Itama was sweating unsightly, much akin to a pig, as the gazes of his clansmen penetrate his core being. Undoubtedly, they were curious about the courtesan he was escorting personally by the arm, and judging him for it. From the civilian portion of his clan, many they passed gave him disapproving and/or scandalized glances. Never has he shrunk into the collar of his robes so much before, in some way, feeling chastised despite having done nothing wrong.

"Shishou," Itama couldn't help whinging, though he kept his voice down and lips unreadable. "Why are you dressed like this?"

Rather than answering the question, Dara-shishou deflected, "How do I look?" he asked in a voice that was too coy for Itama's liking. It made goosebumps appear everywhere.

Unsure if he should give his honest feedback or not, he silently cursed the Uchiha in his heart while smiling shakily, "It... suits you." And somehow, oddly enough, his words rang true. "But isn't this getup too risky? I mean, that's your face - and isn't your face well known? You have a reputation that exceeds Hi no Kuni."

"You would think it is," shishou huffed, a bemused expression appearing on his lightly powdered face. "I would think it is. But apparently, even my own clansmen recognized me not. I did encounter quite a few of them on my way here. Some even had the gall to ask me how much I'd cost for an hour. I am, thoroughly, disturbed by their attempts to bed me."

"… Really?" Itama asked doubtfully, feeling slightly unnerved himself. Surely, regardless of the strange choice of disguise, they would recognize their own clan head, right...? Despite how concealed his chakra was, shishou wasn't even wearing that much makeup!

(Within the confines of his mind, Itama secretly had this tiny desire to see what kind of expression shishou had made when the first Uchiha came to him with that proposition. That would've, undoubtedly, been hilarious.)

"Really."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Itama could only shake his head at that, feeling somewhat helpless at the news. "Uh, at least Tobi-nii will be able to recognize you from a mile away?" He tried to console.

Shishou, rather than realize his attempt for what it was, snapped his fan closed with a scoff, almost scaring him half to death with how loud of a sound it made. Wait a second! Was that folding fan made out of iron? Did shishou really bring a tessen into their compound?! That was such a security breach! Tobi-nii would definitely punish the guard on duty if he found out! Poor Yoshimaru. Itama could already hear his clansman's wrongful weeping in the back of his head.

"Tobirama does not see people with sight, idiot disciple. We both know how... delicate his eyes."

… That wasn't what he meant, but Itama already knew how dense his shishou was. Before he could try and correct the misunderstanding, shishou had already provocatively wrapped an arm around his waist, which caused him to break into cold sweat.

His clansmen's gazes were now twice as painful and cutting. And judging by shishou's smirk, the Uchiha was having a great time acting coquettish right now.

Itama wants to cry.

This damn devil of a master…

Madara was having the time of his life.

As Daraku, not only was he able to act as he pleased without a care for his reputation, he was also able to walk alongside his student practically in enemy territory. Life was good. Itama, on the other hand, has long worn a funny expression, as if bitten a particularly sour lemon and couldn't rid the taste of it.

Madara loved the idea of having the freedom of choice - and if that involved causing Itama to be miserable, all the more for it.

The master and disciple pair came to a stop at the entrance of a busy courtyard. The people within were singing, dancing, and joyfully drunk. Madara freely observed them as they continued their journey towards the buffet table, filled more with alcoholic beverages than food. Probably Hashirama's influence than Mito's. She was more of a tea person, from what Madara remembers.

Many conversations jarred haltingly when they walked by, the majority doing a doubletake at the pair, but Madara paid them no mind, his eyes focused solely on the glass of wine just a few meters away. He was parched.

When he finally consumed some much-needed party drinks, Madara went back to observing the crowd. Half the attendees were redheads whilst the other half had earth-toned hair, and despite hailing from different clans, the Uzumaki and Senju got along like a house on fire.

One day, Madara promised, the Uchiha would be the same. Whilst Madara could not have the pleasure to enjoy such thrilling experiences due to his plan to leave future-Konoha on his mission to eradicate Zetsu, he would make sure his brothers, daughter, clansmen, and their descendants would on his behalf.

Madara used to be indifferent about the mission, at the idea of leaving his family, friends, and clan to fulfill the subjugation. However, after gaining so much from this second life of his, he somehow feels reluctant to leave it all behind. His mischievous little brothers, his fragile yet strong daughter, and his deadly loyal Tobirama- Just the thought of leaving them dampened his mood. But it was for a peaceful future. He mustn't be selfish.

"What does shishou want to do now?" Itama's sudden question brought him back from his depressing thoughts. Fortunately, his student was too busy scanning the crowd to pay him any mind, thus missing his split-second dour expression.

A flick of the wrist was enough to snap his fan open. Madara covered the lower half of his face with it to ensure that that one moment of inattention was hidden from view.

"Why so tense, Tama-bo?" Madara queried with a practiced kuruwa kotoba lilt. Due to the intense acrobatics his vocal cords had been put through prior to his crossdressing, his voice could pass for a woman, albeit one with a contralto. Anything higher than that would make him sound off.

"Because one wrong move could cost us everything," Itama responded with a whisper so soft Madara had to strain his ear to hear despite their close proximity. In addition, his student was mindful of his lips, aware of the possibility that they could be read. Good boy. Madara trained him well. "With so many eyes on us, what if someone notices?'

"Oh my. For daring to doubt my skills, it seems that my naughty disciple needs to be disciplined." Madara leaned his shoulder against Itama's chest, not minding that the latter was becoming pale as a sheet. "Howbeit, this merciful master shall hold back in this joyous occasion, just this once."

"T-This disciple thanks shishou for his benevolence," Itama laughed nervously whilst trying to disengage from Madara without making it too obvious. Amateur.

