"Why?" He asks, a bit calmer now. "Why not tell me you're mine?"
When Tobirama still says nothing, he looks up and starts to say "Senju, answer—!" only to lose his train of thought the moment he sees the other man's face.
Tobirama's flushed cheeks are wet from tears despite the man's attempts to hold them in. His eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, and he hardly seems to notice or care that Madara is looking at him as he draws in shuddering, desperate breaths, his teeth biting onto his lower lip in an effort to stay quiet.
It suddenly occurs to Madara that what he took as permission to touch maybe wasn't permission at all. He starts to move away, worried he overstepped in a fit of temper, but Tobirama latches onto his sleeve with his free hand.
"P-please, no…" Tobirama interrupts him, voice tight as he chokes on his tears. "Don't… I'm s-sorry."
“For what?” Madara asks, dumbfounded. "Why?"
To say he's confused would be an understatement. He knows he can be rather imposing, frightening even, when he lets his anger rule his actions. It's how he earned his moniker, the Red Dragon, in the first place.
What surprises him is how visceral and intense Tobirama's response seems to be.
This is not actually the first time Madara has acted this way around the other man. At the beginning when Izuna was still recovering, he was rather short with a lot of people, including Tobirama. Even though he didn't blame him for what happened, a part of him couldn't hold back the resentment. Izuna was his last brother. He had a right to be upset about almost losing him too.
Before now Tobirama didn't seem to let it bother him though. At least that's what Madara thought, but maybe that wasn't the case at all?
"Senju..?"
Tobirama finally looks at him. “It would be b-better. If I just… if you had someone else,” he says. “You d-deserve… you deserve better. Not, not me.”
If it's possible, this confuses Madara even more. "What do you know about who I deserve? Or what I want?" He asks. "What if I want you?"
Going to post this tiny bit before I go. From a conversation with the lovely @6miray6 about centers. Courtesy and much thanks to @keanblade for the center idea like always:
——-
“You’re my center,” Madara said, staring at Tobirama. His eyes caught the way his center looked at him…with fear. Tobirama stood, utterly tense, his katana raised and pointed at Madara.
“What?”
“You—you’re my center,” Madara repeated again, numb, and unable to describe just what it meant. That when his eyes had met Tobirama’s, had looked into such gorgeous crimson, he was struck. Everything in him sang at having met the one that was for him and only him, but it was marred by the way Tobirama inched back from him. His center’s guard was up, and Madara could not mistake how Tobirama’s chakra skittered. At being faced with him.
And Madara was too aware of the way he loomed over Tobirama now, his own gunbai tilted down from his shock in meeting Tobirama. How they had only moments before been engaged in a fight, one that they had never engaged it before. No wonder why, even though Tobirama could not match him in strength, their dance was filled with a fluidity.
“I—” Madara wetted his lips. He reached forward with one hand, but Tobirama fled.
He dimly heard Hashirama’s voice calling for a retreat, and Madara was left cold as he watched Tobirama go.
Tobirama with small breasts is adorable. Most of the time, these things don't matter. But every woman becomes doubtful when she faces a person whose opinion matters to her. I'd like to read the prompt where Madara first noticed that Tobirama wasn't wearing a bra. The thought must have haunted him and he felt like a pervert xD
Couldn't work on my other stuff today, and this was such a fun ask. So, I'm going to fulfill it now, and you can still ask for two more other prompts if you like for the holiday prompt. I won't count this one since I'm doing it now instead of in December.
Please excuse my errors as I'm half yolo-ing this tonight and posting.
-------ENJOY------------ [the initial fic this references is HERE]
Tobirama Senju was a woman.
Madara knew that.
However, he didn’t know it when they were young, and Tobirama looked just like any other boy. He didn’t know it when they were on the field, and Tobirama was a terrifying demon with armor and white fur around her neck.
But he knew now when Konoha settled into peace, and he knew now when Izuna couldn’t stop ranting about it, and yet somehow the fact that Tobirama was a woman still escaped him. Knowing Tobirama was a woman was just a fact, a tidbit of knowledge that meant very little to Madara when his entire focus was on getting his clan settled and the village built.
It wasn’t just a fact now.
Madara dry swallowed, trying very hard not to let his gaze wander. Because he was too close to Tobirama, in her line of sight, and he had dropped his papers. Dropped them over the table because he was tired, and now he was wide awake and alert because he didn’t expect for Tobirama to lean forward and pick them up for him. To be in the perfect angle for his eyes to look at the papers and have his eyes cross her chest and realize—
He ducked his head, thankful for the high collar of his clan’s customary mantle and that his long hair covered his ears. Because Madara had seen those two little peaks on Tobirama’s chest, the tell tale sign of her nipples hard and poking at fabric.
