Tobirama has never seen himself as a cruel man, nor one prone to self-doubt. Now, he fears he might be both and finds he cares for neither.

Madara is at his throat the moment they see each other. Worse than anything he spits in his face is the way Hashirama can be seen over his shoulder, expression falling into something horrified. It seems he'd not heard as much as Tobirama assumed, and now he is afforded the privilege of seeing his reaction as he does.

Once Madara has left, only seconds pass before Hashirama comes to him.

"You accused her of incest, brother? Truly?" Bewilderment, more than anything, colours his voice. As though he truly cannot fathom why he's done such a thing. In all honesty, Tobirama can hardly understand it himself.

"I did."

"Why, why would you say that?" He groans as if the question truly pains him. "It's as though you're trying to ensure your own misery!"

"I am aware, Hashirama."

"It's not as if you could have really—did you truly believe it? Only—I'm not sure whether that would improve the situation."

"The thought hadn't occurred to me until the moment." For good reason, it was an outlandish one, put kindly. "I don't believe it now, but I was blinded by my anger. I saw the worst reason she could bring such a thing with her to see her brother and used it against her. I see now she was only trying to hide it from me."

"You were really so upset by the discovery?"

The idea that he shouldn't be is beyond him. Hashirama may not know the extent of the difficulties between them, but could any man feel nothing at a discovery like this?

"For weeks, I convinced myself that however reluctantly, she took the same pleasure as I from our exchanges." For all the trouble it's caused, they've spoken little about the truth of his marriage. To be open about it isn't something that comes naturally to him, but what is there left to lose?

"When she clarified that was not the case, it became difficult to touch her, but she still allowed it and I found assurance in the knowledge that we would both get something out of it, in the end. To learn that she would allow me to use her to no purpose, and still refuse either of us any enjoyment from the experience—I don't understand. There's no sense to it."

"She gave no explanation at all?"

The one she had—this is the wound which has struck deepest, the one that still aches for fear of what Hashirama will see when he looks.

"She believed I would hurt our children." The words are no easier to say than they were to hear. "Do you think I'm capable of—"

"No, Tobirama." No hint of doubt colours his voice and some tension he's carried gives way. He holds himself up against the tidal of relief that almost takes him to his knees. "Izuna may have her reasons, but I still know you best of all. What you did to her—I did not expect it, but I know you would never hurt your own child, no matter what you might do to their mother."

It isn't quite the absolution he craves, but it's more valuable for its honesty. A troubled shadow falls over his brother's face and when he speaks his voice is weighed down by guilt.

"I've hidden something from you."

"Go on."

"When Izuna asked for two of every six weeks to visit her clan, I knew the pattern immediately. She answered honestly when I asked." Hashirama looks sorry, but not so much as he'd expect. Not so much as Tobirama would like him to.

"You didn't think I should know?"

"It didn't seem like my place to involve myself." You involved yourself enough to keep her secret. To enable her to keep it from me.

"You were the one who impressed upon me the urgency that she bear children." That, at least, is enough to make his brother flinch.

"I know, I—when I healed you both on the night of your wedding, she feared the consequences if you were to find out. It was the lowest point between you, and I'd hoped she might change her mind, in time, if she was allowed to feel safe."

When she'd told him the way that finishing on him made her feel sick with herself, every encounter they'd had since the wedding had changed colour in his mind from reluctant satisfaction to something to be tolerated in service of a goal. Since yesterday, the colour has shifted again, this time to something more unsightly.

With the benefit of hindsight and a steadier mood, he can see why she wouldn't tell him outright. Understand that if he'd reacted poorly, it would've been that much more difficult to hide it from him in the future and if he's honest in his self-critique, Tobirama cannot say he wouldn't have tried to force a child on her if he felt it was necessary to the village.

"Would you have told me the child could wait if she'd asked that from you instead?"

"I would have."

"And she knew that?"

"She did."

Izuna has never been shy, never afraid of him. If Hashirama had been willing to alleviate the immediate pressure of conceiving, why had she not at least tried? He can't make sense of it.

"I don't understand. She is not meant to be so—"

"Tobirama," Hashirama's voice cuts with the same gentleness that always precedes some unpleasant truth he's missed, "being your wife doesn't change who she is, did you expect it to?"

