Chapter 2
The circus was easy enough to find. As the mission scroll had indicated, they were camped on the outskirts of Frost Country's capital, intending to perform a series of shows over the coming weeks. Frost's new daimyō, a good-natured but frivolous man – at least outwardly, Madara now knew – had insisted on a month-long, city-wide celebration to commemorate the first anniversary of his ascension. The circus was only one of several entertainment groups and other businesses taking advantage of the opportunity.
The situation was ideal. Thousands of people had flocked to the capital to be part of the fun, or to make a profit, so security was by necessity somewhat lax. Two more newcomers hardly raised an eyebrow. Well, aside from the lion. Obviously. But again, the situation was ideal. It was only natural that an aspiring lion tamer would head to the capital right now. That's where the job opportunities would be.
Sure enough, when they explained their presence on the outskirts of a camp of colourful tents and wagons, they were quickly ushered into a small tent to meet the man in charge.
Their target.
The circus's owner and ringmaster – the potential Chikaku – was a tall, spindly man with an ostentatious, twirly-ended moustache. He was as distinctive-looking as the mission scroll had claimed. A rather foolish thing for an information broker to be, if they wanted to go unnoticed. The shadowed cloak he was reported to wear for those meetings was equally unsubtle, but less distinctive than his usual attire. He lived up to the stereotype of his profession, dressing in a bright crimson tailcoat trimmed in gold, paired with a top hat and a coiled whip. Madara – and Tobirama too, he suspected – had to resist the urge to sneer at the latter. It was clearly purely decorative and would make a poor weapon.
"You're looking for work?"
"We are," Tobirama said firmly, but not too firm, as if it was covering nervousness. Quite skilfully acted really.
"You got any experience?"
Tobirama nodded eagerly. "My companion says he's a lion tamer!"
The ringmaster perked up. "Is that so?"
Madara flickered his fingers, recounting his cover story.
"Well? Speak up!"
Tobirama interrupted. "He can't, he's mute. But I can read signs. Shall I translate?"
The ringmaster frowned deeply, then shrugged, waving a hand.
"He says: My name is Masaru. I am indeed a lion tamer."
It was a difficult balance to strike, not outright lying – because for now, they were acting under the assumption that the ringmaster's Chikaku bloodline was legitimate – and yet, at the same time, not giving away the truth. The trick was that, technically, Tobirama wasn't lying. He wasn't claiming Madara was Masaru, a lion tamer – only that Madara said he was.
"He says: I'm originally from Wind Country, where I…" Tobirama feigned amusement. "…liberated a lion cub from animal traders a few years ago."
"Sticky fingers?" the ringmaster muttered, displeased.
"He says: No, I've simply always had a soft spot for animals. They were not treating him kindly."
"Hmm…"
"He says: Kemuri, the lion, is extremely well trained and responds to me instinctively, since I raised him from a cub. He is not terribly ferocious, but can pretend well enough to entertain an audience. I would like to work here for the obvious reason – when one travels with a lion…" Again, Tobirama faked amusement. "…not joining a circus seems a tragic waste of a cliché."
"I see, I see. Where's the beast now?"
"Waiting in the forest." At the ringmaster's visible alarm, Tobirama hurried to reassure him. "It's fine! I've travelled with them since Hot Water" – again, technically true, as it had been one of their Hiraishin stops – "and the animal really is exceedingly well trained."
"Still, I'd like him caged as soon as possible," the ringmaster insisted to Madara, who nodded. He then looked at Tobirama. "And you?"
"I, well, in Hot Water…" Tobirama gave an artfully delicate pause. "He said maybe I'd do well in the circus too."
Madara had indeed said that while there, specifically so that Tobirama could claim he had.
The ringmaster frowned, impatient. "But have you got any skills, man? Any experience?"
Tobirama lifted his chin. "I can dance. And I'm very flexible. Admittedly, I've previously put those skills to use for a more… private sort of entertainment." And then he blushed. How did he do that on cue!? "But if you'll just let me show you some of what I can do – not that, I mean the kind of things I'd perform for a circus audience – I think you'll see that… I have something to offer."
The ringmaster's eyebrows had risen. His cheeks were a little flushed, not with interest so much as awkwardness. He coughed into a fist, then waved a hand at the open area of the tent. "Very well. A demonstration."
Tobirama sighed in perfectly feigned relief before he brightened, flashed a grin, then stood to walk to the middle of the room. Well, more like stalked. Or perhaps sauntered? There was a grace to the casual movements, was the thing. The ringmaster evidently noticed too, straightening in his chair, gaze turning professionally assessing as Tobirama stripped off his top – even that done elegantly – and took a pose, bare from the waist up, piercing at his bellybutton revealed.
Madara felt his face flush. He reminded himself sternly that they were undercover, and that no matter how much he might want to memorise the sight – purely hypothetically! – he couldn't activate the Sharingan, as it would give them away.
There was no music, but Tobirama began to sway like there was, eyes closed like he was lost in it. He turned, twirling, movements perfectly controlled, perfectly fluid. Next, he gracefully plucked the dozen or so hairsticks from his bun – except they weren't hairsticks at all, Madara realised, but senbon – and absently twirled them between his fingers as his hair fell free. The strands were a deep brown rather than the striking white Madara preferred – a preference based purely on reasons of familiarity, of course – but the way they swirled around him like dark ribbons in the low light of the tent…
Madara froze, heart in his throat.
