After today I will be updating on Mondays and Thursdays only.
Unchained
It takes a further three days to get the ceasefire signed; his uncle wants Tōma to be released as a sign of goodwill, and Tajima demands additional concessions in return for his 'generosity' in allowing a would-be assassin to evade justice. The Senju end up paying the Uchiha five times the teenager's armoured weight in good rice against his release, on the condition that if he is caught armed and armoured on Uchiha land at any point in the next twenty years, Tajima has the right of summary execution.
It is a lot of rice for a widow with three other children, but well within the means of the wider clan, especially now the Senju have six fewer grown warriors to feed, considering his own absence and the deaths he knows about. The vassals grow enough that his uncle can easily let that much of their stores go, especially when the year has thus far been kind to the fields. So Tokonoma-ji pays the two hundred and fifty kilos of rice demanded and Tōma is released, all his armour, weapons and effects with him.
Tobirama suspects his uncle will try to get Tōma apprenticed in some kind of civilian craft after this, just to make sure not to give Tajima an excuse. His cousin may lose the right to the Senju name, but he'll be alive and that's what really matters. Tōma may not agree with that just yet, but Tobirama knows Ajisai-ba most certainly will. And if they have peace, then a craft may well bring in money more steadily than shinobi work would.
He doesn't miss his father, once the shock has passed. He didn't even know the man was dead until after he was buried –because he will have been buried quickly, so the clan could move on– and all he can feel is relief. What does that say about him?
What does it say about his father?
His geta have arrived, and he now has a bathing yukata resist-printed with large round fans that he very much enjoyed Izuna's reaction to when he first put it on upon emerging from the bathhouse, and with how each day this week has been hotter than the last, he is sure he will soon be receiving the summer kimono he sold his pride for.
He is not going to be able to avoid telling Baachan about that; he is sure she will laugh at him. At least, Izuna's tastes being what they are, he can console himself that he did not sell himself cheaply.
Izuna still has not explained why she keeps tripping over calling him 'husband.' However given how she keeps sliding into pensive silence when they are alone together and how long she spends composing at her koto, writing and rewriting tunes until she is satisfied with them as he sits across the room and writes his notes and commentaries –occasionally even indulging himself with art– he does not press. He promised her the time to order her thoughts, and he will grant it. She is taking her time in considering her words, and he would sooner take considered words than hasty ones.
She has however written to Baachan. Yesterday mid-morning, immediately after the announcement of the signing of the ceasefire –which turned into an impromptu festival with paper streamers and fried foods by the early afternoon– his wife asked him what he wanted her to write in her invitation.
"Whatever you want to write," he had told her. "You are inviting her, not me; I know what I would write, but you are not me."
He's still not entirely sure what Izuna took away from that, given the flash of realisation that briefly illuminated her chakra, but she kissed him and assured him as they finally fell into bed that evening that the letter had been sent, so he's letting it lie. He's sure Baachan will tell him all about the letter when she visits.
Kiso-kun will be spending this afternoon with Moreya-san again, but the toddler is showing signs of increased comfort and confidence now, in that he threw his first tantrum yesterday and refused to be babysat by Midori-chan when there was a festival going on. Izuna had then for the first time proved that yes, she does have considerable experience with small children, and walked up and down the engawa with the wailing boy in her arms, singing and swaying until he finally settled then informed him calmly that he would be spending the afternoon with Midori-chan. However, if he asked, his step-father might come with him.
Kiso had instantly turned pleading eyes on Tobirama, whose resolve had crumpled like wet washi. It had been a little nerve-racking to be surrounded by celebrating and increasingly drunk Uchiha when he didn't have any chakra to defend himself with, but Tobirama had reminded himself firmly of the shattered sword he had woken to on the night of the assassination attempt; yes, he is bound, but he is also protected.
Nobody raised a hand to him, and he had a great deal of festival food pressed on him. Kiso ran out of energy a few hours in and had to be carried, but any attempt to leave the celebrations elicited more whining so Tobirama ended up sitting on a fence near an impromptu music performance, being casually included as drinks and food were passed around and learning new songs.
The Uchiha musical repertoire he is aware of now extends significantly beyond the profoundly inappropriate: he now knows five ridiculous drinking songs, one of which references some long-gone bandit or other, a dozen songs for dancing to and a range of silly children's songs, as well as several new love songs.