Instinct tells him no, but when his brother asks a question in this way, there's usually truth to be found in the answer that doesn't come easily.

Izuna is an Uchiha, a fact he is never not aware of. She is also his wife, and the moment she'd taken that role in his mind, he'd attached the expectations that came with it to his image of her. Any knowledge of her character or the history between them had been exceeded by the assumption that as his wife, there were certain changes she would acquiesce to simply because she must. It wasn't wrong to expect his wife to behave as one, however reluctantly, but it was naive to believe Izuna, who has never been easy about the village, their marriage, or anything which involves him, would bend so easily to something as simple as expectation.

"More than I should have."

It's a given in his mind that he won't see her for as long as it can be avoided and when his gravity is thrown by the sight of her standing in Hashirama's office, he wonders at how many times he can repeat the same mistake.

She doesn't so much as glance in his direction. I've never hidden from you, have I? He hears the truth in her words and knows he should've expected this much. Briefing on her meeting between the Uchiha and the Yamanaka concluded, she doesn't spare him a look on her way out.

"You should talk to her."

"I suppose I'll have to."

"Brother."

"I know, I will."

"Please make some effort not to make things worse when you do." Hashirama only sounds teasing in the most superficial way. The reproach is real.

He tries to speak to her the next morning and realizes his misstep when she tenses the second he steps between her and the door.

"Tobirama." A warning.

"I didn't mean to—" It's a thoughtless excuse and she's gone as soon as he's stepped out of her way. He won't debase himself by chasing her.

When a week has passed and he hasn't found a moment alone with her, he goes to Madara.

"Come to witness our depraved nature for yourself?" Is the greeting he receives. There's no attempt made to mask the viciousness of his tone.

"I would like to speak to Izuna."

"You're not coming in." The itch to do violence is written into the way Madara holds himself, and for once, Tobirama cannot fault him for it.

"I've come to apologize."

"Your words are worthless here, Senju. Leave my home."

•

It would be amusing, no doubt, to let Madara and Tobirama come to blows, but she's already too exhausted by the difficulty of her relationship with her husband to take any real pleasure from it.

"I'll speak to him, Madara. Let him in."

"I don't think I will." She's not been away from him quite long enough to grow fond of how deep his stubborn streak runs.

"This isn't your mess, Madara." He looks back at her and what passes between them is enough to have him step back from the door and allow Tobirama into the room. He settles across from her without trying to feign relaxation. Madara leans back against the wall and folds his arms, to keep himself from violence, she knows.

She lets him stay. Let her husband feel the discomfort of being alone with them both.

"I accused you of something unforgivable." It looks as though the words cost him enormously. "And I owe you both an apology for it." When he looks between them, he meets neither of their eyes.

"You're the sick one for thinking of it." Madara bites. "The bile you spill about how we're all doomed to madness wasn't enough? You want to spread this filth, too?"

"No," Tobirama insists, "I only saw the worst possibility in the moment and used it as a weapon. It's no excuse, but it is the truth." There's shame in his tone that she can't recall him having ever openly allowed in front of her, much less her brother. "No thought went into it. As soon as I could think clearly I knew there was no truth to it."

Madara doesn't make his lack of satisfaction subtle.

"I don't see why Izuna should—"

"Brother." It comes out harsher than she intends it to, but it stops him from speaking. She's not sure what he means to say, but she doesn't need him to say it on her behalf. "I'd like to speak to my husband alone." She feels the sickly curl of the word husband over her tongue and wonders if it's just as nauseating for him to hear.

Madara doesn't leave easily, but he goes, and they're left alone.

"I'm surprised you'd come here."

"There was some truth to your words, I've been a coward."

"And yet you still don't look me in the eyes."

"I'm not so desperate that I'll be foolish."

"But you are desperate?"

It's disappointing when he doesn't take the bait.

"Izuna, there's something I would ask you, if you're willing to hear it, but first I want to offer you some assurance." How unbelievably bold he is, to come here to ask something of her.

"Go on."

"I need you to understand that I won't touch you again." It's enough to make her laugh.

"Even you're not arrogant enough to try that here."