He was beautiful.
And then, after carelessly tossing the senbon aside, Tobirama twisted. His head fell low as one leg pointed vertically into the air – holy fuck, how did he bend that way? – and Madara's mind went straight to the gutter.
The ringmaster had a much different reaction.
"Where did you learn that?" he barked, eyeing the senbon, which studded a beam in a neat line, with deep suspicion.
Madara tried not to tense visibly, torn between attraction – no, wait, distraction – and mentally cursing his mission partner out. Because what the fuck was that? Why was he wielding ninja weapons when they were undercover as civilian entertainers? And why hadn't he warned Madara!? It was—
"Mother was from Water Country," Tobirama said casually, as if oblivious to the mood, continuing his smooth, ridiculously flexible movements. He pressed his palms to the floor, and then, for a brief – brain-melting – moment, his legs were split in the air, perfectly horizontal to the ground. And then he somehow lowered one leg behind him to touch the floor as well, and the second followed, body all but folded in half – oh gods – before his abdominals visibly rippled – Madara's face would be red forever – and he stood upright.
And through it all, Tobirama somehow kept his movements smooth, dance-like, not missing a beat.
…Wait, hadn't Madara been angry about something?
No hint of strain in his voice, Tobirama continued his explanation. "Ninja background, probably. She knew some of their senbon jutsu."
"And you?" the ringmaster demanded.
Tobirama looked surprised. "Me? A ninja?" He finally stopped dancing, falling out of his graceful movements as he laughed and shook his head. "I simply learned a few of her jutsu and adapted them for my own purposes. Men who like to play darts sometimes admire a pretty face who can best them. There are worse ways to…" His eyes darted away. "…elicit interest."
"What about her clan? You keep in contact?"
Tobirama shrugged. "I never knew them. I did spend some time in Water Country as a child, but as I got older, I moved all over the place." He flashed a grin. "I doubt there's a single country within the Elemental Nations I've not visited!" Then the expression faltered, as if he'd finally noticed the ringmaster's ire. "Is… is that a problem?" He darted a look towards the senbon. "I had thought to maybe incorporate them into a performance, but… not a good idea, I take it?"
"No." There was a long, tense silence, until finally the man relaxed and shook his head. "Well, if she was a clan runaway or something, and from that long ago, it's probably fine." He sniffed. "Just don't want to get caught up in ninja politics! Last thing the circus needs. Neutrality is important in this business. Lets us travel unmolested."
"That makes sense."
The man nodded briskly. "My name is Kazaru, and you're both hired. Get that lion secured immediately – caged wagons are kept by the red tent – then report to the yellow tent, and Kei and Rei will get you settled. You can't miss them – they're the conjoined twins." And then he left.
Once he was sure the man was gone, and no one was around to listen, Madara turned to Tobirama. Scrubbing thoughts of beautiful and holy fuck flexible from his mind, he hissed, "What the hell was that?" waving a hand at the senbon.
Ignoring him, Tobirama tugged his shirt back on – which Madara was not inappropriately disheartened by – then strolled over to pluck the senbon from the beam. With a few deft twists of his wrist, his hair was back in a neat bun, held in place with the steel 'hairsticks'.
Madara was instantly envious. His hair was never so easily controllable.
"You didn't think I'd come unarmed, did you?" Tobirama finally deigned to reply.
"We're supposed to be civilian."
"Precisely." At Madara's confused, frustrated look, Tobirama sighed. "We cannot risk using chakra, not even for basic physical enhancement. And while you will have the threat of a loyal lion at your beck and call, I have no such defence. And I might need one. My performances will entail a great deal of me being bendy and visually interesting while dressed in skimpy clothing, and that tends to give people… ideas."
"Ah," Madara choked out, looking anywhere but at Tobirama— because he was keeping an eye out for eavesdroppers! Yes, that was why. Not because he was one of those people with 'ideas'. Slander!
"Exactly. I imagine I'll only have to perforate one or two handsy idiots before word gets around that I carry sharp needles, have uncanny aim, and am not afraid to use it. And since Kazaru already knows about them, it won't rouse his suspicions."
Madara nodded slowly. That made sense. Still… "You could have warned me," he huffed.
"I—" Tobirama frowned faintly, and now it was him avoiding Madara's gaze as he muttered, "Apologies. It had not occurred to me. I'm very much used to working alone, or else with subordinates. An equal mission partner is… a less familiar dynamic."
The strangest part, even stranger than Tobirama unbending enough to apologise and admit to a mistake, was Madara's reaction. He ought to have felt a thrill of vindication. Instead, he felt uneasy. He didn't…. he didn't like the way Tobirama looked genuinely uncomfortable. He was glad he'd owned up to his mistake – it was important for mission partners to be on the same page, for both their safety – but he didn't want to gloat about it.
Actually, he rather wanted to move on and maybe distract Tobirama, to ease that frown from his face— with words! Not with the pads of his fingertips, stepping close and gently smoothing over the wrinkle between his brows until it eased away. Nope. Words.
Speaking of words, Madara looked around, searching desperately for some of those, ones suitably distracting, and hit upon, "That was smoothly done. Kazaru, I mean. With the evasions."
To his relief, the tension drained out of Tobirama.