Madara tutted, "Tama-bo, be mindful of pronoun, please. We wouldn't want someone to question what's under my dress."

"S-Sorry, shishou," Itama, with all his youthful innocence and purity, squeaked and blushed to the tips of his hair, akin to a shy maiden in the face of depravity. Looking at this bear-like teenager behaving in such a way made for a funny picture. Madara was thoroughly amused.

Smiling at Itama, more so with his eyes than the covered part of his face, Madara placed a dainty hand upon his student's chest and drew circles with a painted finger. Under his touch, Itama's face instantly turned 囧, probably beyond disgusted yet not brave enough to slap his hand away.

Madara wondered if this was considered sexual harassment. Judging by how the expressions of their peeping observers were borderline scandalous, probably a yes.

Having teased his student enough, lest the boy dies from embarrassment, Madara removed his hand and snapped his fan close. The sound was sharp, crisp, and attention-grabbing. With most of the nearby people looking at them, Madara politely made sure that his prostitute-ish accent was thick enough for even a deaf person to hear, "Tama-bo, let us use our bodies to dance the day away -de arinsu."

Itama's expression, which has finally returned to normal when Madara took back his coquettish claws, puckered again. Madara smirked behind the metal of his closed fan. Sure enough, his student's reaction was gold. Now, all he needed to see were Hashirama's and Tobirama's reaction to complete his day - the latter's especially, since the albino would undoubtedly recognize him despite his ingenious disguise.

And oh look. Speak of the devil.

Tobirama was with the bride and groom, the three of them including Touka, from what he could see, appeared to be in a pleasant conversation as they made their way to the buffet table, near where Madara and Itama were idling about.

Madara, the genius that he was, had made sure that his chakra signature was concealed and adjusted well before even making this trip to the Senju compound - all to trick Tobirama's senses. Fortunately, the seal had worked as he had intended and the albino seemed oblivious to the trap Madara had become.

In under a minute, the group halted a comfortable distance from the duo. Guards down and entirely focused on their own conversation, the group did not notice the master-disciple pair.

Whereas Itama unintentionally let loose a sigh of relief, Madara used this opportunity to observe the two women. Apart from Tsunade (the one who completely destroyed his absolute defense), those two were the only women Madara had ever acknowledged in his past life.

For one, Touka had been able to go toe-to-toe with Hikaku and even beat him if she was in a good condition. From what he remembered in his previous life, Senju Touka had many accomplishments under her belt. One being Konoha's first-generation ANBU commander. Whilst Tobirama did create that division, he was far too busy to actually run it. The person that could assume the mantle, out of all the soldiers in Konoha, was Touka despite how heavily male-dominated their village was with their military power.

Of course, the majority of the clan heads had disapproved of her at first, especially the clans that have never faced Touka in battle before. They refused to have a woman stand higher than them in rank and power. She, without backing down, accepted their challenge and defeated each and every one of their clan's representative in a one-to-one sparring match (that went on for a whole month) and left many young kunoichis to idolize her.

But that wasn't what made Madara respect her first and foremost. No, it was that one time when they had been but teenagers. He had witnessed her brilliant dominance on the battlefield. One of his clansmen had jeered and spat that she should stop playing shinobi and return to the kitchen. Touka, of course, wasn't too pleased with that comment and Madara was the one who had to save his kin's life. His clansman had been crippled by her, and after that incident, nobody underestimated her ever again.

As many said, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

On the other hand, different from Touka, Uzumaki Mito had not entered the kunoichi life until much later in life. She had been brought up, thoroughly, as a noblewoman since birth. However, behind closed doors, she had secretly learned the art of combat from who knows where, her desire to become a kunoichi stronger than her desire to listen to her father, the clan head at that time.

Madara had loathed her guts. It was hate at first sight, and the feeling was mutual. But, undoubtedly, she had earned his respect after that one damning time.

She had stood tall as she faced off against the Kyuubi whilst Madara fought against Hashirama. Many wouldn't have the courage to even do that. Whilst the Kyuubi had indeed been weakened by Hashirama, Mito had still managed to survive long enough to invent - on the spot - a seal strong enough to secure a tailed beast in her gut. Thus leading to Madara's defeat.

Afterward, Uzumaki Mito became the pioneer for future kunoichis everywhere. When word of her prowess got out, many clans decided that if a woman from another clan face down a tailed beast and lived to tell the tale, why couldn't their women stand strong as well? Thus, from being a male-dominated profession, kunoichis began to slowly balance their numbers.

Grudgingly, respect must be given when it was due. He still hated her personality and attitude, though!

Madara shook his head lightly to return to the present. That was enough reminiscing for the day.

His movements were small, but it caught a certain albino's attention. When Madara saw Tobirama turn this way, he gleefully noted the way the Senju had done a doubletake as red eyes widened in disbelief. Pity that he couldn't record that with his Sharingan.

The others in the group noticed Tobirama's reaction and turned to the duo in confusion. Hashirama, innocent Hashirama, completely missed when everyone else had question marks on their faces at the sight of an oiran next to Itama. Rather, he strode forward until he was in front of the duo.

"Itama!" Hashirama beamed at his youngest brother a smile so bright, Madara had to squint to prevent white spots from appearing in his vision. "Where have you been? We were looking for you! Oh yeah, have you seen Kawarama anywhere? I haven't seen him since breakfast!"

Rather than pay attention to Itama's nervous reply, Madara stared right into the eyes of his friend. He couldn't quite control the way his painted lips quivered into a smirk, so he covered them behind his fan.

Tobirama looked none too pleased with his attendance.

Madara smiles harder in response.