama's asleep and looking after him is more important than armouring up and falling on the Senju like the wrath of Susano-o.
No matter how much she itches to do that.
The hurricane howl of said kami rings in her skull and pounds in her ears, demanding release. She is fully alligned and it makes her entire body hum like a tuning fork, not that she's seen one of those in this lifetime yet.
Her eyes, oddly enough, do not ache. Yori however is still waiting in the kitchen of the Amaterasu Residence with Madara, Hikaku and Taka, her big brother still cuddling Kiso as the other three lay out food and prepare more.
She's not that hungry either, which is also strange. But she's still going to eat; not hungry now means nothing. She's used a good amount of chakra and needs to eat to counter that, even if her stomach hasn't caught up to that yet.
Yori glares meaningfully at her as she walks past on her way into the house; Izuna meets her gaze and nods before turning through the shōji, passing the iori and opening the fusuma into her own bedroom. She hadn't intended to bring Tobirama here yet –it still feels too soon– but she no longer has a choice. Not with the Diplomatic Quarters a charnel house and the very real possibility of more assassins lurking. They won't be able to get in here.
She also takes a moment to climb up into the loft for one of the baby futons in storage there, so that Kiso can sleep safely. Tobirama is shifting restlessly when she returns to lay it out; she takes a moment to lie next to him, resting her forehead against his so they share breath. It settles him very quickly –she will have to thank Udon for her excellent advice in how to court Leopard-adjacent people, as well as the Cat's ferocious dispatch of the first assassin– so she undresses him from the bathing yukata and into the silk sleeping outfit she'd been saving for a special occasion, then heads out to take Kiso from her brother and transfer the toddler to the new futon, cuddly toy, blanket and all.
It's not exactly a special occasion, but her treasure's had an awful night and silk against his skin is something she knows he enjoys. She wants him to feel cherished.
Tobirama rolls closer to the toddler as she is closing the fusuma again, a not-quite-purr rumbling in his throat, so Izuna feels confident that he won't wake just yet. There's time for her to eat and reassure her kin.
Susano-o is quieter now, has been since she put Tobirama down. She's going to have to talk to Madara about that; Mangekyō has never been this effortlessly clear before. She'd thought it was loud when she first awakened it, but that moment pales in comparison to how it had felt when she was standing with her Treasure at her back, killing those who sought to harm him.
Sparing the youngest one had been hard. If he hadn't dropped his sword she might not have managed it.
As she closes the fusuma panels behind her Madara looks over his shoulder from where he's settled by the iori –with Yori and Hikaku; Taka is still in the kitchen– and demandingly holds up a plate of onigiri.
"Eat," he orders. Izuna takes the plate and shoves half a rice ball in her mouth as she sits, abruptly ravenous. She eats the entire plateful, one after the other, as Yori shuffles around to prod at her eyes.
"This is the least damage I've ever seen," she says suspiciously as Izuna is chewing on her penultimate onigiri, "despite you still being in Mangekyō when you walked out of the bathhouse."
"Breakthrough?" Hikaku asks over his kayu from across the sunken hearth as Taka steps up from the kitchen with a tray. Izuna accepts the large bowl of zōsui from her sempai before answering:
"Yes; both for Susano-o and something for all of us, I think." It didn't hurt. At all. That's never happened before with Susano-o, and it only started happening with Ame-no-Uzume after the statue mission where she realised undressing was part of her Mangekyō's requirements.
Except now she's not so sure it's a requirement, or at least that it might not need to be. Not as much as she'd feared it would, at least.
"Eat up," Madara insists. "Everything else can wait."
Izuna rolls her eyes at him, but does start digging into the re-cooked rice in broth; Taka has added mushrooms and meat to it as well as a range of chakra-boosting greens.
"So," she says once she's halfway through the bowl and slowing down a bit, "have any of you ever felt like the kami your Mangekyō invokes is present, not just reaching out to you but resonating right to your bones, like standing by a temple bell? Almost like the first time, but with less of your own feeling and more of theirs?"
"No," her brother replies, his forehead creasing worriedly.
"When we were hunting up to Lightning," Taka says.
"Increasingly so since you consulted me for the seal that you then put on Tobirama," Hikaku tells her.
