I'm updating on Mondays and Thursdays through August, but some chapters may come up a bit late.

Bondage

Tobirama's only serious objection to his esteemed father-in-law showing up at the hemp field where he is doing his science experiment on the Monday morning after the dowry matter is sorted out is that he is not offered the opportunity to change out of his pink-striped jōfu before getting introduced to the vassals. Not that there is anything wrong with his jōfu, but seeing as this is a meeting with strangers, he would have liked to be wearing his crashing-waves mulberry-purple summer kimono with his orange stiff obi, rather than the linen outfit and soft obi he put on specifically to dance in a field full of knee-high plants.

Well, and that he told Kiso he'd be back soon and likely won't be. The toddler was happily engrossed in chasing Gankō-chicken around the garden when he left though, so possibly the delay won't get noticed.

Tajima at least introduces him as 'my son-in-law, Uchiha Tobirama' rather than 'my daughter's concubine'. Tajima has in fact been completely consistent in referring to him as 'son-in-law,' which Tobirama will very grudgingly recognise as better than a lot of other Uchiha are managing. Yes, it's probably for his own political ends and entirely self-serving, but he is still doing it.

The vassals are not what Tobirama was expecting. Yes, he did vaguely expect them to be civilians, but they are also all criminals. Visibly, unabashedly criminal: Yūta with the Earth Country looks, stress-lines on his face, several scars and the thick bands of punishment tattoos around his forearms; Kenji with grey strands in his hair and the gaunt look of somebody who didn't eat very well as a child, who could slide into the background in any town in Fire so long as he hid his hands in his sleeves, the missing fingers marking him as a thief who has met summary justice more than just once; and Sasuke, round-faced and ambiguously aged with a small beard, strong Tea Country accent and full-body colourful irezumi tattoos that the fine linen of his summer kimono cannot fully obscure.

These men are Uchiha vassals. Tobirama wonders how exactly the Uchiha are connected to the civilian criminal underworld and whether Rinzōma has ever sold any of his ill-gotten gains to an Uchiha-sponsored fence. He knows absolutely nothing of that side of things, being trained almost exclusively for the battlefield, although all things considered his sensing is something that would be a boon to a thief or saboteur.

Being addressed as 'older brother' by a man who has to be at least a decade older than him is… strange. Hearing Tajima addressed as 'kumichō' is somehow worse, possibly because the Uchiha Head's utter comfort with the address implies this is normal. Never mind how uncannily familiar their voices are; Madara's good-natured mockery of their arguments had involved accents being put on for the different 'voices,' but Tobirama hadn't realised those accents were genuinely true to life.

Tajima abandoning him at the shaded outdoor table with the three vassals drinking amazake and playing with kabufuda cards is almost a relief.

"So, son-in-law, yeah?" Yūta asks, raising a speaking eyebrow as he picks up a card. "How's that working out for you?"

"About as well as can be expected," Tobirama replies briskly, sitting down on the remaining stool. "How do three men such as yourselves end up as vassals to a kuge clan?" Curiosity is eating him alive and he'd rather not talk about himself.

Kenji snorts. "The Uchiha own Sora-ku," he says, tone both humorous and distinctly snide as he also picks up a card. "We're fairly tame compared to some who call Uchiha Tajima 'landlord'."

Landlord. Daimyo.

"Sora-ku's sovereign land, so none of Fire Country's laws apply there," Yūta drawls. "Oddly enough none of the other nations have extradition treaties with the Uchiha, or law treaties that allow you to be prosecuted for crimes committed elsewhere. On Uchiha land it's only murder if you kill an Uchiha or an Uchiha vassal, and more importantly, on Uchiha land only the Uchiha are allowed to own debt-contracts or claim people as property, live bounties included."

Tobirama has a sudden sinking feeling about the kind of people who end up in a place thus described, and has to bite down on the sudden burst of black hilarity that bubbles up. Izuna had said she knew all manner of interesting people, after all, when she was offering to arrange a murder for him…well, evidently she's got plenty of options.

"So Sora-ku hosts many who engage in activities that are legal there, but not elsewhere?"