"No." Frustration colours his voice, she wonders which one of them it's with. "I will only ever touch you again if you invite me to. So please, no more mercury, no led, no need to endanger yourself further."

From anyone else, it would sound like an obvious ploy. Have her stop taking her contraception long enough to force a child on her, but of all the many failings she can level against him, he's never been a liar. Ignorant, certainly, but he doesn't hide from the truth once it's revealed to him.

Still, she doesn't always believe that he knows himself so well as he thinks. She'll reserve her decision until she's seen he can keep to his word. If he does, though, she'll do as he's asked.

"I'll take you at your word." Close enough to a truth. She's sure he catches it, but he knows well enough there's no use arguing it. "What have you come to ask me?"

"If my brother was willing to alleviate the pressure on us to bear children so soon, why didn't you come to me?" It's clear Hashirama has revealed the truth between them to his brother, she'd wondered if he would. Had considered it herself in the heat of the moment but it felt like a poor way to repay his kindness. "I understand being apprehensive of my reaction, but I wouldn't have taken my brother's word for nothing. You must have known that."

She appreciates, at the very least, that he doesn't think so little of her as to suggest she might have been afraid of him.

"This won't be easy to hear."

"What has ever been easy, between us?" The words almost feel like a joke.

"There are no guarantees," she keeps her eyes on his reactions while she explains, "not with the mercury or anything else. I was worried that if I became pregnant when I didn't want to and you knew I'd tried to avoid it, you'd turn our child against me. I didn't know how I'd protect them from you if they didn't trust me."

It's a wonder that anyone who's ever spoken to him can believe the rumours, the idea that he's as cold as they say. His feelings are plain to see.

"I warned you," she reminds.

"You did." She's struck by the urge to ask if he's alright and hates herself for it. After all he's done, he hardly deserves her care.

"I know you've felt the worst of me, Izuna, but please know that was the worst. I would never hurt our children, nor would I ever deprive them of their mother's love."

"I'd like to believe you." It's as much as she can allow.

"But you do not."

"Tobirama, do you truly grasp that our child will be an Uchiha as much as a Senju? That they'll carry my eyes and everything you believe comes with them? Can you swear to me honestly that I can trust you with that?"

"I have never wanted your eyes, nor those of any other Uchiha."

"No, you simply say we're cursed for having them."

"Izuna—"

"I'm not done. I need you to understand that if you'll allow me to say no, I'm not saying it forever. It's true that a child would be good for the village, and to see what would come of our bloodlines combined is reason enough on its own. I don't hate the idea of having children, just—"

"By me." She could put him through a wall for how disappointed he has the nerve to sound.

"I would need my children to be safe in their own home, Tobirama. You've never coveted our eyes, but that doesn't mean no one in your clan does. I won't be the reason their eyes are stolen, and I won't allow you to be, either. Nor will I allow their father to poison their minds with the fear that any love they find is doomed to end in madness, do you understand?"

"I do."

"And can you swear to me with no reservation that if I came to you with suspicions over another member of your clan, you would take what I say without hesitation? That no part of you would believe it was paranoia?" He's quiet for a long time.

"No, I cannot." When the answer comes, it's clear he's taken the time to be honest with himself over it. "In the future, I'll be able to answer differently." The village becomes more stable by the day, they're already bound to each other. They have all the time it could take and the thought sparks her nerves, but not unbearably so.

"I am trying, despite how it might seem. I don't want to live miserably any more than you do, and if your reason for not telling me was born out of concern for the legacy of your clan and any children we might raise, I can accept it."

"It was. It truly was. I don't imagine you'd be a terrible father by nature, Tobirama, but our situation is—"

"Difficult."

"Very."

It feels strange once he leaves, to have no secrets left between them. She's not sure what to do with the feeling. Madara slips back into the room and she's pleased to have the distraction until he opens his mouth.

"You don't hate him like you used to." He sounds disappointed.

"I hate him plenty."

"But not liked you used to." Not enough, it doesn't need to be said.

A/N: I promise this story gets horny again, but I gave it a bit of plot by accident and now here we are 😮💨 I don't have this properly outlined, but with what I'm picturing, I'd say we're probably around the halfway mark with this story? 💜