Izuna swallows another mouthful of food. "I think," she says, "that the damage relates to how in tune we are with the kami in question when we activate Mangekyō. If our feelings are fully aligned with the aspect of the kami being channelled, then the power just… goes through us. But if we're not completely aligned, it's like when there's a problem in the plumbing and you get that hammering noise rattling the pipes. Just in our eyeballs."
"Thank you for that lovely mental image, Ii-nee," Hikaku says, cringing.
"So, Susano-o?" Madara asks, turning to look her in the eye.
"When Susano-o fought the Yamata-no-Orochi," she says rather than answering him directly, "he did so for Kushinada-hime. But he was wearing her as a comb in his hair, Nii-san. She was there and vulnerable. Also, Susano-o fought Yamata-no-Orochi entirely on her behalf; it wasn't his enemy. But he wanted her, and wanted to protect her from her enemy."
"You fought the assassins for your concubine," Taka says quietly.
"They wished to kill him, not me," Izuna agrees, "and I wished to kill them for it. And he was right there with me, and would have died had I failed to shield him. And Susano-o rang in my head like a bell, so loud I'm not entirely sure what was me and what was not."
There is an uneasy pause; Izuna eats more zōsui.
"You stayed in Mangekyō even after putting the armour away," Yori points out.
"I didn't really have a choice," Izuna admits after swallowing. "I was prioritising Tobirama, but part of me wanted to run over to the Senju compound right away and crush them all to paste for attacking what was mine. Despite my concubine going into shock in my arms and needing my immediate care."
"Putting Tobirama down increased the distance between you and Susano-o," Madara deduces, eyes narrowed.
"It did," Izuna agrees, "but now I've been there I might not need to pick him up again in order to induce a full manifestation. I only didn't today because most of the enemies were indoors."
"And the ceiling beams on that side of the Diplomatic Quarters are probably going to need replacing regardless," Taka murmurs dryly.
"So a full Susano-o manifestation requires you to be fighting the enemies of your treasure, while your treasure is unable to do so, and also that they be present and in need of your immediate defence," Madara deduces. "That is… very specifically awkward."
Izuna shrugs helplessly. "Kami," she offers; "it's not like we choose this and I'm not sure they choose it either."
Her brother sighs heavily. "Eat your zōsui, imouto."
Izuna pointedly shoves another spoonful into her mouth, chews and swallows; yes it is very unlikely her brother will ever manage to resonate completely with Susano-o as she has. He's close to few within the clan and his most precious Treasure is Hashirama, so unlikely to ever need sweeping of his feet and rescuing as Kushinada-hime did. "I'm going to try a full manifestation outside after I've eaten," she announces, "because otherwise I'm not going to be able to sleep." He may be less clear now, but Susano-o is still raging.
"I will supervise," Yori says instantly, which cuts off Madara's protest before he can do more than open his mouth.
"And then maybe I can work out how to complete Ame-no-Uzume, so I don't have to completely rework my combat style to allow for impromptu battlefield striptease," Izuna forges on, eyeballing Taka as the other woman sniggers at her.
"Certainly something to think about," Madara agrees hurriedly; "Hikaku, you said something about Izuna's fuuinjutsu?"
"She asked me why Yatagarasu cuts through obstacles," her cousin says quietly. "I'd never thought about 'why' before. So I meditated on it."
Madara nods, expression thoughtful. "I'll try that with Amaterasu. Thanks, cousin."
Izuna finishes her late-night meal and sets the bowl down on the tatami. "Let's get this done; I want to go back to bed."
Izuna sweeps into the front door of the Clan Hall, seething with righteous fury. She steps out of her sandals and into a pair of guest slippers –deliberately ignoring the faded, much-mended pair with the roly-poly mochitsuki rabbit-print she has worn since her feet stopped growing– and sweeps up into the entrance room her father uses as his office.
Nobody else is here; good. Her father looks up from his desk as she closes the door firmly behind her and walks forward to sit on a cushion, glaring daggers and chakra tightly restrained.
"Daughter," her father says calmly, pouring tea for both of them from the pot sitting at his elbow.
"Lord-Father." Izuna accepts the tea and sets it down in front of her on the tatami. She does not drink it.
"What brings you here, Daughter?"
Izuna raises one eyebrow the politely incredulous fraction that conveys clearly that he knows exactly why she's here and she doesn't appreciate the run-around. Her father's lips twitch.
"I have acted only as I should, both as your Outguard Head and as your father."