Politely implied love songs, as distinct from the shamelessly explicit ones from the kitsune wedding party. He's still not sure how they could sing those without tripping over the words in utter mortification.
Midori-chan took advantage of having an adult present to offload various small children on him as and when they tired themselves out; by the end of the afternoon he had all of her other charges lingering in his general vicinity, freeing up the young lady herself to enjoy the festival with her same-age friends. Tobirama didn't mind –if this had been a planned festival she would have been free to do as she wished, and it was very responsible of her to not simply abandon her commitments in the face of the festivities– and despite having to break up a few arguments between tired, fretful four-year-olds, he did genuinely enjoy himself; having an umbrella to hide from the sun under definitely helped there though. Three tired children under six, not including Kiso, was however perfectly manageable.
He's not entirely sure where Izuna went, but when he returned to the house with Kiso drooling on the towel spread over his shoulder to protect his fish kimono she was absent, returning about half an hour later with a box of chicken meatballs along with plenty of pickles, yellow sticky rice –cooked with turmeric and a few other spices apparently– and a generous serving each of soft, tasty warabimochi dusted with soya flour and macha.
Tobirama doubts very much that the bracken-starch mochi were being served to the wider clan, but Izuna was laughingly coy on their provenance so he accepted the seasonal treat in the spirit it was intended, then after Kiso was asleep initiated some private celebrations for just himself and Izuna in return.
When he wakes the next morning, to Kiso fast asleep and his wife chastely kissing his cheek on her way to bathe and dress, Tobirama hopes that Baachan will write back soon. He very much wants to see her; he has so much as to ask and to share.
Tobirama eats his breakfast wearing his fan-print yukata; today is again hotter than yesterday was at this hour, so it will likely only get worse until the June rains arrive and provide a little relief.
Kiso is bouncy and keen to babble at length about everything done yesterday, as well as to demand attention; another good sign, but much as Tobirama would like to lean into the distraction provided, he feels rather ambivalent about doing so. He's spent over a week very deliberately trying not to think about anything less immediate than the next hour, but now the Uchiha and Senju have an official cease-fire with the promise of a full treaty to be negotiated later, all the things he was avoiding have come rushing back like floodwaters along a riverbed briefly dammed.
His sleep so far has been free of dreams, but he knows himself too well to assume that will last; he has pushed a great many things aside for 'later,' and 'later' has arrived.
Well, Kiso is still a priority; 'later' will just have to wait until the afternoon.
"Treasure?"
Tobirama looks up from his breakfast. "Yes, Izuna?"
His wife smiles at him, small and faintly wicked. "What kind of outfit would you like to wear, Tobirama? Something simple for indoors, something a little more fine for walking around and exploring the clan compound or a painted visiting kimono?"
Ah, evidently at least some of his promised bribery is ready for him to receive. Time to discover what his pride is worth.
"Out! Out wif Keifu!" Kiso squeals, bouncing excitedly. Tobirama smiles at the toddler.
"Well, it seems I will be needing a kimono I can wear to wander around the clan compound with Kiso-kun." That will at least let him address one of those lingering curiosities he's been ignoring, which is investigating which crafts it is that the Uchiha pursue and how lucrative they are. It's not a question he can answer in a single day –or even a single month– but the sooner he gets started the more he will learn. Hopefully he will learn things the Senju can benefit from, if the ceasefire lasts long enough for peace to be established.
"In that case, the only question is whether my beloved spouse would prefer a bright outfit or a more sober one," Izuna says teasingly.
Tobirama considers his options; whichever he asks for, he will certainly receive the other one later regardless. "Bright," he decides. That way he can get it over with and is able to look forward to the other one.
His wife beams at him, then produces a trio of washi-wrapped packages –two kimono-sized, one much smaller– from nowhere; Kiso claps at the conjuring trick, prompting Izuna to bow theatrically with many flourishes as she sets the stack of gifts at Tobirama's elbow. This of course elicits a delighted giggling fit, which Izuna plays into with further exploitation of her sleeve seals, appearing to produce a loquat from behind the toddler's ear and acting terribly shocked about it.
