Hashirama's chakra wakes her from her sleep. She knows with immediate certainty something has gone wrong. That much is made obvious by the feel of it, heavy and oppressive in a way that chokes the air in her lungs.
Throwing on whatever is easiest and within reach, she rushes out to find him, eyes alight. Her heart seizes when she spots them. Tobirama is slung over his back, chakra so weak she hadn't even felt it on approach, her brother is nowhere to be seen.
"Madara follows."
It's all he offers and all she needs. Hashirama disappears towards the Senju property and Izuna pushes on to find her brother. If he couldn't manage on his own, Hashirama would not have left him. Her heart burns in her chest, beats in her ears, and only the certainty of that thought keeps it from bursting.
Madara, when she finds him, is limping badly, with chakra severely depleted. From the way he flinches when she pulls him into her arms, his ribs are bruised if not broken, but he's in one piece and he's coherent.
It's the worst state he's been in since the war ended, but it's nothing Hashirama's help and a few days' rest won't be able to fix. It should allow her to breathe easier, but it doesn't—not so much as she expects, at least. As she takes his weight and they make their way home, he recounts their ordeal and she finds herself unable to shake the limp form of her husband from her mind.
Izuna brings Madara to the spare room of Hashirama's home to be healed. He's anxious to be home tonight, but she will not allow him to leave while his injuries are fresh and doubts Hashirama would think differently.
Before too long, Hashirama appears. He looks harried, but not dogged by the same fear that had hardened his face in the woods.
"My brother rests. He shouldn't wake for another day or two, but he will recover." Izuna is surprised by the force of her own relief, so much so she almost misses the careful way Hashirama watches her before he turns to Madara and his eyes go soft.
"Madara, you saved him, I cannot—" He kneels by his side and makes a face as though it's only the damage to his ribs that keeps him from a hug.
"He saved my life, Hashirama. I was only doing what was owed, after that."
"Truly?" Izuna cannot help but be startled. Madara had explained her husband's injury, but he'd not said he'd gotten it while saving him.
"Truly." Hashirama looks set to cry and Madara amends, "He didn't do it for my sake, Hashirama. Slow yourself." Privately, Izuna thinks it makes little sense for him to have done it for Hashirama's sake, as however much he loves Madara, he must surely love his brother more. When she looks to them, she finds they both look back at her as though they expect her to speak.
When she does not, Hashirama eventually relents to the silence and stands.
"That is wonderful to know. I wish it had not come at so great a cost, but it is of some comfort." When he comes to her, she still tries to understand his meaning, but he's already moved on. "I will be there as often as I can manage, but I'll show you how to care for his wounds—they're quite unique, unfortunately—and use your chakra to soothe the pain, if you'll come now—"
"Hashirama—I'm not so certain that's wise. Surely there's someone else—" Confusion tightens his brow as he turns back to her, already having turned to leave.
"Izuna, the threat is gone and the village can spare you while my brother recovers, there's no reason to worry—"
"No, he would not want me there." The words are colder than she means them to be, even to her own ears.
"What—but things have been—"
"Izuna," Madara speaks loudly enough to interrupt them both. "Did you not understand when I said he did not do this for my sake?" He is mistaken, she knows. She and Tobirama have come far from where they started, but she's not naive enough to believe he would—
"Brother, he would never—"
"He did. He said as much." Madara's irritation at himself over having taken the side of her husband is plain to see, a troubling show of his seriousness.
"I see that you both feel differently," Izuna tries to keep a diplomatic tone, but she is—confused, "but Tobirama still avoids my eyes even when things are well between us. He wouldn't want me there while he's unable to even do that much."
When he speaks, Hashirama sounds as close to sincere anger as she's heard him since the war. She can see the night has worn on him and he seems to have reached an end she knew he must have but will admit she had not expected to see tonight.
"I have been patient with you both, and I wish I could be more so, but my brother needs care and you are his wife. Whatever difficulty lies between you can be sorted when he wakes."
"Hashirama—"
"Am I not your clan leader?" Something curdles in her chest at his words, "I would prefer to see you go to him of your own will, Izuna, but I will make it a command if I must."
"It's for his sake that I refuse—"
"You are his wife—" It's been some time since the word, the thought, has made her as angry as it does now.
"Did my husband so much as cross my path when I was injured?" It is perhaps not entirely fair, they'd been married only a month, then, and things were still poor between them—but it doesn't feel entirely unfair, either.
"I will not argue this, Izuna. Go to your husband. I will be by to show you his care shortly." Izuna seethes and Hashirama refuses to break her gaze. Madara is carefully silent.
"When he wakes convinced I've pried secrets from his mind while he's unwell, it will be your fault." They're parting words, she's relieved when neither of them try to follow. Even in her anger, she recognizes that the events of the night have taken their toll on all of them and has no wish to find words she'll regret tomorrow.