Izuna lets her eyes lid, conveying her distaste. "My Lord-Father wishes me to be forsworn?" She inquires sweetly.
"Daughter–"
Izuna grits her teeth. "I know why you did it," she snaps; "I don't appreciate it. I will be involved in this, as is my right." She'd complain that it isn't fair that this lifetime's father is so much less fatherly than her last lifetime's one, but nothing about mortality is ever fair. 'Fair' also doesn't mean anything; her father is only like this because life has worn him away to a blade-edge, which is not fair on him either.
He is what his circumstances and his choices have made of him and so that is what she must work with, even when it makes her soul bleed. Complaining about how things are less than ideal isn't helpful.
He inclines his head to her, sliding his current reading aside and producing two letter scrolls along with some note-sheets. "The correspondence so far for your attention, Manifest Head."
Izuna hates it when her father uses her rank to address her like that and he knows it; she still takes the letters and the pages though. The loose paper will be a copy of what her father wrote in response to the first letter, kept for the clan records and completeness' sake.
Her lips twitch slightly as she meticulously reads through the first letter; Tōka was definitely involved in this. Her father's reply is exactly as she expected from him –legally appropriate, utterly merciless and guaranteed to reduce the Senju to sufficiently desperate straits to restart the feud again in a few generations' time– and the third letter makes her smirk outright; somebody is certainly making use of the education within the books that she provided, and so conveniently for her as well.
Well played, Senju Tōka; very well-played indeed.
No doubt her father will receive a letter from the Aburame today or tomorrow, expressing their willingness to arbitrate in this matter and requesting he set a date for the negotiations. That will create a deadline for arranging an initial ceasefire, and then once her demanded restitution has been provided, the table will be open for a longer-term peace treaty.
Senju Tokonoma is certainly expressing his willingness for such, which makes considerable sense when the Senju are down two highly accomplished battlefield warriors –Butsuma dead, Tobirama permanently removed from play– and another four skilled adults who will no longer be bringing in needed funds for their clan. And that is only the losses Izuna knows about; she doubts Butsuma went quietly so some Senju or other will have helped him on his way, and may have died for it.
Her intended approach will work very well indeed in this setting; she won't have to significantly modify anything.
"So what does the Manifest Amaterasu Head wish to achieve in this situation?" Her father asks dryly.
"It being summer, we can host our most esteemed guests in pavilions south of the clan compound," Izuna says, letting the mockery slough off without hitting its mark. "We can set up more pavilions on the southern border, to host the negotiations in. I do not believe that negotiating my desired restitution for the assault on my concubine will take particularly long; the Senju arranging that restitution will however most certainly take them some time." And the Aburame will commit to returning in a few months' time, to oversee the handover of that restitution as is appropriate, which will then open up space for the discussion of a proper treaty.
"And what is it that the Manifest Amaterasu Head desires as restitution for the harm done to her concubine, that I might negotiate it for her?" Her father at least manages not to sound condescending this time.
Izuna meets his eyes and smiles, sharp and knowing. "A dowry befitting Senju Tobirama, that reflects his worth in the eyes of his clan."
Her father smiles back, thin and appreciative; he too can see how such a demand will benefit them. So generous, leaving it to the Senju to set the value of the restitution required; so dangerous, when the new Senju Head must balance the clan's budget against the paramount necessity of clearly signalling how valuable her heart's treasure is to them.
So very necessary, when they recently attempted to murder him and he is best-placed to ensure at least some Uchiha are favourably-disposed towards a collaborative peace process. The Senju must make abundantly clear how valued Tobirama is, in the aftermath of the previous Clan Head demonstrating that he valued her treasure not at all, not only to win him over but demonstrate their commitment to the peace process.
"Truly a dowry, Daughter?"
Izuna nods. "Goods to belong to him only, perishables and coin to be listed against his name in the clan accounts so that he has funds and possessions that no-one may deny him access to." It will encourage the Senju to be even more generous; a large dowry grants a degree of financial independence that Tobirama will otherwise not be able to achieve, and his having a greater degree of freedom to act as he wishes can only benefit the Senju in the longer term.
"You wish them to impoverish themselves."
"War is expensive," Izuna says mildly; "terribly, terribly expensive. The Senju have lost a significant number of their high-earning warriors lately."
"You truly believe they will plead for peace?"
