Next's week's chapter will be an interlude, following in the style of Unchained.
Bondage
Kazuo-kun does not return, which is another point towards Tobirama's theory of his father being Katsuma. However that is something that can, will and must wait; the soup is what matters. The daishi is eventually finished and he sets it aside in a stone jar to cool, then the last of the quick soup ingredients and herbs are added and not very much time later the soup is done.
It will stay warm a while and be easy to reheat later, so he will be able to carry it back to the Amaterasu Residence in a crock-pot. First however Umeno-san wants to sample it, if only to be assured that he hasn't wasted good mushrooms on mediocre soup.
Her enjoyment or otherwise of the soup will have no effect whatsoever on Tobirama serving it to Izuna; he's smelled it, tasted it and it is exactly right for a summer soup. This is about thanking Unemo-san for letting him use her kitchen this afternoon and also to prove to her –insofar as he is able– that the soup is a proper Hatake mushroom soup and he wasn't lying to her.
Not that he would ever lie about his mother's soup to Izuna's grandmother, but Umeno-san has no reason at all to trust his honesty so he can restrain himself from pointing that out.
He is careful to make sure her sample bowl has a bit of each ingredient and plenty of the thick broth; he may not have made it for her and he may tell himself that her opinion is irrelevant, but the truth is that he does want Umeno-san to approve of his soup, to pronounce it as properly Hatake. He barely knows anything about his mother's clan and to have one of the few things he does have acknowledged by an Elder would be… appreciated.
Not necessary, but he would like it to happen. Especially if that would mean gaining access to more mushrooms. He does enjoy the soup and while he perhaps would not make it for himself with any particular frequency under normal circumstances, Izuna is craving it and he wants to be able to satisfy her in this. After all, it is unlikely that one round of soup will be enough to silence the craving completely.
Tobirama does his best to hide his apprehension as Umeno-san sips from the bowl, but depending on how much scent training she has his blank affect may do him no good at all.
"Hn." Tobirama has heard at least twenty-five variations on that sound since being abducted; he does not react.
"Very rich and pleasantly seasoned," Umeno-san pronounces eventually; "rather stronger than I am used to, yet nonetheless very definitely a Hatake soup." She eyes him. "Your Leopards have already introduced themselves."
"They have laid a Claim on Kiso-kun," Tobirama feels compelled to add.
Umeno-san's eyebrow ticks up briefly. "Well that will be interesting, I'm sure," she concedes tartly, "but the afternoon is getting on and it will soon be time for the evening meal. Remember to take your daishi and other ingredients with you."
So now he has proved himself he is no longer welcome; or, more likely, Umeno-san wishes the kitchen to be free so her grandson can be summoned to begin making soup for tomorrow. "My thanks for the use of your kitchen, Umeno-san."
"Nonsense; I asked, not you. Don't worry about borrowing dishes; Hayami-chan or Naka-Dragon can bring them back later."
Tobirama bows. "Good evening, Umeno-san."
"Good evening, Tobirama-san. Do bring Kiso-kun over tomorrow morning to play with his cousins."
"I will do so, Umeno-san."
As Tobirama serves the soup Izuna is taking deep, steady breaths through her nose, her chakra rippling and blooming like it does when he is touching her; the sound she makes around her first mouthful is definitely a bedroom noise.
"Mhn!"
Tobirama smirks, keeping his eyes on the smaller bowl with the watered broth he is sorting out for Kiso; the toddler is unlikely to appreciate the strong, complex flavour of the soup, so he is doing as his mother did when feeding Itama and thinning it with boiled water.
His wife's blatant appreciation is very gratifying. She's not making any more sounds –which is probably for the best given Kiso's presence– but she's rocking back and forth very slightly and savouring every mouthful with a deliberation he's only ever seen her use with daifuku.
Handing Kiso the specially-prepared bowl of less potent soup, Tobirama serves himself and sits down on the tatami at right-angles to his wife, all the better to savour her reactions. Not that he needs to look in order to admire the blissful shivering in her chakra.