“Thank you,” Madara mumbled, and he couldn’t help his gaze. How his eyes dipped once more down to Tobirama’s chest, and it was unmistakable. That Tobirama wasn’t wearing any sort of thing beneath her clothes, and her breasts were—
“Clumsy, aren’t you?” Tobirama commented.
Madara jerked his eyes back up. “Uh…”
“We’re almost done here,” Tobirama continued, turning to address the room, and Madara nodded his head. She was leading the meeting today, doing an excellent job as usual. He also had no additional words to contribute, nothing when all he could think about was the fact that Tobirama’s breasts were bare and free beneath her shirt. That she was speaking up front, with her breasts in view just like that.
It was a stupid thing to be distracted by, especially considering the fact that Tobirama’s breasts weren’t the most endowed. As far as Madara could tell, Senju women weren’t lacking at all in that area of the body. Certainly, Senju women were more busty compared to a Uchiha woman, but Tobirama wasn’t part of that group despite being Senju. In fact, Tobirama was an oddity among her clan with her short white hair and bright red eyes. She carried an ethereal air to her compared to the grounding of the women in her clan. She was a special sort of beauty, and one that Madara could appreciate well especially with those red eyes similar to any Uchiha’s sharingan.
Except he was appreciating more than that now.
And Madara coughed, turning his head away, as he realized his eyes had drifted yet again. To see if he could spy another glimpse of those two little peaks. He was flushed, thinking about that fact. Sweaty as the time crawled the longer the meeting went, and all he could concentrate on was this. That this entire time Tobirama was just…just bare beneath her clothes, perhaps every single day even, and it wasn’t as if Tobirama did this on purpose, but Madara’s attention was utterly caught.
Somehow the size of her breasts was more alluring than anything else. The fact that Madara could see how her nipples strained against her shirt, even as petite as they were…
He wanted to cup those small breasts in his hands, feel the tiny weight of them. He wanted to know if those nipples were pink, and how pink were they. A hue like the softest rose or like the gentle pink of the sky with the setting sun? He wanted to know how hard those nipples could become from his touch, how much of her breast he could fit in his mouth. He had the distinct feeling that those small mounds of Tobirama suited her just fine, better than if she had been bigger like other Senju women were, and it was captivating to imagine it—
If he could get his mouth on Tobirama’s nipples, taste the sweetness of her skin, and if she might just arch so sweetly into his hold. How wet would she become if Madara played with her tits and—
Madara banged his knee against the table. He blushed, and he ducked his head again as if he could hide it. Tobirama raised an eyebrow at him, confused.
“I’m…we’re done. Right?” Madara stammered. His eyes skittered around to the rest of the room, and damningly back to Tobirama and those nipples.
“I just have a few more points to—”
“I need to go,” Madara said, and he cursed himself for letting his eyes slide again. Kami, those two points…
Tobirama frowned. “I’ll summarize the points and send them to you in the afternoon?”
“That works.” Madara stood, awkward, and he hoped to hell that his mantle covered the way he was hard in his pants. Excited from just seeing two little peaks. "Nara, I'll catch you later."
He strove to walk out with as much dignity as he could and without giving away the fact he had to leave just because he couldn't handle Tobirama's breasts.
Not that it matter because Madara Uchiha was fucked.
Because now that he knew, now that he was aware, he realized that Tobirama never seemed to wear anything beneath her shirt. That every time, when the weather was too cold or something was just aligned coincidentally, he could see Tobirama’s nipples. Madara swore he near combusted the day she came in wearing a thin white kendogi, one with a fabric thin enough that he was certain he could see the pinkness of her nipples—
He was a pervert.
A goddamn pervert who couldn’t stop staring at Tobirama’s breasts, and he was lucky that no one else seemed to have caught on. That he finally noticed that Tobirama Senju was a woman, a fairly attractive and intelligent one at that. One who was...he wanted to do unspeakable things to her. Wanted to get his hands on those breasts, get her wet and—
“Why the fuck are you staring at me?”
“Ahhh,” Madara said. “What?”
Tobirama narrowed her eyes. “You keep staring at me every meeting like I’m going to do something wrong.”
More like Madara wanted to do something wrong to her but—
“Am I?” Madara asked.
