Hee hee.

Ahh. Teeeth. Just came back from a 2 hour, thousand dollar visit to the dentist. Sucks, right? Anyway, here a chappy I began in study hall, innocently. (that made little to no sense)

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, because it's day 2, and I'm still squeeee-ing over Tobirama revived.

Note: I hate the flu, and I hate the dentist. Mariko is just afraid of the dentist sticking needles and drills in her mouth. Or do they have ninja dentists, there?

Note 2:Tried looking up maps of Konoha. All came up different, but I stuck with one. =3=

Chapter 32: Stay Healthy, Kids!

A cold hand ran along his forehead, which was slick with sweat. Images flashed before his eyes, a myriad of countless familiar places buried within the folds of his memory. His desk, the cold, slightly amused eyes of Danzo placing yet another stack of papers before him, Saru's throaty laugh, his formal Hokage robes, Koharu scolding him for working too hard…

Or had that been Mariko?

No, it was Biwako, he was sure now. Biwako had accompanied Saru, who had been…

What had Saru been doing?

Recollections of the river flowing beside training grounds abutting Konoha Memorial Cemetery, Tsunade whooping grandly as she felled another tree, to Jiraiya's horror and Orochimaru's amusement, and then – a blur. Hot and cold sensations, varying from mild buzzes of heat to plunging depths of cold, as if he was submerged in an arctic ocean. Then, suddenly, he would be blazing hot, buried beneath seven suns in the middle of Sunagakure's devastating summer desert. And finally, he'd be chilly again, a slight shiver that ran up his spine as he tried to remember what exactly had happened before his vision went black.

Ah, Tsunade. He heard her voice, frantically calling him, asking if he was all right.

No, it was Koharu.

No, Tsunade.

"I'm fine," he'd said, rather firmly.

And blackness.

"You're awake," said a familiar voice, a soft, pleasant tone that accompanied the cool fingers running across his forehead and lightly massaging his temples. The swish of blue hair, like a refreshing breeze, brushed across his forearm, which he'd pulled from beneath the stacked blankets. Someone had tried to kill him with comforters, apparently, because from his angle and position, he counted seven blankets. Perhaps more, because it was so heavy, his legs were immobile.

"I am," he replied, wiping his forehead even though she had just done so. His white hair stuck to his skin, glistening with sweat. "It's really hot under here, are you trying to suffocate me?"

"Last time you were awake, you told me you were colder than Madara on a bad day," Mariko sighed, placing a delightfully cold towelette on his face.

"I don't recall," he grumbled, letting his hand fall. The surface of all the covers was also pleasantly cool, and he let his arms rest atop his mountain of comforters for a while.

"I suppose you don't recall Jiraiya dragging you halfway across a cemetery, either, and scaring the living daylights out of every single Konoha citizen in passing?" There was a smile in her voice, now.

"Hm, no, not really," he replied just as lightly. "I remember…"

A pause.

"Ah, Tsunade, screaming in my face."

"What child wouldn't scream in their great-uncle's face if they thought he was suddenly dying?" Mariko slipped the small towel off his face, despite the frown that surfaced on her husband's face.

"I'm not dying."

"Clearly," Mariko said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You've got a high fever. What have you been doing, walking around with no clothes on?"

"Ah, you wish." He grinned, even when she pinched his arm so hard he recoiled.

"Seriously, you had me worried!"

Tobirama sighed. She was angry now.

"Sorry," he mumbled, attempting to turn beneath the great seas of blankets. "But seriously, it's really hot under here."

"I'll throw you in the river," she hissed, slapping the towelette across his face. Miffed, he made the best adorable puppy face a grown man could make, and then smiled cheekily when she sighed and took his hand. Anger never seemed to fit on Mariko, with her small stature and heart-shaped face. The fact that it made her look like a tomato with blue vines just made it all the funnier, though the tomato award usually went to Mito. The tomato sisters, one with panda hair and one with a blue mess, always caused Tobirama some sort of trouble. Actually, Tobirama caused the trouble, and they came to heckle him about it.