"Kiso-kun! Are you sure you are washing behind your ears properly? Look! There must be a loquat tree growing there!"
Kiso shakes his head, giggling madly. "Nooo! I wash! I wash!"
"Really? Look, another loquat! How can this be! Kiso-kun you have so much dirt behind your ears there are trees growing there!"
"Nooo!" The toddler falls over giggling, hands covering his ears as Izuna pokes lightly at his head, the loquats set aside beside her empty bowl. "No tees!"
Tobirama smiles into his katemeshi as he finishes, then sets the bowl down and moves his dubiously-earned parcels in front of him. Izuna notices –of course she does– and stops prodding Kiso, instead picking him up and holding him against her chest so the toddler can see what he's doing.
Well, once he's stopped giggling, that is. Tobirama doesn't wait though and opens the top package, which is also the smallest one.
It is a length of the same sky-blue and ice-white wavy damask as the lining of his crab obi, but shorter and unlined with neatly hemmed ends; the promised unlined summer obi. It comforts him that the colour scheme of what he is being given will not be too bright, as it is evidently intended to match either the dawn palette or the summer sky palette she is already dressing him from. The obi cords tucked in with it are a pleasantly golden green shade like summer grass, suggesting this particular outfit has a more summery palette. As of course it would.
The next parcel is a nagajuban, except that unlike the previous nagajuban he has been given it is both linen and colourfully printed. The pattern is of hanashōbu irises, but cleverly done in a fresh onion green so the coloured parts are just the leaves, creating the flowers by absence and little spots of lemon yellow that mark the bases of the iris petals. It also extents over the collar, creating an attractively textured effect.
"This is very lovely," he says. "I hadn't realised patterns were also an option here."
Izuna grins at him. "Very popular among wealthy townsfolk; sumptuary laws mean they can't wear certain colours and designs on the outside, but linings and under-layers are another matter entirely. Nobility are not so constrained, so generally only bother in summertime when layering is limited and thus so are the options to flaunt one's status."
"So noted." Tobirama refolds the nagajuban and takes the last parcel onto his lap. Izuna said it was 'bright,' so time to find out how bright exactly.
Hopefully it's not pink.
Unfolding the washi reveals that prayer, at least, is answered: the unlined gauze kimono contained within is not pink. It is instead a cheerful orange-tinted golden yellow, one which he is mostly sure is the colour made by dying with gardenia fruit. The sleeves are winged, but not that much compared to some of his other kimono, and the upper half of it appears unadorned beyond the damask pattern of curving grass that is only visible if he turns it to catch the light just so.
Encouraged, he shakes it out fully –then stills.
"This," he says carefully, "is a tomesode, isn't it." Only patterned across the section below the waist, going from left front panel around the back to finish on the hidden right-hand front panel; it's definitely a tomesode.
"They are quite popular for summer wear, Treasure," Izuna says mildly, "and I went easy on the sleeves, just for you."
"My Lord-Wife has my gratitude," Tobirama says dryly, carefully pulling the silk taut so as to properly display the design. The main difference from his aster visiting wear is in the shape of the colour gradient; tomesode are generally dyed on the bolt then stitched together, while hōmongi are lightly tacked together when painted so that the pattern can be continuous over the seams. Thus, this tomesode is actually dyed symmetrically, the light eggshell section with its curling cloud-like border fairly even all the way across the lower panels.
If it were just that, Tobirama wouldn't mind. But Izuna has got around the 'five silk gauze summer kimono, three painted' by having this unpainted kimono be embroidered with green reeds and silvery-white plover, the reeds in artistic little uneven patches as though emerging above the 'misty' background and the plover soaring above it in ragged lines.
It is very lovely. He will look very good in it, even though the colours are very much pushing the limit for what is considered appropriate for grown men. Then again, maybe the rules are a bit different for concubines; he will have to check the etiquette book, along with the dye reference guide.
It is also orange, or close enough; a colour he now knows is one of his wife's favourites. That has… certain other implications. The thought of his wife dressing him in colours she likes, as well as colours he likes is… not displeasing, actually. To know that his wife has gifted this to him because seeing him in it will bring her pleasure, even such a minor pleasure as his wearing a colour that brings her joy.