“Uchiha,” Tobirama said sternly.
“What if I say you were pretty?” The words came out before Madara could think. At least he didn’t say anything about her nipples, and goddamn. He could see them today.
Two wonderful peaks begging for attention, and Tobirama snorted. “You’re touched in the head, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” Madara protested. “I just want—”
He wanted to see those goddamn breasts.
“You want….” Tobirama prompted when he had trailed off.
“I want to court you,” and that was both true and the better thing to say than he wanted to get his mouth on her nipples.
Tobirama rolled her eyes. “Sure. Now, could we get back to—”
“I’m serious.” Madara took her hands, and this time he wasn't distracted by her breasts. He was focused on her face, at the disbelief in them, and he wanted her to know he did wanted to court her. That it was genuine.
“I—” Tobirama’s cheeks turned pink as she registered Madara’s words. “You don’t mean—”
“I do,” Madara said, cutting her off. “So, say yes. Please.”
There are characters you like but then there are characters you end up thinking about in the middle of the night with a cosmic ache in your chest because they resonate with you so much
Hiruzen conditioned Naruto. He was so hungry for love, acceptance and attention that he would do absolutely anything for this damned village. It's brainwashing.
I didn't know what to work on tonight, but as I looked through some old stuff I saved, I ended up with this instead of my actual wip.
This one is credited to @keanblade for the center idea and to @6miray6 as Miray talked to me about centers a while back and said: what if Madara finds out Tobirama is his center, and Tobirama's feelings aren't immediately reciprocated?
"I'm sure that many Uchiha clan member are wondering what will happen if their center doesn't reciprocate their feelings. It must be a terrifying possibility. No wonder the Uchiha want and fear meeting the center at the same time."
So, here is the beginning of that fic. I think I'll probably write this eventually too, but it's going to be a slow burn. Don't know when that will be. Also, I was reading game of the thrones fic, so I don't know if you see the influences in here or not, lmao.
Enjoy. [and yolo editing of course]
---
Dancing with Hashirama on the field is always the same. The way their swords clash, the way wood warp, and fire burn…it’s exhilarating to fight someone with equal skill and strength. For all that he hates how the Uchiha and Senju fight, he finds comfort in this. That he can meet Hashirama again and again, even if he cannot trust in the peace Hashirama so recklessly offers him on the field.
That when he crosses his blade with Hashirama, it’s almost freeing. He can almost forget the duties he holds to his clan, the duties he holds to his brother, the things that are required of him to ensure the Uchiha survive and continue for countless generations.
He is only Madara, and he dances across the field at ease with his opponent.
It is nothing new.
What is new is this—as Hashirama offers peace once more as if it’s easy. As if Madara didn’t have to contend with his clan and ease them towards the wanted peace. It should be enough that they stopped sending children to fight. It should be enough that the skirmishes between their clans have dwindled. It should be enough because Madara has tried so hard to set the pieces in place for a someday peace, but it isn’t.
Once more he has been unable to convince his brother whom Madara strives so hard to obtain peace for—and if he cannot convince his brother then what hope does Madara have to convince the elders and his clan?
And he fights harder than he normally does. Channels his rage into each blow, into the way fire crackled and hissed in the air. He despairs at this cycle, at how it continues, and he can’t find how to change it. He forgets to check himself, that Hashirama and him fought in sport, and he’s startled as Hashirama falls back.
Red eyes meet his, framed by white lashes fair and long, and they practically glow in an luminous way. Madara feels the way his vision sharpens, at his world narrowing and—
Madara stumbles back as he has never done.
“You—”
“Uchiha,” Tobirama Senju spits, and his sword is held high as Madara reaches forward with a hand to him.
“I—” Madara starts, and then roots spring up from the ground and shield Tobirama from his views. He hears Hashirama call a retreat, and Madara burns the wood. Through the flickering flames, the ashes floating in the air, he watches them retreat. He watches the way Tobirama Senju moves, swift and graceful away from him…
…and Madara collapses onto his knees.
His center.
Tobirama Senju is his center.
***
Hashirama’s brother holds no feelings for him, none that are charitable anyway. Madara is uncomfortably aware how much of a brute he must seem to the man, but he cannot change who is or what he has done. Many feared him, and it’s not surprising that Tobirama is the same.
Those red eyes watch him, wary and untrusting, even as their clans go back and forth, haggling the terms for a ceasefire. It’s not a peace yet, but it will be, and Madara knows the clan curses him so that he would do so selfishly.
