A/N: I lied. Here's a surprise torture Izuna chapter. And MadaTobi. Because I need to fulfil my needs for MadaTobi fluff. Hope you enjoy this surprise MadaTobi chapter.
Hashirama was six when he first met the terror of his nightmare.
He was eight when his clansmen crushed said terror to the embrace of death.
He was twenty-nine when he met his old nightmare again.
He was thirty-two when he realised that he still feared Uchiha Jiro.
"Pardon me?"
Hashirama spluttered, confused and a little bit freaked out as he blinked his tired eyes to the fourteen-years-old reanimation that was lounging on his table. The living corpse still emitted the aura that used to push Hashirama to nightmares—the vicious aura that promised deaths to the people Hashirama has held dear. Jiro used to star Hashirama's nightmares—especially after the extremely close call between his blade and Touka's heart—and now, even after their comradeship over their same roles as big brothers, Hashirama still twitched to move into defence and make sure that his clansmen were safe from the Uchiha.
Jiro shifted.
Hashirama's gaze darted to the unconscious ANBU that he stationed in his office, and his chakra immediately spiked up in defence.
"Calm down, idiot," the reanimated corpse grumbled, not even moving from his perch on the table. "They're alive. Only knocked out."
"Why are you doing this?" Hashirama questioned, hiding the concerned squeak in his voice.
I thought we were friends?
"Desperate time calls for desperate measure," the dead Uchiha shrugged, appearing in front of Hashirama in a quick burst of sunshin, offering a sealed scroll to the Hokage. "I need a favour. Take over my Edo Tensei contract," he said, close to a command before the corpse hastily added, "Please. Only you can do it."
Hashirama's gaze fell on the scroll, and his suspicion was quickly replaced with confusion.
"Tobi refused to release you?" he asked, a deeper frown graced his forehead as he took the offered scroll.
Jiro snorted. "Contrary. He is eager to release me."
Hashirama blinked. "Then, why?" he tilted his head, confused. "I thought you want to go back to where you belong? You have been here for far too long."
Jiro's face made an expression that was both sad and longing that Hashirama felt something inside his chest broke.
"I will only be able to rest in peace when my troublesome baby brothers started to act like real brothers," the Uchiha eventually grumbled, leering envious gaze at the Hokage. "Real brothers, like you and Madara."
"Aren't they acting like brothers now?" Hashirama frowned before a shudder ripped down his form. "Izuna spoiled Tobi every moment possible. They're closer than they've ever been."
"Are they now?" Jiro hummed, tone dry.
Hashirama stared at him with a blank gaze, unable to comprehend anything at all.
The reanimated Uchiha sighed, running a hand through the dark mane of his bangs, hiding his eyes behind the stiff locks. Then, without warning, Jiro suddenly lunged, one hand grasping Hashirama's hair while the other hand rested on the man's shoulder, knees nestled at Hashirama's hips to support his weight as vicious red spun in his black sclera—three tomoe shifting to pronged Mangekyou.
Hashirama flinched.
Jiro grinned.
"How long has it been, Senju?" the reanimated corpse purred. "Since our first battle? When you first learnt to fear me?"
Hashirama's mind unwillingly reeled back to his first battle, when he first witnessed the older shinobi viciously slaughtered his clansmen like the mad demon the Senju claimed all Uchiha was. It was the first time he felt horrified mid-battle—a numbing horror bestowed upon him by the older boy wearing Uchiha crest.
The God of Shinobi flinched, swallowing thickly, the very tips of his fingers trembled in response to his past fear.
"You were a child back when we first met," Jiro hummed, finally releasing his grip on Hashirama's hair to stand in front of the Hokage. "Not even that much taller than my ribs," he grinned, reaching his hand up to compare their heights and giggled when the top of his head barely reached Hashirama's collarbone. "See? You're a man now. So tall and strong. God of Shinobi," he listed down, looking up at Hashirama with the vicious Mangekyou of the Hokage's worst nightmare. "We're even sort of friends now," Jiro beamed.
Then, his expression suddenly shifted to a cruel smirk. "We're friends…yet, your fear of me is still there."
Hashirama swallowed. God of Shinobi he was hailed as, yet there were few nightmares and traumas of the past that still haunted his sleep. He's a human too, and no human is invincible to the torment of mind.
"Trauma is a pesky pest to your mind, isn't it?"
Hashirama blinked, slowly fixing his gaze into those Mangekyou as realisation dawned onto him. They were both elder brothers. To a surprising extent, their odd friendship that was cemented by the foundation of their deep love to their respective baby brothers gifted them with friendship perks.