Irritation keeps hold of her until she's faced with the stench and sight of Tobirama's wounds, a strong enough distraction for the feeling to relent as they fill her senses.
"Madara said it was fire." It does not look like the burn of any fire she's ever seen. It seems more like he's been savaged, flesh torn and bruised down to the bone and burnt over the mess of it. It seems an effort to keep the venom in, cauterize it enough to trap the victim in their suffering a little while longer.
"It was, but it carried something more. As the attackers are dead, we may never know what."
His flesh is still raw where it's evident Hashirama has had to clear and re-open wounds to drive the poison out, give his body a chance to restore itself.
"Will he truly heal from this?"
"He will. I can ensure he heals perfectly at every stage, I simply can't speed it as much as I'd like to. The damage is too severe, to do so would risk trapping damaged flesh beneath what's freshly healed, rather than mending it from the root." She stares down at him, unable to think of the pain he'd be in if he were awake.
For a moment, she doesn't think of Hashirama in the room with them, doesn't think of all the difficulties between them. She thinks only of the fact that he's put himself through such grievous injury for her brother's sake. For hers. Izuna is not shy over injuries, but she's never seen anyone recover from any so severe as he bears.
It's difficult to feel she won't hurt him further when she reaches out to lay a hand over the shoulder not bandaged, needing to feel his warmth for herself to believe it's still there. She runs her hand down his arm until she reaches the point of his pulse, strong and reassuring, despite everything.
When she looks away from him she finds Hashirama watches her and her irritation returns, though not as sharp as before.
"You do care for him." It's not a question, though there's one underlying it. She cannot tell what it is.
"I never said otherwise."
"I do not understand why you're both so unwilling to—" Whatever he means to say, she is too tired to hear it, and now Tobirama lies between them in the state he's in, it hardly feels important.
"Hashirama, I am here. Is that not enough?"
"Of course." He sighs, heavy. "I'm sorry, Izuna. I—"
"Only wish to see us happy, yes, I'm aware." She has no intention of holding him to things he's said and done so soon after almost losing his brother, but she needs a moment before she can be warm with him again.
They speak no further outside of instructions on Tobirama's care. Hashirama shows her how even her basic healing abilities can be reshaped to take the edge off his pain and ease tension in seized muscles. He explains what salves and needed and in what order they must be given to keep the skin elastic as it heals. Details the frequency with which to administer drops of the milky tincture he's given her under his tongue.
"He'll likely refuse it once he wakes, he always does, but it'll be enough to keep him asleep for as long as his body needs." It doesn't surprise her to hear it. If anything, it surprises her that Hashirama pushes it on him even so. Perhaps it only further speaks to the severity of his condition. "Thank you, Izuna."
"I am his wife, what choice do I have?" It's bitter—somewhat unfair. If she weren't worried over what he'd think, she thinks she would be here regardless, but once the words are out she hasn't quite got the heart to recant them.
•
Ash fills his mouth.
The rest of his senses feel far off and he's consumed by the taste of it until something cool tips past his lips and down his throat. Relief allows sleep to return easily enough.
The next time he wakes, he finds himself more—though not entirely—aware. Enough so to understand Hashirama has drugged him as he always argues against, but not yet enough to find grievance with it.
Allowing his head to fall to the side, too tired to move his body in full but feeling heavy enough he manages that much with relative ease, he's met with the long fall of Izuna's hair and cannot help himself from reaching out to touch. He's not particularly aware of the pain it causes him until he hears the noise that leaves him as he does so. It feels as though his body is running on a delay. It's not a sensation he cares for.
When he turns his attention back to her and takes in the wide set of her eyes—facing him, now—he wonders what's startled her so badly. Whatever it is seems to leave her quickly enough as she presses him back gently. He tries to keep hold of her arm but his limbs have become infuriatingly slow and difficult to manage.
"Stay still," she warns. The last time she'd told him as much had ended pleasantly enough that he listens easily. Sleep finds him before he can understand he won't be so lucky, this time.
When he wakes a third time, the haze of the drugs has cleared in full and he knows that were it not for his brother's skills, the pain he feels would be entirely debilitating. A burn lingers around the edges of his nerves, he feels it's pressure, so keen it's almost a threat, and knows it must be tenuously kept at bay.
Izuna is there, still, and looks from her casual yukata and the desk set by her bed as though she's not left his side. When he speaks her name his throat is parched and she's quick to help him drink. It's in the pain of being propped up only enough he won't choke that he grasps how serious his situation must be.
Hashirama is quick to come when she sends for him. They speak while they wait, however briefly.
"Your brother, he's—"
"He got you both here, he's recovered."