“Every Uchiha has a right to love,” Madara states.
Elder Madoya scoffs. “You are not just any Uchiha, Madara-sama.”
“But an Uchiha,” Madara presses. “With all the rights of one.”
Elder Danro rubs his forehead, and even Elder Kemuri’s face is stumped. Centers were revered, a treasure, an once in a lifetime for an Uchiha. It was the alignment of two souls in such a manner to be one. A certainty that went beyond the mortal realm. All Uchiha dreams of having a center, but no one ever said what it would be to have a center your enemy.
“It’s reckless,” Elder Madoya says. “Do you know what you’re asking of the clan? You’re asking to put us at the mercy of the Senju. All because your center happens to be Tobirama Senju.”
“But what if it’s right?” Madara argues. “What if it’s meant to be. It’s the god’s way of saying that we must end this bloodshed.”
“He’s right,” Elder Kemuri says at last. “There is a reason why he is yours…but I cannot tell you if it good or bad, Madara-sama.”
“Let us try at least,” Madara says. “I should have a chance to try.”
Elder Madoya gnashes his teeth, fingers gripped tight upon his cane. “Madara-sama…”
And he relents.
It surprises Madara, and when he asks the man privately later…
“I watched my center die,” Elder Madoya says, quietly. “She too was an enemy. I understand your heart very well.”
His heart twinges, and he wants, but those red eyes don’t meet his because they don’t trust an Uchiha’s eyes. He does get an outcry.
“Marriage?’ Tobirama says, chakra flaring out cool, a sting of salt. “No. I won’t allow it. Not Touka, not my cousin.”
Madara tilts his head. “Marriage, yes, but not your cousin.”
Tobirama falters then. “Then, who—”
“You,” Madara says. “For this peace, I would have Tobirama Senju for spouse.”
The man splutters, confused by this stipulation, and his mouth snarls up. Tobirama Senju’s chakra cuts deeper than the sting of salt, a crushing wave in his fury as he digests the words. Too late Madara realizes the man must see it as a shackle, to cleave him from his brother, and the force of those eyes upon him are hateful.
“No,” Tobirama says. “What joke is this? I’m a man.”
And Madara knows. The Senju do not look kindly upon those outside of the traditional family ways. No one other than an Uchiha could comprehend how a center was everything, transcending sex.
“You are the only one qualified besides Hashirama,” Madara says. He won’t back down, and he knows it endears him not to the man who is his everything.
Tobirama’s temper flares once more, and Madara loves it even as it’s directed toward him.
“Uchiha, this—”
“Let us adjourn,” Hashirama interrupts, and he grasps his brother’s arm by the elbow, gentle and calm. He radiates the tranquility of the quiet forest, and Tobirama’s rage recedes in deference. Such a love and devotion to his brother, and Madara finds himself ugly with envy. That he hates how easily Hashirama soothes Tobirama.
“We will discuss this matter and let you know our thoughts,” Hashirama says.
“Of course,” Madara says.
He doesn’t have much hope, but he promises himself that he will woo Tobirama all the same.
***
Their marriage takes place on a day where the sky is darken black, and the rain soon falls after that heavy and thick.
It is an ominous start.
“Do not touch me,” Tobirama says, and Madara pauses for a moment before sliding the panel shut. He pushes his chakra into the seal there, and the walls of his room shimmer for a moment. Now with privacy upon them, Madara looks upon his spouse, the man has married, the one who is his center.
His heart beats hard, and Madara can hardly breathe because Tobirama is there in his bed. The man still has his white nagajuban on, and his white hair falls freely upon his forehead without the happuri in the way. Madara moves forward, and Tobirama flinches. Anyone less skilled would have missed it, but Madara is in tune to the way Tobirama moves and breathes. Attentive to all that his center does.
“I won’t,” Madara says, and he detours instead to the cabinet and the rack. He undoes his obi and pulls off his haori, drapes his clothes upon the rack. Tobirama’s tense, watching him, but Madara would have him willingly. Never coerced, not at all, except for the way they were married.
Tobirama stares at him, and his cheeks become a blotchy red as Madara strips down to his fundoshi. He averts his eyes, and Madara’s curious to know the shyness in that turn of face.
“Why?” Tobirama asks.
“Why you?” Madara asks, and he slips onto a yukata instead. His center looks small, kneeling there on the futon. Without that fur and armor, Tobirama is slimmer than he expected. Tall but slim, and he yearns to map out that body and see just how Tobirama is with his own hands and mouth. Except he does not have that right yet.