It was an honest compliment though. Tobirama had performed some very clever verbal gymnastics there. Some parts, even Madara wasn't sure where the technicality hid.
Madara also realised that he was probably going to learn a lot of new things about the other man over the course of this mission. Already he'd learned that Tobirama's mother had been from Water Country, which he'd never known – could, in fact, have sworn Hashirama once mentioned their mother being Senju-born – and also that some of his jutsu were adapted from hers. Senbon had been implied, but not outright stated, so Madara wondered if it wasn't actually the water ones.
Tobirama was not a very open person, so Madara was… curious, what else would be revealed.
"It's an interesting challenge, lying while telling only the truth," Tobirama mused.
"I'll stick with being mute, thanks," Madara said, because a skill for words was not his personal strength. He was, as Izuna once put it, better suited to blunt weapons than sharp blades. And yes, the barely veiled insult had been intentional, the brat. "Come on then, let's go find those twins."
A big, hulking, bearded lady met them shortly after they stepped outside. She'd been sent by Kazaru to help them get the 'lion' squared away. They fetched Kemuri from the forest to the wagon cages, which the cat gave a disdainful look, clearly unimpressed with her accommodations. She didn't put up a fuss though, and Madara was inwardly so relieved that he'd thought to tailor his summoning request for a cat with at least a little subtlety. Most of them, he knew, wouldn't have hesitated to start verbally complaining, blowing their cover.
Once Kemuri was reluctantly settled – though her glare promised Madara that she expected so much tuna as reward after this mission was done – they headed for the yellow tent and found who they were looking for easily enough.
Kei and Rei's names made sense immediately. It wasn't merely a trite matching thing. No, given their startlingly pretty, jewel-bright green eyes, names meaning 'gemstone' and 'the tinkling of jade' respectively were perfectly fitting. Oddity of the way they were literally joined at the hip aside, the pair were lovely to look upon – bright eyes, sweet faces and glossy black hair. They were identical in appearance, but not, they quickly learned, in personality.
Rei was sweetness personified, open and trusting.
Kei was sharp, suspicious and protective of her twin.
Tobirama introduced them, as 'Tomomi' and 'Masaru', and explained that Kazaru had hired them on.
"New people!" Rei clapped her hands. "This is so exciting! I'm sure you'll love it here!"
Tobirama smiled, open, friendly and wrong, wrong, WRONG. Because Madara knew what Tobirama looked like when he really smiled, and that was not it.
Tobirama actually had three main smiles, as far as Madara knew.
Not— not that Madara had made a study of them or anything! He just noticed things was all. Things about Tobirama— no, wait, not Tobirama in particular, just people in general. And if Tobirama got a little more focus than other people, well, it wasn't Madara's fault. Tobirama was so reserved that he had to look a little longer to notice things. That's all it was. Perfectly innocent!
Ahem, getting back to the point.
The first and most common of the three was less a smile, and more the potential for one. A quirk of Tobirama's lips, sometimes with a glimmer in his eyes, radiating a sense of friendliness or mirth.
The second, rarely seen, was small and soft, generally reserved for quiet moments of fondness. It was occasionally bestowed on Hashirama, Mito or Tōka, but most often reserved for the village children that swarmed him at times. Only once had it been directed at Madara – just recently, when he'd assured Madara he would grow his hair back out – and Madara had maybe sort of forgotten how to function for a brief, stuttery moment. In his defence, even seeing the expression directed at others was enough to make him feel warm and sort of… melty.
The third smile, rarer still, was a different matter altogether. Oh, it still made Madara melt, but for a completely different reason. It was a smug, cocky look, and Madara had almost swallowed his tongue the first time he saw it – he had not expected that! Every time thereafter, he'd been torn between staring breathlessly while slowly turning red, and turning tail and fleeing before someone asked him a question and he accidentally revealed that he'd been rendered incoherent.
Really, it was just inconsiderate of Tobirama to go around smiling so distractingly!
The fake smile Tobirama wore now was less distracting, but also a little… unnerving, actually, for how well it sat on his face. A skilful mask, like so much had been since the moment they entered the circus grounds. Madara hadn't expected Tobirama to be such a good actor. People often complained about Tobirama's reserved, prickly demeanour, and even Hashirama sometimes tried to coax him into being more personable.
If Tobirama could play the part, why had he never done so?
Think cat, Madara thought. And suddenly it made perfect sense. Because a cat wouldn't bother, would be itself, defiantly and unrepentantly – and condescendingly – and everyone else could go hang.
"What are your acts?" Rei asked eagerly. "Kei and I sing. Well, and…" She tipped her head at their hip, smile making it clear it wasn't a sore topic. "Obviously."
"I dance," Tobirama said with a smile. Fake again, but convincing to the ignorant. "With a little contortionism thrown in." The smile dimmed a touch as he added, "I had thought, maybe, to include something 'extra', but…" He shrugged sheepishly. Madara hadn't even know he could do sheepish. "Apparently it's not a good idea?"
"Extra what?" Kei demanded.
In demonstration, Tobirama plucked a senbon from his hair – just one, so his bun stayed in place – and twirled it between his fingers confidently, so fast it became a blur, a disc of silver. Then, without warning, or even shifting a muscle but for the flick of a finger, he sent it darting towards a prettily carved chair-back, where it embedded itself perfectly in the centre of a flower.