She raises a wry eyebrow. "With what we both know, do you truly think they won't?" It is, after all, the expedient solution. And she has seen and heard nothing to suggest that the Earthshaker is as ruled by his loathing of all things Uchiha as his elder brother was.
"And what will you do, once peace means that 'sufficient containment' for your concubine will be his word and nothing more?"
Oh, so they are having this discussion now, are they? Very well then.
"Then I will act as honour and law demands, and remove that which binds him beyond that."
"If he runs all the way to Uzushio and leaves a letter saying he never wishes to set eyes on you again, you will be barred from recapturing him by force," her father says calmly, picking up his cup and sipping his tea. "We will, after all, be at peace."
He does not need to say he will not compromise the clan for her; she knows that already.
"I am fully aware of what peace may cost me." Peace is why she made her play for Tobirama in the first place; she just wasn't expecting him to be so easy to love. "But peace is what the Uchiha need; my younger brother will not die on the battlefield before he is twenty, my trading cousins will not be hunted down and murdered for the crime of being born Uchiha, our more distant kin will no longer lose fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers and sons and daughters to wasteful conflicts that benefit only our clients. And if the price of that is my own heartbreak, so be it."
Her father nods. "The clan comes first." His tone is almost apologetic, but she knows he won't actually apologise. He feels putting the clan first is what is more important, and is never sorry for doing it.
Izuna doesn't think of it as 'the clan' though; 'the clan' is more the institution, the laws and customs and traditions. She thinks of it as her family members, cousins both close and distant, and to weigh their joy against her own selfishness… how can she not want more for them? Yes, Tobirama leaving would break her heart, but she is only one person and she has survived heartbreak before. Losing him would not kill her, for all it would grieve her deeply and might even plunge her into the same numb carelessness as ate away at her after Myōkō died, so insidious that she only noticed it a bit after turning seventeen, looking back in horrified dismay at her own choices both past and recent.
She has forgiven herself for that now, though; it does her no good to dwell on it. She has grown beyond it, and will not sink to those depths again. She has set boundaries and made promises and she is better for them. She has friends and dependents and responsibilities, and more than that she is an adult now, not a child. Grief will not cripple her.
"I do not want him to leave me," she admits quietly, "but if that is what would please him best, then I will not stop him. But should it come to that, I want him to know that he is always welcome to return."
"You would not follow him?"
Izuna finally picks up her own tea; it's not very warm anymore, but she doesn't reheat it. "One cannot grip water, Lord-Father," she says with a sharp half-smile, meeting his eyes over the edge of her cup. "But while the river always flows away, it also does not stop flowing."
She knows Tobirama, almost better than she knows herself it feels some days. He has made a commitment to Kiso, if not to her, and he will keep that promise. He may yet spend most of every year after they have peace avoiding her, but he will not abandon her baby cousin. That is not who he is, regardless of her fears.
Hopefully he will also not abandon Keigetsu or their unborn who is still only a hope and prayer. She can forgive him much, so long as he keeps those promises. She didn't give him a choice in marrying her –not in any way that counts– but those commitments he did choose, and his keeping them would be enough.
She can't really expect more than that.
Her father nods. "A dowry befitting your spouse, then, and a peace treaty with solid foundations."
Izuna feels a swell of profound relief. "Thank you, Tou-san."
He smiles at her, wry and bemusedly warm. "I truly want only the best for you and your brothers, Izuna-chan."
She nods. "I know, Tou-san." It's why his actions always hurt so much.
The tea is cold, but she drinks it anyway. Now they have found common ground there will be much discussion of the specifics, plans to make and letters to write, as well as budgeting issues, arranging for additional deliveries of supplies and selecting people to take care of the many, many small details inherent in hosting.
Nothing about leadership or responsibility is ever easy.
Tajima squats by the stove in the kitchen, cooking. He doesn't do it often –usually there is his niece Shige-chan in the kitchen, or occasionally her mother Asuka, his late brother-in-law Mashū's wife– and there are very few things he knows how to cook well.
Warabimochi are one of those things. They were Hitomi's favourite. He made them often for her when she was fading, because when death is knocking at the door, there is no reason to deprive oneself of life's small joys.
They are also Saburō's favourite. His youngest is still on punishment duty and will be for a further month and a half, so cannot join in the impromptu festival that has overtaken the clan now that the temporary ceasefire with the Senju has been signed. So he is making sweets his youngest son will enjoy, for him to eat once he returns in the late evening from his duties.
