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Experiments, Ego, and Expectations

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“Would you stop squirming already?”

“I’m not squirming. You’re taking too long.”

Izuna gnashes his teeth together so hard he probably cracks a tooth or two.

“Fucking Senju—I swear I’ll shove this damn kunai in your heart; I’ve got such a lovely view of it right here!”

Izuna takes a deep breath before continuing his carving. He would have his name on Tobirama or so help him he’ll kill the stupid pale bastard himself!

Red eyes bore into his face and Izuna would like to think he paints an intimidating figure, perched on top of Tobirama brandishing a kunai and sharingan whirling. Heh, take that, stupid Senju!

Tobirama created a seal, jutsu—whatever the fuck it is—to let Izuna open his chest and carve his name into his ribs and each stroke is a victory. For as much as Tobirama certainly seems against his being here, Izuna knows the truth, can see it in Tobira’s face, can feel it in the hardness rubbing against him.

That’s okay; Izuna’s hard too.

And once Izuna’s name is fully carved into those ribs that somehow have more color than Tobira’s actual skin—then they can take care of their little problems.

The door flies open and it takes every ounce of shinobi training Izuna has not to fling the kunai at—

Fucking Hashirama.” Izuna growls and really, at this point, his teeth are well and truly fucked with how hard he grinds them together.

“I—but—what?—Tobi?—I can’t—”

Hashirama’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his hand even comes up to his forehead, and he lands hard. So much for the all mighty mokuton. If Izuna had known all he had to do to bring down the God of Shinobi was to crack open his little brother’s chest while grinding on him then—well, he’d probably be dead if he attempted this before the whole peace and village thing.

He feels Tobira’s large inhale under his kunai before the most put-upon sigh comes out. Izuna pauses for a moment longer, just to make sure the floorboards aren’t going to maim him, before cheerfully going about ignoring the large lump of man by the door.

His Tobira is much more interesting and he’s got a task that he needs to complete.

Preferably before Aniki comes to look for said large lump of man.

Which, coincidentally, happens exactly two minutes after Hashirama faints.

Izuna looks at his Aniki with nothing short of wild, frenzy eyes. He even notices Tobira’s glare. Good.

Madara takes a moment to process the scene laid out in front of him. Then another moment.

“I don’t want to know.” He finally states and grips Hashirama around the ankle and starts dragging him out.

There’s a large thud when Hashirama’s huge ass head hits the frame of the door and a grunt when Madara has to pull a little harder to get Hashirama unlodged. The terrible frowning visage permanently etched onto Madara comes into view again.

“There’s a meeting in half an hour that you need to be at, Tobirama.”

And then Madara clicks the lock and slides the door shut as he leaves, mumbling about what the fuck did I just see?

“Half an hour’s not enough time.” Izuna whines.

“Then I suggest you carve faster.”

“I’d like to see you try and carve into bone with a kunai.”

“I told you I had a better tool, but you—”

“Said it’s more symbolic with the stupid kunai, I know!” Izuna cuts Tobira off. “I can’t multitask! This is shit! Fucking Aniki, fucking Hashirma, fucking meeting.”

Izuna grinds down again and really, it’s a miracle they’re both still wearing pants. And suddenly there’s a cool hand on his pants, undoing laces and tugging and—

Yesss.” Izuna hisses as Tobira touches him lightly. It’s not truly enough—it’s never enough with his Tobira—but then he frees his own cock and it’s hot, wet in a slick way from the clear fluid from Tobira and so, so good.

Izuna takes a moment to let the feeling wash over him. Because here he is, grinding into Tobira’s hand as it fists over them both, with Tobira’s chest flayed open and his name already half carved into the bones.

With renewed vigor—not at all caring about the time limit Aniki set, he’s just horny and wants to finish marking what’s his—Izuna finally drags and scrapes his kunai to complete his name in the white that covers Tobira’s heart.

He lets the kunai drop beside them and then he runs his finger gently over the lettering, admiring all the jagged edges and deep gouges in the bone. There’s a pause in the strokes, as Tobirama lifts a hand to find his own. And then Tobirama is tracing the lettering, too. And that’s. That’s so fucking hot that Izuna can’t be faulted for shuddering with his release, because that’s his mark, and only him and Tobira will ever see this mark.

(He’ll flay open anyone who dares to even think about seeing the mark.)

The dark, possessive want must show terribly on his face, because then Tobirama, with a small groan and a flex of his fingers, finishes.

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“Remember when I almost ran you through with my sword?”

Izuna valiantly attempts to hold onto his composure as Tobirama whispers in his ear as he thrusts into him. He manages a weak whimper at a particularly brutal thrust. It’s dumb, because of course he remembers and he knows that Tobira knows that so why—

“Remember Madara’s face when he thought I actually ran you through?”

Izuna bites down on his lip hard enough that he bleeds but he can’t, he won’t give in, it’s not fair how easily he falls to putty in Tobira’s hands—it’s not fair—

“I bet we could paint the spare room that color: that wonderful shade of violet your older brother turned.”

He can’t do it.

Izuna howls with laughter.

He laughs, and Tobirama is right there, thrusting into him and laughing along with him because Izuna had never seen Aniki turn that shade before and it was so damn fun to poke fun at him for it.

“Remember”—Izuna sucks in deep breaths to try and catch his breath—“Remember Hashirama and when he—”

Tobirama’s pained groan cuts him off. And then Tobirama snakes his cheater hand between them and Izuna allows himself to be distracted from stupid, overbearing older brothers for the rest of the night.

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Madara really, really, really hates being an older brother sometimes. He hates it almost more than being the Clan Head, since at least the Elders have to agree to disagree with him. But not Izuna. Never Izuna.

Fuck whatever he just saw, he’s never getting the image of Izuna with his grubby little paws on Tobirama’s bare ribcage out of his head—ever.

Fuck himself, for that matter, for putting that stupid idea in Izuna’s head that he could ask for this, that it wasn’t such an impossible thing for Izuna to want.


(Izuna had been miserable for days, and Madara had had enough.

“Izuna, really, what the fuck.” Madara grimaced because how else was he supposed to broach this topic that includes feelings without breaking into hives?

“Aniki!” Izuna wailed, and Madara really loathed to admit where he learned to be that loud. “It’s not fair that Hashirama got a tattoo!”


“What.” He’s pretty sure he’d know if his best friend got a fucking tattoo but—

“He got Mito’s name stamped and it’s not fair because some people can’t do that.”

It took Madara a pitifully long time to parse the actual reason why Izuna is upset.

“Why not just tattoo your name on Tobirama?” He asked bluntly, because how else would he get through to his dumb idiot of a little brother?

Izuna mumbled as he flushed something fierce and oh. It’s on now.

“Oho? What’s this? You’ll need to speak up, Izuna.” He let a large smirk play on his face as the red seeped further onto Izuna’s.

“I said”—Izuna huffed and puffed as he worked through whatever sort of embarrassment he’s going through—“not until I find a way to open his chest up and put my mark right next to his heart so it lasts forever.”

Madara . . . hadn’t actually known that Izuna had such a dark, possessive force behind the idiot and smiles front. Well, fuck, no wonder his past relationships were never serious. Not when he’s been harboring a hatecrush that flipped into a whatever with Senju Tobirama. He looked away, uncomfortable that he’s about to aid his little brother. But it’s his duty to help him.

“Well, I’m sure Tobirama could come up with something to, ah, make that possible?” Madara hated how his reluctance and skepticism shone through. Ugh, he could feel the hives starting.

“Holy shit”—Izuna paused so long Madara actually started to think that he broke—“Why didn’t I think of that!?”

And then Izuna was off like a shot, leaving Madara standing there, wondering just how big an idiot his little brother actually is.)


Two weeks; Madara got two weeks to forget that incident because helping run a damn village with Hashirama leading it is a full fucking time job. And so he’d forgotten all about how he just, gave Izuna the power to make this morbid fantasy real.

(And oh, how that burns, seeing Izuna drooling over that pale devil.)

But he went into the room anyways, even feeling Tobirama’s chakra with his little brother’s. The door’s open; normally that means it’s safe to enter the room.

Perhaps it was Hashirama, laying flat out on the ground in what looks like a most awkward position. Perhaps it was the fact that Izuna was perched atop that little pale Senju. Or maybe, shockingly, it was the fact that said pale Senju had his skin peeled back in a macabre display and his little brother had a damn kunai in hand.

So yeah, he does the most sensible thing there is to do, when faced with Izuna’s crazed look—sharingan whirling menacingly— and Tobirama’s icy glare: grab Hashirama and pretend like this is just something that happens.

Because between the Senju and his own clan, this practically is just something that happens. Fucking crazy, every last one of his clansmen—and the Senju. Well, maybe except for—no, no, everyone. No exceptions.

So yeah, he hauls ass, only remembering at the last moment to oh so kindly remind Tobirama of the meeting and lock the damn door on his way out.

He may as well tell everyone to show up tomorrow; Hashirama is going to be damn near inconsolable and Madara doesn’t even want to think about what their little brothers are up to. Fuck.

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Hands trail up Izuna’s chest and he moans into the scant space between him and Tobirama. With Tobirama on his lap, Izuna’s hands firmly on his hips, he can think of a few ways this night will turn out much, much better.

He’s pawing at Tobirama’s smooth, pale skin as soon as his shirt’s off, and his breath catches at how utterly delectable the Senju looks. Tobirama’s gaze is uncharacteristically avoidant, shy almost, and Izuna feels a surge of pride that he’s the one to make the great White Devil so meek atop him.

He pulls Tobirama closer, wanting—no, needing—to feel Tobirama submit to him, to give him everything he has—like he always has. He nearly growls when Tobirama breaks their heated kiss in order to lean closer to his ear. Izuna takes great pleasure in biting down on that pale, pale throat to leave his mark.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

And that’s another thing, damn Tobirama and his weird ass ability to hold a level tone while flushed and writhing. Because now it’s so hard for Izuna to even carry out a civil conversation with him without popping an awkward boner.

“And what, tell me, needs to be said right now?” Izuna hopes it’s not another idea he wants Izuna to remember for after they’re done. (Because Izuna had to ban paper and ink from the bedroom—Tobirama really needed to stop writing notes while they were making out.)

“All those flashy jutsu—I only invented them to fight you.”


Izuna makes a strangled, half-sob noise and pulls Tobirama’s hips down just a little bit, just to get the friction to ride out his orgasm.

Because fuck.

Naturally Tobirama would just tell him that his genius only came about because of him. Why did Izuna think that when it finally, finally came down to having sex that it would be somewhat of a normal affair? What possessed Izuna to think that?

And then his bliss starts creeping into mortification, a flush that burns all the way to the tip of his ears and oh fuck Tobirama just made him cum in his pants—!!

Tobirama makes a questioning sound and pulls back but Izuna simply whimpers and ducks his head, futilely trying to claw the Senju back onto him to cover up. Maybe if he just doesn’t say anything—

“Oh, did you ejaculate already?”

Izuna is going to die. His brain is going to liquefy and fall out his ears because what the fuck. And, to make matters worse, Tobirama speaks again.

“Why are you embarrassed? I thought the point of sexual touching was to find release.”

The most terrible, awful part about it all is that he genuinely sounds confused. Another gurgle makes it’s way past Izuna’s throat because fucking Senju Tobirama has no idea how sex is supposed to work!

Izuna catches Tobirama open his mouth again and Izuna is so, so desperate to make him stop talking that he does the first thing he can think of, which, naturally, is screech at high volume the most horrible thing he can think of with as much of the Uchiha bluster as he can salvage (which is quite a lot).


There’s silence following his loud, loud, declaration, and Izuna wonders, briefly, how far that actually traveled. He gets an answering screech that tells him it, at the very least, went to the other side of the house, where Madara is.


Izuna muffles his laughter into Tobirama’s shoulder. He’s never really reached the same screech level as Madara, but it always makes him laugh because he can simply picture the steam coming out his ears as it reaches ungodly pitches.

Maybe he should allow paper back in the bedroom—if only for the silencing seals Tobirama could put up.

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“Well,” Izuna huffs, “my father pat me on the head when I learned the Great Fireball jutsu.”

Tobirama squints at him. Ha, Izuna’d like to see the stupid Senju top that!

There’s a long, long pause, and Izuna starts to smirk because he’s finally, finally going to win this time! Ha! Beat that, Senju Butsuma! Uchiha Tajima was a better father!

But the feeling of victory quickly turned to dread as Izuna watches the pinched look melt from Tobirama’s face. No. No! There’s no way!

“My father—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!”

“—told me my sensory skills—”


“—were an asset—”


“—to the clan.” Tobirama finishes with a sharp smile full of teeth.


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Izuna always thought that soulmate stories were the best. Two people sleeping and seeing glimpses of their destined other half and eventually finding each other through looking through their other half’s eyes. It’s romantic and appeals to every romantic bone in Izuna.

He was definitely not prepared for the reality of having a soulmate.

Izuna’s soulmate is boring. However, watching your soulmate do boring stuff sure beats sharingan-induced nightmares, so really, zoning out while deft hands write out really complicated notes and patterns is the lesser of two evils.

It’s rare for Izuna to catch glimpses of places he could try and place—annoys him enough because at least he’s trying to meet up with his soulmate, one would think that his soulmate didn’t want to meet him! The one time he did catch something it was just trees. But his soulmate was running through them so quickly that Izuna just knew that his soulmate must be a shinobi too. Good. Izuna didn’t want a weak soulmate.

It never really crossed Izuna’s mind that his soulmate might actually be avoiding him until he’s suffering from a nasty fever and Madara all but ties him down to his bed and extracts a promise from him while he goes to battle with the Senju. His fever wins over his anxiety and he winds up seeing the battlefield regardless. It’s terrifying in a visceral way as he watches himself tear apart his own clansmen with speed he could only hope to one day possess. It’s terrifying—then it all goes dark and he doesn’t quite know whether to be thankful or not. He wakes up with tears in his eyes and isn’t ashamed to cling to his aniki when he comes to check on him.

He can’t get his nightmare out of his head, and he doesn’t really want to think about whether it really was a nightmare or—or his soulmate. Izuna’s breath catches. It’s never something he’s truly given much thought to; who his soulmate is. It’s not like he went around spending time sleeping at weird times to try and look more into his soulmate’s life. Why would he, when his soulmate seems to always be up at night? (One would think that being up at night means they’d sleep through the day. Or did his soulmate really just not need sleep at all?)

(That would mess up his sleep cycles so much it wouldn’t even be funny.)

He can’t bring himself to ask Madara who didn’t make it back to confirm his sinking suspicions.

This whole soulmate business just got a lot more complicated.

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Izuna bursts into the room where Hashirama, his aniki, and just the very person he’s after is in.

“Izuna—?” At any other time, the fact that Izuna woke Hashirama up from where he was, apparently, napping on his desk would involve lots and lots of laughter. But there’s more pressing matters than the ink splotches covering Hashirama’s face.




Tobirama very, very nonchalantly raises his fist and places it into his other palm. Too nonchalantly. Izuna’s eyes narrow and he mirrors his stance with a grim-set face, ignoring the questioning Hashirama and grumbling Madara in the background. He needs to focus.

Doton, Katon, Suiton is very, very serious business and requires his full attention.

Especially since he’s never one a single match against Tobirama. Izuna prefers to throw Katon, and Tobirama Suiton, but Izuna doesn’t know whether it’s because he prefers Katon that Tobirama always throws Suiton, or whether Tobirama knows that Izuna knows and therefore always throws Suiton because he’s trying to psyche Izuna out but—

Izuna would never throw Suiton because that’s just not his Thing and Izuna thinks Tobirama knows, just like Izuna knows that Tobirama would never throw Katon, but maybe if Izuna throws Doton then that’ll give—no!

Tobirama definitely knows that Izuna knows that the moment he throws a Doton he’s lost even if he wins because he was the one to have had to change it up—

They smack their palms three times and then form their signs.




“Always with the Katon, Izuna.”

Izuna lunges.

Chapter Text

“Quit it.” Madara grumbles as he feels the betrayed, soulful puppy eyes of Hashirama land on him again.

He lasts two more signatures before he sighs and, with great reluctance, raises his head to meet those stupid brown eyes.


“No, Hashirama, they’re grown ass adults”—for as much as Madara hates to admit that—“they can do whatever the fuck they want.” Even if that includes, apparently, carving their names into each others’ bones. He suppresses a shudder.

Hashirama’s gloom spreads and he lays his head down on his desk as he wails.

“Anija, have you signed—”


“Don’t call me that.”

“Are you okay? Do you need me to heal you? I think I should heal you. Come here and let your Anija heal you—nooo! Tobi!”

Madara watches on in some twisted sense of satisfaction that is Hashirama trying to come around the desk to grab Tobirama while the man simply walks along the other side of the desk and snatches up the paperwork and by the time they’ve made a full circle Tobirama’s already walked out the door.

Slipping out while Hashirama has another crying fit is pathetically easy, and Madara really tries not to remember that this is the chosen leader of this stupid village. But that’s a battle for another day, for now, he’s following the calm deep smooth chakra of Tobirama’s as it walks towards the crisp wispy swirling chakra of Izuna’s. Madara doesn’t even try and conceal his presence and just hopes they spare him—

Madara turns the corner and grimaces, because he really doesn’t want to see his little brother trying to stick his whole tongue down Tobirama’s throat thank you very much. He catches Izuna’s eye as the deliberate show of affection finishes and entertains the idea of kicking his ass during their next spar, but, at the current moment, he’s not actually Madara’s target. So he lets his gaze blink towards his real target.

Izuna sighs loudly and pecks one last kiss to Tobirama’s lips before wandering off, mumbling, “ . . . can’t even get five minutes alone.”

And—no. Madara won’t even go there. Not if he wants to try and keep his temper in check for this next conversation. Dutifully ignoring the lingering looks Tobirama is giving his little brother, he waits until Izuna’s chakra toddles off to a respectable distance before even attempting to open his mouth.

“Hurt him and I’ll hurt you—painfully.” That’s . . . entirely the opposite of how he wanted to start this conversation.

“A bit late for a shovel talk, isn’t it?” Tobirama and his infuriating eyebrow taunt him.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” And really, truly, Madara doesn’t want to remember that scene, nor think that it might have happened again.

A sharp, almost barking laugh startles out of Tobirama and Madara pauses, taking the time to truly look at him. There’s a different air about him, one that seems to be linked to his little brother, apparently.

“He’s too good for you.” He snarls, because this is Tobirama! He’s tried to kill Izuna so many times and very nearly succeeded.

