Scarred, pale fingers aligned the garments of his outfit as Madara stood docilely at the center of the room. Tobirama's assist was appreciated as his latest disguise had many layers. With a final pat on his chest, Tobirama took a step back and gave him a one-over.
"Better," the albino drawled with a firm nod.
Madara huffed, a wisp of laughter escaping his parted, red-painted lips. His friend must have really despised his previous disguise. Whilst still hilarious in its own way, Madara knew when to quit with his teasing.
"Be a gentleman and hand me that hat, will you," was Madara's only response. His voice was pitched the same as when he spoke as Daraku, along with his mannerism. He moved more elegant than deadly, sensual than intimidating.
Tobirama, though frowned at Daraku's mannerism and speech, did not dissuade Madara from acting as such and peacefully passed the hat – a tate- eboshi. They were shinobi. They knew the importance of a perfect disguise, right down to the fake bosoms Madara had stuffed into his garment. It was a modest amount, just to show that Daraku did possess feminine charm – albeit slightly.
With his hair tied into a ponytail braid and his fringe combed into the hat, his powdered face was in full display. His cheeks were contoured to be sharp enough to cut metal, but other than that, he left his face alone, as it wasn't a full oiran makeup to being with.
Impeccably dressed, Madara exited the room with a swaggering gait that exuded confidence and charm. Tobirama followed a step behind since the hallway was narrow, and when they arrived at an open kitchen living room, Tobirama fell into step with him.
Hashirama was the first to notice them, but Mito was the one who got the first word in.
"With how quick you've detached from your family in favor of entering the bedroom, some might mistake your intentions, brother-in-law," Mito spoke from behind her fan. Though her tone was mild and jesting, the swords in her eyes conveyed a different story as they glared down the only non-family who was in this building.
Madara made no effort to move away from Tobirama despite having heard the warning hidden behind Mito's careful wordings. In fact, he did the exact opposite and hugged the albino's arm, firmly squashing the muscled appendage between his fake bosoms.
Tobirama's reaction was as entertaining as a boulder's. His best friend probably wasn't curious about the sexual side of the human body. Tobirama was the type to experiment with cadavers than anything else, from what Madara knows of then-Tobirama.
Itama's reaction, on the other hand, was akin to a steamed tomato. It was pure gold.
"Pardon our rudeness," Tobirama nodded his head slightly in apology. "Daraku had desperately needed a change of clothes after her vast travels to our compound."
"I can see that." Mito's pair of chocolate brown eyes, whilst softened when looking at Tobirama, appeared judging when she turned to face Madara, her bright orbs roaming up and down Madara's frame. "Please, if I may be so bold to ask, what do you do, Deia-san? I must admit, I am confused over the change of attire and speech. You had a kuruwa kotoba accent if I heard correctly."
Aren't you a prostitute? Why bother hiding it? Are you purposefully concealing your origin? What a disgraceful position you hold in the red-light district.
Madara had to fight a scowl from appearing as he understood her barbed inquiry. Despite intentionally coming here as an oiran, he wasn't a fan of being looked at with such condescension. As per usual, Mito was such an unlikeable bitch. Their personalities often clashed, and if love at first sight existed, Mito and Madara loathed each other at first sight, no matter if the latter was in disguise.
Two can play at that game.
"Uzumaki-sama is brazen indeed," Madara responded with a lilt, his lips curling into a foxy smile as he fearlessly met her eyes. "Some might call it impolite for a woman to behave as such, but I do not dislike such qualities. Senju-sama is lucky to have such a wife."
For a lady from a noble clan, you sure are ill-mannered. I pity Hashirama for having such a rude cunt as his wife.
"Indeed. Unlike some men who only pursue bodily desires, I am quite lucky to have met my husband and have him wed me for love. It saddens me to see those less fortunate when I roam the streets."
Oh? Well, at least I'm not a fuck and throw.
The vein on Madara's, or rather, Daraku's temple throbbed with the desire to make Hashirama a widower. This bitch sure has a way with words. Madara's smile turned sharper as he snapped his tessen open and acted with nonchalance as he fanned his face to physically cool off his rage.