"No, no you wouldn't," Tobirama said. He realized that his nose was stuffed and he felt dreadful, like his body weighed three times the usual, packed with lead. Mariko handed him some tea, and he could smell the crisp mint. It cleared his airways a little bit, but otherwise, didn't quite help at all.

"You sound terrible," Mariko stated flatly. The usually clear, deep timbre of his voice was slightly nasally, as if someone was squeezing his vocal chords and holding his nose. He sniffled miserably, head falling back on his pillow unceremoniously. "Hey, don't spill."

He handed the tea back to her, and she set it on the nightstand.

Wait, how did he get here again?

"What happened?" he inquired, too tired to try wresting his bed sheets again.

"You suddenly fell ill, fainted, and Team Hiruzen panicked and tried to save your life," Mariko said. "Shiro came out from his clan quarters, happened to pass, and ran like a madman to the Senju complex, and then everyone was screaming, and somehow, we got you back here, and had Mito look at you."

"Then why do I feel like Koharu was there, screaming at me?"

"She was, at some point. You probably came in and out of consciousness several times," Mariko said. "You and your fevers. You always fade in and out."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You arrogant Senju," she laughed lightly, pressing a kiss to his still-hot forehead. "It's nothing."

Tobirama grumpily crossed his arms, but found that the mass of pillows and whatnot blocked his way.

"Why are there so many pillows here?"

"For your comfort, Your Royal Highness."

Tobirama made a face, at which Mariko laughed again.

"Did Mito say anything?"

"That you work too hard."

"Are you sure Biwako didn't say that?"

"…Biwako's been a month-long mission, Tobirama. We haven't seen her, Aki, or Torifu for nearly a three weeks."

Three weeks? Tobirama swore that he'd just been in his office yesterday, doing those blasted papers, with Danzo running in and out because he had nothing better to do with the ANBU that day, and Biwako had been there, hissing out he was going to fall down in the middle of the street one day, because he worked too hard. Or was that Koharu?

"Dammit," he slurred under his breath.

"What now?" Mariko pushed the strands of hair clamped wetly to his skin away, stroking his forehead and rubbing the area of neck and shoulders that she could reach.

"Hokage don't hallucinate," he declared.

"Mm," she said.

"Hokage also don't get sick," he added.

"Sure," drawled Mariko, patting the Senju's hand.

"Really," insisted Tobirama, suddenly at odds with the blanket mountain again. "I'm serious, Mariko."

"I believe you," she replied lightly, humming to herself, amused at his fruitless efforts to escape his fluffy, down dungeon.

"No, no you don't." Tobirama tried kicking a leg, but his bed linens were shackles that overcame his power with their silky, cotton weight. "Hokages also don't lose battles against people who try to kill them with beds."

"Ah, I see." The glint in the blunette's eyes was unmistakable now, and Tobirama knew then that it was Mariko who had buried him in this soft, utterly comfortable prison. Her lips curled into a lopsided smile, far too adorable on her face. Tobirama reached for her, but she leaned just out of his length, grinning full out now.

"I will not hold your hand next time we go to the dentist," hissed Tobirama. Mariko's smile morphed quickly into a scowl, which didn't look too threatening on her.

"And you are going to stay and rest until you fully recover," she answered plainly. When he began to protest, she tutted sharply and produced another coverlet out of nowhere. The white-haired Senju's eyes grew comically wide, almost terrified—Hokages are not scared of blankets, thank you very much—as she tossed the spread over him. It was a light one, thankfully, but then she dug through some random drawers and produced an army of miscellaneous winter bedding.

"Mariko, it's the middle of summer," Tobirama strained. "Besides, I'm not sick! It's the middle of summer, after all—"

"Summer flu. Heat stroke. Dehydration," Mariko deadpanned, straightening her pile of deadly weapons. "Mosquito-transmitted diseases, hallucinating, hot flashes."

"I'm not a woman, I don't get hot flashes."

Mariko waggled her eyebrows, and Tobirama wasn't sure if he was supposed to take that as a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, or a teasing one. Either way, the albino was not about to escape the dungeon of quilts.

