The crisp sound his tessen made when Madara snapped it open immediately garnered Hashirama's attention.
The Senju head gave him a subtle once-over, before meeting his eyes, the only part of his face that wasn't covered behind his fan. Idly, Madara wondered if Hashirama would have willingly done the same if he'd known he was looking into the eyes of the strongest Uchiha alive right now. Probably not. Whilst monstrous in his own right, this-Hashirama has never once made eye contact with Madara on the battlefield before.
It was kind of disappointing if he was honest. Then-Hashirama wouldn't have hesitated to look Madara dead in the eye and shout about peace and friendship.
Anyway. It wouldn't do to dwell on the past or the what-ifs. He could always befriend Hashirama again (even if briefly) after their clans have become allies. With a smile, he bowed in greeting towards the Senju head, mindful to remain elegant rather than sensual - getting on Mito's bad side has always had its repercussions.
As if oblivious to what Madara's garment represented, Hashirama returned his bow and smiled sheepishly. He spoke as if he was in a conversation with a person of noble standing (which was technically true. The head of the Uchiha clan was a member of the aristocracy since ancient times. But that was more of an empty title than anything that held meaning, since they were seen as violent-loving shinobi, first and foremost, to the rest of the aristocrats).
"Oh, pardon me. My eyes must be going blind to have not noticed such a graceful person standing so close to me. I hadn't meant any disrespect by failing to greet you. Senju Hashirama, at your service, my lady."
Hn. It seems Hashirama was at the beginning stages of minding his words in the game called politics. Something then-Hashirama excelled at – and if Madara was being honest, he might even say that his then-best friend has a glib tongue. Although no one would look at then-Hashirama and say he was manipulative, his closest friends and family members knew otherwise. After all, it wasn't realistic for a Hokage to run an entire village on rainbows and sparkles alone. The ANBU corps was approved for that very reason.
Madara misses his then-best friend, glib tongue and all, more than ever right now.
"Ara, this one, a lady? You flatter me –de arinsu [1]," he forced a titter, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Itama shudder (probably from repulsion) at the sound he made. That boy... always so rude. "I've heard much of you from Tama-bo, Senju Hashirama-sama, and am pleased to finally make your acquaintance –de arinsu."
Hashirama blinked, more so when Madara ended his sentence with '-de arinsu', appearing confused as he turned to Itama in inquiry. His student got the message and introduced him, albeit red-faced and in reluctance, "Hashirama-nii, Touka-chan, Mito-neesan, this is Deai Daraku-sensei, my venerable shishou. Shishou, these are my esteemed family members and in-law."
Everyone, including the eavesdroppers, fell silent at his student's unexpected words. Many eyes landed on Madara, on his abounding hair ornaments, his powdered face and painted lips, and his attire, before fixing a funny stare at Itama as if he was insane to call an oiran his venerable master.
Itama shrunk into himself, beyond uncomfortable at the attention he garnered with that introduction. Madara placed a calloused but well-manicured hand on Itama's shoulder in a show of support and smiled with teeth. He was feeling rather protective of his chick.
"Indeed, my disciple is highly talented in the art of healing, and I am proud to have him as my student –de arinsu. It would have been such a shame to leave him in the hands of those with lesser potential –de arinsu."
Those that understood his doublespeak grew agitated. They removed their gaze from Itama to glare at his arrogance. Madara let his painted lips turn smug. His barbed tongue was a gift at times like this, a complete opposite of then-Hashirama's glib tongue.
Before things could escalate, the woman of this hour stepped up and showed herself to be fit for the position of a future politician's wife.
"It is, indeed, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance," Mito gave him a polite, closed-eye smile. "I have always been curious about the mysterious teacher Itama-kun has been raving about. Deai-san, you simply must join us for tea inside. My husband, in-laws, and I would love to get to know more about you."
Madara, for the first time ever, was glad for Mito's high EQ and IQ.
"Of course, Uzumaki-sama. Shall we –de arinsu?" He made a gesture for her to lead the way. The Uzumaki nodded, and with a sweep of her elegant, pure white wide sleeves, turned to lead their group away from the crowd of onlookers.
Hashirama quickly caught up to walk by his bride's side to escort her, Itama and Touka following a step behind. Just as Madara made a move forward, Tobirama expressionlessly extended his left arm out. Without much thought, Madara wrapped a hand above the offered elbow. His (ungloved) fingers twitched in startlement at the sudden and unexpected skin-to-skin contact, having not realized that Tobirama was wearing a short-sleeved blue kimono shirt until now.
Madara couldn't help but discreetly sweep his eyes up and down his friend's frame, having never seen adult Tobirama in casual wear before. Even back then in Konoha, the albino was always in standard shinobi wear, ready to slap on his armor at a moment's notice.