Kiso pokes his own soup warily, tastes it then digs in enthusiastically; evidently enough about it is familiar for him to enjoy the combination of textures and savouries, slightly lightened by the ginger-lily and salted with finely sliced konjac.
Tobirama settles in to enjoy his own soup, relishing the fact that he can eat slowly because there is no Hashirama here to steal all the seconds right out of the pan if he's not right there to fight for his fair share. Being able to fully savour the textures and flavours is a wonderful gift; he might make mushroom soup more often on principle if it's going to be like this. It's not like Izuna will object, especially if her cravings continue.
His mother used to make soup regularly; she made other dishes too, things which unlike the soup, he's not really cooked since she died –can barely remember at all– because they weren't anybody's particular favourite. There was a game dumpling and some kind of pancake with dried berries in, maybe? If he could smell them again he'd remember them better.
Slowly eating the soup, surrounded by its scent and listening to the sound of Kiso enthusiastically chewing his serving –and Izuna's ecstatic little hums– brings back those early memories with terrifying clarity. The scent of the wood polish Haha favoured, the curtains and wall hangings in geometric patterns of grey, dull green, deep scarlet and rusty orange, the lively tunes she played and the dances that went with them; the words she used that he has never heard from any other kinsman's mouth.
"Keifu cry?"
Tobirama quickly wipes his eyes. "I'm just remembering my mother, Kiso-kun."
Kiso nods solemnly. "Keifu misses."
"Yes, I do," Tobirama agrees softly, "but I am also glad I can make her soup and remember her. She would want me to be happy."
Kiso snuggles against his side. "Miss Haha."
Tobirama's heart clenches at the reminder of his responsibility for that absence. "Did she cook you anything special, that you could eat in her memory?"
Kiso ponders this as Tobirama serves himself more soup, refilling Izuna's bowl as well. His wife's quick but very heartfelt kiss says his soup is exactly what she was craving and she is enjoying it immensely.
"Oyaki," his almost-son declares eventually.
Tobirama has unfortunately never heard of oyaki before. "Well then, we will ask your Baa-san for the recipe tomorrow and see if we can make them later, shall we?" It will be something they can do together now he has been granted kitchen access, and even if he repeatedly fails to produce the desired item those failures will probably still be edible. And doubtless his efforts will be entertaining to a toddler.
"Hn!"
The promise of oyaki unfortunately fills Kiso with eager energy despite it being bedtime; with no leopards to babysit for him, Tobirama tells three different bedtime stories and is then rescued by Izuna, who removes him firmly to the iori while 'suggesting' he drink some tea to wet his throat –the tea is already waiting for him– and then settles on the floor next to Kiso's futon and sings the toddler to sleep.
Tobirama suspects Izuna may be cheating ever so slightly with genjutsu –aural genjutsu specifically, not something he'd ever thought Izuna might have in her repertoire but he already knew his perspective of her was distressingly narrower than reality– but by this point he's just grateful for her intervention. Sitting up with Kiso and telling story after story until the sun actually set and the boy eventually nodded off was not particularly appealing, thank you.
She starts with the kitten's lullaby, which he still thinks is a deceptively innocuous name for a song about a cat with nine of everything it should only have one, two or at most four of, and eighty-one of those things it should maybe have a dozen or so of. Then she sings a song about trees and the uses of the different woods –which he was not expecting from an Uchiha; his ignorance showing again– which has a strong, even beat that suggests it might be a work song, but sung slowly enough to be slightly soporific.
Her last song is… not at all child appropriate, but for entirely different reasons to usual. It's about a man getting executed for a crime he didn't commit, because at the time of the murder he'd been committing adultery with his best friend's wife and refuses to incriminate her. Tobirama doesn't think this song is about a real event –it sounds too much like a ghost story– but his wife's voice singing it is soft and plaintive, all-to-easily conjuring the imagery of the story being told:
"…in a long black veil; she visits my grave, when the night winds wail. Nobody knows, lover; nobody sees. Nobody knows but me."
That is the last song; Kiso, already half-asleep when she started this spectacularly unsuitable piece of music, is perceptively unconscious by the time she finishes. Tobirama finishes his tea as Izuna leaves his bedroom and carefully slides the fusuma closed behind her.