"Some," Sasuke concedes, also picking up a card, "rather than many, strictly speaking: the Curse on the city means that only a few can live there full-time; we're all rather hoping that Izuna-sama stepping down to train as so-honbucho means she'll have the time to examine it and break it."

Tobirama knows that nothing grows in Sora-ku because some long-ago Uzumaki arranged for the ground there to hold no water in it. The aged contract he dug up in the Archive –entirely by accident it must be said,and he's never found it again – does not specify why the Uzumaki agreed to do such a thing, but Tobirama suspects it has something to do with there being a husband who married out to Uzushio in that time period rather than a wife. The clan can ill-afford to spare its warriors, but denying the Uchiha a secondary gathering point within half a day's travel would certainly have been considered worth it.

"It will likely be more hospitable soon, then," he offers.

"Yeah," Yūta agrees, picking up another card. "Permanent population right now's just the Cat summoners, us fences and the farm women."

"People farm?" There's no water how do you–

Kenji sniggers, passing on the cards. "You can hold rainwater in a cistern or a tank, and pots don't dry out instantly like the ground does. They got in some desert tribesmen about, oh, five years back? They check in every decade or so apparently, making sure the water-growing system is in good nick. Fucking weirdest people, I swear. But stuff grows okay in the tubes, it just doesn't grow much when there's only rainwater to rely on and the fish we got to keep in the system to keep the bugs down eat some of it as well."

"The Cat-gates repel the Curse effect a bit too," Sasuke says, also picking up a card and then laying out his hand, "but then you have to be willing to put up with Cats everywhere in your garden." He looks at Yūta. "And you forgot the bounty guy."

"Yeah, he's permanent too," Yūta says, paying out his hand as well, "and so're Kimiru-oyaji and the Land-Shark."

"The Land-Shark is an Uchiha vassal?" Tobirama has heard of the Land-Shark, if admittedly only in tall tales from the far west. Some part-Hoshigaki who made a name for themselves as a mercenary and wandering shinobi for almost thirty years, although well before his time.

"They are now; they retired," Sasuke says comfortably as Kenji also lays out his hand and smugly takes one of the amanattō from the dish in the middle of the table and pops it in his mouth; evidently they are playing for sweets. "About, oh, fifteen years back? Sora-ku's the only place they could retire to and not worry about bounty hunters; Kumichō sends people up to spar with them now and then."

"But there's a transient population too," Tobirama determines as Yūta gathers up the cards and shuffles them.

"Yeah, most people spend about one week a month there, one way or the other," Kenji says, stretching, "but a few do more and some do less. There's regular night-markets and we get a lot of visitors for those, but even residents generally work elsewhere the rest of the time; makes it easier to stay fed."

"All vassals?"

"If you pick out a home in Sora-ku, you become a vassal," Yūta says," even if you're not there most of the time. And you can't wiggle out of paying dues to Uchiha-sama, he knows."

"Because of the cats?" Tobirama guesses; all three men nod as one.

"Now I doubt kumichō brought you over just for gossip," Sasuke says as Yūta sets the cards down, "though it is good to meet you, Ani-san. Do you have questions for us?"

"Now that the primary evaluation is over, I'd like a breakdown of what's saleable, what needs a discerning buyer and what's better off being either sat on for twenty years or broken down for raw materials," Tobirama says bluntly. "My Lord-Wife tells me there's a book, but it's still being copied up and a tour will give me a much better idea of what I've got to work with." The book will also contain the totals of actual cash and the money he is being awarded from the clan coffers for the rice and other immediately useful goods –including quite a lot of aromatic woods and several kilograms of camphor, apparently– but right now it is the more awkward goods that interest him.

"Well in that case," Sasuke pockets the cards and finishes his drink, Yūta producing a lid for the pot of sweets and secreting them in a belt-pouch. "Let's show you your haul then; it's very impressive actually!"

"Impressively awkward, you mean," Kenji says sourly.

"That too, but that doesn't make those things less valuable, Kenji-kun."

"Hai, hai," the thief grumbles, also finishing his drink and getting up to stretch. Yūta finishes off his amazake at a more leisurely pace, then also stands; Tobirama gets up as well and lets the other men lead the way across the compound towards the warehouse.