Rei gasped in awe, leaning close, but Kei paled with fear. She wrapped a strong arm around Rei's waist, yanking her back, turning so she was between her twin and the potential threat.
Tobirama blinked and hurried over to tug the senbon free, tucking it back in his hair before making himself smaller, like he was uncertain. Fake – Tobirama had never been uncertain in his life, Madara sometimes thought, even though he knew that couldn't be true.
"Sorry?" Tobirama offered.
"Don't just do that!" Kei snapped. Immediately, accusingly, she asked, "Does Kazaru know?"
That drew both ninja's interest, though they hid it well. The woman should have no reason to think the ringmaster would care. Did she know something about their suspect? Was she a potential information source? They would need to keep it in mind.
Tobirama feigned confusion. "Yes, of course. He's the one who said it wasn't a good idea. He saw them during my interview performance."
"Oh." Still glaring, Kei tore her gaze away and looked at Madara. "And you?"
"He's mute. But I speak sign. Masaru?"
Madara raised his hands, flicking through gestures. He stayed in character, because even if was unlikely that either girl knew sign language, it wasn't certain. The same would be true of everyone else they encountered, so it was also good to get in the habit.
"Masaru says he's a lion tamer – he really is! I've met Kemuri, and he's a gorgeous creature. Masaru handles him so well!"
Madara lightly smacked his arm with the back of a hand, as if put out.
"Oh! Sorry, Masaru says I should get to the point of us being here—" He shot a look at Madara, as if disappointed in his abrupt manner. The height of irony, coming from Tobirama of all people. "—and tell you that Kazaru said you could get us settled in?"
"We can do that!" Rei said. "First you'll need quarters assigned. Masaru, you'll be in the red tent with the rest of the animal handlers. It's nearest the caged wagons. I assume your Kemuri is already there? And Tomomi… I think you'd do best with the tumblers and acrobats and such. They're highly visual performers too, so their quarters are designed with dressing tables and room for makeup and outfits and such. Purple tent. Sound good?"
"Of course it's good," Kei said before they could speak. "Come on, we'll give you a quick tour and then be done with you."
"Kei, be nice for once!"
"Rei, be cautious for once!"
Madara and Tobirama exchanged glances as they followed after them.
Being housed in separate areas wasn't ideal from a security perspective, but it was better from an 'efficiency standpoint', as Tobirama had put it. It allowed them to interact with, and observe and gather information from, the widest possible range of people. Kazaru may have been the focus of the mission, but approaching him directly wasn't the best idea when the mission had also specified that discretion was key. There was a reason they were undercover.
No, better to go at it sideways and see if any of the ringmaster's employees had noticed anything incriminating.
Of course, pooling their intelligence – an important step – was also made difficult by the housing arrangements. Fortunately, they'd arrived at the circus together, establishing their cover as friends, so nobody suspected anything when Madara wandered into the purple tent, or Tobirama into the red one, asking where the other was.
It was Madara's turn to find Tobirama, and a couple he vaguely recognised as flying trapeze artists directed him towards his quarry.
Stepping into the room, Madara's first impression was of sudden, blinding light. He tensed, blinking fast to clear the dots from his vision – barely restraining the urge to activate the Sharingan for immediate clarity – and when he could see again, Madara realised he was in a dressing room. Since tents didn't come equipped with windows generally, their accommodations tended to be dark and dimly lit. Not this room, though. There were bright lights everywhere, set up wherever they could be squeezed in between makeup tables and clothing racks. Not to mention the mirrors, which reflected the light even further and caused a dizzying, visual distortion of infinite reflections here and there where one mirror faced another.
All in all, Madara was of a mind to dislike the room intensely – it was his right as an Uchiha to object to anything that fucked with his vision! – but then he spotted Tobirama, the room's only occupant, sat at a table and…
Oh gods. Tobirama was putting on makeup!
Surprisingly skilfully too, hands sweeping the brush quickly and confidently over his cheekbones.
"What?" was all Madara managed to choke out. He waved at Tobirama's face, hoping he'd get the point. Inwardly, his head was spinning, because he hadn't even known this was a thing for him. The makeup! Not— not Tobirama specifically in makeup. No, surely not.
Ahem.
Not looking the least bit self-conscious, like what he was doing wasn't noteworthy or brain-breaking, Tobirama explained. "The woman who oversees the purple tent's performers wants a full dress rehearsal, since I'm new, to go over my act and make sure it's up to par. Especially since she wants me to incorporate something called rope dancing, which I've never tried. Whoever's in charge where you stay will probably chase you up for something similar soon. It is only five days till our first official performances."
Okay. Yes. That made sense. Probably?
Madara was a bit distracted, okay?
But it didn't explain the most important part!
"How?" Madara waved at Tobirama's face again.
"Tōka."
"Why!?" Inwardly, Madara despaired. He had been reduced to monosyllables. His dignity was in tatters, and Kemuri wasn't even in the room!
Tobirama paused to stare at him. "We had a sudden influx of seduction mission requests several years back, before the peace. Enough that father started insisting that some of the kunoichi who preferred to avoid them 'do their duty'." He pressed his lips together, dipping a new brush in some other powdery concoction, and the way he tapped it on the rim to shake off the excess was a bit harsher than necessary. "After seeing a few too many clanswomen come home… quiet, I decided to do what I could to take the load off their shoulders."