"This is very fine," he says, "and I will enjoy wearing it today." He quickly folds it up again, away from Kiso's grubby fingers. "I will go and dress while you make sure Kiso is properly clean for our outing."
Izuna grins. "Ah yes, time to uproot those loquat trees from behind your ears, Kiso-kun!"
"Nooo!" the toddler wiggles out of Izuna's lap and flees, hands over his ears; Tobirama's wife gives chase, cackling loudly.
Tobirama smiles to himself, picks up his new clothes and goes to change. Izuna has already brushed his hair –and he hers– so it will not take him so very long to be ready to go out.
Dressed for summer in his very fine new gauze kimono, Tobirama pauses over his fans. He has two, and while he knows the art on the inner side of each is from classical literature –because it says so in the little caption on each– he did not actually recognise either image. He is –'was' is perhaps more accurate now– a shinobi; he has never had the time for plays or literature. But he has at least heard of the tale of Dorakyura, the blood-sucking ghost lord who through trickery escaped his lavish tomb to prey upon the living, and was defeated by an exorcist and a group of friends native to the city where the ghost had taken up residence, though not without loss.
The story has been made into a set of plays, which are a popular subject for prints. This image is from the tragedy of the cycle, the beautiful maiden dead by mysterious means not long before her wedding and transformed into a blood-sucking ghost herself, the print on the folding fan depicting the moment she is revealed to her distraught betrothed as the exorcist protects him.
The title on the rigid fan is however unfamiliar to him and the image itself reveals a possible reason why: three well-dressed women in a walled garden, giggling amongst themselves. He's not sure who 'the three concubines of the Prince of Nanupin' are –or even where 'Nanupin' is– or why they are contemplating General Kana Akira, but the story or play is evidently about General Kana Akira, seeing as the title mentioned in the caption is 'The General Stands Above Me'.
It's a nice print though, well-detailed in terms of the women, their dress and their setting, which is a lavish garden. The other side of the rigid fan is simply a classic monochrome blue design of a willow tree beside a bridge, artistic but not interesting. That is the side that others see; the colourful print is so he has something to look at.
He'll have to ask about that, to see if there's a book he can read. He's unlikely to be able to see a play, after all. Even a short one would last half a day, and adding travel times to that when he can only move at civilian speeds puts theatre firmly outside the day-trip range. If Izuna will even allow him off clan lands at all.
Tobirama takes up the rigid fan again, tucking it into his obi knot behind his back; the subject of the folding fan is a tragedy, and he's not really in the mood to appreciate a tragedy right now.
Kiso is bouncing eagerly by the iori when he emerges. "Keifu good!" He chirps, then dashes forwards for a hug, pausing half a step away to show off his freshly-washes palms. "Keen hans!"
"Yes, your hands are clean, "Tobirama agrees fondly, reaching down to accept the impending hug. Kiso embraces his thigh, then takes several long moments to poke at the embroidery level with his nose before remembering he wanted to be carried and raising his hands.
"Up!"
Tobirama pokes the toddler's armpits playfully –eliciting a squeak– then sweeps the little boy up into a proper embrace. Then he teasingly checks behind the toddler's ears. "No more loquats, I see."
"Keifuuuuuu," Kiso complains, leaning back and pouting at him. Tobirama kisses his hair.
"What, I can't tease my– my boy?" He almost said son oh he's never getting out of this, is he.
Well, he did promise.
Kiso's face lights up and he slumps forwards again, burying his face in Tobirama's neck. "Like Keifu. Go out?"
"I need to put you in the carrier so I can have my hands free, but after that yes, we're going out." The carrier's in the genkan, so that's easy enough. "Where's Izuna-san?" He knows exactly where she is –can feel her there– but asking will make Kiso feel more included.
"In 'tudy," Kiso mumbles into his neck. Tobirama nuzzles his hair again.
"Thank you, Kiso-kun." He walks through the open shōji into the front room facing the genkan, then slides open the fusuma of his wife's study.
His wife is wearing a kimono of fine silk crepe in a dull, pale blue-purple, intricately printed with hanging willow fronds and white herons flying across them. The nagajuban collar and cuffs peeking out are white-green with hints of a fine pattern in deep, brilliant blue and her obi is a single layer of unohana white damasked with fish and watery swirls in shades of blue, grey and soft orange.