Finally getting to see what his clan had parted with is going to be interesting. What have they sent him?

The first word that comes to mind on seeing the boxes and roughly-wrapped objects filling half the panelled barn is honestly 'junk'. Which is actually a fair description to Tobirama's mind; these are all unnecessary things. Expensive perhaps, but unnecessary.

"Right, this over here," Yūta waves at the large stack of what look like planks standing between two pillars, "are all sets of carved transom panels, low inherent value because it's not a famous artists but useful so you don't want to be selling them."

Tokonoma-ji and other clansmen probably carved them; more a wedding gift than a dowry, truthfully, but bulky enough to be included in the dowry and more a household item than a personal one.

"Along with them are the other useful stuff; some bookshelves, silk scroll-mountings, a bunch of variously-sized stands, couple of screens and tables. Not valuable per se, but useful."

Tobirama nods.

"Stuff on the far side of the room is the really valuable stuff," Yūta continues, pointing at four tansu lined up against the far wall; "mostly art and calligraphy scrolls, tea bowls and a couple of obi, although there's a quartet of very valuable swords that aren't here because Tajima-sama confiscated them. They're still listed; you just can't have them."

"Seeing as I've not even been allowed my own sword back yet, that's not unexpected," Tobirama concedes.

Yūta nods. "Anyway, all this is basically too valuable to sell; you'd never get what it was worth, not on any market, unless you sold it to a daimyo and he paid you in land. This stuff you keep or you present one item as an extravagant gift to somebody you want several major favours from."

"Valuing that shit was a pain," Kenji adds, "because you can't, not really. It only has theoretical value, because you can't sell it without getting horrendously ripped-off. It's stuff that's changed hands from daimyo to daimyo to honoured subordinate, then from noble to noble several times and then been part of some younger daughter's dowry into a merchant house and then passed from daughter to daughter or son to son before ending up in Senju hands. It's the history and provenance that makes it valuable, not what somebody would pay for a centuries-old ink painting or tea bowl."

"Sentimental value, but in the other direction," Sasuke agrees ruefully. "We had to create a specific category for those, so they're not in the main listing at all. Back of your book will have a section for 'priceless artefacts' with nominal values attached that are mostly there to indicate the scale of the favour you need from whoever you're giving it to, or the scale of the restitution you're offering."

"But in the meantime, these are things I could be displaying to guests," Tobirama determines.

"Oh definitely."

"Very much so."

"Go for it." Yūta pauses, but the other two wave him on so he continues: "these things are prestige pieces, so displaying and using them helps them maintain their value; nobody's going to ask where you got them from."

"Although I have included a list of the dates they were last publically 'seen,' those we're aware of at least," Sasuke says scrupulously, "so you can make those decisions for yourself."

"Thank you." That will be very helpful, seeing as Rinzōma has clearly taken advantage of this opportunity to have a clear-out of the glorified storehouse he lives in. Probably in order to move a few close relatives –and Maki, seeing as she is now his apprentice– into it, so nobody can claim he doesn't need the space now that his brother is dead.

"And all the stuff in the middle here," Kenji waves an arm at the tansu and crates and variously-cobbled-together boxes filling the rest of the space, "does have a value, although selling some of it is going to require finding the right buyer. There's a lot of specialty shit or stuff with clan markings that you might be better off breaking down for raw materials, or else saving for when you want a nice favour from the clan in question. Also a whole lot of stuff that needs to be sold gradually, because flooding the market would bring down the value, and some esoteric stuff you might prefer to keep hold of just because it's weird."

"A number of very nice kimono and accessories," Sasuke says, "some of which you might want to put aside for eventual daughters until they're old enough. A good range of sword fittings that probably haven't been on a sword in a century at least, but could be put to such a use or else just kept as display pieces, as well as several crates of netsuke; I suspect this is somebody's entire collection. All manner of decorative okimono you probably want to peruse so as to have something for every month, season and occasion when hosting. Along with of course a range of horribly out-of-fashion money sinks that are actually worth less as they are than taken apart for materials."

"We included a separate materials valuation for those," Kenji adds helpfully.