It took a few seconds for Madara to realise what he meant. "You took seduction missions?"
"It was only logical. I knew they wouldn't trouble me. And it was before I hit that last, late growth spurt. With some creative clothing choices, and yes, makeup, I was pretty enough to pass for a girl. Tōka thought it was hilarious and helped me figure it out." Tobirama shrugged, colouring his eyelids bright and dramatic in blues and violets. "Honestly, it was always a bit amusing, the look of confusion and outrage on their faces when they finally 'unwrapped' me. And the distraction was perfect to make the hit." His lips quirked, and he changed brushes and colours again, now dusting a silvery powder over lids and cheekbones. "Though, I have to admit, I always felt a little bad about killing the ones who were pleasantly surprised. Gave a few of them a more… memorable last night. Killed them quick and painless in their sleep."
Madara's face was flushed as he imagined it.
Wait, no, he wasn't imagining anything. No. He was just— just—
It was the lights! Yes, it was just warm in here on account of all the lights!
"Wait!" Something suddenly occurred to Madara. "Back when we arrived, that story you spun to Kazaru about being a… you know…"
"Prostitute?"
"Right." He wasn't flustered. He wasn't. Stupid lights. "That. I thought it was all misdirection. When you said you'd only used your contortionism for 'private entertainment'? I thought you were referring to training and exercising in private – the yoga thing Hashirama mentioned."
"Well, that too." Tobirama darted a speculative look his way, taking in Madara's – light-induced! – discombobulation, and his lips quirked with just a hint of mischief. "I've danced and twisted myself into tempting shapes on stages in a number of exclusive clubs. And of course, erotic dancers are very popular in certain circles of Wind Country."
Madara's – traitorous – brain provided a sudden, vivid flash of an image.
Tobirama, eyes lined in kohl, naked but for artful gold bangles and sheer harem trousers.
It was too much! Madara couldn't— he couldn't— oh gods, he was going to combust! He slowly dropped into a nearby chair with a faint, high note emerging from the back of his throat. Madara thought he heard a sultry laugh, but when he looked up, Tobirama had turned his attention back to the mirror before him.
Forcing himself to focus on the here and now was… a mixed success. Madara managed to shake off that terrible – tempting – vision – fantasy – but on the other hand, the Tobirama before him was hardly less appealing. In fact, once Tobirama finished off his makeup with bold purple lipstick, he looked up at Madara from under what Madara knew were fake lashes, but just looked long and flirtatious and added to the whole brain-melting image.
Tobirama cocked his head to the side, then smirked.
Oh gods, he knew.
"I'd better get dressed," Tobirama murmured, brushing against Madara – absolutely on purpose, Madara swore! – as he walked past to a clothes rack. "A little privacy?" He looked over his shoulder at Madara, who still sat frozen in place, and raised an eyebrow. "…Unless you wanted to watch?"
Madara choked, shook his head frantically, bolted to his feet, and raced from the room. Faint laughter trailed after him, and he buried his face in his hands. This mission was doing nothing for his composure, and his dignity was a lost cause.
Madara hadn't intentionally avoided Tobirama over the following two days. Except for how he totally had. In his defence, he'd needed a bit of time to adjust to the – life-altering – realisation of Tobirama's hotness. Really, it was unfair how attractive the man was. How had Madara never noticed!?
Ever since the dressing room incident, Madara had been on tenterhooks, dreading their next interaction. He'd needed time to gather his composure – incidentally, he'd been avoiding Kemuri too, knowing she'd be the opposite of helpful in that regard – and to brace himself for Tobirama's reaction – he judged it fifty-fifty whether cool professionalism would win out, or a cat-like playing with his food – and overall, to prepare himself to not abandon dignity the moment Tobirama got close.
Those two days had been time well spent.
He was now unflappable!
"Did your dress rehearsal go well?" Tobirama asked, dropping down to sit beside him.
Madara jolted in shock. Or would have, if he weren't unflappable. As it was, he was sure he'd merely shifted in place… in a mildly abrupt manner. If he had jolted, however, it would be justified. He hadn't even heard Tobirama approach! And why was he sitting so close? It was a long bench! There was plenty of room! Not— not that Madara was bothered by the closeness or anything. Madara was unflappable. Tobirama could get as close as he liked.
Wait, no that wasn't—
Tobirama leaned so close his breath fanned over Madara's cheek. "Masaru?"
Madara jumped to his feet. Tobirama just quirked an eyebrow, and a lip too, amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned back on his hands and stretched his long – distractingly long – legs out in front of him. When Madara's eyes snapped back to Tobirama's face, he was relieved to see that his moment of distraction had been missed. Except no, no he wasn't, because the reason he'd gotten away with it was that Tobirama's eyes were wandering, sweeping up and down Madara's form in a most scandalous way.
Tobirama was taunting him!
Madara was flapped, dammit!
Scowling, Madara crossed his arms and turned away. He flushed as he noticed a few nearby people glancing their way with curious looks. Honestly, what did Tobirama think he was doing? Just because Madara maybe, possibly, might have noticed that the man was somewhat – completely, stupidly, unfairly – attractive, and just because Tobirama had noticed him noticing, that didn't mean he could— could— make fun of him for it!