She looks very subdued, and also very lovely.
"Tobirama," she says, setting her reading aside and getting to her feet. He watches her cross the room into arm's reach, then steps back from the threshold so that once she is in arm's reach he can embrace her and press light kisses to her face.
"Will there be problems if I wander around randomly and talk to craftspeople?" He asks quietly, because asking is wise and Izuna is yet to lead him astray.
His wife hums, fingertips barely brushing the fine hairs at the nape of his neck and making him shiver. "Please continue to avoid the smithing district," she requests, tone and chakra faintly regretful, "but otherwise you should not have issues. All I ask is that you please walk away from hostility when you find it; many of my kin still hurt and you are not who they are angry with, not truly."
Tobirama leans back so his wife can see his sceptically raised eyebrow; he has killed many Uchiha in his lifetime. Some of whom were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As she and he are now both well aware of.
She smiles tiredly at him. "You were a child obeying your father, and then a warrior under orders; Uchiha consider twenty to be the age beyond which a man –or indeed a woman– must critically consider their choices and be sure to act according to what they think best, but neither one of us is far past that and you had barely a month of true adulthood before I stole you."
That is–
She raises a hand against his frown and open mouth; "You don't have to agree, Treasure. But accept that this is our cultural position, so those who blame you purely because you are in their reach act wrongly. Understandably perhaps, but no less wrongly for that. We who fight all do so under orders, and so the burden of the feud falls on those who give us those orders as much as upon we who choose to obey them. I'm sure you've noticed how much I bend my orders, Tobirama; my father allows it because I achieve the goals he sets for me and hold true to Clan Law, and also profit the clan in other ways. But I also have kinsmen who are not so creative, and will go out of their way to kill Senju if they possibly can. And my father knows this, yet allows it."
Tobirama wrestles with this new idea, closing his mouth, opening it again and then thinking better of it. It is a merciful perspective, softening the wrongs he has committed if not quite excusing them, but it doesn't change the facts. Just people's attitude to them. "I will think on your words," he says eventually.
"Take as much time as you need, Treasure." Izuna then leans down to kiss Kiso's hair. "And have a fun walk with your stepfather, Kiso-kun. I will be waiting at lunchtime to hear all about it."
"Hn," Kiso agrees, not moving. Tobirama decides the conversation is over, kisses his wife one last time and then heads for the genkan.
Time to do some exploring.
It is more accident than design which leads Tobirama's feet to a mulberry orchard and a selection of women picking leaves to feed to the silkworms in a nearby barn; he wasn't looking for them, but the munching susurrus is a landmark he can navigate by. Kiso takes a sudden interest in the activity –and the singing– demanding to be let down and being swiftly co-opted by a teenager willing to show him how to pick the leaves carefully and share her tray with him; Tobirama offers the toddler sincere praise when shown a handful of fresh leaves, reminds him gently to put them in the tray so they don't get crumpled, then turns to bow politely to the middle-aged woman cautiously approaching him, mindful of his oak-leaf print umbrella.
Maybe he should ask Izuna about a reed hat, like most of these women and girls are wearing. He's not going to be allowed to make his own, after all, but it would be more practical to have his hands free.
"Uchiha-san, my thanks for your patience."
The woman bows in return. "I am Fusa of Toyotama, and I am pleased to meet Tobirama of Amaterasu." She doesn't sound very pleased, but neither does she sound –or feel– particularly distressed or angry, so Tobirama ignores this slight dissonance as simple manners.
"Fusa-san." How should he word this? "I would be most grateful for your assistance in improving my understanding of how the clan processes and uses silk, if indeed it is acceptable to you to instruct me in this." Manners cost him nothing, but could win him much.
One of Fusa-san's eyebrows rises up her forehead slightly, her chakra rock-steady. Tobirama waits patiently, acutely aware of their listening audience.
"Yonaha-san," Fusa-san says eventually, prompting a woman picking leaves alongside a handful of pre-teens to stop singing and turn their way.
"Yes, Fusa-oba?"
"I'm sure I can leave you in charge here."
"Of course, Oba-san." Yonaha-san takes Fusa-san's tray, ducks her head politely to Tobirama then returns to her charges and the song.