And to put on the family altar, for his wife.
He is dropping the mixture into a bowl of cold water to set when his daughter arrives through the house and settles on the engawa above the stove, smoothing the bottle-gourd print kimono over her knees.
She is wearing the white-green obi with the pink iris and fan embroidery with it, and on her feet are her faded mochi-making-rabbit slippers.
"I'm sorry about the guest slippers," his daughter says abruptly. He glances up at her face; she's looking at him, so he moves the pan off the heat to give her his full attention.
"I shouldn't have done that," Izuna goes on. "Yes you were wrong to not tell me about the letters, but I did that purely because I knew it would hurt you, and that was wrong of me. So I'm sorry for wearing the guest slippers."
It is on days like today that Tajima really has to wonder what goes on inside his daughter's head. Half the time she is so much like him it's almost amusing, but there are flashes of Hitomi that are all the more painful for their brevity and seeming randomness, and then there are the things she says and does that leave him utterly bemused, because he can't see where they came from at all.
Hitomi would know. A man cannot hope to raise a daughter alone, or at least cannot hope to do so well. But he is alone and so he has to do his best, poor though it is.
He tore the clan archives apart while she was lying comatose from chakra exhaustion aged nine, looking for something –anything– that might offer him clear guidance on how to raise a child with Mangekyō. He found nothing specific, but the records from Aka and Naka's time concerning the many, many toddlers and small children growing up with active sharingan did at least provide an outline.
Expect strangeness; the developing mind is not meant to remember so much, and will put things together in ways that make no sense at all to adults.
Be patient and gentle; everything will be remembered, especially the things you would rather were not.
Accept the strangeness; it will not get better. However, in time, you may grow accustomed to its rhythm.
Tajima had every single document with even the most tangential of relevance memorised with his own sharingan by the time his daughter woke a week later, and what he learned there is yet to lead him astray. His daughter is indeed acutely strange, but she is also yet to indenture the clan to extra-dimensional beings in perpetuity, so he feels he has perhaps not done too badly.
The apologies for perfectly reasonable things she has done are a foible that is now both familiar and perpetually baffling. He knew why she did it; it is something he would have done in her place. But his daughter's insistence on expressing her regret for lashing out at him –and he can recognise that he is frequently the one provoking such– will never stop being strange.
"I accept your apology," he says, because unless he does that she will remain unsettled. Then he turns his attention back to the warabimochi.
She stays, watching him.
When he has finished transferring the mixture to the bowl of cold water he removes the partially-set mochi to a slate slab, which he places in one of Izuna's cold-boxes to set properly. Then he gets the sugar and bracken starch out again; they are not Izuna's favourites, but she still enjoys them. He will make another batch.
And while the warabimochi are setting he will prepare dinner as well. His daughter will make yellow rice if he makes chicken meatballs to go with it, and slices some pickles to serve on the side.
Enough food for his daughter's household, as well as his own.
Naka Two-Swords hears her almost-niece announce herself as she comes through the genkan and shouts a welcome, then sets out a generous bowl of shiruko with a side-dish of umeboshi for Izuna to eat while the kettle finishes heating for tea. Izuna always needs feeding; Naka Two-Swords learned this earlier than most of the rest of the clan, having been her almost-niece's first Squad Leader, back when she was a scrap of a nine-year-old being intensively trained by one of her father, Takao or Taka in every spare moment.
In those first six months whenever Izuna wasn't training she was eating or sleeping. Naka Two-Swords learned very swiftly to always keep food on hand, lest her smallest and most valuable responsibility sneak off to pick berries, sweet-talk snacks out of civilian grandmothers or worst of all, steal other people's bento-boxes.
She still carries mochi and onigiri absolutely everywhere, despite not having been Izuna's Squad Leader for seven years now and having retired entirely from the field almost two years ago after taking a crippling injury that almost killed her, just six weeks before the Fire Daimyo 'requested' the Uchiha and Senju negotiate a ceasefire for Shichi-Go-San. She probably would have died if she hadn't spent four years running herd on Izuna, who very early on developed a dodging method that involves collapsing like a corpse when an adult warrior tries to bring their sword down on her, forcing them to over-extend as she rolls either out of range or close enough to stab up into the groin area.