They were on a mission! He shouldn't be undermining Madara's composure – with his flirty attractiveness – in a public place where a slipup could give the mission away! As it was, Madara had to bite his lip to prevent himself from blustering and shouting. He bit it so hard it bled.
Tobirama frowned, sitting up properly, and then standing and moving close. "Hey, don't do that," he murmured, tugging the lip from between Madara's teeth, which was not helping.
Madara reeled back, taking a deep breath to shout, only to freeze when he saw that everyone nearby was watching now. More than a few were smirking knowingly too. Flushing red, he grabbed Tobirama's hand and dragged him off – ignoring the wolf whistle in their wake, definitely not flushing redder – seeking somewhere more private where they could actually speak about this— this unprofessional behaviour of Tobirama's.
"I see," Tobirama said gravely when Madara had finally finished ranting. "You're right. I apologise."
Madara deflated, not having expected that. Tobirama was stubborn, and rarely conceded an argument so easily. "I am? I mean, I am. Clearly."
"Yes, and I promise not to risk the mission by flirting with you anymore…" he said – Madara told himself he didn't feel regretful about that – before Tobirama added, in a completely unnecessary sultry undertone, "…unless we're in private."
And then he sauntered off.
Madara stood there gaping – definitely not guiltily interested – and cursed Tobirama in his mind. And himself too, for having let the other man realise his attraction. Tobirama was going to be a menace about it, he could just tell. Definitely going with the 'cat playing with its food' option, with Madara as the food in the metaphor, and Tobirama was going to eat hi—
Wait, no! He didn't mean it that way!
Madara flushed as red as one of Migaku's stupid tomatoes.
Madara did his best to make all subsequent meetings public.
For reasons of professionalism only, of course! Not because the few times they met in private, Tobirama had flirted outrageously, leaving Madara so tongue-tied he might as well be genuinely mute.
It wasn't fair! Why did the universe make him so pretty – and also such an arsehole!?
It was time for another intelligence pooling meeting, so Madara braced himself and sought Tobirama out. To his relief, Tobirama wasn't alone. He found the man amongst the circus's youngest performers, helping them with stretches and tumbles and letting them use him as a climbing tree.
Madara huffed, amused but not surprised. Of course Tobirama would end up surrounded by children sooner or later. It was uncanny how the little brats just seemed to sense that he'd be welcoming of them, no matter how stern he outwardly appeared.
Madara couldn't count the number of times he'd come across Tobirama in a training ground, correcting some tiny ninja's taijutsu forms, or teaching them a jutsu, or patiently answering their million and one obnoxious questions. And not just in training grounds. He'd seen it happen in the academy yard, and on random street corners, even in the mission room, the Hokage's office on one memorable occasion, and… and anywhere they approached him, really, as he never turned them away.
Tobirama's child-indulging habit had even extended to the Uchiha compound!
The first time, he'd been dragged in by little Kagami, who wanted to learn a water jutsu. A tense clansman had rushed to inform Madara, who, along with several other nervous Uchiha, had cautiously supervised the lesson – spied on it in a less-than-subtle fashion, if he was to be honest – until a triumphant Kagami succeeded in his task. The Water Bullet Jutsu had spilled from his mouth like a leaky tap, rather than the raging torrent it was supposed to be, but Kagami had been thrilled all the same.
Honestly, he'd had a right to be. A fire-natured Uchiha child his age managing a jutsu outside their chakra nature was impressive.
Tobirama, evidentially charmed by the boy, had simply told him to keep practicing, then ruffled his hair with one of those soft, fond smiles. The sight of it had so shocked the hidden observers that one woman fell ungracefully from the roof she'd been spying from. When she tried to sneak away in shame – hampered by an oblivious Kagami, who had darted over and was fussing in concern – Tobirama had merely raised a very pointed eyebrow and let his eyes dart to each and every hidden Uchiha – a reminded that oh, right, sensor – then waved goodbye to Kagami and departed, leaving behind a cheerful boy and two dozen abashed adults.
Since then, Kagami had dragged Tobirama back several times. And not just Kagami either. Other children in the clan had adopted the habit, once they too realised what a soft touch the man was.
It wasn't uncommon to find Tobirama in the Uchiha compound these days. It had gotten to the point that no one really raised an eyebrow, let alone panicked or spied. Well, maybe some spying, but that was more a game the adults had started – a training exercise they'd insist, all affronted dignity, like the fun they were having wasn't obvious – where they would try, and inevitably fail, to hide from Tobirama's sensing.
It had made a difference, Madara mused.
Tobirama had made a difference.
Even after making peace and settling Konoha together, tensions had lingered between the Senju and Uchiha. Of course they had! Generations of warfare weren't forgotten easily. With Tobirama being the Senju's most feared fighter however – even more feared than Hashirama who, despite his superior strength, exuded a disarming friendliness and charisma… and frequently idiocy – it had eased a lot of fears, to see Tobirama teach their children, indulge them, so clearly soft and patient and very much not a threat to them.
Madara could admit to himself that he felt the same. For all that he had advocated peace, and meant it with everything in him, he too had harboured… cautions. Reasonable cautions, he'd felt. But the more time he spent around Tobirama – the more time he watched the man around his clan's children, who were snot-nosed brats, but Madara's snot-nosed brats – the more he'd realised his worries were unfounded.
"Madara?" Tobirama's voice called.