"Kiso-kun," Tobirama says, raising his voice slightly as he looks down to make eye-contact with the toddler, who looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes as his fingers clutch another freshly-picked leaf. "You can stay her and help," he says clearly, smiling gently so the boy knows he's not in trouble, "but you must listen to Yonoha-san when she tells you what to do. Understood?"
Kiso nods firmly and goes back to leaf-picking, crooning along to the song. Tobirama decides that is as good as he's likely to get, so turns back to Fusa-san, whose chakra is now bemused and faintly approving rather than merely coldly assessing. "Please lead on, Fusa-san."
She inclines her head politely. "This way then, Tobirama-sama."
The sun climbs higher in the sky as Tobirama is allowed to look inside the silkworm barn with its shelves and shelves of trays containing voracious caterpillars all in the same stage of their life-cycle, the sound of their jaws like heavy rain on a thin roof, then taken to meet older women and young girls all across the compound sitting on engawa and reeling the high-quality cocoons of a previous generation into almost impossibly fine thread on massive wheels, then to other women –more middle-aged this time– washing, drying and spinning the lower-quality cocoons like cotton, forming a slightly thicker, less even thread.
Much of the reeled silk leaves the clan at this point, sold to artisan dyers and weavers, but not all of it. Fusa-san then walks him through the dyeing district –who have river access at specific times of day, so as not to clash with the laundresses– where many women and some men bend over large troughs, sunken vats and even metal kettles, stirring and singing to mark the time before a specific batch of silk is ready. Some of the silk is painstakingly wrapped to create kasuri effects in the finished garments, but most of it is plain.
"We mostly make plain weave and damasks for our own use," Fusa-san explains, "and then embroider them afterwards, so plain-dyed silks are most useful to us." She then walks him to another workshop a little further up the river, where there is a single silk-painting workshop and three women hard at work, one making rice paste for another round of layering and the other two pouring over a highly detailed sketch on washi with some kind of number-code, talking about dyes and sequencing in a verbal short-hand that Tobirama cannot decipher at all, as their current project dries under the roof on pillars behind them. The Uchiha call these roofs 'barns,' not that you could ever store straw or rice under one.
The silkworm barns are more what Tobirama thinks of as barns, but the Uchiha call those 'storehouses,' as though the shelves and shelves of silkworms are spare furniture or winter coats put away for next winter. He wonders if this difference in word use is another imperial remnant.
Tobirama doesn't expect to ever get his winter coat back; he firmly pushes that thought away for another day, but it resists him. It was his mother's coat, set aside for its quality rather than sold, and he finally grew into it two autumns ago so was able to claim it back from the stay-at-home aunt who had been using it –a warrior garment for a warrior he'd argued, and won– but he'd mourn the loss of the fur shoulder-wrap she always wore far more and that is in Izuna's study with his armour.
Safe, even if not accessible.
Their next stop is not a single location, but again scattered around the compound: the embroiderers are mostly women but do include a few retired warrior men, sitting on engawa for strong but indirect light and working on kimono, haori and hakama of varying sizes, as well as various obi. Like the kimono painters, many of them are working from paper charts, but some seem to be doing freehand work. Well, that or have studied their pattern with sharingan for greater ease of reference; given that most of the people not working from patterns were retired warriors –all with crippling injuries of various kinds– that seems rather likely.
Several of these embroiderers insist on making tea for Tobirama and Fusa-san, and on offering food; Tobirama accepts these mostly because he's conscious that refusing would be rude, but also because it's turning into a very hot day and he's thirsty. If he had chakra he would be able to cope better, but without it all he can do is try to stand in the shade as much as possible, drink plenty and accept any fruit being offered to him.
None of the Uchiha seems to find the temperature even slightly oppressive; a further advantage to being Fire Natured, no doubt.
Conspicuous by its absence is whoever is dyeing silk with murasaki root, but Tobirama knows better than to ask about that. He's not seen it growing anywhere either, which implies that is taking place somewhere further away from the main compound for secrecy and security reasons that have nothing to do with him personally and a lot more to do with Izuna not wanting to invite sabotage from third parties who have no connections whatsoever with the Senju.
The Uchiha do trade with civilians after all, possibly to the point of their visiting the clan compound, and having something so valuable where anybody could interfere is most unwise. Something Izuna has shown repeatedly that she very much is not.