"I suppose I owe him my thanks." By her look of amusement, his face must sour as much as his tongue when he says it.
"The way he tells it, he was only returning the favour." How uncharacteristically modest of him. "Tobirama," there's gravity to her voice, to whatever she has to say, that makes him wish it were easier to move, wish he could sit properly and face her on her level, "why did you not allow him to be hit and heal him after?"
"There was no guarantee he would survive the blow."
"There was no guarantee you would, either. Even less, as my brother and I weren't raised with your healing skills." The answer to her question is not easy, but it is known. He remembers his reasoning perfectly and has no intention of lying. The struggle is in knowing how to tell her. It had felt so simple, so obvious when he tried to say as much to her brother, but here—the honesty feels raw in a way it hadn't, then.
"I could not allow you to be left alone." Directness has always served him well enough. "My brother would be hurt if I perished, unbearably so, no doubt, but he has his own family, now. He would heal, for them." His throat is dry when he swallows and the scratch of it steadies him. "I know you have never felt entirely at home here, may never, and the thought of leaving you without even your brother—it was within my power to stop it, and so it would have been on my shoulders had I allowed it, and I could not."
Her eyes are wide and wet with unspilt tears and he realizes in one breath that he's never seen her cry, and in the next that he's met her eyes without thought, then they're gone from his vision as she leans over him to press a kiss into his hair, hands framing his temples. With his good hand, he reaches up to grip her nape. He wants—needs—badly, to kiss her. Burns with it from the inside out.
He feels his brother approaching as he pulls her down enough to meet his eyes once more and knows there's no time.
"Tobirama," there's urgency in her voice, "I need to—" She's interrupted by Hashirama's arrival.
"Brother! You are—oh! I apologize—it was rude of me to enter the room of a married couple without—"
"It's fine, Hashirama." She is already pulling away and getting to her feet and he wants to pull her back. Wants to block the way so she cannot go, but he is hardly even able to sit under his own strength. "If you intend to stay a while I should take the time to see my brother." Something rushes her and he wishes fervently to know what. She does not look back at him as she takes her leave.
"Izuna, please don't feel—" His brother tries.
"It's fine."
If he's not mistaken, there's some tension there, a chill to her voice, but the thought of it is second to his unreasonable frustration at his brother's presence, now he is left alone with him.
With Izuna gone, it abates quickly enough as Hashirama comes to take his side and begin checking him over.
"I have many questions for you, brother."
"Of course." He doubts he'll be of much use, doesn't remember much more than Madara is likely to have, given the state he was in.
"The first one being when, exactly, you fell in love with your wife?" Tobirama takes only the barest comfort in the fact that he must look well enough to tease.
"Hashirama—"
"Are we still avoiding the word?"
"Brother, must you be so tiring even now?"
"I must."
Tobirama refuses to indulge him any further, no matter how much Hashirama wheedles, and in truth, both of them find relief in the routine. There's comfort in it, reassurance that they are as they've always been, that he will recover and they will continue to be so.
Before Hashirama leaves, Tobirama presses.
"Something happened while I slept." It is not a question, Hashirama is not naive enough to deny or ask his meaning.
"Nothing to be concerned about," he reassures, "only, Izuna wanted someone else to stay and care for you." It hurts to hear, but when he continues the ache only develops a sharper edge, cuts itself deeper under his skin. "She believed you would not trust her enough to want her near while you were vulnerable." Of course.
"How did you convince her?"
"I did not." He does not like the thought that after everything, she should be forced into anything more, but he can imagine his brother's distress these last days, and will forgive him for thinking of himself, for once.
"I understand."
•
Tobirama is asleep when she returns to the room and slips quietly into the futon. It's both a relief and a disappointment. When he'd met her eyes—conscious and deliberate—it'd felt like the thing that has only been possibility until now, a consideration for some day down the line, might finally be coming into being. It terrifies her.
"Izuna," his voice is wearied, worn down in a way that goes deeper than simple tiredness and she reaches out to take his good hand in her own, unsure how awake he is and meaning only to reassure him of her presence. He grips her hand, clearly not meaning to let her go.
"I'm here," she soothes, unsure whether it's her presence or anyone's he craves. "Sleep, husband, you need it."
"Do not leave."
"I won't."
"I want you here." His fingers go tight around her own as he says it and she cannot quite name the strange, almost nauseatingly affectionate feeling that swells behind her ribs. He must've spoken to his brother, and this being his response—it is perhaps too much when she already feels confronted as she does by her own feelings.
"I'll stay, Tobirama." She lifts his hand enough to press a kiss to the knuckles and gentle his grip, though not escape it, before settling their hands between them. "Please, rest."
A/N: Second update in under 24h because it was finished and I have no real self-control 💜