“I know.”

The softly spoken non-sequitur halts Madara’s building rage in its tracks. In its place, Madara scrutinizes Tobirama heavily. There doesn’t seem to be any micro-expressions that he can see that point towards dishonesty. It’s only when he meets Tobirama’s gaze that he realizes his sharingan is on, and he’s meeting Tobirama’s gaze.

He could do it. He could erase any thought of Izuna from Tobirama’s mind right now. Could make Tobirama hate Izuna, go stab himself like he tried to do to Izuna. He should do it.

But no. Tobirama just met his gaze for the first time, for Izuna. And in the face of either such stupidity or bravery he snarls a bitter curse under his breath and does nothing.

“I take it I’ve given you sufficient evidence of my loyalties.” Tobirama just states, like he doesn’t already know what Madara was thinking, just states like he didn’t fear getting his memories with Izuna stripped away from him.

“It’s enough.” Madara finally says, unwilling to think about his stupid, foolishly stupid, little brother and his poor choice for a partner any longer.

As he walks away, he senses a stir in Tobirama’s chakra, and once again reminds himself:

It’s enough.

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“Alright, what’s got you so upset?” Tobirama sets his brush down and looks at him.

“What makes you say I’m upset? I’m not upset! You’re upset!” Izuna blabs, irritated at being called out so quickly. Stupid Senju!

There’s a beat of silence as they stare at each other, and then Tobirama sighs.

“Even if your chakra wasn’t the equivalent of a pot about to boil over, there’s the fact that you’re here—in my office.”

Izuna pouts and tries to find the willpower to continue being all huffy. It’s hard when Tobirama uses logic on him. Because Izuna pretty much never seeks Tobirama out while he’s working unless he’s upset about something—and he sure is upset about something!

“You went out with that stupid Yamanaka earlier today.” Izuna spits out with extra venom. Tobirama is his and he knows—hopes—that Tobirama isn’t going to pull away from him.

It’s really stupid, but Izuna can’t help but compare himself to everyone Tobirama so much as looks at for longer than three seconds and he’s had plenty of time to come to terms that he’s nowhere close to Hashirama or Madara in terms of raw power. He’s not emasculated by them . . . most days. But that’s really because Hashirama is Tobirama’s brother, and he knows Madara hates Tobirama’s guts (and he’s really, truly confirmed from Tobirama that the feeling’s quite mutual—to his immense satisfaction).

But some stupid blonde who thinks they’re all that because they simply have a few party jutsu up their sleeves? Feh!

(Izuna knows that he can’t keep up with Tobirama’s mind, and it stings when they talk and Tobirama pauses to think of a “better way to put it” so Izuna can understand.)

But he knows what he saw: Tobirama, eating lunch with a Yamanaka and talking with them. And not just stupid small talk, but jutsu talk that had details that made Izuna’s head spin. If it weren’t for the fact that Aniki would be pretty damn disappointed in him if he murdered the Yamanaka representative, he would do it. He still might, consequences be damned.

(They don’t need those twitchy mindfuckers in their village. Especially when they’re hitting on taken men. Specifically his taken man.)

“Izuna,” Tobirama starts in that tone of voice that Izuna hates, the one that says he’s being unreasonable—which he is not—“I had lunch to discuss the benefits of having the Yamanaka clan join the village.”

“Benefits!”—That’s it! Izuna’s had enough!—“What benefits? The whole time she was talking with you! You don’t talk jutsu with just anyone and—”

Izuna cuts himself off when Tobirama’s amused expression comes out.

“Fuck off, stupid Senju! I can’t believe that you’d do that to me! No! Don’t come any closer, I don’t want your pity! I’ll bite you! Fucking—fuck!”

Izuna surrenders ungracefully to the smothering that Tobirama forces upon him. He does bit Tobirama, quite forcefully, but even sporting a new, bleeding bite, Tobirama still doesn’t yield his ridiculous hold on him.

“It was a business lunch,” Tobirama calmly states, “and having the Yamanaka here would mean that the Nara and Akimichi would join up too.”

“You still didn’t have to go all jutsu theory on her.”

Tobirama huffs a quiet laugh and Izuna bristles.

“Enough, Izuna. I’m not laughing at you; no one else could even come close to replacing you, so stop worrying.”

He lets that sentence ring in his mind, lets it sink in and take root before responding.

“I’m not worrying”—it’s the principle of the thing, Izuna is definitely not worrying—“but there’s really no one else?”

Tobirama pulls back to shoot him a confused look.

“Who else would there be?”

“No one! No one!” Izuna chirps happily and nuzzles into Tobirama’s neck. His mood has completely flipped around now, maybe he can get some action for his troubles of coming all the way here to Tobirama’s office. He does have some nice fantasies that would probably be much better acted out.

Izuna can still feel Tobirama’s lingering confusion through his hesitant touches to Izuna’s back, but right now Izuna’s too happy to clear that up.

Tobirama is his!

Chapter Text

Tobirama isn’t surprised at all when he and Izuna start getting stared at more. After all, it was Hashirama who walked in on them. He’d be more surprised if all of Konoha didn’t know what went on by the end of the week. Idly he considers whether it’s too late or not to enter the betting pool that Mito must have going.

By the third day of a noticeable increase in staring, Tobirama starts to get annoyed. No one, not even Touka, has asked him one single question. Now, Tobirama concedes that he may not be the most . . . approachable of people, especially with Izuna at his side as he normally is, but still. Curiosity tends to be a very good motivator, and people are curious, otherwise they wouldn’t be staring.

He would answer any questions about the justu he used if only they would ask him. He’s growing ever more confused and tired at all the stares that go from Izuna, to him, to his chest, and then back to a preening Izuna. Even the shinobi don’t bother hiding their fascination.

Tobirama simply wishes they’d ask instead of just staring.

Perhaps they’re shy, and unaware of how Tobirama already prepared a list of answers to common questions he might encounter. (If anyone would actually ever bother to ask him.)

So he stares back, waiting.

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Tobirama is first and foremost, a person of science. He enjoys the thrill of challenges and mysteries and figuring them out. Which is why he listened to stories of soulmate bonds and promptly was disgusted about how little empirical data there was.

(Did no one think to write down how long their nights were, how long their soulmates looked through their eyes? What about mirrors or reflective surfaces? Could their soulmates see independently or were they forced to look at exactly the same thing their soulmate was looking at?)

Nobody seems to care except for him and he never voiced his questions because he didn’t want it known he’d had his first soulmate dream. Primarily because Hashirama would most definitely give him The Look and he’d end up spilling his guts to him. One day he’ll be immune to those guilt-stricken eyes and fake tears but today is not that day.

So he lies by omission.

If he never is around when people are discussing their soulmate dreams, no questions about soulmates usually reach him. (Of course, no one really asks him questions on frivolous things like soulmates—not when he’s a shinobi and there are more important things to think about.)

Tobirama knew his soulmate was an Uchiha since his first daytime crash from a three day binge when he created his water dragon jutsu. He was devastated when he woke up and recalled the red eyes with black flecks in them from his soulmate’s clansmen. His following thought after the initial can’t tell anyone else, was simple: I can’t hand the Uchiha any jutsu.

So he tackles his—bond—like an enemy (it is an enemy) and creates a battle of attrition where he learns to code his notes, his experiments, to the point of being so unrecognizable that sometimes it takes him days to unwind it all if he steps away for any length of time. He also took the time to figure out when exactly his soulmate seems to sleep most. Because the next best thing than coding his notes is to make sure the coding isn’t necessary in the first place and sleep at the same time as his soulmate.

Unfortunately, it seems, his enemy enjoys sleeping during his most productive hours.

How annoying.

After determining that his enemy does really, in fact, sleep on a set, regular pattern that doesn’t seem to deviate (he makes a note that he really should find out why) he turns to more adventurous testing.

Like tonight, where he’s going to spend the next six hours and seventeen minutes talking about how the Naka river turns purple when someone throws a broom into it. (Figuring out why his enemy seems to fall asleep almost as soon as the sun sets and wakes with the sunrise is still on his to-do list.) But he has until sunrise to stare at the side of his workshop and say his piece.

He needs to know whether sounds pass through whatever bond he has.

Chapter Text

Tobirama faces a dilemma each and every time the Senju battle against the Uchiha. He knows better than to hope that his soulmate isn’t a shinobi—and to hope that they’re good enough to evade his blade. He’s somewhat, begrudgingly, thankful that Izuna seems to be his equal on the battlefield and spare him the lingering doubts each time he goes for a killing strike.

(He really doesn’t want to care for his soulmate. But even he’s not immune to all the lovey-dovey stories that get shared around the compound. It’s illogical and makes absolutely no sense—but to think, to believe, that there’s a person who would understand him, even better than his own anija? Than Touka? His traitorous heart skips at the thought.)

So during the few hours of sleep he gets that doesn’t overlap with his soulmate’s, he watches. Because after the first battle with the Uchiha and his subsequent panic that he may have cut down his soulmate (and wouldn’t that be his luck) he supposes he should at least figure out who they are, so he can make sure they stay alive. Not that he could ever be with them, not with Father still as clan head. But the thought that they live is a pleasing one.

Tobirama learns that his soulmate starts his days with an almost meditative stretching. There’s only brief glances as they’re stretching, since apparently they like to keep their eyes mostly closed—but they do the stretches outside, in the very early morning light.

The first piece of identifying material he sees—asides from that they are Uchiha—is all he needs to identify his soulmate. In particular, he sees a familiar face that he never, ever wishes to see up close: Madara. And by the way his soulmate is so obviously clinging to him, it must be a close relative.

Dread pools and freezes in his chest, because that would mean—

Well, Tobirama thinks wryly, at least he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally killing his soulmate if he’s always the one battling him.

Chapter Text

Tobirama should have known the moment he realized Izuna wasn’t on the battlefield and sharpened his senses to feel him back in the Uchiha compound. He should have realized that only being on death’s door either injured or sick, would keep Izuna away. And that would mean he could be sleeping, could be watching. So when Tobirama felt the quiver and steel of terror in Izuna’s chakra, Tobirama felt stupid. Because his soulmate was watching him cut down his own clansmen. After the shocking realization, Tobirama had closed his eyes and pulsed his chakra out towards Hashirama, feigning injury in order to pull the battle to a close.

That was all fine, and he used a jutsu to induce sleep in order to see, and what he did confirmed what he felt. The vision was blurry, with tears, as the fuzzy image of Madara fills it. Tobirama had scared his soulmate—no, had terrified him. And he feels shame, because he feels like he’s wronged his soulmate on such a deep level.

When he wakes from his customary post-battle power nap, he’s greeted by Hashirama’s worried face.

“Father’s been asking how you’re doing.”

“And what did you tell him?” Because Hashirama wouldn’t find any injury that needed healing, would know that he feigned an injury. Father would be incensed, and Tobirama doesn’t look forward to his punishment. (After all, with Izuna off the field, Tobirama was doing a very good job on cutting down the Uchiha.)

“I told him that you’d be fine by tomorrow.”

Tobirama looks away. Father would accept that; Hashirama will want answers. And sure enough, Hashirama speaks again.

“How long have you known?”

For as much as Hashirama acts and talks like an idiot, Tobirama knows he’s not stupid. Hashirama simply gets distracted easily and never responded well to any disciplinary actions. The best thing you could do with Hashirama is point in a direction and hope something over there catches his attention. But it looks like Tobirama didn’t distract him enough, since clearly he’s figured it out.

“A while,” Tobirama admits, barely above a whisper, “and today—”

His words get stuck in his throat as he remembers the feeling of terror in Izuna’s chakra, of the blurry vision and how he clung to Madara.

“—today he was terrified.”

Tobirama watches as a look of understanding forms on Hashirama’s face.

“Oh, Tobi.”

It speaks volumes that Tobirama doesn’t respond to that and simply allows himself to be swept up into a comforting hug. Hashirama’s petting his hair and humming (both nervous ticks of his that Tobirama usually responds by telling him that he’s not a cat, Anija, go find one and stop bothering me), but today Tobirama lets it happen.

“You can’t tell Father.” Tobirama pleads, only on this side of panic by Hashirama’s soothing.

“Of course, of course”—Hashirama pulls back and grips Tobirama’s face firmly between his palms—“Don’t worry about Father, Tobirama. Anija will take care of everything.”

Chapter Text

News of Senju Butsuma’s death spread on the coattails of Uchiha Tajima’s death. Tobirama watches Hashirama and his innocent face hold up to the Elder’s scrutiny. For all that some of the Elders squint and frown, ultimately none of them say a word against Hashirama becoming Clan Head.

(Tobirama tries to remind himself that it’s a simple coincidence yet his ingrained shinobi training vehemently states there’s no such thing as coincidence.)

So Tobirama simply lets the issue go, for once in his life. Because some things are better off not knowing.

(He can’t deny that something warm spreads in his chest when he does think about what his Anija may or may not have done for him.)

No one is, in any way, surprised when the first thing Hashirama does as Clan Head is send a missive for peace to the Uchiha.

What surprises everyone, excluding Tobirama, is that he chooses Tobirama to deliver said missive.

Tobirama bears the stares and tries not to feel bad when the yelling starts and everyone questions Hashirama. It’s not Hashirama’s fault that Tobirama’s soulmate is an Uchiha. (Tobirama is upset, since he knows what his brother is trying to do.) But he’s not in the business to decline his Clan Head anything, more so his Anija, so he sets off at a moderate pace towards the Uchiha clan, alone.

He senses the flicker of surprise in Madara’s burning chakra when he passes into his sensory range. He’s within Uchiha lands and he’s evaded no less than three patrols on his way, which, if Tobirama really wanted to, he’s sure he could stop and persuade them to take the letter to Madara. But since he knows what Hashirama wanted him to do, he simply grits his teeth and continues on.

Confusion works its way through him and he actually slows down when it’s not a legion of Uchiha coming to him, but a lone, flicker of chakra that he knows intimately. He stops completely on the edge of a clearing, and waits.

Izuna leaps into the clearing a few minutes later and crosses his arms defiantly.

“Aniki says you’re out here, stupid Senju, so just come out.”

Tobirama sighs and, after checking over the other to make sure there’s no immediate threat of violence—Izuna’s chakra is roiling, but not gathering for attack—he enters the clearing himself with the scroll in hand.

Chapter Text

Tobirama holds the scroll in his hand up and watches as Izuna grimaces.

“Dammit, Aniki was right. I hate when he’s right.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, unless that’s not a letter for peace. Then I can rub it in his face.”

“It’s a letter for peace.” Tobirama is confused, because he’s never actually held a conversation with Izuna. They normally strike first ask questions never.


They stare at each other for a long moment before Izuna rolls his eyes and holds out a hand expectantly.

“Well, give it here. Unless you plan to just stand there and stare at me all day.”

“Why aren’t you trying to stab me?”

“Who says I’m not trying to stab you?”

Tobirama raises an eyebrow.

“Not—ack!” Izuna’s face turns bright red and Tobirama is so, so confused. “Not like that! Just give it here!”

Tobirama’s not exactly sure what that sort of stabbing Izuna is talking about is, but he stares for a moment longer before handing the scroll over. As he’s pulling his hand away Izuna grips his wrist and Tobirama is so, so tempted to show Izuna the only sort of stabbing he knows, courtesy of the senbon he’s got lining his sleeve, but allows the contact to continue.

“Maybe . . . ” Izuna trails off and little warning bells start ringing in Tobirama’s head. “Maybe if this village of our brothers gets built, we can, I don’t know, try?”


“Oh my god,” Izuna whines and grips his wrist a little tighter, “I didn’t even try and hide my stupid identity like you tried to—”


“What, you think I’m stupid? What other Senju do you know that’s up at night creating complicated seals and jutsus?”

And—Izuna has a point. But Tobirama was prepared for the eventuality of being found out.

“I killed Uchiha.” He states bluntly, because he’s never truly forgiven himself for that day.

“I killed Senju.”

Izuna’s expression is set, and Tobirama knows that look. It’s the one that says Tobirama’s going to have to lay on his speed in order to dodge, but Tobirama’s not actually sure what that look means outside of battle. It puts Tobirama on edge.

“Our clans were at war, right?”


“And this scroll is probably the first of many, right?”

“Right.” Tobirama’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“So during the resulting peace talks to solidify the treaty, we should totally reveal we’re soulmates and request a marriage to really seal the deal, right?”

“Ri—” Tobirama cuts himself off from his automatic response and frowns at Izuna. He sees Izuna’s little satisfied smirk and wishes he could glare it off his face.

Unfortunately, his brain is going through the many, many permutations of what might happen and he can’t say that it wouldn’t be accepted by the Elders. It’s either accept that proposal or don’t and risk plunging them back into war along with banishing Tobirama (to keep the Uchiha from seeing anything) and Hashirama would never allow that. So instead he asks the question that’s burning in his brain.

“You would really accept a marriage between us?”

The once-over Izuna does, coupled with a growing smirk, makes Tobirama feel like covering himself up, even though he’s already wearing clothes.

“Oh yeah, I would really.”

Tobirama is uncomfortable. He’s also pretty sure he’s blushing, but considering Izuna is also blushing, he’s trying not to feel too self-conscious about it.

“That is . . . acceptable.”

“See you at the peace talks, Senju.” Izuna winks and leaps back into the trees.

Tobirama follows his flickering chakra for a few moments before a small smile tugs at his lips and he heads in the opposite direction. He finds himself looking forward to the peace talks.

Chapter Text

“Aniki, you love me, right?” Izuna hurriedly asks as he slams the door behind him.


“And you don’t want me to die, right?”

“Of course, what’s this—”

“Then quick! Smother me with your chakra!”


Izuna ignores Madara and dashes behind Madara’s desk and curls up underneath it.


“Shh!! He’s coming!”

Izuna’s holding his breath, holding his chakra, holding his everything because Tobirama’s on a rampage and it’s completely Izuna’s fault. How was he supposed to know that those containers on the windowsill were experiments and wasn’t supposed to throw them out? Or that, when he learned about what they were (they were “cell samples” that Tobirama was growing) he opened his stupid traitor mouth and told Tobirama that at least it wasn’t anything super important. And that—that was clearly the wrong thing to say.

If Izuna survives he’s going to leave Konoha, find every blueberry bush in the forest, and hope that when he finishes he has enough, and looks pitiful enough, that Mito will make that blueberry tart Tobirama likes so much.

And then, then Izuna’s never going to touch things that have weird combinations of numbers and letters on them ever again.


Izuna nearly whimpers, because Tobirama is here!

