She has a choice to make.
What she wants to do—what she really, truly wants to do—is find the blade he'd taken from her and pull him from the illusion she's trapped him in just long enough that he can feel it when she slits his throat where he lies.
What she actually considers is running out of this room, out of their home, all the way through the village until she reaches her brother. Allowing him to see her like this, bloody and bruised, and see if he doesn't scorch the earth.
What she will do in the end, though, is not quite so extreme.
Regardless of what her husband—and isn't that a vile word—may think of her, she is not selfish enough to put her spite before the village.
She won't ruin their peace, won't spread discord through the village by showing them what one of their heroes is capable of, but she'll ensure that the one person whose opinion he holds highest will see what he's done.
A soft knock sounds at the door and Hashirama's gentle voice drifts into the room as he tentatively slides it open.
"Izuna? Your summon said—"
Hashirama has always been powerful, but she's never felt the crush of his chakra in a closed space, before. She feels it now, and as his face goes dark she knows what he's seen first. A mess of blood, his brother lying motionless on the floor, eyes wide but unseeing.
The air becomes lighter and she knows he's found the rise and fall of Tobirama's chest, clouds clearing from his expression as he takes in his wounds. Three shallow ones on his arm, gashed fingers, some scratches down his throat, not near enough to have caused the mess before him.
As his chakra recedes, he turns to her and sees the rest.
Red-rimmed eyes, kimono torn and rusted, bruised skin, ruined hair, and blood—so much blood. Smeared across her cheeks, down her neck and chest all the way to her hands. Can he recognize the ruined remnants of the seal Tobirama drew on her chest?
"What—are you alright, Izuna?" He seems shocked. She'd expected to find it satisfying, to lay the ugliness of what Tobirama has done before him, but there's none to be found.
"Isn't it too late for that? I only thought you might like to deal with this before anyone else has a chance to see."
"Yes." He's uncomfortable, she's glad. "Yes, of course—I—" He looks to her with sorrowful eyes and comes cautiously closer to kneel by her, as though he thinks he's approaching a skittish animal. "Izuna, I am truly sorry. I never thought—my brother has always been harsh, but I didn't think he was capable of whatever has transpired here tonight."
"Do you not know the name for it?" She asks, unwilling to let him skirt the edges so easily as her brother does. He looks stricken.
"Hashirama, I don't doubt that your temperament is kinder than your brother's, but before you leave here tonight you will heal the bruises around my wrists and the scratches on his throat. Both are harmless, but you don't want the villagers to see who he is. Don't want my brother to know what he's done. When you leave here tonight, you will burn our bloody sheets to shield yourself and him from the consequences of the truth. Tell me, are these the actions of a man filled with remorse?"
It's possible she's not being entirely fair, but truthfully, that's not her aim. He stares back at her and she is struck by the sudden, jarring memory of the pleasure Tobirama had brought her, the way she'd clutched at his chest. She pushes it back, undeterred.
"He always said your tongue was sharp." The humour it's offered with falls short, smile weak. He seems truly morose. "Will you tell Madara?"
"I haven't decided." In truth, she will not. She has no desire to have this all be for naught, but Hashirama doesn't know that, nor does he need to. "Either way, it's done, now. My loving husband has already had his way, hasn't he? There is something else I would like to discuss."
"Of course."
"I know you and my brother have already settled your terms, but if you're amenable, I would like to add one of my own."
"State it, please," he nods, welcoming her to speak.
"Two weeks out of every six, I would like to visit my brother. I am a part of your clan now, I understand that and I'll abide, but I have no wish to abandon the Uchiha." Hashirama isn't afraid to meet her eyes, and the understanding she finds in them spooks her.
"Izuna," he begins, kind but firm, "am I right in thinking you are asking for time to recover?" She swallows.
"I'm not sure what you—"
"From the mercury. I am familiar with the methodology of it." Her fists go tight at her sides. He cannot know, she cannot—will not bear children to—
"It's alright, I promise. It's true that I impressed upon my brother the need for your marriage to produce but now that I've seen—this—I will not force you. I hope that you might feel differently in time, but if you wish to prevent pregnancy, I won't hinder you."
The tense knot that had formed in her throat begins to unspool and she thinks perhaps this is the thing that compels Madara to always see in Hashirama what Izuna has seen in no one but her brother himself.
"Thank you," she breathes. "Please, though, don't tell Tobirama about this. I would like for it to stay between us."
"You're sure? Your life would be easier if my brother is not—expecting a child."
"It likely would, but I need—the night has not been easy, as you can see. I would like more time to think before anything is revealed that could cause a—reaction."
"Of course. I can't help feeling responsible for this, at least in part, it's the least I can do not to make things more unpleasant here than they've already been. I will speak to your brother about some time spent with the Uchiha. The arrangement is unorthodox, but I'm sure he will be delighted."
"And yours?"
"Leave Tobirama to me." His voice is especially heavy when he says it, and a part of her almost feels bad for having dragged him into this. "I must warn you, I do not think my brother will recognize what you're doing quite so easily as I have, but he's no fool. He'll manage it quickly enough."
"Will I no longer be permitted to spend the same time with my c—the Uchiha, when he discovers the reason?" Hashirama seems sympathetic to her slip.
"No. No, I could not do that to Madara. He's already quite heartbroken at having you gone, I would not take you away a second time."
"That's alright, then. I have enough time to figure out how to handle Tobirama's reaction." She hesitates, then continues. "May I ask, how is it you recognized the pattern so easily? Forgive me, but men are not typically—"
"No, no, of course. In truth, Mito and I have both lost siblings and when a child didn't follow the wedding quickly, we had time to get to know each other found that neither of us wished to have our children in the middle of a war. She explored various options and of course, I accommodated any restrictions they entailed."