"Where did that one come from?"
His wife smirks at him. "Not fond of ghost stories about how bad decisions can catch up with you at the worst possible moment?"
"Not as lullabies for toddlers."
She shrugs, unrepentant. "He won't understand all the nuances until he's older; I know I certainly didn't."
So this is a song Izuna was exposed to while fairly young; well that does at least partly explain her choosing it as a lullaby then. "You have a really odd musical repertoire." Tobirama knows he's not particularly musical –he can carry a tune but he's not passionate about music like some of his kinsmen are– but that almost every single one of Izuna's songs is entirely new to him is not usual. There are a few familiar ones, but those are songs he's heard from musicians in the street and sung by variously-drunk civilians dozens of times.
"You dislike it?"
"I did not say that." She's dissembling. Tobirama sets down his empty teacup. "Do you not want to tell me why you know so many songs I've never heard before?"
"I mean, I wrote a lot of them, so that you don't know them isn't so surprising," his wife replies placidly, "but some of them were picked up in places you've probably never taken missions in, and the tree song is a bit of a favourite in-clan."
How ironic; he settles again in the face of Izuna's easy truths. "You like deniably inappropriate songs as much as explicitly inappropriate ones."
She grins as she settles on the tatami beside him. "It's fun to play dumb when people try to take me to task over them; what impropriety? The song is perfectly decent! Such dirty minds some people have…" she flutters her eyelashes at him.
Tobirama snorts despite himself, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers; her breath tastes like mushrooms and ginger. "Oh, so it's my fault for reading into things?"
"Your feelings about my choice of lullaby are indeed your fault," his wife says primly, chakra bubbling with amusement. "I have no control over them whatsoever."
"Touché."
Her smug smirk is too much to let slide; Tobirama prods her lightly in the ribs, making her squirm and bat at his hand and there's a brief, half-hearted poking war that ends with Tobirama flat on his back on the tatami, his wife straddling him and pinning his wrists to the floor. He could probably wrestle his way free if he wanted to –neither of them are using chakra yet– but Tobirama doesn't want to. Having Izuna sprawled over him, slim, strong fingers absently caressing the tender skin of his inner wrists, the firm curve of her abdomen pressing against his stomach, is all acutely pleasant.
"So what are you planning on doing with the spoils of your triumph, oh victorious one?" He drawls, moving one foot so he can rub his ankle against her calf and flexing his fingers to make the muscles in his wrists shift in her grip.
"I would like my treasure to come to bed with me and cuddle me," Izuna says frankly, "so that I can enjoy the scent and feel of his skin against mine."
Now that he can regulate his body temperature enough to not die of heatstroke, that sounds utterly delightful. "I am extremely amenable," Tobirama informs her blandly.
His wife leans down to kiss him, releasing his wrists; Tobirama instantly wraps his arms around her, running his hands over the fine gauze of her kimono. "Will you carry me to bed and undress me then, Shikii-kun?" She asks huskily when they both finally pause for breath, sprawled bonelessly on top of him and her hands playing with his hair.
Tobirama wants, abruptly and unexpectedly. He'd not even been able to think about sex with how hot he has been before today, but now he has enough chakra under his skin his body is working properly once more, now he can feel Izuna's heartbeat pounding against his ribcage –can feel the desire coiling in her chakra as it slides over his– and he's hot all over again for another reason entirely.
"Would I be allowed to do more than just cuddle you, my heart?" He asks as he strokes a hand down her spine, because if he doesn't ask she can't make a decision. "Might I touch? Might I kiss?"
"I have missed your embrace very much this past week, beloved," Izuna murmurs against his throat, "and lovely though it was to dally with you at noon, it wasn't enough."
Well then.
"Let me carry you to bed then, Lord-Wife," he teases, wrapping his arms around her more firmly and sitting up, then rising to his feet. Izuna has carried him several times; to carry her instead is… stimulating.
"And undress me," Izuna adds, tone comfortably smug.
"And undress you, and wash you, and attentively ravish you," Tobirama agrees, nipping at the back of her neck and making her shiver against him, "then fall asleep with you in my arms."