“Tobirama. What the fuck do you want?” And thank whatever is holy that Madara’s default to everything is anger. Thank. Fuck.

“I felt Izuna around here. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

There’s a tense pause where Izuna is sure that Aniki is glaring daggers at Tobirama and, well, it’s not like Izuna told him why he’s hiding. Hopefully that works in his favor and makes his aniki extra prickly.

“No, I haven’t.”

“You’re sure?”

“He’s my brother, of course I’d notice if he were here.”

Another pause, and Izuna’s started up his prayers again, pleasepleaseplease—

“Let me know if you see him.”

And then Tobirama—and his anger—are out the door and down the hall.

“Oh, thank god.”

“The fuck did you do, Izuna?”

“Who said I did anything?”

“You just did.”

“Why must you hurt me so?”

Madara ignores him as he kicks him from under his desk and begins looking over his paperwork again.

“Better go get started on that berry picking if you want to be forgiven anytime this week.”

Izuna grimaces, because Aniki’s enjoying his pain too much, but dutifully leaps out the window and bolts towards the forest.

Chapter Text

Madara hates sensing. Oh, don’t get him wrong, it’s absolutely the thing that saves his ass a LOT but he hates how . . . much information he gets sometimes. Because the last thing he really wanted to know was that his little brother is jerking it in his room while he’s holed up with their Father and the Clan Elders after holding off what would’ve become a siege.

(Like Madara really was going to stop sensing when they just got attacked. Like he would really give the Senju an opening in the “lull” they’d created.)

So Madara sat there besides his father, listening to the Elders drone on about how they needed to be more proactive and should really send out more shinobi (irregardless of the fact those more shinobi were getting younger and younger), while his brother let hormones control him. Urgh.

Madara, on his way home, wonders whether he should say something to Father. He immediately shoots that idea down and buries it under the appropriate amount of dirt. No way in hell is he about to talk to their father about Izuna jerking off.

So he supposes he’s the only one left to guide Izuna through this, seeing as he’s the only older brother Izuna has left. All this would be tolerable if Izuna would simply just ask questions rather than beat around the bush and cause both of their tempers to flare. Madara has no patience for any of their conversations that always, without a doubt, start with—

“Hey, Aniki?”


Madara fights an extra-strong grimace at the fragile, unsure tone. And this is why he always, without a doubt, answers him with—

“What is it?” He knows he sounds even more prickly than usual but hey, he’s still in his battle gear, covered in grime and sweat while Izuna seems to have at least cleaned up a bit.

Now that Madara looks closer, he can see a faint flush Izuna has, the way he’s averting his eyes and to him he may as well be fidgeting. His Older Brother senses are tingling and curling in malicious glee already.

“What’s it called when—”

“A crush.” Madara cuts him off to tease him. Because as if his brother has a crush! He could simply die of laughter!

Izuna says nothing, and the glee he’s feeling quickly backtracks into murder as Madara narrows his eyes. Because Izuna looks almost . . . stricken and oh my god Izuna has a crush and didn’t even realize

“Wait!” Madara shouts as Izuna tears back down the hall and slams his bedroom door shut. He doesn’t even know who to point his newfound murderous feelings at: Izuna, himself, or whatever undeserving fuck Izuna’s crushing on.

Fuck, Madara really hates these talks.

Chapter Text

Izuna’s not sure how much longer he can avoid Madara’s question. Ever since that fateful “Hey Aniki” talk three days ago Madara’s been near obsessive in figuring out who Izuna’s crushing on.

(And maybe Izuna shouldn’t take everything Madara says as scripture, but if the shoe fits—)

His sword slices through the air as he works through his katas. He would have never thought he has a crush on his rival. Never. Okay, maybe never, since now that he’s been struck with terrible hormones he’s noticed how good the other looks and catching himself wondering whether his hair is soft—

Growling, Izuna reminds himself that it’s all Aniki’s fault for telling him what he’s feeling is a crush. After spending that night panicking and thinking it over, denial only got him so far.

(How could he even deny it for that long, after coming back and pleasuring himself to the image of Tobirama’s flush face from their battle.)

Suddenly, as if lightning struck, Izuna has a terrible thought: what if Tobirama is going through something similar? What if it’s not him that he sees, but someone else? Someone so completely undeserving—

Izuna knows what he has to do now. If Izuna can’t make Tobirama his husband, then he’ll just have to kill him and make sure he can’t become anyone else’s.

He feels light as a feather as he makes his way back home from the training ground. Yes, this is probably the greatest idea he’s ever come up with! Not even his father’s passing once-over in disapproval (he wasn’t training for as long as he normally does) nor Aniki’s fierce scrutiny (he still hasn’t told him his crush—doesn’t plan to, either) dampen his spirits as he goes and washes up.

Chapter Text

“Something’s up with your brother.”

Shit, Madara was hoping to at least get a few more days to think of something to tell their father to explain Izuna’s weird behaviors lately but he guesses he’ll just have to improvise.

“I’ve noticed.”

Double shit. That gets him the Stern Look, which means Tajima is disappointed in him. Probably for not saying anything to him, or for not fixing it before Tajima noticed. Probably both.

“He’s got a crush.” And wow, Madara is really bad at this, because that is the absolute last thing he really wanted to admit to his father because now—

“Find out who it is.”


“I’m working on that.”

Tajima nods and Madara high-tails it out of there because now he has to stalk his little brother and that’s really not something he wants to do—even if it’s just chakra stalking. Maybe, maybe if Madara’s lucky Izuna will be in a sharing mood today.


So with hopes up and expectations down, he knocks before entering the bathroom where Izuna’s chakra is calm. (Like it wasn’t a mere fifteen minutes ago, when Izuna first went into the bathroom—Madara didn’t want to feel Izuna’s chakra respond to his pleasure but Madara is concerned, okay? Izuna never comes home from training early.)

Chapter Text

Izuna isn’t particularly surprised when Aniki ends up entering the bathroom after his enlightening (if not just a tiny bit shorter than usual—two hours isn’t that much time) training session. He is particularly thankful that Aniki didn’t come in when he first got in.

So instead he sighs, and looks thoroughly put-out that he has to deal with Aniki during his bath (where he can’t easily run away).

Honestly it’s a wonder Aniki’s taken three days to trap him here.

Madara pulls up a stool and Izuna braces himself.

“Tell me who it is; Father wants an answer.”

Izuna didn’t brace himself enough. “Fuck.”

“Well, you didn’t fucking hide your shit well enough, I mean honestly, coming home two hours early and looking like you’ve been—you didn’t meet them, did you? Oh fuck no, no, don’t tell me.”

Izuna allows Aniki to rant; sometimes he rants and comes full circle and then leaves before he makes Izuna say anything. It’s in this vein of thought that he stays silent. Unfortunately, his luck isn’t very good to begin with—what, crushing on his rival isn’t enough for some gods, apparently—and Aniki brings his focus back.

“Please tell me it’s someone in the clan.”

“It’s someone in the clan.” Izuna parrots dutifully.

“God fucking dammit, Izuna”—Madara rubs his temples—“Are we at least on neutral terms with the clan they’re in?”

Shrugging, Izuna looks down at the small ripples he’s been making in the bath water.

Madara groans and drops his head into his hands, arms braced on his knees. “Shit, Izuna, next you’re going to say it’s that stupid albino Senju.”

Izuna keeps his focus on the little ripples of water, oh look they’re bouncing back and colliding with the others—


“It’s okay; I have a plan, you can leave now and tell Father it won’t interfere with my abilities or responsibilities to the clan.” Izuna cuts Madara off harshly, because he doesn’t need to listen to Aniki’s soft-spoken sympathy. He’d rather stab his own eyes out.

Madara hesitates for a moment before slipping out of the room.

Well, there went his good mood.

Chapter Text

“Anija, I have a question.”

“You always have questions, Tobi—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What can your Anija help you with?” Hashirama carries on like he wasn’t interrupted.

Tobirama wavers for a brief moment, and that’s enough to cause Hashirama to focus solely on him.

“Izuna—he said something weird to me earlier on the battlefield.”

Oh, oh hell no. Hashirama is going to hang him by his ankles with vines high, high up in a tree because—

“Anija, you’re ruining the table.”

Hashirama takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and promptly ignores their new center piece while he asks, “And what did Izuna say to you?”

“He shouted that he ‘will kill me before I even think about having sex with anyone.’ Anija, why would he shout that he wants to kill me before I engage in sexual intercourse with someone?”

Screw vines, Hashirama is stringing him up with poison ivy.

As it is, he’s flailing because his darling, his sweet, his innocent, his last baby brother just said sex and Hashirama is not not not prepared at all. He wheezes and pulls his Tobi in close.

“Shh, shh, you don’t need to understand, it’s okay, you’re much too young for such thoughts.”

Hashirama wails a bit more, lamenting his fate.

“Very well. I shall ask him what he meant next time.”

Hashirama gurgles and thinks—hopes—that maybe Touka can talk some sense into him.

Chapter Text

It only took two weeks, three missions in neutral territory, three exceedingly close calls with Tobirama on said missions, and a brush with death for Izuna to hear the gossip. And for a hot minute there, he thought that he’d finally found his chance. Of course, his blood-loss addled brain had come up with a very, very sketchy plan involving sheep and itching powder, but the end result would be that Tobirama would end up in bed with him.

Because apparently Tobirama’s searching for a bed mate.

And word’s still out whether it’s worth it to try with Hashirama being all Hashirama, or whether Tobirama would be boring and judgmental in bed.

(Izuna doesn’t want anyone to even think about it. While he’d be stupid not to be afraid of Hashirama, he’s just stupid enough that he’d try anyways, if given the chance.)

Izuna is all but vibrating with his pent-up emotions and that’s half the reason he’s been going on back-to-back missions. The fact that most of those missions are below his skill level means nothing.

“Izuna,” Aniki says, because he’s bed-bound for another day and he’d much, much rather go blow something up and Aniki knows this and that’s why the traitor is all but sitting on him—“why have you been volunteering to go on these missions?”

Izuna says nothing. The sky is such a beautiful blue today, it really, really is.

“Fucking Senju.” Madara murmurs under his breath.




“Izuna, I SWEAR TO GOD—”

“Yes! That’s why I’ve gone on the missions; they seemed like the type where he would go on them if the other side hired them.”

Madara is quiet for a long minute.

Izuna silently waits Madara out, sweating.

“Maybe you really do need to get dicked.” He says at last, and then simply gets off the bed and leaves the room without saying anything else.

Izuna sputters and turns bright red.

Chapter Text

“Such a hungry little hole.” Izuna’s blushing, but he can see the flush on the tips of Tobirama’s ears.

(And, oh, what a pretty picture his Senju is, completely naked, sprawled face down ass up in his lap while he’s still completely clothed.)

Tobirama makes some kind of noise from where he’s face first into the carpet and Izuna grins.

“Don’t worry”—he adds another finger just to hear Tobirama’s breath hitch—“I’ll give it what it needs.”

His other hand smooths its way across Tobirama’s leg, and then underneath where he’s hard and aching, pressed against his own hardness through his pants. Lovingly, he squeezes Tobirama’s length before teasing and tugging his balls.

“And once you’re spread open on my fist, I’m going to wring as many orgasms from you that you’ll go stupid by the end and beg for me to fuck you.”

Tobirama’s arms tremble as his hands scrabble for purchase.

“Then I’ll give you one more”—Izuna very purposefully presses against Tobirama’s prostate for emphasis and loving Tobirama’s loud, answering moan—“before I press into your pliant body, all overstimulated and twitchy.”

Izuna can picture it too, has fantasized about having his Senju surrender completely to him, to his mercy, only to beg for more even when he’d already begged him to stop.

Mmmm, yes, Izuna thinks as his sharingan whirls again, the night is still very, very young.

Chapter Text

Alright, so Izuna can admit that this wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had. Granted, he’s running on the fourth night of no sleep asides from the last couple hours stuck in a tree branch. It’s not like he planned on literally dropping on top of Tobirama. He was catching some sleep before making his way back to the compound and figured that if he had no money he would just, sleep in the tree in front of the inn and pretend. It’s really, really not his fault that Tobirama chose to walk under his tree at the unfortunate moment when Izuna slipped—strategically fell—off the branch.

And now he’s here.

And it’s either confess, or get gutted. Because Senju please fuck me Tobirama is wielding a sharp and pointy kunai against his throat.

(And god, does Izuna wish that a certain other hard and pointy object were pressed—)

“I asked you a question.”

Right. Tobirama. Still there, still with the sharp and pointy. Heh. No wait, this is actually serious. Shit. It’s really, really difficult to concentrate when Tobirama’s right behind him and apparently puberty was more generous with him (or perhaps, just with the Senju in general now that he thinks about it) but now Tobirama’s taller than him, with a voice to match.


This is the absolute worst time to get a boner. Or, actually, maybe a boner would work in his favor. Hm.

The kunai presses against his throat a little bit more, causing his adrenaline to spike, and as a result Izuna leans back to ease up the pressure, only to end up even closer to that hard chest and delicious voice and—

Fuck me.”

There’s a pause.

Izuna blinks open his eyes because he did not just say that out loud.

(He very purposefully doesn’t think about how much of a needy whine that sounded like.)

Tobirama makes a considering noise and his other hand—the one not wielding Mr. Sharp and Pointy—moves from where the seal paper is sticking to Izuna’s wrist up his arm and around to cup his jaw. Goosebumps break out in its wake.

“And what’s an Uchiha’s word worth?”

Izuna snarls, because “An Uchiha’s word is absolute.”

“Then promise me this: if I let go of you, you won’t try and harm me until we’re done.”

Izuna really, really shouldn’t. It’s almost a betrayal; sleeping with the enemy. But it’s Tobirama and fuck

“You have my word that I won’t try and hurt you until we’re done.”

Almost immediately the kunai is stashed who knows where and then Tobirama’s lightly tugging the seal off his wrist. Tobirama meets his eyes warily—almost like a test. Good thing Izuna’s good at tests. Sharingan is safely tucked away, unfortunately, because he actually really wants to remember this experience in vivid, crystal-clear detail. Maybe he could ask.

“I have no practical experience, however I believe I have sufficient theoretical knowledge to make this enjoyable for both of us.”

On second thought, maybe just having the experience and regretfully (gladly) forgetting some finer details will be more than okay.

Chapter Text

“Oh, fuck—what the fuck did you just do, Tobirama?”

“I applied a small bit of chakra near your prostate. With luck, it will make you more aware of the sensations that pass over it.” Tobirama is incredibly pleased with himself. He continues stretching Izuna, enjoying the feel of his chakra inside of him.

“Wait, wait—you wha—ah!”

“I applied a little bit more. You seem to enjoy it, and this way it’ll last.”

“I don’t—I’m—Tobirama, just fuck me already!”

Tobirama takes a moment more to simply feel the chakra, rubbing his fingers along the edges as he listens to Izuna keen. It’s a really pretty sound; Tobirama is glad he can make Izuna make those sounds. And, just because he can, he pushes a little bit more chakra there before withdrawing his fingers.

“Hurry up, please—I need you.” It’s more whine than words, and Tobirama notes that, once again, Izuna’s always more honest when he’s half-crazed with pleasure.

His statement only confirms Tobirama's theory that he would enjoy his little trick with his chakra. But he’s not in the business of denying his lover anything, and therefore he shifts to line his leaking member up and pushes into Izuna steadily. Pale legs wrap around his waist and try to make him move faster, as they always do.

And, as Tobirama always does, he pushes down on the pressure points at the top of Izuna’s thighs to cause the muscles to relax. It makes Izuna babble and plead, scratch his shoulders up and bite his neck at the perceived unfairness.

However, this time—this time Tobirama can feel the tingle of his chakra seated deep inside Izuna and he groans. Izuna’s all but sobbing as he’s gripping Tobirama tightly. He looks like a light breeze would cause him to finish, and it’s with that in mind that Tobirama, now fully inside Izuna, grinds up as he pulls Izuna down that impossible extra bit more.

Tobirama’s rewarded when Izuna comes completely undone without a single touch more.

Izuna’s chakra settles as he does, and Tobirama watches on in fascination as Izuna passes out. He waits a moment, and then moves one hand to stop a streak of come from sliding into Izuna’s hair. Izuna tried to explain to him why he absolutely loathes getting any in his hair several times, but Tobirama, who doesn’t have the same vanity as Izuna, has never truly understood it. Maybe the length of hair makes a difference.

With a sigh, he slides out of Izuna and cleans his still-hard cock off before turning and cleaning Izuna up. He lays next to Izuna and plays with his bangs by habit as he thinks over their encounter.

Perhaps he used a bit too much chakra.

Chapter Text

“Anikiii,” Izuna whines as he flops down next to Madara at home.

“What now.”

“So mean!” Izuna huffs, “I just had the worst—simply the worst—day and—”

“So Tobirama didn’t return any of your salacious winks or looks again.”

“You say that like it happens everyday or something!”


“Hmph, doesn’t mean you gotta rub it in my face.”

Madara gives him the Look. That’s fine, it’s all fine. There’s peace now, a village now, and he can finally, finally attempt to talk to Tobirama now, but that stupid Senju doesn’t seem to even notice his attempts at flirting. And he still won’t look him in the eye! Rude!

(They’re at peace now—Izuna would never think of using his sharingan to further his goals at courting Tobirama. Never.)

“Have you considered, Izuna, that Tobirama just simply—isn’t interested?”


“Maybe on the battlefield, but clearly he’s got some semblance of taste, if he keeps rebuffing you.”


Chapter Text

Tobirama’s day so far has been really quite good. He got to pet a total of three different cats on his way to the tower this morning, received two hugs from probably the most adorable kids ever, and he only had one new pile of paperwork on his desk when he walked in.

All in all, a magnificent Monday morning.

Even when Hashirama finally decides to show up—“No, Anija, you can’t keep using Mito as an excuse to come in later on Mondays”—his Monday is still magnificent.

Even Madara cannot muddle his morning.

(Ever since there’s been peace, Madara’s seemed to mellow out, if only a little bit. Tobirama’s not entirely sure what’s changed his mind about Tobirama being the scourge of all mankind for almost killing Izuna, but he concedes that it’s probably something he shouldn’t ask about.)

So Tobirama carries on cheerfully until after lunch, when the sharp, crackling chakra of Izuna suddenly veers towards his office. He holds in a sigh with great effort as his former rival walks in.

“Izuna, is there something I can help you with?” Tobirama even puts his brush down, to show that yes, he really is actively listening to Izuna.