"So what kind of income does this bring in, for the clan and the individuals involved?" He finally asks as they are sitting on someone's engawa eating fresh loquats. He's not entirely sure whose engawa this is, because there are five people currently sitting in the shade of this Lineage Residence and none of them have taken charge of serving drinks and food.
Fusa-san eyeballs him quellingly; Tobirama refuses to be embarrassed.
"The reeled silk, hn," the only retired warrior of this set –a fairly young man with several fingers missing on both hands who sits very still and straight– "we get two broods a year and we're not trying to expend capacity, so we're getting as much raw silk out as is possible. Cocoon quality is good, but could be better; we're still spinning more than we might, but that's because we're fairly new to silkworm breeding." He grins. "Means more of us can afford to wear silk, at least, and there's plenty for the dyers to experiment with."
Tobirama sips his tea and waits patiently; his question has not yet been answered.
"The silk we sell reeled and raw, earns us as much as four Squads might in the same time on regular low-risk missions," the former warrior says eventually, "which is plenty, considering how much lower the risks and costs are despite it passing through twice as many hands. What we dye," his lips twitch, "only Izuna-bi's selling that yet, as Tajima-sama feels it's more important to outfit the clan first. Mostly we're doing our own weaving and not selling much, but what does get sold is bringing in useful funds to people who need it."
Including this man; there are not many crafts a man with so many fingers missing can do well in, but embroidery is clearly one of them. Four Uchiha squads are twenty people, and with two hatchings a year –and presumably nothing over winter– that means the raw reeled silk is equivalent to income from an additional twenty active shinobi for a solid eight months without any of the associated feeding and equipping costs.
That is indeed significant, even with the money being split forty ways rather than just twenty. It is likely very few of those forty were bringing money in from outside the clan before the Uchiha started breeding silk, so they will all be doing much better for this change. And that is just the people feeding the silkworms and reeling the cocoons; income from spinning and dyeing is evidently still in its early stages, but Tobirama can read between the lines: the Uchiha are selling some finished kimono, and no doubt commanding sky-high prices for their impeccable work.
"Is Izuna-san selling dyed skeins or woven bolts?" He asks, hoping for an answer.
"Hn. Her clients send cocoons along with instructions for bolt width and weave type, some of them with patterns for yūzen dying." That is half an answer, which is more than he quite dared to hope for. But yes, confirmation that Izuna is supplying the daimyo's wife with purple silk that will not fade.
Where exactly that is happening is still unclear, but Tobirama isn't expecting to get that curiosity answered; mainly because it is pure curiosity, rather than something he can give to his brother to help the Senju prosper once their clans have peace.
Copying what the Uchiha do will create more competition, not peace, but it's a starting point. If it comes to it the Senju can always grow tree cotton; Anija could probably coax the trees into flourishing here and after that it's just a matter of harvesting it. They'd have to grow a lot of cotton to earn well though; possibly banana fibre would serve them better?
Patience; there is more to the Uchiha's income than textiles. It's possible one of the other crafts will be more suited to Senju adoption and there are more crafts out there than those the Uchiha favour, though they are proving surprisingly self-sufficient compared to what he is used to.
At lunchtime Kiso tells Izuna about helping in the mulberry field –although Tobirama honestly wouldn't have been able to decipher the happy babble without already knowing what the toddler had been doing– which she makes interested noises for and praises him for helping with. Then she speaks a sentence that completely drives all Tobirama's thoughts of crafts and what to ask after next out of his mind:
"I have been dealing with my correspondence –that's letters, Kiso-kun– and Tobirama-san's grandmother has accepted my invitation to visit tomorrow."
"Baa-tan?" Kiso-kun asks, turning to gaze at Tobirama. "Meet Baa-tan?"
"Tobirama-san hasn't seen his grandma in months, Kiso-kun," Izuna says mildly. "They're going to have tea together, and afterwards you can say hello too."
"Hn." The toddler pouts. Izuna pokes his stomach gently.
"What's with that spade-lip? She's visiting in the morning, you're going to be out with Naka-Scallion!" She flicks the protruding lower lip playfully. "Making flower crowns and picking fruit!"
Kiso perks up. "For Baa-tan!"