"Yes to all of those," his wife agrees, her breath hot against his neck and her body thrillingly pliant in his arms.
It might actually be past sunset when he finally gets to sleep, but Tobirama does not begrudge that in the slightest.
The next week passes much more swiftly than the one before; being physically comfortable enables Tobirama to do far more, while also reducing his awareness of the passage of time. He learns that oyaki are a type of dumpling made with fermented buckwheat dough and that Kiso's mother had never told anybody the exact proportions of the seasonings she used, although the fillings themselves tended to vary with the seasons. He also learns that working with fermented dough takes practice, for all that Kiso seems to enjoys his various failures as much as his successes.
Izuna also enjoys them, especially if they involve mushrooms; she is well and truly craving and Tobirama can't help but find it profoundly satisfying that what she hungers for is something only he is able to make for her. That Izuna is now comfortable enough to ask him if he will make her something with mushrooms in, so that he can say yes to her. So many memories of his mother are resurfacing in the face of these culinary demands, and bittersweet though they are Tobirama can't help but cherish them. Izuna appreciates him, his cooking is eagerly received and the bliss that radiates from his wife as she eats the food he has prepared for her makes him feel warm in a way no amount of sunshine has ever achieved.
Or any amount of winter blankets and affectionate leopards.
He visits Naka Two-Swords again, takes tea at dawn in the garden tea-house with his wife –wearing the new autumn-leaf-gold summer tea kimono she bought for him while on a half-day mission– and tries to ignore the besotted chicken now pecking amongst the flowerbeds and occasionally following him around the garden. He reads –now that he can regulate his body temperature, so holding books and scrolls is not sweaty and uncomfortable– and makes more braided cords. He also writes a letter to Baasan, taking care to mention as many mundane and domestic things as possible to reassure her that he is comfortable and well cared-for.
He does not speak of Izuna's progressing pregnancy; his wife has indicated that it is not a done thing, and he does not want to discomfort her. It is pleasant, in a way, that the changes of her body and appetites are a private thing, to be kept strictly within the clan. It is not yet possible to see the difference past Izuna's summer kimono, but in bed at night Tobirama can feel the difference in her breasts and in her abdomen; even during the day he can smell them in her scent and sense how her chakra is gradually shifting in its circulation, greater concentrations pooling low in her gut.
It is wonderful and fascinating, if also slightly disconcerting. Pregnancy has risks –Tobirama knows this far too well– and while Izuna is a brilliant and able warrior, she is not trained for this battlefield. She knows her own body and her health, yes, but it is the medics and her elder kinswomen she turns to for guidance.
Which is where they are today, while Kiso is with Moreya-jiisan for the morning; nothing is specifically wrong –or at least Tobirama doesn't think there is– but Izuna is meticulous about regular check-ups, which given Yori has been threatening her with twins is definitely wise.
Tobirama is sitting in the main part of the healing hall while the medic examines his wife behind the privacy screens when Minami-san the coat-maker walks in the front door, very heavily pregnant and leaning slightly on a tall, broad-shouldered teenager in indigoes.
"Ah, Tobirama-sama! Your coat is coming along well," the craftswoman says, absently rubbing the small of her back. "This is Kitamata-kun, my eldest. Kitamata-kun, this is Tobirama-sama of Amaterasu."
"Tobirama-sama." The teenager bows, giving Tobirama a brief view of a tightly-secured topknot, then turns his attention back to his mother. "Okaa-san, do you want to sit while we wait for Yū-san?" going by the calluses on his hands, the burn scars and the billowing scent of charcoal and iron, Kitamata-san is as much a smith as his father is.
"Is there a stool? My knees," Minami-san says apologetically. Tobirama gets to his feet and reaches up to remove a stool from the top of the cabinet just across the room.
"Here, Minami-san."
"Thank you, Tobirama-sama!" She smiles warmly as her son takes the stool off him, her breath and scent reaching him past her son's for the first time.
Strain. Sickness. Like Haha-ue –what killed Haha-ue–
"Tobirama-sama are you well?"
"Treasure?"