“There’s nothing you want to say to me?” Incredulity coats Izuna’s words and Tobirama quickly reminds himself of the date—not Izuna’s birthday, nor any significant holiday—

“Really, are you blind, or are you just stupid?”

Tobirama senses a trap here, but can’t quite place a finger on why. “I am blind, clearly.”

There’s a pause.

“Go on, Senju, that’s a good start to your apology. I’m still listening.”

“What? That’s not an apology.” Nevermind that Anija specifically ordered him to stop apologizing for being blind before. Several times. In fact, the only reason Tobirama had stopped apologizing was because he learned tricks to compensate.

Izuna laughs, and his chakra pops along with it.

Tobirama just waits.

“Oh, shit”—there it is—“You’re serious? For how long? WHAT!”

“For nearly as long as I can remember—”


Now it’s Tobirama’s turn to not understand.

“Ohoho~ that means I just need to change my approach.”

Tobirama tenses at that, casting out his senses to catch whatever it is Izuna is planning—oh. Oh. Quickly, he reels back his chakra because he’s never had someone intentionally rub their own against his. (Anija’s is always pressing against his own, heavy like a security blanket. Not at all like this.) His face feels hot because not only does Tobirama feel slightly violated, the emotions he skimmed off the chakra definitely point towards more, ah, intimate intentions.

“Heh, felt that, did you now?”

“I wasn’t aware you felt that way.” Tobirama’s Monday is now is complete disarray, and he feels terribly, terribly off-balance.

“Okay, yes, good, now that we’ve established that I do, in fact, feel this way, what do you say?”

“What do I say?”

“For fuck’s sake, Tobirama! I’m asking you out! As in, courting, dating, hopefully-more sort of thing!”


“You don’t . . . mind?”

“What, that you’re blind? Not really, no. I mean, a fuckton of things make sense now and it’s rather unfortunate for my ego that you’ve been fighting me blind and I never realized—but I suppose I can let you feel my good looks instead~”

Tobirama blinks. That’s . . . probably the best reaction he’s ever gotten. Granted, everyone else who knows asides from Anija and Touka met the sharpened edge of his sword, but still, it’s the thought that counts.

(How many tears has Anija spilled—continues to spill? How many angry tears has Touka shed, when his lack of sight gets brought up again in the face of a beautiful landscape?)

Anger, regret, sadness. He’s associated those feelings with his condition for years from his family.

(Condescending, almost malicious glee from those few enemies that learned the truth.)

But near apathy? Unheard of. Yet Izuna’s chakra doesn’t lie; he feels chagrined at having missed the fact (it doesn’t even feel directed towards him). Izuna truly doesn’t care. The thought almost makes him giddy.

“Alright, Izuna.”

“HAH! TAKE THAT, ANIKI!” Izuna’s off like a shuriken, and Tobirama huffs a quiet laugh before shaking his head.

A small smile grows on his face as he hears Izuna screeching (“I TOLD YOU THAT THIS TOP BRINGS OUT MY BETTER QUALITIES!”) just down the hall, accompanied with Izuna’s wispy-crackling-sparking happy feeling chakra.

Chapter Text


“Please, don’t pull out, not yet.” He pleads, laying on top of Tobirama’s chest. 

Peppering a few light kisses onto Tobirama’s chest before leaning back, Izuna takes in the flush face, the soft, fluffy white hair spread out on the pillow.

“You’re so beautiful, koi.” Izuna breathes out and then closes his eyes as he leans in for a kiss.

Madara wakes up grimacing. He really should’ve thought through this whole, get his brother’s eyes to avoid going completely blind Thing. Because the sharingan impressions are Real. The battles, the missions, the training, he’d take those vivid replays during his sleep any night. But these? These sappy, soft, most-of-the-times intimate ones? Yeah, fuck those in particular; those are Madara’s nightmares now.


Just having them is bad enough, but the worst part is that his body apparently doesn’t care that he’s literally watching through his brother’s eyes as he fucks Senju Tobirama or gets fucked by him (which, despairingly, actually seems to happen more). He wakes up hard, if he’s lucky, but a large majority of the time he wakes up to a sticky mess.

Madara wants to brain himself; surely going completely blind wouldn’t be worse than this. Why did he ever agree to take Izuna’s eyes?

Izuna—the asshole—sends him knowing smiles when he gets extra prickly around him and Tobirama in the mornings after he gets one of those sorts of nightmares.

Chapter Text

Enough pressure there—just like oiling a kunai—


—bite then lick—

“Oh fuuuck.”

—trail exactly four open mouthed kisses and bypass—




Tobirama pauses. A new sound, interesting. He quickly switches thighs and sucks a matching deep hickey there.

“Shhhh—ahh! Tobirama please—”

How interesting. Tobirama catalogs the newest sensation/reaction and licks his way up to Izuna’s weeping member.

He refrains from telling Izuna his latest discovery; after the first few instances where he did, Izuna got rather defensive, calling him out as ‘being distracted’. Izuna doesn’t understand that Tobirama is constantly thinking, and to him, figuring out how to reduce him to a puddle of bliss and sensation is his way of devoting his entire being to Izuna.

Staring up into Izuna’s sharingan, he gives his best smirk. Tobirama thinks it’s about time for him to figure out whether Izuna can stay awake long enough to break his record of thirteen orgasms in one night before passing out.

Tobirama swallows the first one for the night down, taking note of the deep pink of Izuna's cheeks that trail down his neck to his chest. Izuna's eyes are closed, fingers tangled in their sheets. Tobirama allows him to have a moment.

Izuna doesn’t have to be aware of tonight’s plans—the data’s less skewed that way. He lets his eyes go half-mast as his fingers caress Izuna’s skin in a familiar dance.


Chapter Text

“ . . . fucking find him, I swear to god . . . ”


“Madara!” Izuna yelps and jumps a solid foot in the air. “Oh fuck, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Madara raises an eyebrow, amused. “Walk up to you and say your name?”

Izuna flushes. “No! Yes—I mean!—Help me find Tobirama!”

“Why do you need help finding him?”

“I can’t find him.”

“You . . . can’t . . . find Tobirama?” Madara’s face scrunches up and in any other circumstance Izuna would laugh. “Isn’t finding Tobirama an innate skill you’ve honed to a deadly point by now?”

Izuna opens his mouth to send a scathing retort back at his Aniki, and then stops, closes his mouth, and then nods a little. Aniki has a point there.

Just as he finally opens his mouth to actually reply to Madara, his eyes catch sight of a fucking snow leopard. Here! In Konoha. This just reeks of his new-jutsu-trying lover. “What the fuck.”

Madara turns to look behind him but the big cat’s already turned the corner of a building with a flick of its long, furry tail.


“Nevermind, Aniki! I know how to find him! See you later!” Izuna quickly rushes out and pushes his Aniki out of the way, ignoring the indignant squawk he got in response.

He’s got a large cat to catch.

Chapter Text

Izuna tries not to punch the wall in frustration. This is, unfortunately, yet another time that damn cat gave him the slip! If he wasn’t sure if Tobirama was involved before, he sure would be now!

“You little fucker . . . just wait until I get my grubby little pa—oh!”

Paws! Yes! That is exactly what Izuna needs for this search and capture! Clearly his lovely large cat doesn’t want to be caught by a human. But maybe . . .

With a large puff of smoke and chakra, Izuna appears—

What the fuck?!

Izuna can feel the hair—fur—sticking out from his back, his tail (a tail!) bristling out. Instead of a big cat, he’s a pathetic little kitten! This was not what he had in mind for his henge, and he wonders where exactly he went wrong when, in the moment his eyes close in thought, his neck is caught in a vice grip.

Well, Izuna thinks wryly, the kami certainly have a sense of humor.

He can’t so much as even twitch, even to dispel the henge, with his scruff caught and apparently the area is a muscle relaxer and emotional soother all in one. Man, cats have the right idea. If only he had wanted the attention in the first place.

Feeling more than hearing the rumble from his captor, Izuna inwardly grimaces and sends out a mental fuck you. Of course the stupid leopard was watching him, like it totally knew what he was planning on doing. Fuck. All he can really do now, at this point, is let himself get carted to wherever the fuck they’re heading.

Chapter Text

Has Izuna ever mention he hates being carted around like a sack of potatoes before?

Well, he hates being carted around like a sack of potatoes. Especially when it’s in the mouth of a fucking snow leopard. And so help him, he’s gonna blow the biggest Grand Fireball up Tobirama’s ass for this when it’s all over.

After that dizzying and harrowing first-hand experience, Izuna is more than justified at having bit Tobirama—because this close, there’s no mistaking that the snow leopard is Tobirama—the moment he was placed inside a soft, nest-like area. He was then promptly smooshed underneath fucking heavy ass arms and paws and then subjected to a thorough—thorough—tongue bath.

(Izuna doesn’t even want to think on that right now, not when he’s still being smooshed and there’s not enough room to fix his henge in whatever fucking dark, small, enclosed space he’s been brought to.)

So he hisses instead. Because if he can’t make his displeasure known in a visceral way, he might actually implode. He also wriggles in an entirely self-satisfying way to try and figure out where the fuck he actually is. What that gets him is a flick of a tail over him as Tobirama apparently just lays there with his eyes closed like he’s entirely unworried that Izuna is going to brutally murder him when he gets the chance.

Well then, fine! Izuna pointedly takes an offended position, back arched and fur standing on edge, and then bounces a few times before he lands on Tobirama’s exposed fur belly.

He’s rewarded with a sharp yowl and those large—fast!—paws batting at him. Izuna assumes they’re batting at him playfully, as there’s no sharp nails being dug into him. Momentarily stunned at the fact he’s effectively been swatted away, he rears up for another strike when—

Tobirama hisses, a sound so loud and so filled with deadly intent that Izuna stills and allows himself to get pulled close and half sat on. He wriggles his exposed hind legs and tail, getting more suffocating weight pressed down onto him for his struggles.

There’s a shuffling noise, and then a too familiar gasp and oh dear fucking Sage—


Tobirama makes a more threatening sound and Izuna tries to wrap his head around how he’s literally underneath Tobirama in front of Hashirama

“No! Bad Tobi! You can’t steal kittens! Where did you even find a kitten?”

A sharp hiss.

“Tobi!” Izuna hears Hashirama sharp reprimand, before wailing again, “You can’t be that kitten’s new mom! I mean, unless the kitten has lost it’s mom and now it’s all by it’s lonesome—oh Tobi, is that the only one you saved?”

Tobirama makes a soft mroow and starts purring, which means, seeing as Izuna is right underneath that heavy chest, Izuna bears the full brunt of the sound. Wriggling some more, he finally gets out from under the leopard and Sage, the leopard is all muscle.

“Oh~ look how cute you are! You’re so cute, so lucky my Tobi found you, lost little one!” Hashirama prattles on, gushing over him, light filtering in behind him like a halo.

Izuna looks around the space and understands he’s in a closet, but nothing more really stands out to him before he’s suddenly thrown off-balance by Tobirama giving him a few quick licks to the side of his head.

Hashirama coos and sobs over the blatant display of affection.

Izuna is surrounded by fucking idiots.

Chapter Text

After not one, but two—two!—more cat baths just as thorough as the first, Izuna finally manages to find himself out of that dark, soft, welcoming—he means dark, stuffy, totally not at all comfortable—closet to come face to, er, feet with Hashirama.

The closet, much to Izuna’s chagrin, seems to be Hashirama’s closet.

He hears Tobirama pad out of the closet just as Hashirama picks him up with too soft, too gentle hands to peer at his—!!!

He’s a cutie, Tobi, I’ll give you that!” And just like that he’s being pulled in to an embrace against Hashirama and having one hand run down his back and at a good spot under his chin and—

“Look, Tobi! He’s drooling~”

Izuna is mortified and truly, truly hopes that Tobirama, and by extension Hashirama, for his latest indignity, all catch on fire. Preferably from Amaterasu.

Though, from the looks of it, it seems as though Tobirama isn’t quite . . . all there, in terms of mental facilities. Tobirama is slowly circling Hashirama, his tail up high and curled.

“Ow! Tobi! Stop with the nails!”

Tobirama had his nails digging into Hashirama’s thighs in order to prop himself up to get closer to Izuna, nose sniffing the air and loud, inquisitive meows filling the room.

“Okay, okay~ let me go and we can go get some food for the little guy, okay?”

This seems to be something Tobirama understands, as he promptly bounds out of the room with a loud trill, leaving Izuna feeling rather off at being carried by Hashirama. He wiggles hard, and is rewarded when his claws come out and make Hashirama wince. A claw gets caught in Hashirama’s yukata on his way down but Izuna could not care less if he lost the damn thing, he needs to be set down and let go of

Finally, freedom! He bolts from Hashirama and the reach of those long arms. Tobirama’s trills haven’t stopped, and so Izuna follows them towards the Senju’s kitchen, where Tobirama is sitting in a wooden box that’s just there like this whole scenario just happens and—

No! He does not want to be picked up again, fuck you, Hashirama!

Scruff grabbing and holding needs to be made illegal, Izuna thinks as angrily as he can manage as he’s, once again, subjected to the calm and almost paralytic rush of endorphins.

In related news, he’s placed in the wooden box next to Tobirama.

Izuna waits until Hashirama’s back is turned towards them as he faces the counter. Izuna waits a moment more before nimbly leaping from the box and then meowing as loud as all get out as he scales Hashirama’s pants, making doubly sure his claws are out and gripping as he climbs the dumb tree idiot. Hashirama’s startled yelps are music to his ears.

If he’s going to be treated like a cat, then he’s going to act like the most annoying sort of cat there is.

Chapter Text

Izuna wakes up when fingers nimbly scratch his ears. While he still feels slighted at having gone through this entire ordeal of being a kitten, he has to admit that there are certainly times it’s paid off. His purrs grow in volume as those fingers find every good spot Izuna knew about and then some.

There’s a low chuckle, and then—

“I didn’t know that you enjoyed being pet, Izuna, otherwise I would have suggested this long ago.”

Izuna freezes, eyes snapping open in shock to find Tobirama—clothed, fully human Tobirama—kneeling down and petting him. They stare at one another for a long moment as Izuna’s purrs wind down. Thank the Sage that Izuna can’t blush in this form, but—

He pounces out, catching the front of Tobirama’s yukata and forcing them out of the small of the closet. As soon as there’s room Izuna’s dispelling the henge, sprawled over Tobirama’s lap with his knees on either side of Tobirama’s hips.

“Fuck you, Tobirama! You were a snow leopard! What!” Izuna grits his teeth because he knows he’s flushing horribly as his brain kindly reminds him of all the things that Tobirama did!

“Ah, I was, that happens.”

“What.” Izuna is entirely confused. “It just . . . happens? What do you mean ‘that happens’?!”

“Precisely that: I sometimes turn into a snow leopard.” Tobirama states bluntly, like that’s something that’s commonplace and not at all something that just doesn’t happen—!

Izuna snorts. “Yeah, nice try Mister Creates Ten New Jutsus a Day.”

Tobirama raises an eyebrow at him.

“Quit it, I’m not falling for it.”

The eyebrow drops into a blank stare.

“You’re fucking with me!”

Tobirama sighs.

“Holy shit.” Izuna whispers, before promptly freaking out. “What—I—but how—I don’t—”

He takes a breath.

“You ASSHOLE!” Izuna smacks Tobirama’s shoulder and chest over and over. “I WAS FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT YOU!”

His half-hearted swats aren’t dodged and his wrists are caught in a gentle hold.

“You were worried about me?”

Izuna sniffs. “Of course I was! You were just gone and I couldn’t find you—”

Kisses press into the backs of his hands, then his palms as his hands are turned over in Tobirama’s grasp.

“So you changed into a kitten while attempting to catch me?”

Izuna doesn’t like the amused tone Tobirama’s using. Not one bit. He frowns. However, the blush on Tobirama’s cheeks is a pretty color.

“I, ah, don’t tend to remember every detail when I get like . . . like that, but I’ve been told I tend to be more instinctual. So I apologize for snatching you up.”

Izuna’s brain boots back up at the apology and he takes the time to just look at Tobirama. Oh, he could work with this!

“So what you’re saying, is that deep down your instincts want to, what, care for me? Protect me? Give me very, very thorough tongue baths?” He watches as the pink deepens to a lovely shade of red on Tobirama’s face.

“Ah, right, that . . . uhm . . . ”

Izuna bursts out laughing, nearly dislodging himself off Tobirama’s lap. He gets a glare in answer and it’s not very effective with how much red has suffused his face.

“You’ll just have to make an honest man out of me and marry me.” Izuna finally says with a shark-like grin.

A plate shatters.

They both whip their head around to the doorway where Hashirama’s gaping like a very large, unattractive fish.

Ah. Izuna actually forgot there, in the heat of the moment, that he just came out of Hashirama’s closet. And he’s perched on top of Tobirama’s lap after basically demanding he marry him!

Izuna can recognize that this situation calls for a strategic retreat.

He henges back into a kitten and dives for the open part of Tobirama’s yukata.

Chapter Text

Izuna is really having a trying day. No less than—hm, let him think—all of the clan Elders have stopped him today to discuss his lack of marriage and heirs. It’s really grating on his nerves, especially since he’s not even the clan head! And so, as he always does when marriage—and kids!—are brought up, he goes to his Aniki to complain.

(Maybe if he annoys Aniki more, he’ll actually attempt to find someone that can withstand his prickly nature. Hopefully.)


“Izuna, really. Must you?”

“I must!” Izuna is almost hurt by the long-suffering sigh that his Aniki gives him. He gives a polite nod to Hashirama—not only is he the new Hokage, but like, he could squish Izuna and he wouldn’t even notice until he’s already been squished. That demands at least a little politeness. Just a tad.

“And what, pray tell me, must you interrupt my work for?”


Madara gapes and sputters and nearly—oh nope, there goes the chair out the window.


“I’m not!” He heatedly says back, then adds as an afterthought, “Unless it’s Tobirama.”


“Okay, sheesh—the elders are getting on my case again. Want me to marry and have spawn.” He shudders.

“And that’s news, how?”

Izuna flails a bit, because Aniki is just not understanding. “Because I just said I don’t want to marry anyone but Tobirama!”


“Heh, of course, the only person I’d ever want to carry my heirs would be Tobirama.”

“Izuna, really, that’s got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Izuna shrugs. “Maybe the Elders would finally get off my back about it all if you finally found someone.”


Dodging the paperweight thrown at him, he laughs as he jumps out the window to the wonderful sounds of Aniki’s screeching and Hashirama’s inquisitive babbling.