Perks, such as the ability that allowed them to only take one look into the other's eyes for them to know what was going on in their mind.
Even without in-depth explanation, Hashirama understood the reason Jiro chose to leave his reanimated life of secrecy and intruded the Hokage's tower, knocking out ANBU like they were just fresh genins instead of an elite team tasked to guard Hashirama.
Hashirama would do such unexpected things for Madara too, should the situation call for it.
The Niibi healed Tobirama's physical injuries in a literal week, and after a thorough inspection at the request of few concerned parties (aka, majority of Hashirama's council), Tobirama was finally able to declare that he was indeed fine, no need to worry over him anymore, please stop hovering because it's started to get suffocating—he is a thirty-one years old man and a seasoned shinobi, thank you very much.
Now that Jiro brought it up, Hashirama definitely saw the subtle signs that his dear friend was definitely NOT fine.
How would he be? A year and half of being held prisoner behind the enemy lines, completely blind and if Madara's written mission report was not dramatically exaggerated, every inch of the Uchiha's body was covered with chakra suppression seals when Madara found him, thus giving them the fact that throughout his whole imprisonment, Tobirama was literally alone in complete darkness and pain.
Hashirama was genuinely surprised that the Uchiha did not slip into insanity.
Plus, he always had this hunch that Tobirama was not entirely stable even before his capture. It was weird, back then when he listened to Team Demon's individual reports regarding the mission that killed their sensei. Something kept bugging him at the back of his mind ever since then.
Something didn't match up.
Sure, it was entirely believable that chakra-exhaustion would result in the Uchiha Demon's unexpected fall. Human. Despite his famed nickname, Tobirama is a human and such a thing happened all the time, even to the strongest human hailed as either God or Demon.
But this was the only person who could match up against the God of Shinobi. A horrifying genius with a set of backup plans for his backup plans. Jutsu and Sharingan were not Tobirama's only weapon in his arsenal. That sharp brilliant mind, and the knowledge of seals that required minimum to none chakra to be used were the Uchiha Demon's specialities too.
Even with a bunch of S-ranked shinobi hounding his exhausted ass, Tobirama should be able to survive until reinforcement arrived. They were so close to Konoha after all.
He should be able to survive.
Hashirama always had this nagging feeling that Tobirama purposely didn't.
The thought that his dear friend might have attempted a suicide back then didn't sit too well with the Hokage. And now, this silent suffering? Hashirama would have none of it. Thus, Hashirama unsealed the scroll, skimming through the slanted script of Tobirama's handwriting before he finally found what he needed. Following the instruction to take over Jiro's contract from Tobirama, the Hokage formed the hand signs, keeping his eyes locked with the abnormal dead eyes of his worst nightmare.
"On the scale of 1 to drowning me in a river, how pissed off Tobirama would be once he realised I took over your contract?" he asked, genuinely curious and partially concerned.
Jiro crossed his arms, huffing with a mix of annoyance and amusement.
"Not mad enough that your baby brother wouldn't be able to distract him from attempting to drown you."
Hashirama blinked, mouth slacking open in a baffled gape.
There was a beat of silence before the Hokage gathered himself back and blurted out a hoarse;
"What?"
Jiro gave the Hokage a flat deadpan look.
"You do realise that Tobi has claimed Madara in an official courtship according to Uchiha's custom, right?"
Hashirama dramatically wailed in denial.
Here's the thing.
The Senju brothers are trolls.
Hashirama played the role of a bumbling over-optimistic fool, a stupid oaf that make everyone wondered how the hell exactly he was hailed as the God of Shinobi when he flailed and tripped over his own foot for every two seconds or so.
Madara wore the mask of a dramatic hot-tempered idiot, an easily triggered fool that makes everyone forgot the fact that apart from the Uchiha Demon, he was the only person in the whole world who has the hope to stand his own against his elder brother.
The Senju brothers were the trolls of the Senju clan, fooling everyone with their eccentric adorably foolish behaviours, making sure that everyone underestimated their real power by looking at their stupidity instead of their lethality.
Thus, not many remembered that Madara has better observation than anyone else in the clan, being the one who guarded Hashirama's back while his brother faced the foes in front of them. He sought for the most minute details, small little things like a twitch in an enemy expression or the slight shift in their weight that indicated their next attack, and Madara would act accordingly to ensure that his brother could keep his gaze forward without worrying of his back.
With such keen observation skills, Madara noticed.