"Like the fucking ridiculous goban," Yūta mutters. "What kind of moron turns a magnificent piece of amethyst into a goban of all things?!"

"What, like the carnelian and white jade go stones are any better?" Sasuke drawls. Tobirama senses a degree of shared professional outrage and does not comment; given however that he has seen elaborate document seals carved from carnelian as well as very fine hairpin ends made of intricately shaped jade, he does have a vague idea how wasteful it is to make a Go set out of those gemstones.

"Don't remind me," Yūta grumbles. "Anyway Tobirama-sama, have at, get people to move the shit you're keeping out of here and then let us know, so we can have a proper discussion about what's left."

"Thank you," Tobirama says, eyeing the transom panels and other assorted furniture. "I hope there is a plan for the gemstone Go set, seeing as I definitely won't be keeping it?" He should see about borrowing a few of those impossible bags from the clan stores, as that will mean he won't need to co-opt a dozen warriors to help him move things.

"Several plans, Ani-san," Sasuke says cheerfully as Yūta growls quietly, "depending on your desired result and where you wish to take your business. But we can discuss all that after you've decided what you want to keep and what you want sold, be it immediately or eventually. Tajima-sama wants it all put in proper storage as soon as possible, so best to make the most of the opportunity to see what all you've got."

"I will do so." It's only sensible after all. "Proper storage being those long indigo bags?"

"The umbrella bags, yeah," Yūta says. "Most of this stuff will fit into them, which is something."

"Makes moving it all easier, at least," Kenji agrees, heading back outside. "Another few rounds of cards, you two?"

"It will pass the time," Sasuke says comfortably, offering Tobirama a quick bow then also leaving. Yūta lingers for a moment.

"There're some things in the 'valuable and saleable' section that you probably won't want to sell," he says bluntly, "because they're more useful as they are. There's a couple of bags of mixed pearls and abalone shells, for instance; keep those and have them made into jewellery or inlay, or just to keep for barter. Same with the silks; some of that stuff is very hard to get hold of, so you should keep it seeing as buying new would cost you more than you'd ever get for what you have on the second-hand market."

"I will keep that in mind."

Yūta nods, eyeing him shrewdly. "See if your Lord-Wife won't take you along when Tajima-sama has her take a look at Sora-ku," he adds abruptly. "It's Uchiha land."

He leaves before Tobirama can reply, leaving behind only the strong impression that this particular Uchiha vassal does in fact care that Tobirama is currently a well-feathered songbird in a very expensive cage, and doesn't like it very much.

Well, Yūta has punishment tattoos; he may now be confining himself to Sora-ku to prevent himself getting dragged off to a non-Uchiha bounty office and re-imprisoned, but that is a limitation he has chosen. It is not the prison he has escaped, wherever that may be.

Something to think about. First however, getting hold of one of those oh-so-useful bags…

Kiso runs across the garden to hug his legs the moment he steps through the front gate, bag slung over his shoulder. "Keifu late," he mumbles against Tobirama's thigh.

"I'm sorry Kiso; Tajima-sama wanted me for something," Tobirama replies, throwing his esteemed father-in-law in front of the jutsu without a qualm.

"Jii-tama haf Ba-tan alwedy," the toddler grumbles; Tobirama ruffles his hair.

"It's all sorted out now, Kiso-kit; what do you want to do until lunchtime?"

Kiso lifts his hands demandingly; Tobirama obligingly lifts him up into his arms and the toddler buries his face in his neck.

"Tay wif Keifu," the three-year-old mutters.

"I will read a book then." He is getting rather engrossed in 'The Chronicle of Enki Palace' and is already well on his way towards the end of volume two. The style of the drama takes a little getting used to and requires a good memory to stay on top of the details, but it is no less interesting for that.

"Hn."

Izuna wanders in late, eyes distant and mind very obviously a hundred miles away. She eats the meal Hayami-chan presses into her hands, but it's abundantly clear that today's lesson was a challenging one and his wife is still wrestling with it.

"Jii-tama make Ba-tan late too?"

Izuna blinks, then smiles at Kiso. "Today rather than making me demonstrate the things I'd learned already, Lord-Father taught me something new," she says lightly. "It's going to take me a while to put it fully into practice, but it's very useful."