Chapter Text


“Tobirama, a pleasure.” Mito shuffles backwards and waves him in. “Please, come in, I’ll get some tea.”

“Thank you.”

Tobirama takes a moment to look at Mito. She’s started showing enough that she’s taken to wearing slightly looser-fit clothing—not that it’s any less elegant. Tobirama wholeheartedly believes Mito will go into labor and simply walk herself to her birthing pool just as she’s walking now: elegant and poised.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he takes a sip of the soothing chamomile tea. It’s only when Mito’s hands come up to her stomach that he realizes he’s been staring. He raises his eyes to meet her gaze.

“You’re interested.” It’s not a question, but more a surprised statement.

“What’s it like?” Tobirama starts, and suddenly finds he can’t stop. “What does it feel like, to be with child? I’ve read that as far along as you are you should be able to feel it move but how do you feel about carrying something that, for all intents and purposes, is a parasite? What’s—”

Light laughter cuts him off and he blinks, embarrassed. He . . . hadn’t really meant to blurt out his questions, but he has been stewing on them ever since he heard the news—first reading all the literature he could find, then asking questions to any midwife he was able to corner who was not busy (surprisingly difficult, and what took the majority of the past three months), and now, he thought he was prepared to actually ask a pregnant person questions, and his first thought was of Mito.

“Come here, Tobirama.”

And Tobirama comes, because he’s curious and—

Mito’s grasp on his hand is firm and unyielding as she places it on her distended stomach. He pushes slightly, able to feel that it isn’t anything like belly fat, more firm and rounded. His hand moves on its own, the other joining in quickly, pushing every so often to try and get a feel of what’s underneath. He’s heard that some midwives can channel chakra and get a better feel of the baby, an iryou-nin technique that he’s figured out. Idly he wonders if Hashirama uses that.

From what he theorizes, it would feel much different than when he uses his sensing, simply because the baby’s chakra coils have no effect on this technique.

(As it is, he knows that Mito is pregnant, but even without her dense, Uzumaki chakra, he’d have a hard time telling that she really is pregnant without visual confirmation; the baby’s chakra coils are still in development and heavily reliant on the mother.)

There’s a nudge.

Tobirama pauses, eyes going wide.

“That was—”

“Yes, it was.” Mito cuts in, placing her hand on top of his as he’s kicked again.

Tobirama can’t look away, because Mito’s eyes are closed in happiness as she’s kicked from inside. He wonders how much different it would feel, a kick coming internally rather than externally. With his knowledge, maybe he could create a seal, or a jutsu—

“Mito!”—the front door slams open and Tobirama can hear Hashirama kick it closed—“You wouldn’t believe it, but for some reason Tobi—”

Hashirama blinks at him.

Tobirama isn’t impressed.

And then Hashirama looks at him, at his hands on Mito’s stomach. Then gets such a dreamy smile on his face.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” He says in a voice much calmer than Tobirama’s ever heard before. The moment’s over before Tobirama could even blink.

“You know, you didn’t have to leave early if you wanted to see Mito!”

“Anija.” Tobirama sighs and, regretfully, pulls his hands away from Mito.

“Wait, don’t tell me that you’re interested as in, interested interested! No! Tobi, you can’t have children! That means you’re—who is it? Who is my baby brother deciding he needs to get pregnant? Why didn’t you invite me to the wedding? You’re not planning on eloping, are you?”

“Come back anytime, Tobirama. You always know where to find me.” Mito says softly, ignoring Hashirama’s wailing in the background as he himself is doing.

“I will do so.”

Mito sends a knowing look his way, and he ducks under Hashirama’s attempt at a grapple with a blush high on his cheeks because Mito is the one he’s been going to to talk about his, ah, interests. Especially when those interests come with black hair, black eyes that are sometimes red, and a several years long rivalry.

Tobirama is certain that she is running multiple bets across Konoha, and has probably conned half those people into betting against her—most definitely including Hashirama, if those bets are about his own love life. He almost feels bad about giving her insider information. Almost.

Chapter Text

“ . . . and then you’ve got the hormones to consider, too. Since they’re needed for conception and to sustain pregnancy.”

Tobirama nods as he takes notes, Mito’s calm voice filling the study. “Then perhaps, a seal would be better, instead of a jutsu.”

“Hypothetically?” Mito says with a knowing smile.

“Yes, hypothetically.” Tobirama ignores the heat he can feel rising his his cheeks.

“Well then, hypothetically”—Tobirama is not going to get angry at Mito, not going to get angry at the only pregnant woman and seal master who could help him—“then yes. A seal would probably be better. After all, one cannot choose to stop being pregnant for even an hour if they wish to complete the pregnancy.”

Tobirama allows himself to doodle his thoughts on seals to promote and sustain a pregnancy. Time dependency matrices and timed-releases and—

A slip of paper falls in his line of sight, small fingers betraying its owner. Tobirama, always interested in the seal work the Uzumaki imparted with Mito, picks up the paper with interest. He stares longer than necessary at, what is essentially, exactly what he’s been trying to think up. He lowers the paper and sends Mito a disapproving frown; he doesn’t like being handed answers.

“The Uzumaki have been using seals for nearly everything, including pregnancy and everything that entails. Even if it’s for someone not born with the right equipment. That seal’s been around and used for several generations. It’s been tested and I personally have seen its use on a dear friend of mine. It’s safe.”

Tobirama waivers, because Mito’s hit all the points he normally looks for in regards to using others’ work. It’s not that he doesn’t trust other people’s ways, but usually he finds something lacking.

“Thank you.” He says at last, because he’d have heard of this seal if it were a more common, readily shared seal of their sister clan, and he’s nothing if not grateful for the sharing of knowledge.

Mito fixes him with a small smile that says she’s laughing at him.

Chapter Text

“The fuck is up with your brother’s chakra?” Madara asks Hashirama one day.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hashirama, I’m being serious—”

“I am too; Tobi would tell me if something were wrong!”

Madara stares at Hashirama from across the room. He opens his mouth to complain that no, Tobirama doesn’t tell you everything, little brothers are sneaky like that—when Tobirama walks in, chakra still swirling and coiling in on itself instead of how it normally feels like stillness with deep undercurrents.

It’s not unlike how some kunoichi feel when they’re—but no! There’s no possible way for that Senju demon to be pregnant! Unless he’s hiding some serious shit from all of them! He squints his eyes even as he cast out his chakra more to try and see if he can sense what’s wrong. The swirls get worse in his midsection, and Madara so desperately wishes that some actual, not crazy thing would pop into his head to explain this situation to him.

Maybe he could try and ask?

Madara snorts, like that would work out well. He’d walk up to Tobirama and he’d end up getting upset from whatever stupid thing that Senju says that always pushes his buttons, and then Tobirama would get upset, which would in turn make Hashirama upset, and that’s not something the village needs. Especially if Tobirama is keeping whatever it is a secret from Hashirama. He’s not getting tangled up in something like that.

So that leaves simply watching, and waiting. Belatedly, he realizes he’s been staring at Tobirama’s stomach and he makes sure to keep his scowl from twitching as he flicks his eyes up to meet Tobirama’s.

“Is there something I can help you with, or are you simply content to glare at my stomach?”

Madara bristles at being called out.


Chapter Text


“I’m right here, Izuna.”

“What are you doing?”

Izuna has spent all afternoon searching for the bastard, hoping that maybe his lover would be willing to remind him why he loves coming home from dangerous, long-term missions, and all he’s doing is—

“Having tea, clearly.”

Izuna feels his eye twitch and he watches Mito hide a smile behind her teacup. He takes a deep breath before turning his whole focus over to Tobirama. He looks, different. Not in a bad way, different, just. Different.

Izuna doesn’t like it. He doesn’t know why Tobirama is different and Izuna’s only been gone for two weeks. Is there someone else? Had Tobirama decided that he doesn’t like Izuna anymore? Maybe—

“Izuna, would you like some tea?” Mito sharply pulls him from his increasingly terrible thoughts with a smile that says she knows exactly what he was thinking and clearly does not approve of it in her garden.

“N-No, I’m fine, Lady Mito.”

“Please, sit”—the unspoken or else heard loud and clear—“I just need to fetch another cup.”

He grimaces and gingerly takes a seat next to Tobirama. His stomach is churning at the thought of tea but it’s not like he can refuse Mito, of all people. She’d find a way to emasculate him in a permanent way, if she hasn’t already done so and he just doesn’t know it yet.

“The nausea will go away soon.”

“The what now?”

Tobirama chuckles. “I didn’t believe Mito at first when she told me, but she said it passes soon enough.”

“I don’t . . . ” Izuna is so, so lost.

Tobirama arches a brow at him.

“I have no idea what you’re saying. Yes, I’m nauseous, but it’s probably from me not eating something right. Isn’t that what happened to you? Why would Mito know any more than anyone else about some mild food poisoning?”

That earns him a blank look and Tobirama’s hand comes up to—

Izuna squints his eyes, then blinks his sharingan on to make doubly sure that what he’s seeing is indeed a fucking stomach. On Tobirama.

“Okay, correct me if I’m wrong”—and Izuna really, truly does not like the bad feeling he’s getting—“but you definitely train too much and don’t eat enough to be gaining weight. Hell, I haven’t even seen you drink sake in months.”

Tobirama takes a sip of his tea and then drops the biggest exploding tag in the world on him.

“I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what now.”

“I’m fairly certain I told you.”

“I’m fairly certain you didn’t!” Izuna hisses out, because what the fuck!

“Oh, well now I did. I’m also fairly certain you are now, too.”

Okay, Izuna lied. That’s gotta be the biggest exploding tag in the world.

“I’m a man!”

“So am I.”

“I don’t have the, the necessary parts!”

“That’s why seals exist.”

Izuna pauses to rub his face, irritated. “We’ve gone over this several times before, Tobirama. You don’t just use a seal on someone without their knowledge!”

Tobirama just shrugs, unrepentant.

“Back to the point. Pregnant?” Izuna can hardly believe it.


“With mine?”

The look he gets is not entirely undeserving, but he at least would’ve liked to know that Tobirama is pregnant!

“Yes, you idiot, it’s yours. Ours.” The last word is spoken softly, and Tobirama’s hand comes back up to his stomach to cradle the gentle slope there. And boy—

“You got fat while I was away.” Izuna winces, because he didn’t necessarily mean it like that!

“I gained weight, as you will.”

“Oh.” Izuna had forgotten his own ailment, in the excitement. “Are you sure I am?” But even as he says it, it feels true enough.


“Oh.” Izuna repeats, because for all his life he hadn’t considered this, having kids, since he always, deep down, knew he favored men more. And then Tobirama happened and any small part that still whispered about finding the right girl died and stayed dead. To think that he’s going to have brats of his own—!

He kisses Tobirama firmly and enthusiastically, before laughing.

“You’re pregnant!” Izuna exclaims happily.

“I’m aware.”

“He’s fucking what?!”

“Aniki! Tobirama! He’s pregnant! It’s mine! You’re gonna be an uncle!” Izuna turns to give his Aniki a bright smile where he’s walking towards them, Mito trailing behind.

Izuna’s not even sure if his sharingan has turned off once since he blinked it on to see Tobirama’s stomach. He’s glad it’s still on, because he’s never actually seen Aniki’s face look like it’s doing twelve different katas at once.

“Congratulations,” Mito says, even though her eyes are fixed solely on Izuna, “on the baby.”

Izuna squints his eyes at her. Of course Mito would know about Tobirama, which would in turn mean she knows about him. No wonder Tobirama was very enthusiastic with his send-off, if it was Mito’s idea!

“You two have to get married!” Aniki suddenly cuts in, his face finding the right kata of Concerned but Trying Not to Freak Out.

“Sure.” Izuna says, already planning on marrying Tobirama before this whole baby thing happened.

“Before the baby’s born!”

“Good thing the traditional clothes can be let out, then.” Tobirama says, completely unruffled at the fact that he’s been pseudo-proposed to through Madara.

The two continue talking but Izuna pauses as he gets caught on what his Aniki said. Born. Birth. Pregnant, which he is. Pregnant, which means he’ll give birth—!

Ohhh, Mito’s good.

Chapter Text

There’s no way.

After all this time, all the pains they’ve shared.

Hashirama has failed his last, baby brother.

His Tobi.

His Tobi is—!

The trees whisper to him. Is it not good that river-bubbles-rain-caller has been pollinated by ash-lightning-fire-blower?

He wants to shout that NO, IT’S NOT GOOD!

But the trees do not understand, do nothing more than whisper that friend-unbending-ironwood-giver-of-life and still-vast-ocean-wave-maker will bear fruit, is it not the same?

He wants to shout that NO, IT’S NOT THE SAME!

The trees are a terrible, terrible listener, and are an even worse advice giver.

Ash-lighting-fire-blower will bear fruit from river-bubbles-rain-caller, when will charcoal-ember-spark-giver pollinate?

Hashirama doesn’t want to think of Madara in the same thought as Izuna and Tobirama in that light!

Fruit from the same tree grow into similar trees. Does charcoal-ember-spark-giver not want to pollinate river-bubbles-rain-caller?

Hashirama wants the trees to stop now, they’re not helping! He manages to make the whispers not so noticeable by finding Madara. Because—


Ahh, yes, he can’t listen to the trees’ whispers if he himself is louder than they are.

Madara yelps and looks guilty as hell, which makes Hashirama more irritated. So Hashirama pastes on his Most Wonderful Smile.

“Did you know what I just found out?” He says pleasantly.

“Nooo, what did you just—”

“My baby brother, my Tobi, is pregnant!” Hashirama wails as he leans on Madara for support.

Oh, whoops, he’s mad at Madara. He straightens up and looks Madara straight in the eyes.

“Did you know that your little brother did that to him?”


“I KNEW IT! YOU KNEW ABOUT IT!” Hashirama shrieks, because Madara kept a secret from him!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—”

“I’m not dumb!” Hashirama huffs. “Sensors a tenth of your power can sense those things! When I get through with you, Izuna’s next on my list!”

“Wait—! Hashirama!” Madara rightfully flees when Hashirama snarls at him.

Hashirama takes a moment to take a deep breath and sigh. He feels much better after terrorizing—he means, injecting enough self-preservation into Madara.

Time to find Izuna~

Chapter Text

Just a bit closer . . .

Nearly there . . .

Just a little bit closer . . .

Almost there . . .

“Izuna, you’re going to have to try much, much harder than that.”

Izuna does not emit a high-pitched shriek that’s more terror than indignation at having been caught.

He doesn’t!

That pale smug bastard hadn’t even opened his stupid smug eyes before calling him out!

“I—you were—YOU WERE ASLEEP!” Izuna flails at a still-closed-eyed Tobirama, “WHAT! I HAD YOU!”

“Clearly you did not.”

Oh, Izuna’s gonna wipe that smirk off that stupid pretty face—


Izuna’s wrestled beneath a very solid Tobirama and he wheezes from his position of being squished. Tobirama’s lips press against his face, seemingly at random.

“No! You can’t—ah!—You can’t just kiss it make it better, Senju! I’m mad at you!” Izuna curses the fact that he’s smiling, that Tobirama still hasn’t opened his eyes—!

“Are you sure? I’m sure I could find the right place to kiss it make it better.”

Izuna shivers at the rough, low voice. It makes his toes curl because yes, Izuna very much wants. He laments the fact that a sleepy Tobirama can so easily get his way because of that voice.

“I suppose I could let you try.”

The only thing stopping Izuna from actually purring when Tobirama starts up with better, more focused kisses, is that he can feel Tobirama’s lazy smirk against his neck.

Chapter Text

“I’m not sure about this.”

“You will be fine.”

“Yeah, you say that now, but I’ll literally drown.”

Izuna looks down to where the waves are just washing over his toes.

“I’m right here, and I know you know how to swim.”

Izuna snorts. “It’s not the swimming thing I have an issue with.”

“It’s just water.”

“Yeah, says the suiton user!”

Tobirama, already waist deep and further out than what Izuna would like, manages to send him a Very Displeased face.

Like Tobirama’s gonna save him in time from being dragged out to sea by a riptide and then brutally eaten by a shark or some other terrible, terrible beast that lurks in the depths! Izuna’s not even sure if he’d be able to roast the fucker with all that water around! So no, he won’t be joining Tobirama in the fucking ocean! He squints out to the dark, deep blue waves rolling in the distance.

Not this time, shark.

Chapter Text

“Come on, it’s just a little bit of embers!”

“Izuna, they’re on fire.”

“Pssh, only a little!”

“A little—!!” Tobirama cuts himself off as he twitches, watching yet another Uchiha child scamper across the length of the burning coals.

This has got to be one of the worst clan traditions in the history of clan traditions.

And he’s not sure how much more his nerves can take.

Izuna sends Tobirama a Completely Innocent look that immediately Tobirama doesn’t like.

“I’ll make it worth your while later.”

Tobirama stares at Izuna, weighing the pros and cons. Said how it was, Tobirama could probably milk it for all its worth. And it’s not like he can’t just, coat the bottom of his feet with water to walk across the flaming coals. Yes, he supposes there’s no real harm in taking part in this crazy Uchiha tradition.

Sighing, he gets in the starting position, suddenly feeling quite nervous again. He shoots one last beseeching look at Izuna, who’s still smiling and nodding encouragingly. With a deep breath, he starts to mold his chakra—


Madara breaks his concentration and he shoots the other sensor a blistering glare.

There’s a few jeers and boos, but they give way easily in light of the festival, turning to cheers and chanting.

Tobirama grimaces down at the coals. Izuna better be prepared to make good on his word.

Chapter Text

“Ow! Shit!”

That’s it. This is the third time Izuna’s tripped over some misplaced piece of furniture, or plant, or whatever!


“Yes, Izuna?”

Curse that Senju for sounding so amused! If Izuna thought he could get over to where he sounds like he’s in the doorway to the kitchen without tripping again, he’d do so in a heartbeat.

“What the fuck has happened to our house?!”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Izuna grinds his teeth together because—“Oh, really? The new plant, the chair, the other chair! When did we get so many fucking CHAIRS?!”

“Hashirama came to visit.”

“Of fucking course he did.” Izuna grumbles, because really, who else would just grow new chairs and then leave them where someone could trip over them

“You never minded before.”

“I was never blind before!” Izuna backpedals quickly. “I mean, it’s not—I don’t regret, but—”

It’s quiet as Izuna cuts himself off, feeling not for the first time since gifting his brother his eyes—completely out of his depth and teetering on the edge of an epic meltdown.