“Yes,” Tobirama says, and although he turns his head back to Madara his eyes still do not meet Madara’s. Avoids them as they have done since the times their clans have fought, leery of an genjutsu.
“Because you are everything to me,” Madara says, and he puts forth all the sincerity he has into it.
Tobirama snorts. “Fine. Keep your secret, but know this. I’m not a fool, husband.”
He isn’t, and Madara does not tell him of what a center is to an Uchiha. That there was a bind now between them, and Madara may well waste away before he could woo Tobirama or even turn those feelings Tobirama has towards affection.
“No, you’re not,” Madara says, and that pretty mouth frowns.
“Uchiha,” Tobirama hisses, and it’s clear he does not know what to make of Madara or this marriage.
“And why did you agree?” Madara asks in turn.
“My brother,” Tobirama says without hesitation, and the jealousy grows within Madara’s heart. He moves before he can think, and Tobirama brings an arm up—
“Rest assured, I won’t bed you,” Madara says, holding that wrist, so thin and bony in his hold. This is the first he has touched Tobirama so, and it sends a spark of joy within him to touch his center.
But the glare remains upon Tobirama’s face. “And I won’t let you. This depravity, the humiliation of marrying you—”
“Sleep,” Madara says, and he’s gentle to push Tobirama down. The man resists for a moment before relenting, and he immediately turns his back. He’s stiff and rigid, perhaps even more so after Madara blows out the candle with a whisper of chakra and a half seal. The wind sweeps over, ruffles that white hair, and Madara lies down himself too. He looks at Tobirama’s back.
His center is his enemy.
There is no love in Tobirama Senju’s eyes, and he wonders if there ever will be.
It's amazing. It promises to be quite a bit of angst before they get a happy ending. And Madara is this ridiculously jealous about Hashirama. And it will only get worse when Tobirama meets Kagami ^^
tobirama didn’t experiment on madara’s corpse. UGH!! hashirama wouldn’t ask his brother to handle his friend’s corpse if he suspected tobirama of being an uchiha obsessed fucked up scientist???
tobirama didn’t cut madara’s eyes out and he didn’t perform an autopsy or a research at all. he buried him in a fancy tomb, sealed him safe and left unmarked, probably so nobody would exploit his corpse
here madara comes back to life. his eyes are intact and there’s no sign of dissection on his body. there’s only dirt and battle scars. he spits out something that tobirama would have found easily, if only he did cut him open
Also the person who suggests that Tobirama did something to Madara’s body (or that he was actually the one to bury him to begin with) is Zetsu.
I don’t know about other readers, but to me Zetsu is an incredibly unreliable narrator. He’s also most definitely the type to lie for his own gain or to manipulate people, which makes me automatically question anything he says. He did it before, what’s stopping him from doing it again and again, and again?
Please show us more MadaTobi interactions from Chapter 18: MadaTobi - Hand from the "in other worlds" collection.
Couldn't think about working on bonanza, so doing a Passing Grade Prompt.
Thank you for the prompt @6miray6; also to @augustavradika since this was originally their idea.
Chapter 18 & 19
--------
He had a home with the Uchiha.
Tobirama sat on the rooftop, unable to quite comprehend it. He had a home with the Uchiha. It was not what he expected out of this treaty. He gave Madara both of his “hands”, and as the days of negotiations entered finalization he was not sure how to feel.
His emotions had been a mix of feelings initially, and he had cried quite embarrassingly in front of Madara. He lost his composure, realizing that he lost a hand for almost nothing, and then at the fact that Madara might not marry him. Tobirama could not begin to say how much fear and dread had filled him—at the fact that Madara took him away in full view of his clan. If he had not agreed to take Tobirama, he would have been cast out—clanless and vulnerable. Hashirama would not have been able to stop it because by clan law Tobirama was already given away to another clan. He was no longer a Senju.
Now, Tobirama stayed here. He lived with the Uchiha, and was reliant on their assistance. It was uncomfortable, but he had little choice as he still hadn’t quite mastered working with one hand. He couldn’t even call up a clone, unable to do the proper fingering and positioning needed. He was not as bad off as he had been when he started, but there was still a lack of grace to his actions. Tobirama could only be grateful it was just a hand and not a full limb.