Tobirama sways, suddenly aware of a strong, unfamiliar hand under his elbow and deep blue eyes watching him attentively from within a cloud of iron and charcoal overlaid on fire and –star anise again? No, not quite– fennel. "You should sit down, Tobirama-sama," Kitamata-san says, tone conveying both concern and utter implacable certainty.
Yes, he should.
"Treasure?!" Izuna calls again from behind the screen, more sharply this time.
"I'm not hurt," he replies automatically; yes, he should sit down. He lets Kitamata-san steer him back to his zabuton.
Minami-san smells like his mother had; this is why he found being around her so upsetting. This is what his dulled nose had been unable to tell him.
He has to say something.
The door at the far end of the hall opening and an older woman walking briskly inside provides him an opening. "Ah, Minami-san; no, don't get up! I'll come to you," the slightly greying but very spry Uchiha –who much be Yū-san– says, closing the door behind her and joining them. "I'm sure Tobirama-sama won't mind moving?"
"Minami-san has too-high blood pressure," Tobirama blurts out.
Yū-san pauses, chakra sharpening as she glances down at him.
"Her scent, it is faintly sour," Tobirama barrels on, "and I've smelled this before; if untreated it can be–" he swallows, fear and pain and grief abruptly thick in his mind's nose "–it can cause seizures." And prolonged loss of consciousness. And death.
"You have obstetric training, Tobirama-sama?" Yū-san's tone makes it clear how very unlikely she finds this.
"Not really," Tobirama admits, "but I know what hypertension smells like. My mother had it, in her last pregnancy." He hadn't known what he was smelling then, and his mother had been oblivious to it; it is extremely hard to perceive one's own scent. She had died, and the baby with her. Part of him wants to stand, to loom physically so these women take him seriously, but he knows that will be taken as a threat so he stays sitting, fingers tightly fisted in his sleeves. They have to listen.
His mother might not have died if he'd known then what he was smelling.
Ōka-ba had listened to his incoherent rambling afterwards, comforted him through his self-recriminations and later co-opted him to identify other cases early enough to prevent death; the Senju have a chemical test now that works with a urine sample, but Tobirama had been instrumental in determining which indicator would only pick up this specific condition.
"Childbed seizures; you're sure?" Yori demands, coming out from behind the screen.
Tobirama nods, making firm eye-contact with the young medic and terribly, terribly grateful to be taken seriously. "Yes: my aunt is a medic and once she realised I could smell the condition she enlisted me in identifying it in her patients and later in developing a test for it."
Yori nods sharply. "A preventative dose of magnesium salts won't do Minami-san any harm, Yū-san," the medic adds conciliatorily to the older woman as Izuna steps quietly out from behind the other end of the screen, "and there are other tests we can perform in the meantime to confirm matters."
The midwife still does not look best pleased to have been told her business by a man and a teenager, but Yori seems to have smoothed over the initial offense and follows up by swiftly extracting him, then corralling him outside; Izuna follows.
"Thank you for speaking up," Yori says quietly once they are well out of earshot; "I'll be sure to keep a close eye on Minami-san; better to induce a premature birth than to lose mother and unborn to childbed seizures."
"Ōka-ba said first pregnancies and twins make high blood pressure and complications more likely," Tobirama admits, "along with being an older mother." He is abruptly and acutely worried for Izuna. She is not older as Minami is, but this is her first pregnancy and twins are likely.
"I will keep an eye on Minami-san," Yori repeats steadily, "and we will both keep an eye on Izuna-bi, and that will be more than enough."
Izuna steps forwards and Tobirama gratefully wraps his arms around her, heedless to the burning sunshine or that they are standing in the middle of the healing hall's front path.
"And for now I can assure you that Izuna-bi is in excellent health," Yori continues, tone now brisk and confident, "and that twins remain very likely indeed, but there's no sense in confirming that before we get to the six-month mark. Now off home with you both while I see to Minami-san." She turns around and heads back indoors, shoulders set and chakra determined.
"Ready to leave, Treasure?" Izuna does not let go of him or so much as loosen her grip. Tobirama takes several more moments to breathe her scent in, reassuring himself that no, there is not so much as a hint of that warning sourness here, before leaning back to make eye-contact:
"Now I am."