Tabi would purr and tease him for keeping more than one eye on Tobirama but the idiot has zero sense when it came to taking care of himself okay? Madara felt obliged to watch over that masochistic workaholic fool. He loved that adorable fool way too much to not do so.
Madara noticed Tobirama's odd behaviour.
The flinches when any Uchiha opened their mouth to talk to him. The automatic tension in his shoulders whenever someone moved unexpectedly. The carefully veiled doubts in his dark eyes whenever Izuna fussed over him. The way he always stared at his food with a tiny frown, sniffing at them when he thought no one was looking and then the look of utter confusion on his face when he gingerly ate his food and nothing extraordinary seemed to happen after he swallowed them.
It was easy to conclude that Tobirama was definitely not fine.
Madara noticed.
And he acted accordingly.
The first time Madara noticed was when he accompanied Tobirama to retrieve his belongings from the Uchiha compound.
It has been decided that Tobirama would not reassume his former position as the Uchiha Clan Head, no matter how much Izuna has insisted on the elder Uchiha to reassume the leadership again. Tobirama has firmly refused, thus Izuna obediently remained as the Clan Head. Though, it has also been decided that Tobirama would keep the clan name—a memoir of his beloved father and elder brother; because Tajima and Jiro were his only direct family members from the Uchiha side who have always unconditionally loved him.
As for his living arrangement, the children left him with zero choices when they literally dragged him by the edge of his shirt, with their tiny hands, from the hospital straight to his clan's compound.
Tobirama's reaction to the fact that he had a whole clan formed in his name was unexpected.
The children expected a silent proud smile and gentle words typical of the reserved Uchiha Demon.
They forgot to take account his current mental state that was rather vulnerable after the things that he has gone through this past year and a half.
The children directed their panicked wide eyes towards Madara, adorably lost and scared when their shishou frowned at the compound's gates. Tobirama's dark widened eyes stared at the carved crest of the clan—the fierce white outlines of a leopard on black wood, studded with gleaming rubies as its eyes—for a full five minutes before his lips quivered and tears fell freely from his eyes.
The children panicked.
Tobirama was understandably overwhelmed at the honour the children gave him.
Madara almost died restraining his laughter.
(God, he loved teasing these rambunctious brats. Their panicked expression was so cute.)
Madara spent the whole day walking side-by-side the overwhelmed man, venturing the new compound together and greedily drinking in the unveiled awe in Tobirama's eyes. Tobirama looked like a child getting a birthday present for the first time, his gaze wandered curiously around the compound—thrill and excitement gleaming in his eyes. The libraries, research labs and experimentation grounds (Hashirama was really intending to spoil the children when he built this compound for them and definitely did not overdo the construction for the sake of his spite against Izuna) were the places where Tobirama's gaze lingered the longest—his pure joy invoked a tiny smile on his companion's face. There were housing areas, but it was mostly empty for now as the children all lived together with Kagami in the main house.
There was no question where Tobirama would choose to live in when his arrival at the main house was greeted with hugs and cuddles—filled with so much love he used to be denied—and a feast of all his favourite dishes. Madara thought of it as a good healing for the man, especially after seeing the tension ebbed away from Tobirama's shoulders as the children commenced a somewhat organised turn snuggling up to his sides or sitting on his lap throughout the whole feast.
Tobirama would be spoiled with love if he chose to live here.
Thus, the reason Madara was currently shadowing Tobirama to return to his house in the Uchiha compound. There were few things that Tobirama wished to retrieve, but he kept postponing on it until a very confused and agitated Madara offered to accompany him into the compound.
At first, Madara was confused at Tobirama's obvious hesitance to return to the compound of the clan he used to be willing to selflessly die for.
Then, he noticed, and he understood.
"Tobirama-sama?"
Madara would've missed the flinch if he blinked.
Tobirama turned around slowly, wary caution leaking out of his stiff posture. His gaze returned to its former habit of avoiding eye contact, looking at the speaker's ears instead of her dark eyes. He was slightly leaning back, much like a child expecting a harsh scolding, or perhaps—
—like a man expecting harsh words to be hurled to his face.
The Uchiha woman who stopped them in their track smiled warmly at them, yet Madara's eyes picked up the wary flicker in Tobirama's own, and the slight shift in his weight—the man was leaning away from the woman in such a subtle way that no one would notice if they didn't have their gaze fixed on the Uchiha Demon like the creep Madara was.
Madara frowned as he sensed the bijuu-infused chakra that spread across their surroundings as if Tobirama was seeking for some hidden personnel that might be hiding somewhere around them.