"Ba-tan have to pwactise?"

"Yes, Kiso-bō, lots of practicing so I can do it right each time."

"Hn." Kiso shoves his thumb in his mouth, slumping down to rest his head in Tobirama's lap.

After lunch he hands the toddler off to Naka-Scallion, but only after a brief talk regarding what may possibly be upsetting him; the not-quite-fourteen-year-old seems surprised that there's been a problem, then abruptly grows thoughtful.

"I'll keep a close eye on him, Tobirama-sama," she promises firmly; "letting any of them get away with bullying at this age is just asking for trouble."

"Thank you, Naka-kun." It is a weight off his mind, and he knows the teenager does care genuinely and ferociously for his little boy. She is after all the one who approached Izuna on Kiso's behalf in the first place. His son is a little grumpy to be handed off for babysitting, but he goes without a fuss.

"So, how was your morning, Treasure?" Izuna asks after they have both changed and spent a little while sat on the northern engawa, enjoying the shade and the slight breeze.

"Interesting," Tobirama admits. "You did not mention that the Uchiha had criminal vassals."

"Technically we don't," his wife teases; "they have committed no crimes on Uchiha land, after all."

Tobirama raises a bland eyebrow to let her know exactly what he thinks of that.

She laughs. "I will admit to not bringing it up, Shikii," she confesses brightly, "mostly because I didn't particularly care to get into an argument about it. The Uchiha –well, our Sora-ku proxies technically– do have a solid corner of the restricted goods market, by virtue of none of those goods being restricted on Uchiha land, so it is legal to trade them there. But, as I'm sure you realise, Senju are not welcome on Uchiha land, so whoever in your clan contributed certain parts of your dowry could not access that market for themselves."

Tobirama resolves not to tell Rinzōma that. He might take it as a challenge and that can only go poorly, although on second thought his cousin is probably smart enough to put off his attempt until after the treaty negotiations have been finalised one way or the other. Still unwise though.

"I had a look-through and picked out what I want to keep in the medium-term at least, so that buyers for the rest can be found," he says. He's got nothing out yet –Kiso demanded his attention and his service as a pillow– but the bag is hung over the screen in his bedroom, deceptively flat and full of variously large and heavy things.

"Can I see?"

"You haven't seen already?"

"I stayed out of the actual dealing with the items, Treasure; I didn't want to create the impression of bias."

A smart move, honestly. "Most of what I brought is already in tansu; I'm not sure where to put them."

"The loft?" Izuna suggests. "There are already some things up there, of course, but not that much; I had a clear-out when I moved in, did a bit of redistribution."

"A good thought." They will be safe up there, well out of reach of nosy clansmen and innocently destructive toddlers, as well as not cluttering up his very spacious and beautifully decorated rooms. He can get things out as and when he wants to use or display them, and not worry about them otherwise. They're well-packed with all the necessary to repel insects.

"I'll need you to give me a leg up though; I'm not at my most agile right now."

Tobirama nods, then glances sideways at his wife as subtly as she can. That reminder shakes something loose in his mind and he sees Izuna through new eyes.

He has his chakra; it is daytime, so he has chakra. Not much, but more than enough for the day-to-day. He could leap up through the loft hatch unassisted, can walk across the surface of the pond in bare feet and assist Kiso in doing likewise, can keep himself cool in the face of the sweltering summer heat and spar at almost full speed even though he is barred jutsu.

Izuna's chakra has pooled to support her pregnancy; she has less accessible chakra that he does now, something which has been the case for almost a week. She is vulnerable and she has not restricted his chakra to counter that vulnerability.

She is trusting him. Trusting him without even saying that she is doing so, and until now he had not even noticed the change. His wife's mind is filled with the details of every single time they have ever clashed in the field, every blow, every technique, every attack, and still she is determinedly moving past that and trusting him.

Right now, he is the stronger of the two of them. And his Lord-Wife has not flinched yet.

"I love you, Izuna," he tells her bluntly, the words barely able to encompass the emotion swelling in his chest, thick and hot and so overwhelming it feels as though it might break his ribs trying to get out.