That 'cloth doll fall' saved Naka Two-Swords' life when that Senju's sword was coming down, but the medics sadly couldn't restore full mobility in her shoulder joint so she'd retired. She's alive; she can live with that. She's even having another child, which is a joy that will fill her life for years to come; she doesn't regret surviving, not for so much as a second.
"Here, eat up," she says the moment Izuna steps into view.
Izuna laughs. "You're never going to stop leading with food, are you Naka-ba."
"Never," Naka Two-Swords agrees cheerfully, "so eat your shiruko." She's not properly Izuna's aunt by blood or marriage, but Tsuyoshi is Izuna's uncle by marriage and Tsuyoshi's mother and hers are identical twins, so they've always considered each-other siblings. Izuna and her siblings all call her 'Naka-ba,' but much as she loves being called such, it always aches a little. Naka-Lightfoot had been a close friend and a comrade in the Outguard before she retired to marry Niniji, and her death –a combination of heartbreak from hearing of her husband's execution and the premature labour induced by the shock of his loss– has never sat right.
Izuna should have two Naka-ba, not just the one. Naka Two-Swords squashes the thought as unhelpful and starts humming a tune to send it firmly on its way:
Kind kin and companions, come join me in rhyme; come lift up your voices in chorus with mine; come lift up your voices, all grief to refrain; for we may or might never all meet here again.
Not all of Izuna's songs are obscene; some of them steal your articulation for different reasons entirely.
Here's a health to the company and one for my treasure; we will drink and be merry, measure for measure; drink and be merry, all grief to refrain; for we may or might never all meet here again.
"Here's a health for the treasure that I love so well; for style and for cunning sure none can excel; there's a smile on their countenance as they sit beside me; there's no warrior in this wide world as happy as me," Izuna sings, voice deep and sweet. Naka Two-Swords joins in for the chorus as she sets the tea to steep:
"So here's a health to company and one for my treasure; let us drink and be merry, measure for measure; let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain; for we may or might never all meet here again."
"Their mission is waiting, the Squad's due to leave; I wish them save travels ne'er to be bereaved; and if ever I should meet you by land or by sea; I will always remember your kindness to me," Izuna sings on, eyes closed and food temporarily forgotten.
Ah, so it's that kind of visit, is it? Naka Two-Swords has coached many warriors through romantic drama, and it's nice to see a kōhai with the good sense to ask for help when they feel out of their depth. She's very happily married and she's seen a lot over the years, but unlike some she knows when to shut up and listen. Most people don't need advice, just a sympathetic ear to air their thoughts to.
"So what's bothering you that it's put you off your sweets, Izuna-bi?"
Izuna opens her eyes and smiles wryly. "I owe my– my treasure some explanations," she admits, "and I know what I need to say, but…" she trails off, eyes dropping.
"You're afraid," Naka Two-Swords deduces easily, moving closer to wrap an arm around her almost-niece's shoulders. "That's understandable, Izuna-bi; we're all afraid when our hearts are on the line."
"I didn't mean to put my heart on the line," Izuna mutters, shoving another spoonful of mochi and warm red-bean paste into her mouth.
"We never do," Naka Two-Swords tells her gently, "and rest assured there have been less wise commitments than yours, Izuna-bi. Your brother's, for one."
Izuna groans, free hand covering her eyes. "Don't remind me," she implores, stuffing an umeboshi into her mouth.
"Well if we do get peace Madara-kun might well survive his impetuosity, which would be a relief for all concerned," Naka Two-Swords says lightly, "so that's something to look forward to. But back to your heart, Izuna-bi."
Izuna sags, pushing the rest of her food firmly to one side. "I love him," she confesses, "and if that was all, it wouldn't be so bad. But I'm enamoured as well, Naka-ba, and that… it's wonderful and painful and makes me so terribly afraid."
"Have you told him?"
Izuna absently bites her lip. "I don't think so? But he's an unparalleled sensor, who's to say he hasn't noticed anyway; I've not exactly been hiding myself from him."
And well, it's Senju Tobirama; Naka Two-Swords puts even money on him knowing and capitalising on it, or not knowing because the very idea is completely incompatible with Izuna's thus-far extremely well-organised scheme. She's not had a chance to meet the man properly yet –hasn't seen much of him since Izuna was moved off her Squad at thirteen– so she not inclined to trust her own judgement there.
So she waits for what Izuna might say next.