Why?
Madara resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut when the realisation dawned into him.
Of course.
Of course, Tobirama would react like this.
How many times have this clan tried to stab him in the back when he let his guard down?
Plenty enough, that after the torture he went through in Kumo, it was perfectly reasonable for Tobirama to not attempt tolerating any betrayals that would inflict pain on him. Who would want any more pain after a whole year and a half being subjected to torture?
"Masami-san," Tobirama greeted with a quiet voice, tipping his head in acknowledgement. "Do you need anything from me?"
Masami fumbled with the bundle she has been holding.
Tobirama reflexively shifted backwards.
Madara instinctively reacted.
The Senju leant closer to plaster his body by Tobirama's side before Masami could raise her head and noticed that her former Clan Head was just about to take a defensive stance against her. Tobirama's dark eyes glanced in Madara's direction, confusion written all over the dark orbs, filled with unspoken questions.
Madara didn't say anything, but shot a cheeky grin to Tobirama instead, shifting around so that he could link his arm with Tobirama's like the spoiled younger brother of Senju Hashirama he was and rested his temple against the bony shoulders. He squeezed the frail hand in his own, rubbing his thumb in lazy circles on Tobirama's palm and let out a pleased hum when the shoulder that pillowed his head slowly relaxed.
Tobirama squeezed his hand, grateful.
People said that he has a bad unnerving habit of staring at people.
Well, Yamanaka Inomaru begged to differ. It was called casual observation, thank-you-very-much. It's not creepy nor it was unnerving. It was such a fun hobby to have, especially when you're a Clan Head and long boring meetings were a prominent fixture in your daily schedule.
People were fascinating creatures. Sure, most people were flat-out mundane, but some were very fun and interesting to observe.
The Uchiha Demon, for example, was not surprisingly an exquisite specimen.
"You're being a creep," Shikako murmured under her breath, digging her elbow into his thigh. "Stop it."
At the far end of the table, Chonami halted—her hefty mass that was wedged between Uchiha Tobirama and Senju Madara made the two titans seemed small—as she stopped her task distributing the food to everyone at the table, distracted by her best friends' shenanigan. She shot Inomaru a sharp warning glare before schooling her face to a patient persistent expression as she proceeded to add a generous helping of rice into Tobirama's bowl.
Tobirama accepted the food with a resigned smile, mouthing a soft gratitude to the Akimichi's matriarch although there was a somewhat fearful amusement that gleamed in his eyes upon seeing the mountain of rice in his own bowl.
Chonami retreated with a firm acknowledging nod—the unspoken order for the famed demon to properly eat his food was clear from the stern look in her face.
Inomaru ignored the persistent jab of the sharp elbow to his thigh and focused his attention on the Uchiha.
Tobirama slowly dug into the food, eating at an abnormally slow pace, but seemed to enjoy the food regardless. He occasionally picked on his food, before not-so-discreetly transferred pieces of greasy meat from his bowl into the bowl of the person sitting next to him. Madara took a surprisingly long time to notice that—being distracted arguing over their earlier meeting agenda with his almost sister-in-law. When the younger Senju finally noticed the piling meat in his bowl, he promptly scowled, scrunching his face at the unrepentant Uchiha Demon.
The younger of the Senju's brothers then proceeded to dump his share of fish into the Uchiha's bowl.
Tobirama silently ate, the faintest hint of a smile grew on his face.
One glance at the Hokage, and Inomaru has to hide a snort behind his palm at the obvious overprotective disapproval written all over Hashirama's face. Beside the Shodai, Lady Uzumaki hid an amused smile behind her sleeves, clearly not on the same boat as her soon-to-be husband.
It was very, very amusing.
Lunch has never been so fun.
Then, Tobirama's smile dropped when they have cleaned their plates and the desserts finally arrived.
Inomaru removed his observing gaze from the silver-haired man to thank the Uchiha lady that was distributing the plates of mochi. It was the Uchiha clan' turn to prepare desserts for their after-meeting feast, and to be honest, Inomaru was looking forward to the desserts. The sharingan-wielding clan always prepared mochi whenever they were on dessert duty, and Inomaru cherished the sweets with all of his heart. The Uchiha's mochi has the most exquisite fillings that could not be found anywhere else.
Though, this time, the Yamanaka didn't immediately dig into his favourite dessert.
He halted mid-chewing once his gaze landed back on the former Clan Head of the Uchiha. He was expecting Tobirama to eagerly dig into the sweets—having already seen the end result of Senju Madara's sweet tooth that has infected the Uchiha Demon's palate—only to be both surprised and concerned when it was the exact opposite.