Gentle fingers brush his hair away from his face and he takes a shuddering breath as he leans into the contact.

“Give it time, you will adjust.”

Izuna simply nods as he allows himself to be pulled into a warm embrace.

“I was not infallible growing up, either. However, my mother was the only one who seemed to realize my . . . impairment for what it was.”

Izuna nuzzles in closer, because wow, clearly his chakra feels as bad as he actually feels if Tobirama is telling him about his mother.

“She was the one to teach me not to rely solely on my sensing to move around, using the techniques I’m now teaching you. You will get there.”

“Thank you, Tobirama.”

A kiss presses into the top of his head.

“Any time, Izuna.”

Chapter Text

“I didn’t take you for the jealous type.”

“I’m not jealous.” Izuna lies easily.

His answer gets him a sidelong look.

“Sure about that?”

Izuna opens his mouth to reply hotly that yes, yes he’s sure, when the literal bane of his recent existence himself pops into view, slightly singed (which is pretty much the default of any Uchiha child). He tries his best to turn his grimace into at least a neutral frown. It works somewhat.


“Kagami-chan”—Tobirama says with warmth and Izuna has to remind himself that he can’t activate his sharingan and tell the kid to leave them the fuck alone—“Have you found all the tags?”

Izuna does his best to both tune into the conversation (partly because he’s nosy) and tune out the annoying buzz of Kagami’s voice as he gushes to Tobirama-sensei.

It takes an annoyingly long amount of time for the brat to say that no, he hadn’t found all of the tags yet (that Tobirama-sensei apparently, unfairly, stuck in some hard-for-your-average-8-year-old to reach places, but Izuna’s sure that Kagami will find a way), and to race off to try and complete his task.

Tobirama chuckles, staring after his almost-not-quite student until he disappears from view. Then that red, red gaze is meeting his and his eyebrow quirks.

Izuna bristles, because he’s not admitting he’s jealous!

“Tags?” He inquires instead.

“Yes, most of them with inconsequential marks drawn on them, the rest primed and ready exploding tags.”

Izuna snorts, because Izuna knows what’s coming next.

“Kagami will learn how to discern exploding tags from the rest without the use of chakra, otherwise he’ll set them off.”

Izuna’s grin isn’t friendly, full of teeth as imagines poor little Kagami trying to figure out whether the tag he’s about to pick up has a little extra mark somewhere that means it’s a dud, or a different type of exploding tag. Knowing Tobirama, they’re so incredibly close to an actual exploding tag that without the sharingan it would be very, very hard to tell the difference.

(Even seeing the difference, with his sharingan, did nothing to stop Izuna from poking at the weird exploding tag he came across when he was younger and having it explode in a shower of ink. Izuna blames the Uchiha propensity to poke at stuff until something happens.)

Izuna almost pities Kagami.

Instead, he wonders what color ink will be branded into his skin for several days.

Chapter Text


“Tobirama’s not here.” Izuna spits out, already irritated that his lover’s away on a mission that he’s not also on.

“I know that”—Kagami sidles closer to him, arms fidgeting behind his back—“I just thought you’d like some company.”

Izuna snorts. The sound is decisively bitter.

Kagami ducks his head and okay, Izuna feels a little bad taking out his annoyance on the boy. Perhaps the boy is simply feeling the loss of Tobirama as well. Sighing, he shifts a bit on the engawa, well aware he doesn’t actually have to, and pats the warm spot he left.

The reaction is immediate, and Kagami’s resulting smile is nearly bright enough that he almost smiles.

When Kagami reveals the object behind his back as he sits, he actually does smile.

(Even though he’s almost exceedingly jealous that Kagami knows Tobirama’s favorite dango flavors.)

It’s only after they’ve been sitting quietly, dango nearly finished, that Izuna realizes that Tobirama is dear to Kagami too.

(Not in the same way as Tobirama is dear to him, but dear to him all the same.)

“He’s strong, he’ll come back.”

Izuna watches as Kagami droops, sighing, and feels like doing the same.

Chapter Text

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

Izuna scoffs. “Of course I can cook; who do you think fed the Uchiha main family after my mother died? Father couldn’t cook for shit, and Madara is even worse! I mean, how does one even burn water?!”

A pause, and even as Izuna can feel the heat creep up the back of his neck, can hear Tobirama’s eyebrow lift, he resolutely keeps his focus on the food he’s putting the final touches on.

“Don’t answer that!” Izuna snaps as Tobirama opens his mouth.

“I haven’t said anything.”

I haven’t said anything.” Izuna mimics in the most annoying voice he can muster as he bullies his way past the smirking Tobirama to set the table.

Izuna busies himself for the next few minutes, bustling in and out of the kitchen as he brings out dish after dish. It’s only after brushing his hands off and heading back out to sit down does he realize he set the table for two.

“Planning on company?”

“Not really; it’s habit.” Aniki is off on that stupid mission and it's been days. He tries to hold back the grimace that wants to form and only succeeds a little.

(It's habit, to make breakfast for his Aniki who sleeps in until the last moment possible, who rises even on a scant few hours of sleep to eat the breakfast Izuna makes before burrowing himself back to sleep longer. Izuna doesn’t even entertain the thought that he might not get those sorts of mornings any more, if his Aniki doesn’t come back this time.)

Suddenly he’s being pushed towards his seat and Tobirama is sitting down across from him, a faint blush on his cheeks as he avoids his questioning gaze.

Tobirama clears his throat. “It would be a waste; to leave the food.”

Izuna very pointedly does not correct Tobirama, and is somewhat surprised at how smooth Tobirama operates. His eyes narrow at his unexpected breakfast guest. Tobirama probably has no idea how smooth an operation he just pulled off.

(It ticks him off just a little. It ticks him off more that it actually worked.)

It’s well worth it to see Tobirama’s expression as he realizes that not only does Izuna cook, he cooks well. He watches Tobirama open his mouth and he preens and puffs up in preparation for his rival to sing his praises.

“You actually cook decently well.”

Izuna deflates. Fucking Senju, making sound like he didn’t expect the food to be good! He huffs a bit, swallowing his first bite because he’s not a heathen who talks with their mouth full.

“And I suppose you can do better, huh? Next thing you know, you’re going to tell me you can sew or something!”


It makes Izuna look up from where he’s pushing a piece of omelette around to meet Tobirama’s gaze. Or, meet as much as he can given the rat bastard still doesn’t look at him straight on.

“You do not.”

More silence.

“Stop fucking lying!”

Tobirama simply gives him a tiny quirk of his lips that definitely means he’s laughing inside.

You do not.” Izuna repeats, like saying it enough times would cause it to be true.

“It seems we both have many hidden talents.”

Izuna growls and simply points at Tobirama with his chopsticks. “Fucking eat your food, Senju!”

He then promptly shoves a too big bite of rice into his mouth and begins aggressively chewing it, reminding himself that Aniki wouldn’t forgive him for scorching the table again.

Chapter Text


“Izuna! Now’s not the time! Come on, there’s Senju to battle!”

“Anikiiii!!” Izuna wails even harder, throwing yet another robe out of his wardrobe.

“IZUNA, I’M BEING SERIOUS—” Madara cuts himself off as he slams open his bedroom door.

There’s shirts and robes strewn all across his room. Izuna’s seriously going to cry.

“What the fuck, Izuna?” Madara grumpily lifts up a shirt only to see—







“WHERE?!” Izuna shrieks as he throws himself bodily across his room and grips the front of his sleeping yukata. “I’M INDECENT!”

“NO, YOU IDIOT!” Madara snaps as he crosses his arms. “THE ONLY PERSON WHO COULD HAVE DONE THIS IS TOBIRAMA!”


“Tobirama . . . probably, maybe, could possibly, have a way to be undetectable by my sensing.” Madara grumbles half under his breath.

Izuna whimpers.

“I’ll go get you one of mine.”

“What! But, Aniki, you’re like, ten centimeters taller than me! NOTHING WILL FIT!” Izuna shouts the last bit so Madara, who’s already down the hall and in his bedroom, could hear him.

“I DON’T CARE!” Aniki stomps back to his room and throws a robe at him. “ROLL UP THE SLEEVES OR SOMETHING—LET’S GO!”

Izuna cries, but dutifully puts on the offered robe.

(Regrettably, he does have to roll up the sleeves, lest they get caught on his sword.)

Izuna will make sure that stupid Senju pays for what he did! He’s not sure how that rat bastard snuck into his bedroom, found all of the articles of clothing with the uchiwa on them, and then stitched the Senju crest over all of them, but Amaterasu as his witness, Izuna will make him bleed for it!

Chapter Text


Izuna blushes and tries his best to beat back the blush rising to his face.

“So, so pretty.” Tobirama continues to whisper in his ear as his hands trail up his arms, his sides, his back.

Normally Izuna would find the compliment offending; he’s not some civilian hime whose only purpose is to look appealing.

Normally Izuna isn’t wearing a furisode sewn by Tobirama.

He casts a glance up at Tobirama when he steps back and does his best to smirk despite the warm, bubbly stirring inside his chest.

“Like what you see?” It comes out too breathless for Izuna’s liking, but it rewards him a deep blush on Tobirama’s face.

“Very much so.”

At the honest confession, Izuna ducks his head, smiling. Perhaps not something he’d wear very often, but he does actually feel quite pretty in this. Tobirama tied the obi tightly, however, intentional or otherwise (and Izuna suspects otherwise; Tobirama’s hands were very nearly trembling as he slid the silk over him), and Izuna’s sure the faintness he’s experiencing is lack of oxygen.

“Time to take this off me, then?”

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet.”

Tobirama grips the front of his obi and tugs Izuna closer. Izuna wheezes. The glint in Tobirama’s eyes makes his simmering arousal throughout the—strangely intimate—dressing roar and spiral. He kisses Tobirama back hard, and breaks the kiss to gasp for breath that’s denied him through the tightly wound obi.

Izuna’s starting to doubt whether the tightness is accidental as Tobirama pulls Izuna down on top of his lap.

(Izuna can’t deny it feels like he’s surrounded by Tobirama, being hugged by him, even as he’s on top of him.)

A pale hand works it’s way underneath the layers he’s wearing and Izuna whimpers, words long forgotten.

If this is how Izuna is to go, at least he’ll die happy.

Chapter Text

“Madara, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Everything is JUST. FINE.”

Everything is not fine; his eye twitches just thinking about the scene he walked into earlier this morning. Madara found Tobirama in Izuna’s bed. While Izuna was in it. And there certainly wasn’t enough clothing on them to be considered decent.

Madara sends another scathing glare at the top of Tobirama’s head where it’s bowed over some paperwork. The least the stupid rat bastard could do is fucking acknowledge his glare!

His glare narrows as he spots a quick tick at the corner of Tobirama’s mouth.

That’s it.

“Fucking Senju.” He growls lowly, well aware that Hashirama’s flitting closer to him now, crossing the office.

“That would be your brother’s job, if memory serves.”

“Prick! Stay away from Izuna!” Madara doesn’t care if half the village hears him, hell, he’d be glad if half the village hears him!


Tobirama sighs, and Madara counts it as a victory. Because now Hashirama is worried. Hah! Let’s see that stupid albino Senju get out of this!


“Tobi! What did you do?”

“Seeing as peace between the Uchiha is something I know you’ve longed for—”


“—I’ve simply taken the liberty—”

Taken liberties!” Madara hisses under his breath.

“—of getting to know my rival better outside of battle and fighting.”

“Oh, really?” Hashirama perks up. “That’s incredible, Tobi! I’m so happy! What have you been doing, then?”

“I’ve been sleeping with Izuna.”

Madara waits expectantly. Surely that big tree will finally kick Tobirama’s ass for doing that with Izuna. He watches as Hashirama’s painfully cheerful expression morphs into unadulterated, blinding delight. Then Hashirama launches at Tobirama, pulling him into a fierce hug that Tobirama simply allows. Madara’s so, so confused.

Madara hopes Tobirama’s ribs get crushed regardless.

“What better way to get to know someone than to sleep side-by-side with them, just like we used to do growing up!”

Tobirama sends him a knowing look over Hashirama’s shoulder.

Madara stifles his scream of frustration.

Chapter Text

“I can’t feel my legs.”

Izuna makes a sound of protest as Tobirama attempts to lift him off his lap.

Izuna clings harder.

Tobirama huffs but ultimately leaves him.

“We can’t stay like this forever.”

Scowling, Izuna swats Tobirama’s shoulder. “Way to ruin the mood.”

“This is hardly the first time I’ve mentioned that when we’re on a training field, the amount of post-coital cuddling must be close to non-existent.”

“Yes, well,” Izuna huffs and bobbles his head as he decides whether or not taunting Tobirama while he’s still inside him is a good idea. Probably not. “This is the hardly the first time neither one of our brothers has come to make sure we don’t kill each other.”

“You’re welcome.”

Izuna gives in and bites the exposed part of Tobirama’s neck, pulling back just as a hiss comes out to lave his tongue over the new, blooming mark.

“At least now we can have sex without either one bursting in on us because ‘our chakra felt weird.’”

“Mmm, that is true.” Tobirama’s hands are idly rubbing at his waist, and all Izuna can really think about is wanting them to grip and pull him down while Tobirama grinds up and yes, yes please.

He’s kneading Tobirama’s back and shoulders, his neck—anywhere, really—that Izuna can reach in attempts to spur his boyfriend into another amorous mood. He starts to whimper and twitch his hips down, trying his best to keep Tobirama inside.

Those long, strong fingers grip and Izuna keens.

“Wh-Where are our brothers?”

Tobirama chuckles. “Do you really care?”

Izuna pauses. “Not really.”

“Well, they’re still in the Tower, thanks to our long-running misdirection.”

“Hmm?” Izuna’s really not paying much attention to what Tobirama’s saying anymore. Not since Izuna can feel Tobirama twitch inside him, not since Tobirama’s hips are matching his small thrusts with equal force, not since those fingers are dancing across his exposed skin.

“Are you ready for round two of our afternoon spar, Izuna?”

Fuck, yes.” Izuna hisses and shivers as all that really registers is the husky tone of voice Tobirama used.

Chapter Text

Izuna blinks as his fingers meet the warmed and smooth base of something. Breaking their kiss, he pulls back just enough to send Tobirama a curious look. His gaze is shyly met, and Tobirama’s blush is deep enough that his tattoos are nearly overpowered.

“I, ah”—Tobirama licks his lips—“wanted to be prepared.”

Izuna’s brain sputters.

“You, ‘wanted to be prepared’? In case I, what, decided to sequester you off into a small, cramped, dark closet in the Hokage Tower even before checking in with Hashirama about the details of the mission—a success, spoiler—and have my filthy, dirty way with you upon my immediate return?”

“Precisely.” Tobirama sounds a bit breathless. Maybe it’s because Izuna’s gently feeling out the base of the plug inside him.

(Fuck, Tobirama is twitching so much—)

Izuna hums as his brain kicks back into gear, reminding him sharply of the tightness of his pants.

“And how is it, that you’re stretched open right now, when I know my mission scroll estimated I’d be back in another day and a half?”

Tobirama keens as Izuna pulls the plug out just a bit, cutting off whatever sort of answer he was planning on giving.

Izuna has no time for answers, not right now.

No, right now, all he has time for is pulling the holy shit what the fuck where the fuck did Tobirama get one this size

Whimpering, and feeling like he may have just cum a bit in his pants, Izuna takes a moment to watch Tobirama’s hole twitch as it gapes open, before holding up the plug to a very, truly red face.

“What the fuck.” Now Izuna sounds a bit breathless. Maybe it’s because all of his blood is pooling in his dick.

He works himself out of his pants faster than he ever has before and slides into Tobirama in a single, smooth move.

Whatever Tobirama’s answer was going to be, it’s now a moan (that he matches), and has been put on the back burner until Izuna finishes fucking them both stupid.

Chapter Text

Izuna lifts his head at the small pop and flash of light he’s come to associate with Tobirama using that weird jutsu that he nearly got skewered by.

There’s no one around.

Izuna squints his eyes, fiddling with the brush in his hand.


Maybe his brain just decided to fuck with him. Entirely likely.

Maybe his beloved is actually trying something new and is the cause of this weird happenstance. More likely.

He stands up, sharingan active as he tentatively steps away from his desk where he thinks he heard the sound.

“Watch it!”

Izuna freezes, foot mid-air, as his beloved’s voice sounds out in that tone of voice.

(Izuna still hasn’t forgotten the last time he heard it: he’d gone in search of Tobirama in his lab and ended up with bright purple eyebrows. Just his eyebrows. For three weeks.)


Izuna barely hears the sigh. His eyes slowly trail across the room, trying to figure out—

“Oh my gods, Tobirama!” He can’t help but smile as he places his foot down (and very much away) from his husband’s now much, much smaller form.

Kneeling, he holds out his hand and while Tobirama huffs, he still steps onto his hand.

It’s entirely too adorable to feel Tobirama’s cute, tiny body squish into his fingers to latch on when he moves. And because Izuna still has no self-preservation even after years of Tobirama trying to beat it into him, he opens his mouth.

“Oh~ Look at you~! You’re so tiny and cute! You’re probably as long as my—ow!”

“Ah, good, it seems I still have nearly my original strength, given how easy it was to break your finger.”

Izuna pouts at his pint-sized husband.

Chapter Text

“Do I need to—hah—break another finger of yours?”

Izuna smirks as Tobirama valiantly tries to avoid his fingers. It really doesn’t help him that Izuna’s tugging gently on his clothes and hair.

And his dear, sweet, tiny husband is squirming! Squirming! Getting all flustered, and his swats at Izuna’s fingers are only half-hearted, at best. (There hasn’t been any more broken fingers, so Izuna’s taking that as a go-ahead.)

One might think that Tobirama enjoys being manhandled so.

(Izuna knows that Tobirama enjoys being manhandled so.)

So Izuna continues playing with Tobirama like a cat would a mouse, succeeding in getting Tobirama all flustered and blushing. A finger rubbing between Tobirama’s legs makes him nearly collapse over Izuna’s hand. Izuna’s dick twitches at the hot, small pants of air that tickle his palm.

Suddenly, Tobirama bites his palm, and it’s only a faint prick of pain, but it’s accompanied by a muffled groan. All that Izuna’s left with is a puddle of perfectly-palm-sized Tobirama in his hand.