Usually, by now, Madara would feel uncomfortable with such prolonged skin-to-skin contact, but not today, apparently. It must be the attire and person he was personating – he felt more comfortable acting like someone who had not had their freedom and consent taken away from them.
"Are you alright?"
Madara had not realized he had slowed down in his thoughts until he heard Tobirama's voice. "I'm fine –de arinsu," he answered on reflex as he quickened his pace, not wanting to fall behind. He was always fine. "Are you alright –de arinsu?" He returned smugly.
Tobirama, as expected, frowned deeply. "Cease that way of speaking. It doesn't suit you."
"Heh," Madara smirked behind the safety of his fan. Tobirama, of course, wasn't pleased with his response and continued to glare at him. "Alright, fine, I'll stop. Now quit glaring. You'll ruin your good looks."
"... Anyway, what are you doing here? And what the hell is that attire?" The albino's ears were slightly red as turned away with a huff, clearly bothered by Madara's choice of garment. Madara preened harder.
"Why, I have been eager to meet my student's family, of course, and this wedding brought such a great opportunity to do so. I even wore my best clothes! Surely, an understanding young man such as yourself will not scold this feeble woman for such small desires, hm?" Madara leaned more bodily against Tobirama's side as he coyly ducked his head and looked at the albino through his long lashes. He had seen many courtesans do this to their clients, which melted said clients into puddles of goo.
Unfortunately, his opponent was Senju Tobirama, renowned for his stone-cold attitude and bearing. The albino, rather than melt, only scoffed derisively. "You're up to something. What ulterior motives do you have for coming here, Dara?" To chase Zetsu away, was not something he could say without bringing up the whole time-travel thing. "Your ill choice of disguise does not even cover your features. What would your clansmen say if they saw you walking down the street in such a... provocative getup?"
Gleefully, just to prove the albino wrong, Madara retold the story of his 'journey' to the Senju compound.
"Nevermind. Forget I said anything. It slipped my mind that the Uchihas are all dense idiots," Tobirama deadpanned.
To show how offended he was at the comment, Madara discreetly dug his sharpened, red-painted nails into Tobirama's flesh. The latter didn't even flinch, much to his displeasure. He reluctantly withdrew his claws just before blood could be drawn. It wouldn't do to draw eyes to his mischief, especially when it was aimed at the Senju heir in Senju territory.
As they reached their destination, a rest house near the courtyard that was away from the public eye, Madara grumpily turned away from the albino... who wasn't having any of that.
Tobirama, in just a split second, stole his tessen, grabbed ahold of his chin, and brought his face forward, so close that their breaths mingled. The high toothed geta helped even their height, causing Madara to stand at eye level with the Senju (for the first time since puberty hit).
"No. Do not give me that attitude when it is you who is in the wrong," the albino all but commanded, slanted red eyes narrowed in contemplation. "We're changing your attire." His tone was firm, leaving nothing up for debate.
Without care for the current company, Tobirama kicked off his warazori and stormed off to the only bedroom in the building with Madara in his grasp (who was struggling to remove his own pair of sanmaiba geta without looking uncouth, since it would be impolite to walk indoors with them). The latter smiled politely as they passed the bride and groom, but once they were behind closed doors, he grumpily kicked Tobirama's shin with a huff, more to show his displeasure than to hurt.
"What do you have against my clothes, Tobira? Ryouta, for one, helped design this outfit. He would be sad to know you hate it." Not that his little brother knew that Madara would be the one to wear it. Such things should be kept to himself, lest Ryouta changed their menu to something... unique just to spite him.
Tobirama wasn't fazed by the kick. The albino simply crossed his arms over his chest and stared him down. Madara already misses the added height his shoes had given him.
Tobirama opened his mouth and out came words that oozed sarcasm so thick Madara could practically taste it, "Please, by all means, do send my displeasure to Ryouta-san. I'm sure he would be delighted to know that I've put him on the same list as Izuna."
Curiosity got the better of him. "What list?"
"My shitlist."
"... You have a shitlist?"
"Unfortunately. Hashirama has a permanent spot in there, right next to Izuna and our clan elders."
"... I don't even want to know," Madara stated drily, more amused than he let on. Well, the elders he could understand. Additionally, if Hashirama was his blood-brother, he would've wanted to throw that giant oaf into the koi pond every day too just to lessen his frustration.
Izuna, thankfully, has developed some brain cells to actively not aggravate him after being on the receiving end of his koi pond dunking. Although retaining those brain cells were another story altogether. Ryouta would sometimes get dunked, but that was a rarity in itself.