She stares at him, eyes bright and delighted, then shuffles closer to hug him. Tobirama leans into her embrace, relishing her scent and the thudding of her pulse against his skin; he wraps an arm around her back to press the swell of her abdomen against his own stomach.

"Treasure, beloved, dearest," Izuna murmurs, damp lips against the pulse in his neck making him shudder.

"My heart," Tobirama whispers back, eyes closed as his fingers flex lightly against the silk gauze of her bush-clover-print summer kimono, letting the weight of her body ground him even as the complex scent of her muted chakra, clear emotions and the new yet familiar notes of her pregnancy make his head spin and his blood pound in his ears.

Desire adds itself to the mix, rising from her skin and filling his lungs as his wife's fingers gently tease the curls at his nape, making him shudder as his own body responds eagerly to the invitation being offered.

"I want," he tells her, voice deep and hoarse in his own ears. Last night feels like a thousand years ago and he wants.

"Want what, Shikii-kun?" she asks languidly, her teeth scraping lightly over his neck, dragging a gasp from his throat and making him clutch at her more tightly, pressing their bodies closer as lust pours through him like an entire bottle of plum wine, sharp and intoxicating.

"Want you," he tells her darkly, eyes closed and utterly intent on the glorious feast offered by his other senses. "Want to devour you" –his tongue finds the scars on the back of her neck, the indelible marks of his teeth in her skin and she gasps against him, breath a hot puff over his throat as her heart stutters– "want to feast, want to bask in how much you want me, want to savour your pleasure, your release, your surrender." He rocks, holding her caged against him, dizzy with desire and heat.

"My Treasure wishes to ravish me," his wife murmurs, her forehead now resting against his hair, her breath teasing his ear. "Wishes to lay me out on his futon, to pin me down and take, knowing I cannot resist him." A quick breath. "That I do not wish to resist him."

Tobirama growls, nipping at her throat; he is being teased.

"Glorious, irresistible beloved," Izuna gasps laughingly, ducking her head and pressing a kiss under the curve of his jaw. "Forget the futon, Tobirama; the room behind us is empty and the tatami are soft enough. Strip me bare, lay me out on your under-kimono and ruin me."

That. Is permission.

It's mid-afternoon by the time Izuna shows him how to open the loft hatch –cleverly hidden in the subtle carved pattern of the ceiling of the front hall– and gets out a set of folding steps from under a panel in the floor to make the ascent easier. Tobirama then picks her up and carries her up into the loft with him, savouring her laughter as he jumps vertically from the top of the steps into the space which is more of a second storey than a mere storage space. He'd thought the shutters set into the high roof over the Amaterasu Residence were merely decorative, but clearly not.

The space they have come up in the middle of stretches out to the left and right and around the corner, but interestingly not straight ahead. "Is there no loft space above the iori?"

"There is," Izuna says, wriggling out of his arms to set her slippered feet on the plain boards of the floor, "but it's only accessible from the back; smoke from the fireplace rises up through the grate above it, so that room and its woven shōji catch the soot while allowing the dead air to flow around up here before going out of the shutters, to help keep the pests at bay."

There's no fire lit right now and the shutters are turned to allow for greater airflow, so Tobirama doesn't need to worry about that possibly harming either of them right now. "Clever," he concedes; it makes sense that the Uchiha would build their fine houses in such a way as to make the greatest possible use of fire.

"Over there," Izuna waves to the right, towards the space directly over his own rooms. Which is indeed emptier than the space to the left, although from this vantage point there's not actually that much of a difference. This entry space contains a couple of bare shōji panels stacked against the outer wall –doubtless intended as temporary replacements in case of accidents, hopefully not involving a sleepwalking Madara– along with a crate of roof tiles, a low tansu likely containing tools, a good quantity of dry timbers in various shapes and an iron hook like the one attaching the hanging chain over the iori to the ceiling; sensible spares for domestic repairs that can't really wait.

Opposite these practical items, set against the wall blocking off the space over the iori, are two more tansu, both decently-sized but fairly plain. "What are those for?"