Yamanaka Inomaru ignored his dessert in favour of observing his subject, forehead scrunched to a frown when he saw Tobirama very discreetly sniffed at his food—a frown graced the man's forehead afterwards, his dark eyes veiled with suspicions. The blonde man watched in curious silence when the famed demon gingerly poked on the mochi, turning and rolling the sticky sweets with his chopstick without looking like he wanted to eat them.
It piqued Inomaru's curiousity.
A quick glance around the feast table told him that he wasn't the only one who noticed Tobirama's behaviour.
Shikako's eyes have sobered up, no longer clouded with her trademark boredom glaze but instead gleamed in sharp attention as she eyed the Uchiha demon—the way she narrowed her eyes told Inomaru that the cogs of her brain were already working on a theory. Hashirama and Mito shared a discreet glance with each other, but neither revealed more of their thoughts than the tight grim line of their faces. Uchiha Izuna sat hunched at his seat, mismatched gaze not moving from his lap, his fingers curled into tight fists on the fabric of his pants while Tobirama Kagami sent him a somewhat accusing look. Chonami was frowning in the demon's direction, but like the rest of the leaders who have noticed the odd behaviour, she didn't bring it up.
Then, their attention on Tobirama was broken when a hand reached out to grasp the demon's wrist—the hold was loose yet grounding as Tobirama's hand was tugged towards his right, where Madara very casually leant close to bite the mangled mochi directly from his chopstick.
Despite the smug childish smile on his face, Madara's eyes were sharp when he levelled a look into Tobirama's eyes.
"It's good," he said, fingers tightened briefly around the bony wrist in his hold before he retreated to his seat like nothing ever happened.
Inomaru couldn't help but feel that Madara was not commenting on the taste of the mochi.
Tobirama stopped toying with his dessert.
"Keeping it bottled up is not good for your health, you know?"
Tobirama flinched, shoulders tensed for a split second before his face fell to a complete poker face as he pulled his shirt down. It felt weird wearing his own clothes now that the fabric clung so loosely where it was once a perfect fit on his frame. After all, Uchiha's high-necked collar typically did not allow for impromptu adjustment, unlike Senju's more adjustable kimono shirt.
He should've accepted Ayame's offer to help him with his laundry.
Tobirama was considering to Hiraishin really quick to Madara's room and steal a few more of those adjustable shirts (if he got to avoid the inevitable confrontation with Jiro in the process, then it was a bonus) when suddenly there was a burst of chakra from a sunshin and before he knew it, he was looking down at thick dark mane of his elder brother as cold hand planted firmly on his stomach where the seal on his skin pulsed with Matatabi's chakra.
"See?" Jiro hummed, looking up at him with a smug smile. "Even Tabi agrees. Bottling up your feelings is not good."
"Tabi agrees with everything that is against me," Tobirama snorted, restraining a shudder when Jiro's cold hand moved up to lightly skim over his protruding ribs. "The cat is devil's advocate.
The bijuu inside his body sent a wave of smugness that vibrated from the seal.
Tobirama instinctively pouted.
Jiro blinked, completely taken aback.
Then, he cursed.
"I understand Madara now," the corpse grumbled, swearing strings of colourful words under his breath before he tilted his chin up—his glare made Tobirama cowered despite his baby brother's towering height.
"Anija?"
"Sit," Jiro huffed, tugging Tobirama to sit on the un-made futon.
"Anija, what—"
"Shush."
Something hard and sweet touched his lips and Tobirama has to fumble to catch the candy that was shoved into his mouth. He spent a full minute gaping at the round candy in his palms, blinking in disbelief.
"Anija, I told you to stop stealing my kids' candies!" Tobirama scowled, staring at the pouch of candies in the corpse's hands with utter disbelief. "You can't even taste them!"
"But you can," Jiro retorted.
He emphasized that point by shoving another candy into Tobirama's mouth, keeping his hand over the silver-haired man's mouth until Tobirama has swallowed the candy.
"You're ridiculous," Tobirama mouthed, disbelief dripping from each of his syllables, although the corners of his lips tugged to an amused smile when Jiro rewarded him with a pat on the head and an orange lollipop. "How old do you think I am?"
"Seven years younger than me."
Tobirama rolled his eyes, this time allowing the genuine amused smile to crack on his face.