Brothers, what else could he say but that?
Fortunately, he has two other obedient little brothers he could dote and spoil to counter Izuna's and Ryouta's stubborn personalities.
When he felt cool fingers brush against his forehead, Madara blinked and came back to the present. He must be getting old to keep getting lost in thought.
"Have you any other outfit to wear?"
"Do you take me for an amateur? Of course, I do." It was basic shinobi 101 to have a contingency disguise just in case things went sour.
In fact, Madara always had a dozen outfits and wigs prepared in his storage seal at any given moment. He also checks on them prior to any mission he leaves for. Regardless of Madara having not actually retreated from a solo mission before, it never hurt to arrange for all situations in advance. Even Izuna, who disliked wearing anything other than their battle garment, knew the benefits of keeping women's clothes at hand. As much as they wanted to deny it, all his brothers could pass for women if they tried – and many do underestimate the fairer sex during this time period.
As for his secondary choice of guise, it was an onmyoji. 'Her' backstory would be: 'she' had come to 'her' disciple's brother's wedding and coincidentally noticed an evil parasite in the Senju compound. That would then lead to Daraku putting up seals to 'drive the evil away' or something akin to that.
As for why he came dressed as an oiran... Well, everyone has their own secrets. Why should he have to explain himself to strangers? The less they know, the more real his persona became.
"Did Ryouta-san help you with this elaborate hairstyle as well?"
"No. Reluctant as he is to admit it, Ryouta can only do one hairstyle, and that's a ponytail. I went to a whorehouse to get this masterpiece done." And what an experience it had been. Madara has no idea how Izuna could stand the heavily perfumed stench in those buildings.
Tobirama's expression turned frigid at his words. The albino promptly sat on the only futon in the room and pointed at the spot in between his legs. "Sit," he commanded, his tone hard and unyielding.
Madara decided to obey him just this once if Tobirama was so against him dressing as a courtesan. If it was somebody else, he wouldn't have cared nor allowed them to position themselves at his blind spot. However, this Senju was an exception. They were childhood friends, and if Tobirama had wanted to betray him or kill him, there had been numerous opportunities to do so in the past.
Hence, he sat with his back to his friend and obediently kept still as the Senju heir removed all his ornaments and began combing out the kinks in his hair. Madara huffed and puffed at first but quietened not long into Tobirama's soft ministrations.
Being taken care of didn't feel too bad...
The process took about, give or take, half an hour for his hair to return to how it usually was and tied into a messy bun. Madara was already drifting off by the end of it, no thanks to the sudden head massage Tobirama had instigated. Those thin, calloused fingers scraped against his scalp so pleasantly that Madara was beginning to slouch into his touch with how relaxed he felt.
With his guard completely gone, he didn't react when Tobirama's fingers changed their course and slid down his neck to begin massaging his shoulders. Due to the way his garment bared his shoulders, the heat that radiated from his friend's palms were almost scorching. Madara shuddered, his breath hitching from the contrasting sensation.
His friend continued to unknot his tensed muscles and slowly, Madara began leaning most of his weight against Tobirama's palms. Those skilled fingers would sometimes just rest on his skin, probably from tiredness, before they caressed down his back, stopping just at the base of his spine, and returned to his shoulders without letting him feel an ounce of discomfort.
"Madara..." Tobirama whispered his name, voice slightly hoarse from their paused conversation.
"Hn?" Was all he could murmur in his daze, eyelids drooping as he fought to stay upright.
Rather than say anything else, he felt Tobirama rest his forehead on his nape. The albino's lips were lightly hovering above his T2, and his warm breath was causing that area of skin to itch. Tobirama's hands had long stopped moving, and they rested on his stomach, with fingers that played and tugged on the obi of his yukata.
Madara decided to leave those fingers be and lean into his friend's chest. He silently used his body to give Tobirama permission to help him change into his secondary disguise. It wasn't as if the albino had not seen him topless before (15, when Tobirama had been practicing his water dragon jutsu and accidentally drenched Madara from head to toe).
Just as his obi was halfway untied, the loud bang made by the door being kicked in caused Madara to startle from his dazed state.
He heard Tobirama sigh before the weight on his nape disappeared. Madara was slightly disappointed. With his body aches and chronic exhaustion (his soul was too old, too weary), anything that could make him relax was a godsend. He should ask Tobirama to massage him more often in the future.
"Anija, need I remind you again - for the nth time - that if a door is locked, it equivalates to Do. Not. Enter," the last three words were said through gritted teeth. Madara was reluctantly amused. Hashirama was too much like Izuna in that regard. If they see a locked door, their childish curiosity made them want to sneak a peek inside.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." after a long, dumb sounding something that tried to pass itself as a word, Hashirama, with a face that was bright red from probably too many drinks, stuttered, "S-Sorry to interrupt!" And with that, the door was slammed shut and re-locked... from the outside.