She lets go; he does likewise, but catches her hand. Her smile makes it clear she doesn't mind in the slightest.
"Let's go home then; you were going to explain the water table and how springs work to me," Izuna reminds him, lightly squeezing his fingers.
"Yes, I was." It had come up when Izuna had showed him a map of the entire Uchiha property, marked with contours and many other features, and seeing the springs marked had led Tobirama to theorise about the underlying geology.
He's hoping that once he's explained the basic principles and his hypotheses about the specific local geology Izuna will be interested in taking him to see some of the springs for himself, so they can look at the rocks and work out whether he's right.
It is Tanabata tomorrow, the day that Izuna retires, so of course her father sends her off on another day-long mission the moment she finishes her weekly prayers. Of course he does. Izuna rolls her eyes and sighs but kisses him goodbye on the doorstep, kissing Keigetsu-chan goodbye as well –they always have her on mornings on Izuna's prayer-day now– before vanishing out of his sensory range with her Squad at her heels.
At least this is the last time this will happen.
Tobirama still makes a mental note to be especially shameless when Izuna keeps her promise to let him debauch her in her father's hearing. He's not sure when he'll get that opportunity, but it can't hurt to direct a prayer to Izuna's kami for a suitable moment to arise soon.
Today the clan is busy making preparations for tomorrow's festival, lanterns and paper streamers and cooking, groups practicing music and dancing and other performances all over the compound, so Tobirama makes himself useful after midday by offering to babysit some children in the Amaterasu Residence's garden. He ends up with a passel of three- and four-year-old boys, not old enough to help but too big to be willing to be carried around while their mothers and sisters work. Kagutsuchi-kun, Minakata-kun, Tekari-kun and, unexpectedly, little Kazuo-kun; Umeno-san dropped the three-year-old off, leading Tobirama to suspect his parents probably don't know which relative their son's care has been handed on to while they are preoccupied.
That is however not his problem; his problem is a handful of little boys all older than two and younger than five running around the garden, all full of energy and excited for tomorrow's festival. They keep him very busy –and he is going to ask Izuna to put a fuuinjutsu perimeter around the pond– but it's actually pretty fun. They're all small enough not to care that he was born Senju and he's been babysitter for all the older boys before, so not one of them is even slightly wary of him.
Tobirama therefore spends the afternoon being climbed on, wrestled with, chased, doing the chasing and occasionally meting out discipline when the oldest boys forget themselves and are cruel to or careless of the youngest.
It never takes more than a firm reminder; they are all good, well-behaved boys, however excitable. They do all manage to exhaust themselves rather sooner than he expected them to though, after which it is time to wash hands and faces, then sprawl on the engawa with drinks and sing songs or listen while Tobirama tells stories.
He tells the wisteria tree story seven times, then desperately switches to a story about a time he had chased Izuna –fruitlessly– over rooftops and through alleyways for half a day back when they were teenagers. It hurts less now than it had even a year ago, so he is able to dramatise and add humour to his abject failure to catch his long-term rival. His audience are very appreciative, so he ends up telling the whole story again over snacks. And then a third time, now with gleeful interjections from the listening little boys.
After that he suggests they sing, and gets to test his memory of Izuna's more decent offerings, as well as the various songs he had heard at the impromptu festival celebrating the beginning of the ceasefire and the variously inane things his wife sings for Kiso. The 'where has my comb gone' song proves a universal favourite, as is the song about the layabout pirates and the list of things they've never done. His charges have new verses there, presumably created by their own parents and other babysitting relatives.
Kagutsuchi-kun also turns out to know the 'pay me my money now' song that Izuna had reportedly started a riot with, which he is delighted to teach the rest of them. When various siblings and grandparents finally come to pick the boys up for dinner they are all vigorously –if not very tunefully– singing:
"Pay me! Pay me! Pay me my money now! Pay me or go to jail! Pay me my money now!"