Jiro grinned, reaching out a hand to touch the corner of that smile, his eyes softened as his own smile grew fonder. Jiro set the candies aside, folding his knees to sit near his younger brother, arms spread in open invitation. When Tobirama hesitantly leant into his invitation, Jiro pulled the man closer, hooking his chin over the top of the silver hair. He smoothened his hand over the tensed shoulder, rubbing the tension away until the stiffness slackened, and his baby brother has really melted in his embrace.
"Much better, isn't it?" he hummed, threading his fingers through the silver hair.
Tobirama's response was simply to roll around, curled his body up on the smaller lap and buried his face into the folds of Jiro's clothes. It didn't take long until his breathing calmed down to the pace that usually indicated near-sleep status as he allowed himself to relax, lulling himself to sleep with the soft sounds of Jiro's breathing.
It went on like that for a solid half an hour—Jiro stroking the silver strands of his brother's hair, while Tobirama laid curled up on the elder's lap, finally relaxed after a whole day of being tensed—before the silence was broken.
"You haven't actually forgiven them," Jiro hummed—a statement rather than a question—as he moved one hand to keep Tobirama in place, squeezing the bony shoulders soothingly when the tension returned to those shoulders.
Silence. Then, a soft mutter;
"There is nothing to be forgiven."
Jiro caught Tobirama's shifty gaze and let out a long-suffering sigh.
"Liar."
Tobirama didn't deny it.
Izuna was staring.
Madara shifted in discomfort, somehow feeling the intensity of the gaze from those mismatched eyes on his back even without giving in to his urge to turn around and yell at the Uchiha Clan Head, asking the man what the fuck was his problem to indulge in this creepy staring.
Izuna has been staring at him the moment Madara stepped into the Hokage Tower.
It was starting to agitate the hot-tempered Senju.
Madara grumbled under his breath, striding past the fumbling clerks without even bothering to hide his annoyance—and probably traumatising the poor staffs in the process—as he made his way into Tobirama's office. Cradling his own completed paperwork in one arm, Madara gathered the neat stack of paperwork on the Uchiha's table into his other arm.
Apparently, to physically ban Tobirama from the Hokage Tower didn't work out as they planned. The man still managed to get around the ban to get his hands on his work.
Workaholic asshole, the Senju internally grumbled, skimming through the budget reports that have been amended and corrected by Tobirama.
As much as he was grateful someone in the tower actually has the brain to deal with this budgeting, Madara made a mental note to bribe the kids. This was getting out of hand. Tobirama needed to stop using the kids to get his hands on his work. Recovery leave should be utilized to rest, not ordering devoted children to sneak into his office and retrieve his paperwork. Jinchuuriki or not, Mito has ordered the Uchiha Demon to take it easy until he regained his former healthy physique.
Seeing how frail the man looked like with his bones protruding beneath his terribly pale skin was enough to give a good number of Clan Heads in the tower unnecessary anxiety. Add that to Izuna's persistent hovering, Tobirama's presence at work was more of a distraction than it should be.
And like usual, Mito's professional advice fell into deaf ears.
One of these days, Madara would really make true of his threat to strap the stubborn man to bed should he even attempt to persuade some innocent kids to retrieve his works from the tower.
Madara halted mid-plotting when he felt the privacy seals of Tobirama's office flared up, his body reflectively tensed when he heard the soft click as the door was locked. The Senju's Clan Heir turned around, chakra flaring in a slight defensive mode, only to be toned down to its original calm state once he saw the hunched man at the door.
"Izuna," Madara greeted, tipping his head to the side and only briefly indulged in the annoyance at the odd lightness off the movement now that his hair was short. "Is there anything that you want from me?"
Silence.
Madara cocked an eyebrow.
"I just hope that we could talk?" The Uchiha Clan Head finally asked (after what it felt like a full five minutes of nervous shifting), voice soft and hesitant. "Madara-san?"
Madara's reaction to the overly formal and polite name was instantaneous.
"What the fuck, Uchiha?" he openly scowled, not even hiding how weirded out he felt at Izuna's formality. "Act normal, can you?"
Izuna winced, lowering his gaze to stare at the floor. Madara rolled his eyes and huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, exercising the high-level of patience he had learnt from growing up with Hashirama as he waited for Izuna to say something.
Madara almost yawned in boredom when Izuna finally spoke.
"I need to ask you something."
There was a hint of a nervous tremble in his voice.
Madara couldn't help but feel slightly weirded out. The Izuna that he remembered was the sneering arrogant brat that openly displayed joy on his own brother's funeral. The Izuna that he remembered never lowered his gaze like this, considering that there was never an ounce of humility existed in that brat. The Izuna that he remembered always called him with an arrogant sneer of 'Madara', his tone would be laced with disgust and mockery.