Izuna desperately needs to go deal with his hard-on, and looking at Tobirama in his hand and imagining just, wrapping his hand around his dick, Tobirama there, braced by his hand and wrapped around it—

Maybe giving his husband one more orgasm will make him pliant and willing enough to try it. Like this, Izuna could wrap his entire mouth around everything of Tobirama’s—

Izuna has never scurried off to their bedroom faster.

Chapter Text

Hashirama re-reads the scroll handed to him.

“What.” He repeats, voice low and chakra stirring.

The messenger bows deeply. “That’s what Izuna-sama wrote, Hokage-sama!”

Hashirama’s chakra spikes again. He takes a deep breath, and then mentally tells the trees to fuck off as their oh so helpful commentary isn’t needed right now.

(Although, the firs make a good point that he probably should burn the rot in the village; he just doesn’t approve of who they say is rotten.)

Dismissing the messenger (who is more than willing to leave the room that’s suddenly filled with vines), Hashirama slumps back into his chair, defeated.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the faint shhh of the vines creeping away, the cracks and pops of the warped desk and floor righting themselves.

Another moment of silence passes.

Madara breaks it gently, unsure. “Is . . . everything alright?”

It’s a dumb question, because clearly everything is not alright, but Madara really has no idea how to handle this situation.

And then Hashirama’s popping out of his chair, flying over the room to cling to him and Madara regrets everything.

“Oh, Madara!” Hashirama wails oh so loudly right next to his ear. “Tobi got caught in some strange genjutsu and is attacking Izuna!”

Madara laments his hearing, and his ribcage, because ow.

“Hashirama, they were equals on the battlefield; they’ll both be alright.” Madara would like to think so, especially since Tobirama has never truly been caught and kept in a genjutsu for very long.

Hashirama perks up, and Madara’s ribs cry out in relief as the bone-crunching assault ends.

Madara needs to have a serious conversation with Izuna when they get back.

Chapter Text

“Think they’ll buy it?” Izuna pants out as Tobirama pushes him against the door of their inn room to kiss him.

“I’ll sense if they send someone to come and ‘rescue’ you.”

Hands run under clothing and it’s a small miracle all their clothes come off without ripping.

“Oh, fuck—Tobirama!”

Izuna shakes as Tobirama lifts him up effortlessly and follows him down onto the soft, plush bed.

“I’m going to ride you so hard, Izuna.”

Izuna keens as his ear is nibbled on. He pulls Tobirama’s hips down and strokes both of them, blood whooshing in his ears loudly but he can still hear Tobirama’s long moan.

“Aniki’s going to have my head; I think he’s figured it out.”

Tobirama snorts. “I’d have questioned his mental capacities if he hadn’t, by now. Our excuses have become pretty blatant.”

Izuna hums, because it probably means he’s going to get tossed into Aniki’s newly built koi pond when they get back.

“Less talking, more touching.” Izuna punctuates his statement by gripping Tobirama’s hips and pulling him down.

Chapter Text

Izuna falters.

Oh, oh fuck.


“Cat got your tongue, Uchiha?” Tobirama taunts and—

Izuna suppresses a whimper at the faint traces of blood he can see coating his rival’s lips and teeth. How had he never seen how utterly and devastatingly hot his rival is?

Oh, oh no.

This is not good.

He risks a look towards his Aniki, desperately hoping that either he or that tree bastard are about to call a retreat.

Grimacing as he watches the two exchange blows, he realizes that a retreat’s not going to happen right now.


Izuna refocuses on his rival, and firmly closes his lips around the sounds desperate to get out. His lips turn into a snarl as Tobirama raises his eyebrow.

Fucking Senju!

Tobirama wipes the back of his hand against his mouth, smearing the red further up his cheek.

Oh shit, he’s still so hot.

Izuna’s sharingan registers that Tobirama’s hand clenches around his sword just a fraction tighter, in preparation of a strike.

Oh shit, he’s still coming at me, Izuna thinks and then raises his own sword, parrying the blow.

His mouth goes dry as this close, Izuna can see all of that stupidly pretty (and dangerous) face. The bright red standing out against that pale (oh so pale) skin.

Izuna’s never been as grateful for a retreat in his entire life.

Chapter Text

Izuna gasps for air. His ribs hurt like a motherfucker and he’d honestly be very surprised if they weren’t all cracked. The trees swim in his vision and Izuna once again curses his stupid ass luck.

Why is it always his missions that wind up being the ones with bad intel?

Fucking Senju.

Yeah, the Senju probably target him, knowing what he means to Aniki.

Figuring out who to assign blame to gives Izuna something other to think about than the pain blooming over his chest and his cheek.

Fuck, that scratch on his cheek is probably how he got poisoned.

Stupid poison.

Fucking Senju.

Ugh, now Izuna’s thinking about that last battle, where Tobirama licked his own bleeding scratch on his arm. Like that’s just a thing he does. Like what the fuck.

Izuna’s dizzy, and he’s not sure now if it’s just entirely the poison.

Rustling in the bushes next to him makes him pause and palm a kunai. Fuck anyone who thinks he’s going down without a fight!

A squirrel pops out of the bushes when Izuna throws his kunai (that spectacularly misses) at it.

Sighing, Izuna really needs to—


Izuna’s sort of glad he threw the kunai, otherwise he would have impaled himself as he grips his chest in terror. And wouldn’t that have been a way to go.

The vision of his rival looks as unimpressed as ever.

Chapter Text

Izuna’s not sure why his brain decided to conjure up Tobirama’s image, but in case Izuna hasn’t thought it in the past minute:

Fucking Senju.

(Obviously this is a poison-induced vision, because he’d be dead otherwise. The White Devil would never allow such a prime opportunity to cut him down go.)

Vision Tobirama sighs, like it’s his fault that he’s here and—

Well, shit. It is his fault.

But Izuna’s not going to take any shit from Tobirama, even if it’s his own brain doing it!

Why him? Why now? Why can’t something go completely right for him just once in his life?

Izuna’s aware he’s rambling out loud as he shuffles his steps closer to home. Because Tobirama vision or not, he still needs to drag his ass far enough for Aniki to sense him, at the least.

The soft moss feels amazing—

Why is he sitting on moss? Why is that stupid vision of Tobirama getting closer?

Fucking Sage, why couldn’t it be Aniki his brain decided needed to make sure he gets up and hauls his ass back home?

(Probably because Izuna ignores Aniki when he gets screechy, which is the only way his brain would manifest him. Maybe he should be thankful it’s simply his reticent rival.)

Izuna nods sagely.

Blinking his eyes back open that he doesn’t remember shutting, it’s to see his rival much, much closer than expected, a hand reaching out towards his face. He can’t help but to flinch back a bit.

(He’s poisoned; his responses can be a bit less controlled than usual.)

That makes Tobirama pause, which makes Izuna pause, little warning bells starting to go off in the back of his brain. But then that pale hand is pressed against the side of his face, opposite the poisoned cut and it’s . . . honestly much softer than he’d imagined it would be. Wow, so his brain is now resorting to surprising itself in order to keep him going in his hour of need. Spectacular.

Then Tobirama’s face comes even closer, and the unease grows exponentially inside him. Something wet touches his cheek and Izuna reaches up (because he remembers he can) to stop this vision Tobirama from—from licking his cut!

His wrist is gripped in that other too soft hand and Izuna can only sit there and wince as Tobirama licks his cheek, little pauses in between strokes where his tongue curls back into that mouth and—

Izuna nearly whimpers. He hates his brain for conjuring up this Tobirama who has too soft hands and a too hot tongue.

(Izuna would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of something similar to this, after the last battle. Curse his brain and sharingan memory!)

After what feels like hours, vision Tobirama finally backs up, a smirk firmly in place.

“A patrol isn’t that far off in that direction”—Vision Tobirama points—“You should start walking.”

And between one long blink and the next, Izuna’s left staring at nothing. His brain hurts, and his chest hurts, but surprisingly his cheek doesn’t.

Izuna can’t even begin to process what the fuck just happened.

“Fucking Senju.”

Chapter Text

Uchiha are dumb, Tobirama thinks, and slow.

At least, all the ones he’s met so far have been.

(It’s a trend now, with as many data points as he has.)

It holds true until he winds up face to face with Uchiha Izuna on the river. He’ll never admit it, but he introduces the other out of sheer panic. Because somewhere in the very back of his brain, as he stares at a face he can place the name to, goes mine.

(Tobirama’s sure that the Uchiha would see being compared to a mewling kitten barely able to stand as an insult but . . . the Uchiha does set off the same sort of reaction; adorable, if slightly pathetic.)

Maybe it’s the mulish expression set on a face too round, with a too thick upper lip, nothing like how his own face, even with some baby fat left, looks dangerous. Izuna’s face looks nearly angelic in comparison.

Perhaps it’s the fact that even as they grow, and clash blades against each other each battle, that little feeling in the back of his head grows stronger.

If Tobirama casts his senses out to really feel the myriad emotions that are shown through that wispy-smoke-and-lightning chakra, well, no one truly has to know how often.

Chapter Text

After the last battle where Tobirama, on instinct, licked clean his scratch on his arm, he’s been thinking about his rival’s face as it happened.

Izuna had faltered.

(Izuna never falters; the fact he did so for Tobirama makes him preen.)

He certainly never thought that his water healing technique would garner such a reaction.

(Saliva, Tobirama found, is much more readily available than pulling water from the air, and given how it comes from his own body, he’s had much more success healing his own wounds through it.)

So Tobirama does what any good scientist does: tries to take it a step further.

Within the last few weeks, he’s been able to test his healing on Anija and Touka, with resounding success. Except for that one incident that still causes Tobirama to blush just thinking about.

(It’s well and truly not Tobirama’s fault that his saliva takes on a tingling sensation, but it was interesting to note the, ah, unique reaction when it lands on certain places.)

Anija made him promise not to lick-heal anyone after that incident. Tobirama stubbornly chose to ignore him and focused his newest tests with Touka, who, upon learning what exactly she signed up for, simply sighed.

Tobirama leans back in his chair as he ponders his latest trail of thoughts on his technique. Poison. Specifically, extracting poison at little to no risk of it harming himself.

Frustrated at his lack of progress, Tobirama finds himself doing what he normally does while feeling upset: casting out his senses and searching for that one signature that always dances so prettily and shifts and slides with the barest of changes in emotion.

Ah, there Izuna is—Tobirama’s brow furrows as he picks up the sluggish and painpainpain

Tobirama’s out the door before he even realizes it.

Chapter Text


Tobirama very, very carefully doesn’t move as he watches his rival grip his chest. An injured shinobi can still be a dangerous shinobi. Upon looking closer, Tobirama notes that Izuna truly doesn’t look well.

(His chakra spilling out in painful ripples attests to that fact.)

So Tobirama helps Izuna sit down, knowing that a sitting shinobi is a slightly more controlled shinobi, but with how Izuna’s mumbling and his eyes are unfocused, Tobirama would bet his left sandal that Izuna’s not completely aware right now.

After all, the worst thing Izuna’s said to him since showing up was cursing him for . . . being so hot?

(Tobirama still has a faint blush because Izuna’s the pretty one, though Tobirama’s not sure if saying so would cause insult, so he remains silent.)

More thought required on that, but for now, Tobirama pushes it all to the back of his mind. He needs to focus on the present situation, which is that Izuna’s got one hell of a nasty poisoned wound. He sets his jaw and leans closer.

Izuna flinches.

Tobirama pauses, watching Izuna carefully as he finishes leaning closer and then finally when his tongue meets Izuna’s cheek.

The flailing arm is easy enough for Tobirama to catch as he begins to draw out the poison in slow, mindful swipes of his tongue.

Regrettable, really, that he must metabolize the poison instead of him figuring out how to—


Who says he must ingest the poison after drawing it out? If he simply creates a—yes, a barrier of saliva that could contain the poison in a pocket he creates on one side of his mouth, to be spit out later—

Tobirama could almost kiss Izuna, for being the catalyst for an answer that’s been stumping him for many days. Seeing as he’s already licking Izuna’s face, however, Tobirama will take what he can get.

Afterwards, and in thanks, Tobirama manages to point Izuna in the direction of the nearest patrol he can feel.

Chapter Text

Izuna’s not sure how much more of this he can take.

“Excuse me, but did you just ask me if I preferred virgins over, ah, more experienced partners?!” Izuna shrieks.

Tobirama has, for the last couple of battles, been in the practice of asking him the most random, and quite personal, questions. It’s bad enough that topics always include some manner of indecencies and generally stomp all over social niceties, but it gets worse because Tobirama is serious about the questions!

There’s a strike to his—apparently unprotected—right flank that’s definitely going to bruise and fuck!

“Are you dumb now, as well?”

Izuna grits his teeth as he parries another blow while vehemently ignoring the rising blush on his face.

“Need me to repeat myself?”


Tobirama pauses, and Izuna sees the telltale glint in his eyes that means he’s about to get serious and oh Sage the scar has just healed from the last time—!!

“I DON’T CARE!” Izuna lies, but puts as much emphasis on the words as he can.

(He very much cares—the clan as a whole don’t go around just, just sleeping with people!)


The sharp (very sharp, ow) side of Tobirama’s blade bites harshly into his side and if that’s not a fucking pout on Tobirama’s face then Izuna would eat his own pants.

(It doesn’t really look that much different than his regular stupid face, but Izuna’s very, very good at picking up the micro-expressions that Tobirama probably does on purpose—the bastard!)

“I can tell when you’re lying, Izuna. You should answer me truthfully now.”

Whatever blood that’s not trying to leave him through that slash (that’s definitely going to scar, wow if that’s not insanely hot, the skill Tobirama displays by casually scarring him) instantly floods his face. The result leaves him a lot lightheaded and he tries not to openly gape at Tobirama.

“Virgins! Okay?! Why on earth would anyone sleep with anyone they don’t truly love?! That’s not just something you do—” Izuna cuts himself off because in his embarrassment he’d forgotten that he rambles when socially pressured severely, and he’d say he’s being pressured quite severely right now.

His tiny, small—insignificant, really—crush on the deadly man that’s his rival has nothing to do with exactly how embarrassed he is. None whatsoever.

(And this is why Aniki says he’s a lousy pushover when it comes to his rival. Which is easy for Aniki to say, since he always says it from the edge of the koi pond after he’s been thrown in it.)

Tobirama pauses long enough to give him a considering noise and a vaguely surprised look (oh great), before Aniki and that tree bastard are upon them, calling a retreat.

Chapter Text

This is it. This is as much as Izuna can take.

If he ends up coming out of this alive, he’ll not only support peace, he’ll beg Aniki. Seriously.

“I’m bored.”

Izuna thunks his head into the tree trunk he’s tied to. “Clearly you’re not.”

Tobirama hums noncommittally.

Izuna knows better than to close his eyes, but he allows them to fall half-mast as he watches his rival crouch in front of him.

“Not anymore, I’m not.” And Tobirama smirks, a slow thing.

“You—bastard!” Izuna snarls and thrashes again, if only to try and keep Tobirama away that last, scant space between them.

It only works marginally, but it still works.

“So, Izuna, while we’re both stuck here—”


“I have a question for you.”

Izuna immediately quiets down, not because he really wants to, but, well . . . Tobirama doesn’t like to repeat his questions just because Izuna was ‘being disruptively loud and was unable to hear him the first time’.

(Izuna learned that lesson rather quickly, when all of his clothes ended up making him break out in a rash. Izuna’s still not sure how Tobirama did it, but considering it happened three times after Izuna failed to show a modicum of interest in Tobirama’s questioning, Izuna’s pretty fucking sure the stupid Senju is behind it.)

Grimacing at the faint (and cute, Sage dammit) smile that Tobirama graces him with at the silence, Izuna waits.

“Do you prefer men, or women?”

“You tell me, since you seem to know everything.” Izuna sasses back before he can stop himself.

(Again, this is why Aniki says he should just get his mouth sewn shut when going off to battle his rival. He’ll hear the same speech again while coming out of the koi pond . . . again.)

Tobirama clearly takes his statement as an invitation to creep closer, and oh, Izuna hopes Tobirama can’t hear how hard and fast his heart is beating. Especially since Tobirama has that smirk on his face—the one that makes his face look even more angular and—

“I think you prefer dangerous.” Tobirama says as he leans even closer.

Izuna can’t be faulted if a tiny (the tiniest) whimper escapes his lips. Not when faced with Tobirama in all his pointed interested glory.

Tobirama's cheeks puff up (not adorable in any way) and then a—dare Izuna think it, gentle—stream of water soaks him.

Sputtering, Izuna manages to shake off the water that Tobirama spat at him only to find himself alone.

Still tied to the tree.


Chapter Text

“So help me Amaterasu, if the next words out of your mouth even hint at Tobirama, you’re going into the koi pond.”

Izuna closes his mouth as his gaze slides off to the left.

“In-fucking-credible.” Aniki mutters and rubs his face. “Without saying anything, was your mission at least a success?”

Izuna nods, extra enthusiastically so water ends up flinging off his hair.

“Great, then get the fuck out before you start a river in here.”

Izuna smiles brightly at his Aniki while leaving, gleefully hearing the grumbled “couldn’t even fucking towel off a bit” before closing the door behind him.

It’s a nice day out, he could just sit out on the engawa and dry off. Yes. This has nothing to do with actually drying off and everything to do with the fact that the water Izuna’s currently dripping in won’t dry off for at least another day—or so Tobirama said.

(Izuna’s not sure he can really trust it to be only a single day. Knowing his rival, and how utterly smug he looked, it’s more than likely going to be at least another two days.)

The mission, a simple courier one, yet lead through more treacherous terrain and weather, led Izuna to seek shelter in a cave which, apparently, his rival also sought out. Which led to the dilemma of whether or not they fought each other while they were both sopping wet.

(Okay, Izuna was soaked through, princess water fairy wasn’t at all—and because Izuna definitely has at least some self-preservation instinct, he knew better than to pick a fight with Tobirama in a fucking hurricane.)

So, naturally, the night was spent in uneasy silence as Tobirama seemed to be thinking harder than usual, which made Izuna twitchy.

And since Izuna was already feeling terrible because he was wet and Tobirama was not—he may have gotten a little snappish with his rival.

Which meant that Izuna got the Look That Brings 10,000 Years of Pain and any fatigue instantly vanished, leaving Izuna twitchy, wet, quiet, and in full dread mode.

(Izuna foolishly thought Tobirama had let his mean comment go, when Tobirama asked him whether he prefers to be on top or bottom during sex. And Izuna, ever the fool, had quickly latched onto the new topic, eager, if embarrassed.)