Lost in his musings – in the renewed realisation of how much Tobirama had contributed to peace just by being himself – Madara forgot to be wary, or flustered, or any of the other things he'd been around the man lately. Instead, he just hummed, sending Tobirama a fond look.
Tobirama startled. Just a little. And his cheeks – had they turned slightly pink?
All at once, Madara's heart raced, and he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be on his guard. But that was hard to do when he was distracted by Tobirama blushing. Why was he blushing? Had Madara made him blush? How could he do it again?
Not that he wanted to! He was just— he just had an intellectual curiosity! Yes, that was it.
Tobirama rallied faster than Madara had and leaned into his side, a line of – distracting – warmth from shoulder to hip to thigh. "You didn't even notice me, did you? Where was your mind at?" he asked, peering at Madara from way too close. Seriously, personal space! He had promised not to flirt around—
Oh. The children had disappeared. They were, technically, in private. Which meant Tobirama could flirt—
No! Wait! It meant he thought he could flirt. Madara obviously did not approve. Obviously. Certainly not. His cheeks were just hot from outrage, and the only reason he wasn't moving aside was— was— to prove a point! Yes! To hold his moral high ground! He wasn't the one in the wrong here!
"Never mind," Tobirama said, sounding amused. He shook his head. "Mission progress. Anything to report?"
Madara definitely didn't sigh in relief at the professional turn of the conversation. "You know Kazaru attended my dress rehearsal? Well, I've run into him a lot since then. He seems to have taken an interest in me."
Tobirama shot him a sharp look. "You think he's suspicious?"
Madara considered it. "I don't think so? I could be wrong – it's so much harder to read reactions without Sharingan – but I think it's more that… a lion is a big draw, and not nearly as common as you'd expect in a circus. Since word got out that Kazaru's has one, ticket sales have gone up. He's just really invested in making sure my act goes well. Or that's my best guess. Either way, it gets me close, lets me keep an eye on him, to see if he gives himself away. What about you? Anything to report?"
"Actually, yes. I managed to convince the purple tent's overseer that my act would do better with musical accompaniment, and made her think it was her own idea." There was an air of almost feline self-satisfaction to Tobirama's tone.
"The twins?"
"The twins."
"So they're going to sing during your act. Meaning you'll have to spend time together, arranging it all, having rehearsals maybe."
"Perfect excuse to be around them, to be—" Tobirama wrinkled his nose. It was stupidly adorable. "—friendly, and to ask questions without it being suspicious."
"And how's that going so far?"
"Well, Kei is suspicious anyway—"
"Isn't she always?" Madara said. Honestly, that girl was pricklier than, well, than him.
"True. She asked a lot of pointed questions. Particularly about you and your muteness," he added with a meaningful look.
Madara straightened – definitely not regretting how the motion inadvertently shrugged Tobirama off him – and said, "More evidence that Kazaru is a Chikaku, and they know it."
"It seems likely."
"They ask anything else?"
Tobirama shrugged. "Nothing telling. Just the muteness, which Kei was very insistent about. All but interrogated me as to how I just happened to know sign language. Told her my sister lost her voice when young, and that seemed to convince her."
"Clever double-talk," Madara complimented.
"Hmm?"
"Calling Tōka 'sister' when she's actually 'like a sister'. I don't know how you come up with these things on the fly."
Tobirama gave him an odd look. "That wasn't double-talk. Tōka is my actual sister, flesh and blood."
"No she's not," Madara insisted. "If you two had a sister, Hashirama would've mentioned it at some point. He brags about you enough as it is. No way he wouldn't brag about a sister too."
"Except she's my sister, not his." At Madara's increased confusion, Tobirama explained. "Tōka and I share a mother – Hashirama and I, a father. Hashirama's mother died in childbirth. A side effect of carrying a Mokuton infant, we now suspect – the bloodline is just too demanding of the mother – though back then, father simply claimed that his first wife was weak."
"What an arse," Madara blurted. "I mean—"
"No, don't apologise. That's a good summation of his character. He's not much mourned."
Madara tried to imagine that. He tried to imagine not mourning a father – tried to imagine his father as a man not worth mourning – and couldn't wrap his mind around it. Tajima hadn't been perfect – not overruling the elders who arranged the child-hunting parties being the largest, most horrifying flaw – but he had always been good to family. He'd been stern, but not so much that his children would ever doubt his love for them, and he'd always treated his wife with respect in public and private.
"Wait!" Madara said suddenly, as a random thought occurred to him. "That's how you were able to tell Kazaru your mother was from Water Country! I was sure Hashirama had claimed his own was Senju-born."
"That's been bugging you since we got here, hasn't it?" Tobirama said, amused.
Madara huffed. "So much." Then he frowned. "Your father trusted some random kunoichi from a foreign country enough to wed her?" 'Trusting' wasn't a word he would've ever ascribed to Butsuma Senju.
"I said she was from Water Country, not that she was a Water Country citizen." Tobirama sounded smug, clearly proud of this bit of misdirection. "She was merely born there – born to a Senju kunoichi on a long-term covert mission, who had married into a very minor clan to maintain cover. Grandmother raised her to know where her true loyalty should lie. And she was still young enough when she came back – only seven or so – that she assimilated to Senju life easily enough. Her first marriage was even to a second cousin of Father's. Never looked back."
"Hence you never knowing 'her clan' – her Water Country clan."