"Not everyone is entitled to live a good life. Whereas some are born with golden spoons, others can only swallow their bitter tears and live with the hand fate has dealt them with. With hardships come experiences, and with that comes growth and wisdom. Those who roam on the streets for a year could potentially see and endure more than those entitled could ever in their entire lives. Perhaps they are the less fortunate when in the face of a dangerous situation. However, Uzumaki-sama need not concern yourself over such boring scenarios. The Senju shinobi and kunoichi are most talented, from what I hear."
A privileged person like you could never understand the deprivations I have endured. My one year of life experience equivalents to your entirety. When I face danger, I stand on my own and survive without care for pride and dignity. When you face danger, the only reason you'll survive is due to your husband's protection. Pathetic in comparison, no?
Despite having half her face covered behind her fan, the angered flush that colored the bridge of her nose ran all the way to the tip of her ears. Madara was gleeful. It was, however, unfortunate that he could not capture this pleasant scenery with his Sharingan.
Before Mito could form any more wretched words to retort, Tobirama stepped forward whilst lightly guiding Madara to sit in between Itama and himself at the table. Whilst Touka, who was seated at the opposite of him, looked like she was seriously contemplating getting popcorn, the albino was quick to de-escalate before a full-on catfight could appear.
"Daraku is an onmyoji. She apologizes for the confusion she has caused due to her poor choice in the previous garment. Doesn't she ?" Tobirama directed the question at him with a pointed look in those red orbs of his.
Madara withheld his poisonous tongue and simpered with a titter as he hid a derisive scoff behind his tessen. Only because Tobirama had given him a prime opportunity to begin his ' Zetsu -is-an-evil-spirit ' plan, albeit unintentionally.
"Of course, of course. It is as Tobirama says. It was wrong of me to subject my disciple's family to my mischievous side on the first meeting. How about I make it up by warding the compound from vengeful spirits. Trust me when I say this, Senju-sama; there is a suffocating scent of maliciousness in the air, so vile it is practically tangible."
Hashirama, as predicted, yelped. Loudly. Then- Hashirama had been terrified of ( non-existent ) ghosts since was young. This-Hashirama, by the looks of it, was the same.
"G-G-Ghost?! There's a ghost here?!" Hashirama squeaked. The healthy tan of his skin has turned ghastly at Madara's words.
Hook.
Before anyone could contradict him, Madara left his seat and practically teleported to Hashirama's side. "I jest you not, Senju-sama. If you let the miasma fester, it will turn into a curse. Possession will not be far into the future... If it has not already happened. Tell me, Senju-sama, has anyone been acting strange as of late?"
"C-Curse?! P-Possession?! W-What do you mean by s-strange?!"
Line.
"Strange as in a sudden or gradual withdrawal from the community. Strange as in muttering weird things to themselves. Strange as in always so easily agitated. Strange as in developed a mistrust for loved ones. Strange as in... just looking at the person and feeling that they've grown distant, distrustful, and overall; strange ." Basically, a description of himself when Zetsu got ahold of him.
"GASP!" Hashirama, like an idiot, gasped whilst saying the word itself. It made Madara want to facepalm, but It wouldn't do for a mysterious onmyoji to suddenly facepalm at the climax of their conspiracy theory. " Oh. My. Log! Tobirama! Quick, find Kawarama! He has been acting... strange !"
Sinker.
"..." Tobirama literally had the expression of 'sucked on a lemon'. Itama and Tobirama sure were brothers alright. "Anija-"
Nope. Madara wasn't going to allow Tobirama to ruin this for him.
With a swiftness that indicates shinobi training, Madara grasped Hashirama's wrist and pulled him to his feet, forcing Tobirama to cut himself off when Madara purposefully bumped his bottom into the albino's side. Without further ado, Madara pointed at the window and announced, "We must make haste, Senju-sama! This Kawarama you speak of could be in grave danger!"
Hashirama did not waste any time in jumping out the window he pointed at to drag him along in seeking his possessed brother. Madara pressed his lips tightly together to prevent a shriek of laughter from escaping. Like the cat that ate the canary, Madara threw a mischievous salute at the gaping group they left behind.
Life was good.