This Izuna was an exact opposite.
It felt like Madara left Konoha for one measly year and someone has swapped Uchiha Izuna with a fake that was disturbingly polite and humble.
"Sure," Madara obliged, leaning against the polished edge of Tobirama's table, hands rested on the edge of the table in what he hoped was a casual posture as he tried hard to play it cool and not display his curiousity. "What is it?"
Izuna visibly swallowed, the defeated glimmer in his mismatched eyes were that of a resignation and regretful acceptance, his voice was shaky and soft as he asked;
"Aniki hates me, doesn't he?"
Madara's eyes widened, meeting Izuna's hesitant gaze with a piqued interest.
So he noticed. He internally mused.
"What makes you think so?" The Senju countered, playing a fool as he moved one hand to thread through and tug his regrettably short hair—a habit he picked up ever since he hacked his mane short. "You two looked closer than ever that it was both adorable and irritating."
Izuna lowered his gaze, twisting his fingers subconsciously in a nervous gesture under Madara's scrutinizing stare.
"He feels…," the Uchiha started, seeming like he was looking for the right word before he settled with one, "...colder." Izuna shook his head and shuddered, averting his eyes from meeting Madara's when he mumbled, "I have this feeling that he is just putting up a show to humour me."
Madara hummed, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table he was leaning against.
"Yes and no," he finally decided, causing Izuna's gaze to snap up from the floor to stare at him.
"Uh," the Uchiha blurted out. "What?"
"Yes, he is a bit cold to you, but no, he doesn't hate you."
Izuna blinked owlishly, his confusion was evident in his mismatched eyes.
Madara quirked a soft smile and left his lean against the table so that he could plant a hand on Izuna's shoulder.
"He could never hate you," he said—an undeniable truth he knew would be a painful blow to the man in front of him. "He loves you so deeply, Izuna," Madara added, squeezing the shoulder in his grip when Izuna flinched upon his words. "He is just protecting himself. Give him time and space to heal, and things might get better for you two."
Izuna's pursed his lips, teeth abusing the soft flesh of his trembling lips.
"I'm not going to hurt him," the Uchiha murmured.
They both heard the unspoken 'anymore' but no one brought it up.
"You know why he has a hard time to believe that," Madara quirked a half-crooked smile, squeezing Izuna's shoulder once when the trembles of the Uchiha's body started to become obvious before he pulled the shorter man into a one-arm hug. "Trust is like paper. You crumpled it once, and it would never be the same again. You have to be patient with him."
Izuna snorted, the sound lodged in his throat and resembled a choked sob instead. "One year you're gone and suddenly you came back with sage-like wisdom?"
"Not my fault your brother's summon enjoyed dropping words of wisdom every moment possible," Madara retorted with an annoyed scowl. "And she ganged up with my summon against me. I spent the whole year hearing them trading cryptic sage words back and forth."
This time Izuna did chuckle.
"I have never heard the leopard spoke."
"Be grateful you didn't," Madara finally released Izuna, allowing the Uchiha to see the disgruntled expression on his face. "I now know from where Tobi picked up his weird speech. Thank fuck Konoha has exposed him to normal human interaction."
Izuna snorted again, allowing his hand to reach out and squeeze Madara's arm in a quick grateful pulse.
"Thanks," he said, turning around on his heels, leaving the door open behind him.
Izuna was almost at the end of the hallway when the realization hit the Senju's Clan Heir. Madara fumbled and chased after the Uchiha, stopping the man with a loud yell of his name. The Uchiha Clan Head tilted his head back, one dark brow cocked in curiosity.
"Yes?"
Madara huffed, making an aimless gesture up and down Izuna's body.
"Why do you ask me?" he asked, feeling the desperate need to ask now that even Izuna has gotten involved in the increasing number of people who looked for him whenever they wanted to ask about Tobirama. "You already know about Jiro, who is his emotional support for the past twelve years. Kagami is practically his legal son by now. Ayame and Sakuno are attached to him and are mature enough to notice these stuff. Hashirama is his best friend. Why ask me?"
Izuna gave him a blank confused stare.
"You're his lover," the Clan Head deadpanned, with a tone so flat and matter-of-factly as if he was stating obvious facts—facts like the sky is blue, Mito is a sadist, Uchiha has sharingan and Hashirama's kekkei genkai is mokuton—instead of a well-kept secret of budding romance that has just been rekindled. "By default, I assume you know best about his emotional state than anyone else."