"Tsunade will be around in a few hours, before dinner, to visit you," Mariko said simply. With the name of his great-niece, Tobirama suddenly felt old, unbearably old. His bones seemed to creak, and his shoulders stiffened, but really, it was all a figure of his imagination. Had his imagination taken the shape of an insane Kiri ninja, Tobirama would've grown old long, long ago. He took it as a gift from the gods that his hair was white already, so he worried little about losing hair color. The very same trait that had plagued him turned out to be beneficial in some way or the other. Mariko was fond of it, especially on snowy winter days when he seemed to assimilate into his surroundings and simply disappear. He smiled, at this.

And then he remembered Team Hiruzen.

"No, no, no, don't let them in," Tobirama suddenly sputtered. "Tsunade will choke me to death with her hug."

"That's so sweet, the Second Hokage is afraid of her own grandniece," Mariko quipped.

"No, Mariko—"

"I always wonder who she takes after more — Hashi, or Mito?"

"Mariko, listen—"

"She certainly has—"

"Mariko!"

The blunette stared at him stonily, and he recoiled slightly. Indeed, he was a tall man who towered over her when standing, and the advent of his anger, should he deem it proper for someone to face his wrath, made ANBU captains wet their pants, but wives were far more powerful than any satanic power that should grace the ninja world. And Tobirama knew it. Even if that wife happened to be a hardly five foot little woman who still looked like an adorable girl with a round face and pretty lashes. Even if she was insanely adorable, and swung her legs like a child when she sat on round stool. Mariko could work both ways—she could produce the most heart-melting pouty face that mankind had ever seen, or she could cross her arms and transform into a brooding pillar of doom.

"What." She stared some more.

"Um, hug?"

Wives tended to have mollifying effects on their great husbands. Unless, that is, you happened to be Senju Hashirama, who was the same, kind man all around…except the day Madara tried to take his wife, that day, he turned into something scarier than Jashin and the Ten Tails combined. For Hashi and Mito, Mito was the hothead, and Hashi the calm one holding her hand and kissing her cheek when she needed it.

For Tobirama, when Mariko leaned down to embrace him lightly and kiss him on the cheek lightly, his was sure he could melt through his quilts and escape his dungeon. Not! He did sink, however, further into his pillows, a love-struck lamb resting in a field of pretty, pretty flowers.

And then Tsunade whipped the door open, and screamed,

"UNCLE TOBIRAMA! I THOUGHT YOU DIED!"

The worst thing was, she had brought those other two.

"TOBIRAMA-SAMA! I KNEW YOU WERE ALIVE! WE WHITE-HAIRED PEOPLE ARE INVINCIBLE!"

"Tobirama-sama, will you teach me Edo Tensei?"

Tobirama wanted nothing more than to curl up into his cave of blankets and disappear, disappear far, far away from his blonde grandniece who wouldn't stop yelling questions in his ear, the snow-topped boy who began making nonsensical connections, and the quiet, dark-haired one who was kind enough not to yell, but not kind enough to stop bothering him. Jutsus, jutsus, all he wanted to learn was jutsus!

"No, I can't teach you that. Tsunade, one question at a time. Jiraiya, what do you mean you were at the hot springs—hey, you're ten years old!"

"Uncle, one night I came to look for you, but you and Auntie were making weird noises and—"

A hand clamped over Tsunade's eternally flapping lips, accompanied by a flushed Tobirama. The Hokage, annoyed now, wanted extremely to kick all three out of his room. He was about to, when the person he least wanted there appeared in the threshold of the room.

"Hey, if it isn't Tobirama-sensei! Looking good in those blankets!"

"Go away, Saru. Just go away."

My face is so numbbbb. I have to go back next week. OTL.

Boo hoo for me, yahoo! for Tobirama and co.

Seeing as last chapter had Tobirama only, here's the return of...several people.

Ah, Orochimaru. You're the genius of the latest chapters, yet you lack the common sense needed in this type of situation. Then again, your entire team's a little cuckoo, so that's to be expected. Saru, Saru, Saru, how are you even taking care of these kids?!