"You want to make a flower crown for Tobirama-san's grandma?"
"Hn!"
"I'm sure she'll love that, Kiso-kun," Tobirama manages past the sudden lump in his throat. "I will be sure to ask her to stay until you get back."
The toddler squirms over to hug him around the waist, arms barely reaching more than halfway. "Tank, Keifu."
Tobirama ruffles his hair. "Kiso-kun is very welcome." It is however a relief when the toddler lies down for his afternoon nap, freeing him up to think about what this means and what he will have to do without having to keep most of his attention on the little boy demanding he be attended to.
Baachan. Baachan is coming here. Where is 'here,' for the purposes of this meeting? The Diplomatic Quarters? Tobirama really hopes not. The tea house in the grounds of the Amaterasu Residence? Some other location?
The Outguard Hall? Tobirama would prefer the Diplomatic Quarters to that, honestly. He's not set foot in the building yet and would very much like to continue avoiding doing so. Both so as not find himself within arm's reach of Tajima and to avoid being confronted with a disgruntled warrior; his honoured father-in-law has already shown himself to be sly in exploiting loopholes, and his willingness to look the other way will be all the encouragement some might need.
Although he does now at least know that they are vanishingly unlikely to succeed in doing him physical harm.
"Deep thoughts, Treasure?"
He glares at his wife, who raises her hands with a rueful smile.
"I did rather drop that on you, didn't I."
"Yes, you did." But it's done now, and honestly he's glad to have half a day to think about things rather than Izuna sitting on the news until evening. "Where is this happening?"
"My father suggested the Diplomatic Quarters," Izuna says; Tobirama makes a face. "I know, Treasure. I was able to prevent that on the basis that the repairs aren't finished yet; all the shōji have been replaced now and the fusuma cleaned, but it turns out I cracked one of the pillars and a crossbeam rescuing you, so we need to take the roof off before the rains come and get that sorted out."
He is vividly reminded that Susano-o is very much not suited for indoor use; now though Tobirama is grateful for the mess. "Where then?"
"The tea house in the northern half of the garden, Treasure," Izuna says, grinning abruptly, "that I had built specially to take tea with my charming spouse in."
She –that was built for him? Not there already, not added because Izuna herself wished to host tea, but for him? Tobirama reels. This is why it took longer than expected for her to move in here, because she was having an entire extra building put in?
"Will you not be serving me tea in it first, so that I can appreciate it?" He manages to ask, hoping his humour and teasing obscures his wonder and embarrassed pleasure.
Izuna's eyes soften, sweetness and deep, aching emotion tingeing her chakra. "A Shoburo for my Treasure then, to celebrate the first use of the brazier as summer begins." She shuffles closer over the tatami and kisses him lightly. "A nice evening Chakai, to calm both our minds; I will go and see about acquiring fresh namagashi." Her lips twitch. "I'm afraid they will be nothing so fine as the sakuramochi I bought you from the Yanagi-machi."
"The Tea is its own joy, which the wagashi merely accent," Tobirama says virtuously. "I am sure whoever you ask will produce wonders for you." His wife is very much beloved by her kin, that much has been made abundantly clear to him, and there will be somebody who sees the request of sweets for Tea Ceremony at no notice on a stifling summer afternoon as the perfect opportunity to express their appreciation.
Izuna leans in for another kiss, which Tobirama deepens. It is very pleasant indeed to kiss her like this, slow and carefully so as to enjoy the warmth it brings despite the heat of the day.
"I shall go and arrange sweets then, Treasure," she murmurs eventually, forehead resting against his as they both breathe. "And then once Kiso-kun has woken and been handed off to Moreya-jii, I will give you your choice of the other less formal summer kimono, so you can decide what you wish to wear when your grandmother visits."
Another three kimono plus accessories; Tobirama cannot believe he is becoming vaguely accustomed to his wife's extravagance. Then again, it is likely that as the creator of the hiden jutsu that keeps murasaki dyes from fading and architect of the subsequent contract with the daimyo, she actually has almost as much personal funds as half the rest of the clan put together.
That she is choosing to spend that immense wealth on him is her own choice; that it elicits deep, shivering feeling under his ribs is something he is going to have to address sooner or later.
But not yet.