Kagutsuchi-kun is still singing when he leaves last, his father joining in for the verse on, "If I was Daimyo of Tea, there'd be crates of ryō just for me," as they walk out the garden gate. Izuna isn't back yet, but Tobirama's not exactly surprised there; she's most likely to have caved to her mentor's insistence she eat well and sleep properly rather than hurrying back to the clan late in the evening, so is more likely to arrive sometime tomorrow.
"Shall we wash hands for dinner, Kiso-kun?" He asks the toddler. "Then afterwards you can show me your Tanabata kimono."
He has already been shown it twice in as many days, but Kiso is unlikely to object to a third opportunity to show off his very beautiful painted festival kimono. It is clearly a family heirloom, with a medium blue background speckled with shooting stars and a colourful design of a young man in Uchiha formalwear drinking ritual sake cups with a calico cat in intricate jūnihitoe and a fancy headdress across the entire back and sleeves, various other cats in court dress standing as witnesses. The front of the kimono shows the young man fleeing on the right sleeve and the many-layered cat giving chase across the left chest and sleeve; the cat thankfully only has the usual number of limbs and eyes.
"Es!" Kiso very blatantly adores the unlined silk outfit, which was no doubt worn by his older siblings before him and possibly his parents as well. Kiso not even being three yet, the outfit is tied simply with cords rather than an obi, so there will be nothing obstructing the pattern once he is wearing it. It's a stunningly expensive piece of work for a small child's kimono, but doubtless it will go on being worn for generations to come so the clan will be getting their money's-worth out of it.
Who knows, it could already be old enough to have covered its costs several times over; Tobirama honestly can't tell.
"Hands first, then dinner and after that the kimono," he reminds his small charge, who nods firmly then tries to drag him into the bathhouse faster.
Tobirama wakes early, to tiny enthusiastic hands patting at his shoulders and Kiso's piping voice in his ears.
"Keifu? Keifu! Keifu, it Tanabata Keifu!"
He blinks and rolls over, grabbing the toddler –Kiso squeaks– and settling the boy on his chest. "Yes, it's Tanabata," he agrees blearily, stroking his son's hair, "and the festival doesn't start until later, Kiso."
The boy pouts. "But Keifu–"
Tobirama ruffles that soft, spiky hair and smirks when his son squeaks again. "Naka-Dragon's not even here yet, baby boy," he points out; "come snuggle with your keifu for a bit, hn?"
Kiso pouts at him. "Wan' to get up, Keifu!"
"Oh, fine then." Tobirama rolls to his feet in a swift, economical movement, steadying the toddler against his chest –Kiso squeaks a third time– and pushing loose curls out of his eyes with his free hand. "We'll wash, and you can run around the garden while I comb my hair, then I'll get some buns out of the pantry and we'll go for a walk." There's always food to hand in the Amaterasu Residence, ostensibly for Izuna but anybody can snack if they need to. One dumpling won't ruin Kiso's appetite and a bit of running around in the woods will hopefully cool the boy's enthusiasm enough that he'll want to nap after breakfast.
"Kiso hep Keifu wif hair?"
"Not today, baby boy," Tobirama says as he carries his son out of the bedroom and towards the bathhouse; "we want to be ready quickly for our walk, don't we?" He is much more practiced at combing and arranging his long and increasingly firm curls these days and Umeno-san has deigned to teach him a few new styles, but it is definitely not something he would entrust to anyone save Izuna when speed is of essence. Especially not now he is braiding up the sides to grant himself some protection from Kei-chan's grasping baby fingers.
"Tomowow?"
"Yes, you can help me comb my hair tomorrow," Tobirama agrees fondly as he adjusts the water temperature gauge before stripping them both out of their nemaki for the showers. "Now be a good boy and get yourself nice and clean to face the day; remember to wash behind your ears and between your toes!"
"Hn."
His son does dutifully scrub himself thoroughly with soap and wash-cloth though, and Tobirama kisses him on the forehead while helping him dry off. "That's my good boy. Now let's go get dressed for the woods."
Kiso is still eagerly energetic at breakfast, rocking as he eats his bowl of katameshi, so once they have both eaten Tobirama changes into his own festival yukata –and it is his own festival yukata with the koi-and-ripple print, as delivered by Hashirama– helps Kiso to change into his beautiful unlined festival kimono and sets out to see what has been set up so far, both of them in geta and Tobirama keeping a firm grip of the toddler's hand.