He looks bashful for a moment and she can't help but wonder how it's even possible he and his brother sprang from the same womb.
"Kind of you." The smile, the sincerity of it, feels strange on her face but he is sweet. Most men, especially of Hashirama's skill and position, would feel it more important to carry on the bloodline than to consider the quality of life in doing so. In most regards, she believes, they'd be right to do so, but—he is kind. Too kind, perhaps.
She knows, intimately, the pain that he speaks of and while their decision may feel foolish, she can hardly blame them for it.
Hashirama smiles back and holds out his hands.
"May I heal your wrists?" She holds out her own in return.
"Of course. Thank you, Hashirama."
"It's nothing," he shakes his head, "you're family, now. I only wish things had begun on a better note."
•
When Tobirama wakes, it takes a moment to orient himself. The world around him is no longer filled with shadows and thinly masked horrors, but it doesn't quite seem right, either, and it takes a moment to trust it.
There are no aches, no pains, his skin is clean and when he lifts his hand to his face he finds it unmarred, only the thinnest, palest lines left where his fingers had been nearly cut to the bone.
"It's nearly eight. I already warned your brother you'd be late."
Izuna.
He thinks of the room as he remembers it last. Of the state of them.
Blood spilled over the floor, the futon, the sheets. Bruises littered across her skin and his own throat torn, fingers savaged where she'd bit him, desperate to escape his touch. He touches his hand to his neck, the skin is smooth.
"Hashirama was here?"
"He was. He healed us both."
Tobirama thinks he may be sick.
His brother does not look at him the same.
Hashirama's eyes become troubled when he sees him, he sends Mito and his other advisors away at the first chance.
"I have seen Izuna." It sounds like a warning.
He can't remember ever feeling at a loss for words with his brother, but looking at each other now, he thinks that is precisely the affliction they both face.
"It was not so bad as it looked," he offers, knowing the defence is an inadequate one but feeling compelled to it anyway, "she bit her tongue, the blood came quick."
"And that is not so much better as you think it sounds." Hashirama's face becomes distressed and Tobirama loathes himself. "I know I told you that you two must conceive, but—I meant for you to show her you could be good to her. I never imagined you would force yourself on her with such violence!"
"I tried. I offered to be careful, but we argued—"
"You argued? Brother, you two have never spoken without arguing. That hardly means anything."
Hashirama looks exhausted and Tobirama knows the toll this must take on him. He hates to be upset with the people he loves, and he cannot think of a time he's disappointed his brother more.
"I saw the seal on her chest. You left her without a hope of defending herself against you, Tobirama. I—" He cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, turning away and rubbing the heel of his palm across his brow before looking back at him.
"This is entirely my fault. I'd thought—the two are always so focused on each other, I'd thought perhaps there could be a connection, under different circumstances, but I was clearly wrong. You must truly be disgusted by her, to have done something so vicious. I'm sorry to have pushed you so far."
"You did not," Tobirama insists. Some part of him wants to take the offered defence of his actions, agree that it's true, the fault doesn't lie entirely on his shoulders. If he'd been pushed less, if she'd been less inclined to pick at him—but no. He remembers the way he'd felt when he'd had her.
How he'd wondered if it could've happened sooner, thought her beautiful, thought he could drive himself mad over her and—that's the truth of it. If he's driven mad, he's done it to himself.
"Please, do not be sorry, brother. My actions were my own and I behaved abhorrently." Worse yet, he has done the very thing he'd looked down on her for. He's behaved with no regard for the wider impact of his actions. "I have ruined your village." When she tells her brother, peace will not last. He knows this, only a day ago he might even have celebrated it, but now—
"She has no plans to tell Madara." He looks to his brother, knowing the shock must show on his face. "It seems she has more care for the village than you've given her credit for." He wonders if the well of his shame can grow any deeper.
"You're sure?"
"She said she hadn't decided, but in truth, I suspect if she'd meant to tell him at all she would not have offered me the chance to see to things before rumours could spread."
He sees the sense in it. If she'd wanted war—the picture she'd have made, showing up at Madara's door in the state he'd left her. There would've been no question.
"There's something else."
"What is it?"
"She made a request, I hardly wanted to deny her after—everything." Nauseous guilt churns his stomach.
"Of course."
"She asked that she be allowed to spend two of every six weeks with her brother, on the Uchiha property."
That's—Tobirama isn't opposed, exactly. He's still not partial to her company, and after last night, he thinks perhaps he is not even partial to his own in her presence, but it hardly feels appropriate.
"I understand that you want her to feel welcome in a way I failed at but surely as my wife, she should be more present? When her own home is mere minutes away but she chooses to stay away for so long, people will think—"
"To be frank with you, brother, it doesn't matter much what they will think because the alternative was allowing her to tell Madara that you—you—"
"Raped her." The word is a wound across his tongue but he doesn't deserve the space to shy from it. Hashirama pulls his eyes away in disgust—brief, but not so brief he doesn't catch it—before looking back to him.
"Yes. And the consequences of that would be far worse than any rumours about your marriage, so you will just have to stomach them."
This, more than anything, makes it apparent how much his brother is truly upset with him. Even when he's gone out of his way to hide it, Hashirama has always seen the way the rumours dogged him, growing up. For him to be so callous about the damage these new ones will do makes clear the truth of his feelings.
"Perhaps," he swallows, unable to parse the apprehension and—something else, that rise in his chest to follow his words, "when we have children, she will see fit to spend more of her time here."
Hashirama looks inexplicably sad for him.
"Perhaps."
A/N: My notes for this chapter were 'Tobirama: What's this? The consequences of my own actions?' and I love that for him 💜