"I kept accidentally calling him 'husband' and he wants to know why," her almost-niece whispers eventually.
Well. That is a predicament, isn't it? "Are you going to tell him?"
Izuna droops. "I need to," she mutters, "but I don't want to."
"Why did you pick him for this little scheme of yours, Izuna-bi?"
Izuna side-eyes her. "You know why."
"Humour me, Izuna-bi," she says sternly, channelling all her ex-Squad-Leader authority. Izuna, predictably, folds.
"Because without him the Senju can't hope to match us in the field. Because he's practical and logical and dutiful rather than motivated by grief and hatred. Because he's brilliant and could immediately see enough of my plan to know it would take time and subtlety to escape it, not force. Because he's curious as any Cat and that makes him easy to bait in the desired direction. Because he can and does keep up with me." She sighs heavily. "Because he's nice to look at and I think his dry humour is hilarious."
"What's the worst that could happen?"
Izuna covers her face with her hands. "He decides I've been acting in bad faith and thus the commitments made to me and the children are void."
"Is that likely, given what you have observed of him?" She waits patiently as Izuna's focus turns inward, that Amaterasu mind-ordering training coming to the fore as her almost-niece makes use of her education to sort her memories and model her concubine's behaviour accordingly.
"Unlikely in the short-term," Izuna admits eventually. "Also in the medium term; I can't model the long term as I don't have the right kind of knowledge and he's acting partially under duress, which skews the results."
"So what is likely?"
Izuna glares at her. "He accepts my explanation and considers it, then asks me for additional clarification as time passes. He is also likely to make an effort to coax more freedoms out of me and ply me with sex."
"Do you mind that?" It's a genuine question.
"I don't," Izuna confesses quietly. "I want him to ask me for things, so I can give them to him." She sighs, shaking her head and humming a few bars that soon slide into a song:
"Treasure everything I do, I do it for the love of you; if you don't even want my love, I'll give it to someone who does; someone grateful for their fate; someone who appreciates, the comforts of a gilded cage; and doesn't try to fly away, when Sakuya-hime calls; someone who can love these walls; that hold then close and keep them safe; and think of them as my embrace."
"That's not a very pleasant song," Naka Two-Swords says neutrally, "or even a very honest one." It's angry and hurting and aiming to injure the one it's being sung for, and no Uchiha in history has ever managed to divert themselves from one of their Heart's Treasures once regard is given.
"I know," Izuna mumbles, head in her hands, "but I've got an entire play's worth of marriage breakdown in my head right now, Naka-ba, and it doesn't end well for anybody, not really."
Well, if it's a play… Naka Two-Swords gets up and fetches her writing desk, then pours the tea. "Eat your shiruko and tell me about your play, Izuna-bi. I'm guessing this is the one involving your latest crop of phantoms?" One of whom is an unsettling grey-haired blend of your brother's looks and father's attitude, she thinks but does not say as she readies her brush.
"Must I, Naka-ba?"
"Yes you must; you can't tempt me with theatre and just expect me to let it lie, Izuna-bi!"
Izuna hangs her head. "Oh very well then; please be aware this isn't finished yet, Naka-ba."
"All the better; that way we can discuss it once you've given me what you have."
Izuna capitulates with a sigh. "Very well then; give me a moment."
Naka Two-Swords takes the opportunity to set up her desk and grind a good amount of ink in anticipation; this isn't Izuna's first play, but it's the first in quite some time and sounds like it's rather different to her previous offerings.
Izuna hums a different riff of tune, swaying and tapping her fingers on the tatami as she finishes her food and wets her throat, then opens her mouth; the voice that emerges is not her own.
"Once upon a time there was a steel track road; don't ask where clansmen, don't ask where; it was hard times; it was a world of gods and men…"
Naka Two-Swords dashes down the words in sharingan shorthand as fast as she can, already preparing more ink; she can already tell this is going to be epic.
Note to allay any confusion:
'The Peony Pavilion' is a classical Chinese play of the same name;
'General Stands Above Me' is a paraphrase of General Above I Am Below, a Chinese novel adapted into the C-Drama 'Oh My General';
'Great Sage Of Evil' paraphrases Mo Dao Zu Shi (aka Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) the novel the C-Drama 'The Untamed' was adapted from;
'The Chronacle of Enki Palace' transliterates and paraphrases the Chinese characters of Story of Yanxi Palace, another C-Drama.