Madara wanted to facepalm. If they had been civilians, they would've been trapped inside by this stunt of his.
"Your brother is... something," he couldn't help but deadpan.
"Something annoying," Tobirama tsked.
That was irrefutably undeniable.
Hashirama breathed in, and out. In, and out. And promptly dashed to the living room with an intense gleam in his eyes.
"IITAAMAAAAAAAAAAAAA-" Hashirama tackled his seated youngest brother from the back, uncaring that his actions had caused the latter to faceplant the table. "JFPOAJFIKAJKSFPOAIUFHAPOFGEQIRUJHOQWFPIFJHO!" o(≧▽≦)o
His blabbering was met with an amused gaze from his pretty wife, an unamused one from cousin Touka, and an angry scowl from adorable Itama – whose face and neck were covered in cake frosting.
Hashirama paused ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : )
"Why are you covered in frosting?" He asked, bemused. Before Itama had the chance to respond, Hashirama side hugged Itama and cut his youngest brother off. "Wait, I have something to share! Something BIG!" ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ
"Congratulations, Mito. You just married a man-child who always speaks in innuendos," Touka deadpanned.
"Yeah, congrats. Mito-neesan gets to spend forever with this juvenile," Itama hissed while wiping his face grumpily.
Hashirama ignored them both. He was already used to their sharp words and poisonous tongues. Fortunately, Tobirama wasn't here to join them in mocking him. Well, of course, he wasn't here. He was busy... being intimate just next door!
Kyaaa, kyaaa, kyaaaa~! (⁄ ⁄⁄ ▽ ⁄⁄ ⁄)
He blushed brighter at the memory of Tobirama being so intimate with a lady. That position! Those hands! Tobirama was practically half-way through undressing their guest! Such a scene was, wholly, unexpected. But it was, nevertheless, a pleasant surprise! Now, he wouldn't have to worry about his dourest (but cutest!) brother living a lonely, unmarried life!
Although he didn't expect Tobirama (cool-headed and practically an iceberg) to be so quick to make a move on someone they just met. Yeah, Itama's teacher looked and spoke like a courtesan and was a beauty that would turn heads everywhere she went, but surely Tobirama had more self-control than that?
Pondering with his eyes closed, he placed a hand on his chin and began to use his critical thinking skills. σ(￣、￣〃)
"What do you reckon he's thinking about so seriously?" Distantly, Hashirama heard Itama say.
"Probably something dumb. But, hey, at least his brain is getting some much-needed exercise." Mean! Touka-chan, you meanie!
Suddenly, as if enlightened, Hashirama snapped his eyes open and exclaimed excitedly, "They're already close, to begin with!" He recalled the introduction Itama had done. Tobirama's name had been excluded, and he hadn't question it up until now.
Was Daei-san Tobi's lover?! There must be a reason why they kept it a secret! What if they were star-crossed lovers who hailed from enemy clans, hence why they had to keep an undisclosed relationship?!
How romantic! (ง ื▿ ื)ว
Hashirama was weak knee from all the fantasies he was envisioning.
"Okay...? Mind explaining what you the hell you're going on about, oh great Senju head-sama?" Touka snarked.
Hashirama, more than happy to oblige, dived next to his cousin and grabbed her hands in an unyielding grip. He was oblivious to her struggles as he gushed, "Tobirama and Deai-san are lovers! I saw him in the middle of undressing her!"
Itama abruptly sprayed tea all over the dining table.
Mito covered her (beautiful and alluring) pink painted lips with the sleeve of her bridal kimono, eyes alight with interest.
Touka had her mouth agape with incredulity.
All in all, chaos ensued as the three began bombarding questions at him. Hashirama was happy they shared his enthusiasm. The only one left to complete their impromptu mini-celebration was Kawarama. Now, he just needed to somehow find that wayward brother of his before Tobirama finished...
A/N:
Right, I kinda forgot to explain what "-de arinsu" meant for those who aren't familiar with it. My apologies for that.
[1] -de arinsu is a variant of "-desu", but only used by Edo prostitutes from the Yoshiwara red-light district.
Below are "-desu" variation examples that are often seen in anime:
-da (informal, used amongst friends)
-de aru (used for observation)
-de gozaru (used by samurai)
-de arinsu (used by geisha)
I'll only be using "–de arinsu" when Madara is acting as Daraku since it's hard for me to convey he's in character (and using Edo Period prostitute accent) with only English words.
I hope this chapter has been a fun read for you guys! (｡-‿-｡)