"Well, that and the fact that they were wiped out during one of Water Country's many periods of civil unrest."
Madara grimaced. The idea of a whole clan being wiped out was horrifying, but not surprising in this instance. Water Country was a disaster at the best of times, and descended into bloody anarchy on a semi-regular basis.
Hashirama, he knew, had hopes that the establishment of a ninja village there – following Fire Country's example with Konoha – would help stabilise the country. Neither Madara nor Tobirama had the heart – or more like the patience for woeful dramatics – to tell Hashirama that it was more likely to do the opposite, to increase the death toll, by gathering all the bloodily fractious clans into conveniently – catastrophically – close proximity.
Tobirama shrugged. "I did visit the remains of their clan compound. Mother took me when I was young, on Father's orders, after the strength of my water affinity became obvious. He'd hoped for training or jutsu scrolls, but there was nothing left to salvage unfortunately. I had to settle for learning and adapting what little mother recalled from her early childhood."
"What was she like?" Madara asked, curious despite himself. Tobirama was being very open – not a regular occurrence – and he was going to take advantage while it lasted. It would be good to know more about Tobirama. Er, because it was good to know one's comrades. Not for any personal, flirting-related reasons.
"…Small, I suppose."
Madara's eyebrows rose. That wasn't what he'd expected. "I take it you and Tōka got the giant genes from your fathers then?"
"No. Well, yes, but—" Tobirama shook his head. "I meant in personality. Quiet, unobtrusive. Submissive even. Bland."
That was even less expected. "Huh. I would've thought fierce or something. Dangerous. Like that sister of yours."
Tobirama shrugged. "Tōka is every bit a self-made woman."
That at least made sense.
"I respected Mother as my mother of course, but as a person, she was… forgettable. Her nature appealed to Father though. He always demanded obedience, hated to be questioned. Probably one of the reasons he chose her. Well, that and… I think Father was concerned Hashirama would die too, so he wanted spare heirs."
"What!?"
"The pregnancy was hard, the birth harder still, and he came early," Tobirama explained. "Father remarried quickly, to my mother – quiet, recently widowed, but with a daughter to prove her strength to bear children, unlike his belated first wife."
Mercenary, Madara thought. But then, as an Uchiha, he didn't have much room to judge. It wasn't uncommon, in his own clan, to wed for practical reasons. They were a passionate people, but unless they found someone to be passionate about romantically – in which case they would have no other, and no one argued that – it just made sense to let the clan genealogists match couples to better increase the odds of passing down strong Sharingan.
That's what Izuna had done, and he seemed content enough with his wife, in an offhand sort of way. It was no great romance, but he and Menō were good friends and might one day become more. Madara probably would have agreed to a similar match years ago, if not for his complete lack of interest in laying with a woman.
"Well, Hashirama certainly proved him wrong," Madara said.
"Especially once the Mokuton surfaced. That's when we realised what probably happened to his first wife… and eventually, his second."
Madara drew in a sharp breath. "Your youngest brother?" What had his name been?
"It was only shortly before he died that he started showing hints of it. I think father was more furious at the loss of a second Mokuton wielder, than he was at the loss of his son." Quietly, Tobirama admitted, "I just missed my little brother."
"…Itama?"
He immediately regretted saying the name aloud. The sadness that fell over Tobirama's face was heart-wrenching. To still grieve so deeply, after so many years… even given Tobirama's fondness for children, that was… well, it was an Uchiha sort of thing to do. The loss of Madara's three other brothers was still a wound in him he knew would never fully heal.
This time, it was Madara who leaned into Tobirama. The man blinked away his grief, just a little, giving Madara a surprised and then grateful look, and leaned back.
They stood together like that for a long while before parting ways again.
Things were easier between them after that.
It wasn't that Tobirama stopped flirting, because he didn't – which Madara wasn't secretly relieved about, or flattered by, no, of course not – but he did ease up a little. Tobirama was less intense about it, less obviously trying to tease and elicit a reaction – be it blushing, bluster or general fluster – and instead there was an air of almost warmth to the flirting. A friendliness. Like he wasn't teasing Madara so much as inviting Madara in on the joke.
It was still distracting and a bit fluster inducing, but Madara no longer felt the need to avoid the man as much as possible.
It was almost as if, after what had passed between them – after Tobirama opening up and sharing those pieces of his past, and Madara's wordless support – a level of comfort had been reached. And Madara thought that maybe, by the time the mission was over and they returned to Konoha, they would be able to call themselves friends.
Madara was looking forward to it.
Even if Tobirama was a too pretty, flirty menace.
But friendship, as Madara would soon discover, was a tricky, deceptive, incredibly slippery slope. It lowered one's guard and opened one's mind to all sorts of deeply buried – or rather barely buried – emotional truths.
TBC…
Chapter Notes:
Did I just … kinda… make Tobirama a black widow? Okay, sure, why not.
And flirty! I made him delightfully flirty!
Meanwhile, Madara's denial grows even flimsier. He now acknowledges the pretty at least. Tobirama in shimmery makeup was too brain-breaking to remain unaffected. Poor Madara was not prepared.
A bit of emotional closeness at the end there too – Tobirama opening up, and Madara retaining dignity for once so as to be supportive. Aw, progress.
Oh, and Kazaru is from 飾る, "to display; to exhibit; to put on show", which seemed fitting on multiple levels.