His wife turns. "Festival accoutrements: dolls for Girls Day, a carp streamer for Banner Day, red linens and special dishware for New Year and so on; all the things needed to dress the house accordingly, plus a few very specific seasonal hanging scrolls, vases and okimono."

"Hayami-chan is responsible for that?" Tobirama guesses as they walk across the space towards the eastern side of the upper storey.

"She is indeed."

This section is mostly bare; there is one low tansu and another pair of rather larger ones –"winter bedding, spare futons and a copy of the designs on your fusuma, plus a few small replacement panels for the shōji dado in case of damage, or even if you just want a slight change of design," Izuna adds, pointing– but the rest of the space is bare beyond two sets of racks each containing a single quartet of phoenix-carved ranma. There was much more up here at one point –the marks on the floor and the room on that rack make it clear– but now it is empty and echoing.

Tobirama sets about carefully emptying his umbrella bag –the name likely relates to the shape of the seal inside it, but what umbrellas have to do with storage he cannot fathom at all– as Izuna settles on top of one of the tansu containing bedding, well out of the way.

"I expected there to be more things stored up here already," Tobirama admits as he props the bag against the wall on its end to make removing the tansu in it easier; this way he can just roll or lift them out.

"There were," Izuna says, "but as I said, I cleared a lot of it out. My uncle and aunt lived here once –Hikaku's parents– so a lot of their belongings were up here, and I made sure he took them with him. Moreya-jii-san took some of the other things, and the rest were put back into the general clan stores for anybody who might need them."

Her chakra flickers, suggesting that she is glossing over quite how fraught some of that process was; Tobirama lets it lie. Listening in on that conversation with Hikaku in the Diplomatic Quarters' garden made it clear that relationships within the Uchiha's ruling family are fraught, and he had heard before that of how Tajima had killed his own brother over a minor infraction in the field. It's not unlikely that there have been other, similar incidents; yet Tajima still rules.

Izuna has one aunt and one great-uncle by blood, along with her father and two brothers, but no other close kin. How much of that absence is due to deaths on the battlefield and how much is her father's doing?

He puts it out of his mind for now. If his wife wants to bring it up at some later date, he will listen; right now however he needs to get those shelves out and see how much space they take up once assembled.

"Let me help, Treasure."

"Thanks." Izuna steadying the ends of the planks makes balancing them much simpler; the shelving boards removed and leaning against the wall, Tobirama removes the tables, the last few boxes, the transom panels and the two crates of other miscellaneous oddments he decided to keep, then assembles the shelving against the inner wall partitioning off the space over the iori. "I think that's everything."

"Let me check?"

He hands the bag over to his wife, curious to see how this will work. Izuna shoves her hand into the bag –her entire arm into the bag– and hums, looking blindly up at the ceiling as she focuses.

"Here." She produces out a cylindrical lidded basket, cradling it carefully in both arms.

"Oh yes, the lamp." It's actually just a carved lampshade with its stand, the lamp part omitted entirely; more a curiosity than anything else, as when properly set up with a light it can be wound up to spin and the coloured shadows thrown across the room by the paper insets make the design seem to dance. Tobirama kept it back because Kiso will like it, both for the dancing colours and for the music box in the stand that can be wound up to play in time with the gentle spin of the shade.

It's a pretty rich man's toy really, but Tobirama has fond memories of Nara-ba setting this out on the table for him and his cousins to watch, trying to chase the shadows around the room. It means a lot to him that Rinzōma included it along with all the other expensive frivolities that have gone into his dowry.

Taking the basket off Izuna he sets it aside on top of one of the other tansu, then sets about moving everything to the edges of the space, so there's plenty of room to move around them and they won't get knocked over, sliding the carved transom panels into the racks with the phoenix-carved sets and putting the smaller boxes onto the shelves. "Right, you wanted to see something?"

"Anything you're comfortable showing off, Treasure."

Tobirama opens the cedarwood tansu with the elaborate brass fittings, revealing the scroll-rack within. "Here; pick one, any of them." They're all either first printings or original art and the signature on one of the few he got out to look at was somebody even he has heard of.

Izuna reaches in to tap one of the case-ends at random; Tobirama removes it and puts on the gloves in the top cubbyhole, then slides the painting out of the tube and carefully unrolls it on the top of the cabinet.