He is not the only person out and about, thankfully: there are a few other parents with lavishly-dressed small children, quite a number of unaccompanied older children in bright festival kimono and a scattering of game and food stands already set up in the most trafficked areas of the compound as well as several storytellers. Tobirama leans against a tree in the shade as a short distance away Kiso sits on a mat to listen to –and see the illusory images of– the story of 'How the Uchiha were signed onto the Cat Contract,' the storyteller having supposedly been inspired by Kiso's kimono design. There is something about the wording there that niggles, but even this early it's fairly hot and Tobirama doesn't want to think about anything in particular.
Later on as the festival picks up he will have to keep his wits about him; he has perceptible chakra now, which carries the risk of setting off any of the clan's warriors entirely by accident if he should stray into their sensory range while they are distracted. If Izuna were here he would ask if she could cool him down with fuuinjutsu and have her increase the restrictions on his chakra, but she's not here and so he –and everybody else– will just have to cope.
Which for him will involve staying alert to anybody panicking, so he can dodge in time to prevent them from injuring themselves on the fuuinjutsu protecting him.
"You're up early, brother-in-law."
Tobirama turns to face Madara and waves a hand in the direction of the storyteller and his enraptured audience. "Kiso-kun was very keen to join the festivities."
Madara chuckles as he idly smoothes a hand down his own yukata, which is printed with roosters and clouds. "Ah, I should have guessed; do you want to come and help me with the hawks? I do exhibition flights on festival days in the mornings."
Tobirama glances back at the storyteller and his toddler charge sat amongst the audience.
"It's fine to leave Kiso-kun here," Madara assures him; "he won't be expecting you to wait –all the little ones run wild during festivals– and if he wants to find you an adult will bring him to you."
That is very different to what Tobirama is used to; he hesitates a moment longer, but the storyteller chooses this moment to make eye-contact with him and wink –as his audience gasps at the illusion of a many-pillared palace floating in the air– so he decides to take that as permission and assurance. "Very well then. Will you be flying Bijō or Izanami today?"
"Oh, both, certainly," Madara says happily, setting out along a side-road as Tobirama falls in step beside him, "but Bijō first, as she usually performs well on a leash when she can see I have treats to hand for her. Then once the older children have finished their chores and come to watch I'll get Izanami out for a quick flight over the fields and a maybe-hunt if there's anything hiding there. Might not be –most of the wildlife flees for the woods well before the festival begins properly at noon– but usually there's a pheasant or two."
"You do the exhibitions in the mornings because that's before it gets too loud to thoroughly scare everything off," Tobirama notes.
"Oh yes," Madara agrees cheerfully; "after noon there'll be children running around with drums and naruko and all manner of noisemakers; won't be any game for five miles around. But first thing there's generally something for Izanami to hunt, which is what it's all about. Maybe this year one of the older children will decide they want to apprentice to Hiuchi-san, so he can start thinking about retiring in a decade or two."
"Will Moreya-jiisan be joining in your exhibition?" Tobirama asks curiously. Madara shrugs.
"He might? Depends how he's feeling this morning; he has good days and less good days."
Given Moreya-jiisan's age and the admitted-to injuries, that makes sense. "So am I to be your prop, or do you need me to do anything in particular for this?"
"I just need some help with carrying everything; I don't like calling on Hiuchi-san at festivals, it feels presumptuous," Madara explains earnestly. "And if you can help me make sure the children are all keeping at a safe distance and not plotting mischief while I fly my ladies, that would be wonderful. There's always somebody determined to maim themselves."
Truer words were never spoken; Tobirama has been dragging pre-teens and teens out of potentially-lethal harm for half a lifetime now. Anija may be the most frequent repeat offender –being able to regenerate damage makes him careless– but he's far from the only idiot Tobirama has saved from certain maiming over the years.
"Do you know when Izuna-san is due back?" He asks.
His brother-in-law smiles sympathetically. "Before noon, barring any unexpected delays."
Well, that is something at least. She will return in time to enjoy the main part of the festivities.