And as he stared out over the Uchiha compound, Tobirama found no clarity to his feelings or thoughts. Madara was his spouse, and yet he had little interactions with the man aside from their duties related to the treaties and documents needed for peace. He had hoped…Madara had said he would have a home with him, but what that meant was unclear. It would be foolish to hope Madara meant home as Tobirama thought of—family to be there through good and bad, to hold and protect and cherish. Madara probably meant home quite literally, and Tobirama was too acutely aware of the language barriers they had suffered between the Senju and Uchiha. It was what led to this mess after all.
“How did you get up here?”
Tobirama turned. He had already sensed Madara’s return, but he didn’t quite realize that his chakra headed towards him.
“I lost a hand, not my legs,” Tobirama said. The words came out sharper than he intended, and he watched as Madara frowned.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” Tobirama said, waving, and he waved with his stump. Madara’s eyes settled onto it, and Tobirama immediately dropped it. He had not meant it to be a taunt or to—
“How is it?” Madara asked, and he knelt next to Tobirama. He gestured to the stump.
“Uh, fine.” Tobirama couldn’t help his glance down at it. The stump had healed well, but considering how everyone looked he still wrapped the end of it out of sight.
“May I?” Madara reached, and Tobirama allowed him with some hesitation. Madara unwrapped it, and Tobirama winced. He had never seen his own stump quite so clearly in the day, and now it was exposed for Madara’s eyes.
“It’s…it has healed,” Tobirama said, tugging his arm back. He cradled it against his chest.
“I’m glad. There’s less scarring than I had imagined.”
“Anija knows how to make a clean cut. He was swift.” Tobirama shifted, and Madara’s arm was around his waist in an instant.
“Careful,” Madara said, voice in Tobirama’s ear, warm and low. “You wouldn’t want to fall, would you?”
“I won’t,” and Tobirama hadn’t been this close to Madara since that day. Since he cried in those arms, and now he had the searing warmth of Madara pressed against his side. Had that arm around his waist, tight and secure. He looked down, feeling sudden heat on his cheeks. “I…I’m sure I can get down.”
“Hmm,” Madara hummed. “Perhaps. You have done well with a single hand thus far, but I do not mind helping you should you need it. You only need to ask.”
Tobirama swallowed. “Thank you. I will keep that in mind.”
He had tried not to ask Madara for help. It would be too much of a burden for a clan head, and he was already aware of how busy Madara was.
“Please do,” Madara said, and Tobirama instinctively turned his head to how heavy those words were said.
“I…” Tobirama blinked. Madara was truly close to him, enough that their faces almost touched.
“You are my mine,” Madara continued. “I want to help you where I can. No spouse of mine should have to struggle.”
“Don’t, don’t worry about that,” Tobirama said hastily. “You are clan head, and these negotiations are time consuming. I have been well.”
“Are you?” Madara asked, and Tobirama couldn’t escape how dark those eyes were searching his face. “You have lost much in these efforts for peace, and I have not been available to assure you of your place here. I’m not unaware how difficult it is for you to leave your home for mine, but I hope that you will consider this home one day. That your home is with me.”
“You…” Tobirama took a deep breath. It relieved him to hear that, to know that Madara had thought similar things. That his questions about what Madara meant by home was answered without him asking. “You are more astute than I thought, Madara-sama. I had wondered what my place with you would be. We have not even shared a bed.”
To his surprise, Madara’s face turned red. “I…that would be inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?”
“We are not wed yet,” Madara said, and his face was redder still. “Your clan may have given you to me, but we still have yet to marry by Uchiha tradition.”
“Oh,” Tobirama said, softly.
“I did not bring it up as I thought, well, you need time to adjust. It is not easy after so many years of war. You might think us still your enemy,” Madara explained further.
Tobirama turned to face Madara more fully. “I may have once, and I’m uncertain about the rest of your clan, but you…you are my spouse. You have shown me more kindness than I had thought.”
“Well…” Madara cleared his throat. “That’s…it pleases me to hear that.”
And Tobirama sat there with Madara on the roof as the sun went down. Madara was steady to lean upon, and it was…he still didn’t know what to make of everything, but he was certain it would be fine with Madara.
Kageyama furrowed his brows before finally opening his eyes. He confusedly stared up at Iwaizumi’s face that was looming before him. Cocking his head, Kageyama whispered, “Iwaizumi-san?”
“Good morning, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi greeted, looking a tad bit sad that Kageyama had awoken. Glancing over at Akaashi who had his phone ready, Iwaizumi leaned down and pressed light kisses against both of Kageyama’s eyelids. 6 points for me, Iwaizumi thought proudly.