"Ah," his wife says, a wobble of wry delight colouring both tone and chakra as she leans closer. "Well, can I see why this did not get sold."

"Oh?" Now he's curious; this is not a name he's seen before.

"We have art by this particular gentleman," Izuna says, tapping the top of the tansu next to the elegantly looping calligraphy of the signature. "Portraits of Amaterasu Heads and their wives and children, specifically; he was a court artist to the emperor an unspecified number of generations before the Judgement. I was aware that there was freehand work out there but this is my first time seeing any."

Well, that certainly puts perspective on 'priceless.' He knows most of Rinzōma's targets are merchants or craftsmen –safer than filching from the nobility and vastly more reliable, as the client-base is so much larger– so for a merchant to have this…

Well, somebody selling off a distant relative's inheritance definitely got robbed in a far more legal way. Which might possibly have been what precipitated the request that the painting in question be removed from said merchant's possession.

"Can it safely be mounted?"

"Oh yes; this is good-quality paper, it's got many more centuries in it if we continue to take good care of it, although I would definitely continue to wear gloves while handling and mounting it. It's a lovely piece too; look at that feathering on the wings, the artist has actually made a study of birds to get those so clear and so accurate."

It is very fine; plump autumn sparrows eating berries on a branch from which a scattering of dried leaves are hanging, all in delicately graded shades of brown and black that is vibrantly lively even in the dim light of the loft. Two of the birds are squabbling, even more puffed-up in their outrage, and a third is caught in the moment of hopping along the branch away from the fight even as a fourth and fifth spread their wings for balance as they peck at the glossy black berries, a sixth hangs right off the end of the branch upside-down as it feeds and a seventh stands apart right at the bottom of the scroll, looking upwards and readying their wings to take flight upwards towards the feast.

Tobirama carefully rolls the painting up again and slides it back into its protective case. "Shall we see what else is in here? I've only looked at a couple of them." Now he's curious; the chawan and other priceless items in the other cabinets can wait for another day.

"I'd love to, Treasure."

Tobirama celebrates Obon with Minami and her family; Minami's father was an outclan man, and as an only child he'd brought his parents with him into the Uchiha. Fushimi-san had honoured her husband's ancestors alongside her own, and after their deaths had continued to honour them alongside her daughters. The mixed group of other Uchiha all have similar stories; either they have an out-clan parent they are honouring, or are accompanying an out-clan spouse and honouring their kin by marriage. They are a few exceptions –such as Teruhito-san, who was adopted by his widowed father's Uchiha lover after said father was murdered– but Tobirama finds himself meeting a not insignificant number of Uchiha who are only such by law or marriage, not by blood.

It's nice, almost. These are people he has something in common with –most of them men, but there are a couple of women– and whom he can talk to about the little differences that make him bafflingly homesick at odd moments. The things he never expected to miss, because he assumed they were ubiquitous but it turns out they aren't.

Tables, raised chairs and kitchen surfaces you stand up at however turn out to not be a universal experience; evidently those are something the Senju have imported from the Uzumaki rather than being standard for Fire Country. Buckwheat and millet largely replacing rice however is something that gets commiserated over, as is the necessity of getting used to relentless chicken screaming. It is rather loud, now that he thinks about it.

That discussion is when Tobirama learns that one of the clan's roosters is called 'Madara' and he has to sit down abruptly so as not to fall over laughing.

It's hard though. This is the first year he can't sweep his mother's gravestone, can't sit by his brothers' grassy graves and peel the moss off the wooden markers. Obaasan has promised to do both for him and he knows Anija will help, but it is still something Tobirama feels he should be doing.

It helps that the married-in Uchiha have specifically-developed traditions for honouring graves they can't actually visit, traditions they assure him have the approval of the monks that were consulted specially, but it still aches.

Still, the festival passes without mishap –and with a new dance learnt– ending with a fantastic bonfire right on the riverbank in the late evening of the last day, sparks flying high as little paper boats float downstream with their cargoes of kindling, guiding the souls of the dead towards peace.

And then, two mornings later, it's time for Kiso's tea-party by the river with Obaasan.