Madara gaped.
Then, he yelled;
"How did you know?!"
"Uh…," Izuna blinked, now even more confused. "You're basically parading it around?"
Madara blinked, utterly confused when Izuna pointed at the pendant that was peeking out of the collar of his shirt.
"WHAT?!"
"When did you claim him?"
Tobirama paused his hand, letting his long bony digits to simply sink in Sakuno's thick silver hair instead of threading through it—his dear baby cousin has long nodded off to sleep, using his lap as a pillow and his forearm as a teddy bear. Shifting his gaze from the shogi board, Tobirama tilted his head to the side, pondering on the answer.
"Officially?" he hummed, picking up a knight piece. "Three months ago. Unofficially—"
"Wait, is there an unofficial claim?"
Tobirama shrugged.
"I gave the necklace before I left for the mission," he answered with a frown, biting his lower lips as he practically glared at the shogi board. "Planned to tell him once I returned. Turn out it took over a year later for that to happen."
There was a long contemplative silence filled with an air of disapproval. Then, his elder brother spoke with a barely restrained frustration edged in his voice;
"Did you tell him what it meant?"
Silence. Then, a hesitant;
"Not yet."
Red eyes spinning with three tomoe widened in the black sclera. "What."
"Haven't got the time with all the hospital, adjusting to Tabi and dealing with the mess that Hashi made in the village's management."
"Tobi, what the fuck."
"Anija, language."
"So, I'm engaged to you."
Tobirama winced, pointedly avoiding meeting the displeased dark eyes as he opted to his favourite evasive technique and retreated back to his old habit back when he still has broken eyesight.
"Tobi, stop staring at my ears," Madara growled, one hand reached up to firmly planted his palm on Tobirama's cheek, forcing the older man to look him straight in the eye. "You have Eternal Mangekyou now. You can't play that card anymore."
Tobirama grimaced. "Not engaged," he clarified. "Yet."
Madara quirked an eyebrow.
"It is just a claim to fend off other suitors and show that I'm interested in you."
"Uh-huh," Madara nodded, removing his hand so that he could cross his arms in front of his chest. "So why am I not aware of this claim?"
"I got captured before I could explain?" Tobirama offered meekly, reaching out his hand to thread through Madara's short hair, pulling the Senju closer so that he could rest their foreheads together. "Remember when I said that I have something to tell you when I got back?" he murmured, lips hot and mere millimetres away from Madara's gaping mouth.
"You took your damn sweet time to come back, asshole," Madara's grumble was not as angry as he intended, but instead, it was close to a sulky whine instead. "I have to haul your ass home."
"And I'm grateful you did so," Tobirama chuckled, brushing the spiky bangs away from Madara's eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, eyes fluttering shut, a sigh slipped past his lips. "Thank you," he whispered, tilting his face up to plant a kiss on Madara's forehead. "Thank you."
Madara's eyes fluttered shut, hearing the unspoken gratitude in those words.
Thank you for rescuing me.
Thank you for holding on to hope when no one else does.
Thank you for loving me so deeply.
Madara planted his hands on Tobirama's jaw, pulling the older man closer until their chests were pressed flush to each other. He tilted his face, lips brushing Tobirama's own, only to part willingly when Tobirama leant to close the little distance they had between each other. It was soft and languid—far calmer than their first kiss that tasted of blood and spiked with the exhilarating thrill of being chased by enemies—but it was passionate all the same.
"Always," Madara murmured, nipping on Tobirama's willing lips.
Tobirama deepened the kiss again, acknowledging the unspoken promises of that single word.
I'll always find you.
I'll always hold on to hope.
Madara whimpered, fingers tightened to fist in the silver hair, tugging lightly to invoke a pleased groan from the famed Uchiha's demon.
I'll always love you.
They parted with stuttering heavy breaths, cheeks flushed to a matching tint of pink, lips red from pulsing blood beneath their skin and eyes glazed with the hazy weight of their emotions. They still had their hands tangled in each other's hair—now the hold was slackened instead of the desperate gripping it was a few seconds ago—as they rested their forehead against each other, noses nuzzling playfully.
Madara smiled first.
Tobirama cracked a tiny hesitant smile.
"Forever?" Tobirama asked—hesitance, doubt and hope all mingled in one word.
Will you stay with me…forever?
"Forever," Madara assured—confidence and determination dripped from that one word.
I will, idiot. Forever.
They sealed the unspoken promise with another kiss.
A/N : Two more chapters to go.