So here Izuna is, completely wet and just on this side of cool so as not to get him sick, but still yearn for a blanket. Even though he answered completely truthfully without even attempting to bullshit, too!

Chapter Text

Izuna very carefully does not tense up. Even without turning his head, he knows who’s behind him, knows whose hands are braced on the table on either side of him, knows the large, hard, hot figure that’s pressing against his back.


He shakily swallows as Tobirama’s mouth gets right up next to his ear and Izuna doesn’t want to think what sort of picture they make, pressed up against the table as they are. If Izuna stretches his hearing, he can just make out Aniki cursing at Hashirama. They’re going to be here, in this room, talking the cease-fire and future plans, and Izuna knew it was a bad idea to arrive early.

He doesn’t close his eyes when Tobirama starts speaking, but it’s a near thing.

“So, Izuna”—dear Sage, Tobirama’s voice is going to feature in his dreams for the next couple nights at least—“I have a question for you.”

Always with the questions—!

“Why,” Izuna croaks, swallows to try and wet his dry throat, and tries again. “Why are you always asking me so many questions?”

It comes out a hiss, due to how quiet he’s pitching his voice. Aniki and Hashirama are getting closer and the very last thing he wants is for them to come into the room and see them like this. His heart is racing and a small unbidden shiver works its way through him.

(A part of Izuna desperately wants them to find them like this, see how Tobirama’s all but trying to work his way into him. Aniki’s face would be priceless.)

“I find you to be my favorite specimen of study.” Tobirama’s hands move slowly, and Izuna watches as they grip his upper arms and slide up towards his shoulders.

The touch is light, is gentle, is nearly reverent and Izuna has nowhere near enough brain cells to spare to dissect the motion because it’s still trying to process the favorite specimen of study part.

“Tell me, do you prefer to sleep in a yukata, or in the nude?”

Izuna gapes, but Tobirama’s backing off of him, taking a few steps away and crossing his arms in his signature way. Just in time, too, because Aniki and Hashirama finally turn into the room.

Tobirama doesn’t approach Izuna again, even as the talks conclude and they’re dismissed for the evening.

Izuna’s got a bad feeling about this.

Chapter Text

Izuna wakes up in darkness, surrounded by walls not his own and promptly flips out for a few moments. That is, until he realizes that he’s not chained up or otherwise restrained. Huh.

That’s right, he’s in a guest room. On Nara land. Because there’s peace talks. Right.

An owl hoots.

So what woke him up?

He wants to activate his sharingan, but he probably shouldn’t unless he really thinks his life is at risk, because they explicitly went over that point yesterday. That the sharingan stays inactive while the talks are going on. The Nara had really good, logical reasons, and Madara had scowled a little more at them, but ultimately agreed.

Izuna doesn’t want to get thrown in the koi pond that he saw (and gave a wide berth to) on their way in if this turns out to be something inconsequential.

“So it is a sleep yukata.”

A hand gets slapped over his mouth just as his screech builds up and Izuna jerks himself around to face—

Tobirama!” Izuna hisses as he bats the hand off his face, trying to remind himself to breathe because fucking Senju!

(The fact that Tobirama’s hand covered pretty much all of the lower half of his face shouldn’t be so hot, it shouldn’t!)

“Of course it’s a sleep yukata! You think I would sleep nude here?!”

Tobirama raises his hand again in a clear way that makes Izuna lower his volume again.

“You would be a creep and come in while I was asleep to check, you bastard!” Izuna whisper yells.

“You’re awake now, I fail to see the issue.”

“Fail to see—?!” Izuna sputters and flails.

Sage, to think Izuna has at least another week of this. He’s really going to kill Tobirama. That, or he’s going to spontaneously self-combust. He’s not sure which one would be better.

“I happen to have another question for you.”

Izuna gives his darkest glare he can in his current state, hair sleep mussed and eyes still deactivated.

“And you have to ask me it now?” Izuna’s going to pretend that sounded a lot more annoyed and less petulant than it actually did.

Tobirama seems to glow at his question, small smile coming out, and the image that Izuna thinks of is a kid getting served a box of dango all for themselves.

Fucking Senju.

Izuna waits, annoyed.

After another beat of silence, Izuna finally works up enough energy to speak. “What’s your quest—”

“May I kiss you?”

This is a dream. A terrible, terrible dream—no—nightmare, fueled by the fact that Tobirama is just on the other side of the Nara compound.

But . . .

Tobirama inches himself closer, nearly on top of the futon.

“You do know what you’re asking for, right?” Izuna says hesitantly, because Uchiha don’t do casual, and if Tobirama wants Izuna solely for experimentation—

Tobirama scoffs, cutting off his trail of thoughts. “Of course. I know I’m not asking in the traditional way of either of our clans, but traditions aren’t meant for everyone.”

Izuna raises his eyebrows at that and actually stops and thinks. In a nebulous way, they have been courting each other for several years now. If getting asked super invasive and personal questions, beating the shit out of, cursing, and taunting each other counts as courting.

But it fits.

“Yes.” Izuna whispers, and not a moment later he has soft lips pressing against his.

It’s chaste, which probably shouldn’t surprise Izuna at all but somehow it does because it almost feels hesitant, which is absolutely no good, because if Izuna’s had to endure all of Tobirama’s teasing, then he’s going to pay it all back tenfold.

Starting with kissing the shit out of his Senju for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

“—really shouldn’t leave your brushes just everywhere because I tripped on one and the bruise I have now is entirely your fault.”

Hashirama sighs, listening to Izuna and Tobirama, yet again, quarrel. Heh. It’s not unlike how Mito and him do. Isn’t that a thought?

“Hey, hey! Tobi! You two fight like an old married couple!” Hashirama exclaims with a large grin, because anything, even Tobi scolding him, is better than the screeching and jabs being thrown about.

But instead of scolding, Tobirama’s shooting him an almost . . . smug look?

He looks to Izuna, who’s looking at him with a—okay, Hashirama’s never been one to actual be able to read Izuna, so he’s just going to glance over at Madara—

Who’s bright red, looking torn between a screech of epic proportions and murderous rage. Huh, even his hands are twitching.

“What?” Hashirama eventually says, because no one’s spoken a single word, discounting Madara’s kettle noises.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘WHAT’?!” Madara finally lets out the screech he’s been holding in. “THEY ARE MARRIED, YOU IDIOT!”

Hashirama blinks.

Then he laughs, full-bodied and has to grip his stomach because, “Tobi and Izuna aren’t married; I would know!”

As Hokage, he would’ve had to sign the papers.

“I told you so.” Tobirama shoots at Madara, who’s looking even more red and Hashirama didn’t even know that was possible.


“Anija.” His sweet Tobi answers but doesn’t say anything else.

His eyes cut to Izuna, and narrow just a bit. If Madara’s spewing these, these lies, and Tobi isn’t answering him, then so help him, he’s going to get answers.

“You signed the papers, you were there at our wedding party.” Izuna quickly says.



He did no such thing! His precious Otouto! NO! He can’t be married!

From his crouch on the floor, he barely hears the conversation happening above him.

“I told you he never reads what I give him to sign.”

“That’s . . . wow.”

“Aniki, you owe us, now~”


“I can still say I told you so~”

Hashirama pops up, since clearly his depressive mood isn’t going to garner him any attention, and turns his smile onto his apparently-brother-in-law.

“I think it’s about time to have a little talk, I-zu-na~”

Because for the life of him, Hashirama can’t even recall when Tobirama might have brought him his damn marriage papers to sign, and therefore instead of brooding, he should beat the crap out of Izuna.

That’ll at least improve his mood just a bit.

Chapter Text

Izuna does a double take as Tobirama walks in with Madara. Well, he would have anyways, since Tobirama is Tobirama, but what grabbed his attention wasn’t him, for once.

There, taped to his back, is a piece of paper with the uchiwa drawn on it.

It makes something curl with glee inside him, because even if it’s just a simple marking, easily removed, it’s still the symbol of his clan. And Tobirama’s wearing it.

(Something also snarls in jealousy, because he certainly didn’t put it there, and there’s only a very select few who could have pulled this off without being noticed and then drowned, and he hasn’t heard of anyone meeting their untimely doom.)

Izuna shoots Tobirama’s brats next to him a quick look, and it's almost cute, how they're caught between mortification and laughter. Kagami is tellingly missing.

Perhaps if Izuna bribes Kagami with some dango, he’ll do it again. He has to hit him over the head first, though.

Chapter Text

Izuna feints left, and while he hopes Tobirama goes for it, he knows better, and is already working on his biggest, grandest, Grand Fireball.

And it leaves him feeling nearly drained, but that’s okay, because Aniki should call a retreat here any—

Izuna stares.

It hurts to look at, but Izuna can’t force himself to look away.

The Fireball he blew, it’s now a bright ball of white and blue flame. And it pulses once, before dissipating.

Izuna stares more.

Because surely, surely the water-natured Tobirama couldn’t have done—couldn’t have—

The whole battlefield is quiet, and it’s probably due to the Uchiha side being in absolute shock, as he is.

Because Tobirama’s just standing there, his fingers still in their last position and there’s no mistaking that he just blew a Heart’s Flame at his Grand Fireball.


Aniki lands next to him and makes to step in front of him.


“That worked better than I’d expected it to; I’m not sure why it turned white and blue, though.”

“I didn’t even know you were practicing katon jutsu, Tobi!”

Aniki turns to him and stares at him hard. It’s his we’re definitely talking about this later Look that definitely means Izuna’s going to get screeched at later and thrown into the koi pond.

“What are you refusing Tobi for, Madara?”

Aniki sputters as he points at Tobirama accusingly. “HIS MARRIAGE PROPOSAL!”



Tobirama’s tone is definitely one that meant he had no idea what he just did, but given how he’s not supposed to know that jutsu to begin with, his lack of knowledge doesn’t negate the proposal.

(It’s one of the first things all Uchiha were taught, when learning the jutsu, after all.)

“Oh, Tobi!”—Hashirama’s crying, and it’s not gross crying, so it should be illegal and now Izuna’s thinking about whether Tobirama would look just as good crying—“I didn’t know you felt that way about Izuna! Going out and learning their customs!”

“Wait, Anija—”

“And announcing it like this!” Hashirama continues as he clings onto Tobirama. “You should’ve told me! Now our clans can be brought together through marriage for peace!”

Tobirama looks like he wants to be having this conversation anywhere else but in the middle of the battlefield, if at all.

(He’s not allowed to rescind his proposal, and neither can Aniki refuse it, for that matter.)

And just because Tobirama’s put him on the spot like this by proposing to him, Izuna turns a vicious grin towards his rival.

“I accept.”

Chapter Text

Izuna bristles as Tobirama slinks closer—fangs bared, tail twitching, and ears flattened against his head.

Who does Tobirama think he is, to come and disturb Izuna’s nap like this?

Hissing and spitting, it rankles that Tobirama seems completely nonplussed towards his obvious displays of ire.

Okay, now that got a reaction.

Tobirama’s eyes squint even further than their usual narrowed look, but it’s a sign that he’s finally gotten something through that thick skull of his!

A white ear flicks a bit at his short yowl, and Izuna is totally going to count that as a victory.

As he’s turning back around (this particular spot of sunshine will be gone soon and it’s his favorite spot in the whole village) Tobirama moves towards him again.

Just as Izuna’s about to spit a damn Fireball at him, Tobirama holds up—

Izuna can’t help it, his tail curls up and he stares at the grilled fish Tobirama’s extending out towards him. After a quick glance at Tobirama’s face, Izuna snatches the fish up.

Trilling a bit, because if there’s anything better than a sun spot, it’s a well-cooked fish. And this is the best damn fish Izuna’s ever had.

So really, while Izuna could fight off Tobirama as he’s picked up and hauled over Tobirama’s shoulders, he won’t.

Not if he can get more fish like this out of Tobirama by being his mate.

Chapter Text

Tobirama loves his shrine; he works tirelessly to ensure its upkeep. Some days are much easier than others, and it helps when he doesn’t get many visitors.

Which makes him sad, in a way, but he supposes that not many people want to visit because it’s way out in the countryside.

Ah, and there goes his mindful meditation.

Withholding a sigh, Tobirama stands up gracefully and brushes straight his light blue hakama.

He still has chores he can do before the rain comes in.

He steadfastly ignores the little pitter-patter of feet as he grabs his broom and heads out towards the sandō. There’s some faint yips and something that sound suspiciously like something small face-planting.

Tobirama is ever so glad to have perfected a resting neutral face.

And so his afternoon is spent sweeping the walkway to the shrine, listening to the chimes of bells and the whistles of the shrine’s kami that’s teetering and spinning around him. Tobirama thinks it’s really cute, all but going to his knees in height in its more human form, with furred ears and tail.

The fact that it picked up a small branch to mimic sweeping puts a smile onto Tobirama’s face.

Chapter Text

“Izuna!” Madara yells as he sees his brother almost slinking out of the Hokage’s office.


Immediately his relief to see Izuna again is gone, wiped away by Izuna’s terrible grief-stricken plea.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Damn that stupid rat bastard! And Hashirama! Especially Hashirama! I knew Hashirama shouldn’t have sent just the two of you—”

Madara pauses in his fretting and checking over as he notices that Izuna’s shirt is . . . decidedly not his.

“Izuna, where’d you get this shirt?”

Izuna can’t meet his gaze and he’s looking like a petulant little child, and the only other time that’s ever truly happened was when—

“You caught your robe on fire, didn’t you.” It’s not a question, not really, and Madara drops his arms and sighs. “And to think, I was actually worried for you! YOU IDIOT! WHAT ARE YOU, THREE?!”

“Hey! It’s not my fault the enemy knew some futon and put a lot of oomph behind his attack!”



“Hold on a second. Whose shirt is this?”

Izuna clams up faster than Madara’s ever seen him do, which is certainly saying a lot. He has a feeling that he’s not going to like the answer, which pretty much tells him exactly whose shirt his little brother is wearing. But Madara needs to teach Izuna a lesson, so he persists.

“Izuna. Whose. Shirt. Is. This?”

“It’s Tobirama’s.” Izuna sounds so terribly defeated as he mutters it. Really, it’s half a whine.

Madara opens his mouth to tell Izuna that he’s a good little brother, when an errant thought worms its way into his brain.

“If you’re wearing Tobirama’s shirt, then what’s Tobirama wearing?” While Madara knows the man to be prepared nearly to a fault, they purposefully packed light for their mission.

“Aniki!” Now Izuna really is whining and it’s annoying.

“Izuna, really—guh.” Madara gapes as his face flushes horribly.

Tobirama, the bastard, simply raises an eyebrow at the two of them before walking past them. Madara tracks him with his eyes, and then turns back towards Izuna once Tobirama turned the corner. Madara’s not sure whether it’s the fact that Tobirama’s blatantly ignoring every social convention to cover up or whether it’s—no! No, it’s most definitely that the rat bastard has no shirt on and is being very, very rude by not wearing one! No other reason!

“The entire way back, Aniki.”

Madara grimaces in sympathy.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

Izuna tsks at him, like he should know what he just got smacked for. “I saw that, Madara, and you know he’s mine.”

And then Izuna trots off, probably following that wall of pale flesh he calls a boyfriend and flashing everyone that smug face of his while he does.

Madara grumbles and walks into the office, wondering, yet again, what the fuck is wrong with the Senju.

Chapter Text

Izuna curses as his gaze falls upon none other than Senju Tobirama.

Then he curses Aniki, for making him take this mission in the first place.

Finally, he curses his rival, because it should be absolutely illegal to be so indecent yet be acting so casual and like nothing is amiss.

Slinking further back into the dark shadows of the branch he’s on, he shamelessly watches as Tobirama walks calmly out towards the onsen—wow, Izuna did not know that those tattoos on his face were part of the whole set. Hm.

Sparing a glance towards the window where his mark slept, and then a glance up at the moon’s height, Izuna makes up his mind.

He hunkers down on his branch.

(His mark can sleep soundly for another few degrees of the moon.)

While some might balk at the blatant disregard of privacy, none would be shinobi. So Izuna’s completely justified at gathering intelligence on his rival.

He has quite the vantage point, and what he’s seen has both made him reevaluate his manliness and made him nearly pant with want.

(Izuna thinks he may simply skim the details on his report, lest Aniki give him another Talk; one was enough, thank you very much.)

The groan that Tobirama lets out as he sinks into the hot water sends a lightning bolt down his spine and Izuna bites his lip hard to stifle the whimper that threatens to come out.

He very, very quietly palms himself so he’s not as uncomfortable before checking that he’s secure in the tree.

Hesitating, he weighs the pros and cons of activating his sharingan, before ultimately deciding that he definitely should.

As slow as he can manage, he activates his sharingan, hoping that the small changes in his nearly smothered chakra won’t be overtly noticeable.

Normal water hurts when it hits him; Izuna really doesn’t want to find out how much hot water hurts.

Chapter Text

Tobirama’s too relaxed to deal with his flustered rival who’s trying so very hard not to be noticed—no, no, he really can’t just ask why Izuna’s chakra feels muted to him. That would be telling, and the last thing Tobirama needs is his rival trying to figure out his sensing.

So instead he grins internally as he feels the sharingan whirl to life slower than he’s ever felt before. Tobirama is feeling generous, so he’ll give Izuna props for his attempt. After all, he truly doesn’t want to cause problems for the elderly couple who run the onsen ryokan by starting a fight.

(The water feels absolutely divine, and it’s this particular onsen ryokan that he always frequents while taking the missions Anija should not take. The fact that he’s given a daifukumochi in the shape of a rabbit every time, without fail, despite it not being given to other guests—he knows, he’s checked—is yet another reason he selfishly hoards the missions in this region. Tobirama always wonders as he eats it if this is how it feels to have grandparents.)

Tobirama brushes aside all his thoughts on family and Anija and missions and stupid Uchiha sitting on branches.

(Though that last one, however, he admits requires a bit more thought while he’s acting a distraction. He needs to figure out what he’s distracting Izuna from, and stop him if it’s business in the ryokan.)

In the meantime, he’s going to enjoy his soak, errant voyeur Uchiha be damned.

Chapter Text

Izuna’s better prepared this time, he’s shored up his footing, regulating his breathing and—

And Izuna still nearly falls out of the tree he’s in when Senju Tobirama stand up to get out of the onsen. He shamefully watches the water drip down his rival’s full form with a bright red face. For how slow they’re dripping, Izuna nearly thinks they’re taunting him to go down there and wipe them off—

No! No, bad Izuna, what would Aniki say if Izuna botched this mission by doing something so stupid?

Probably throw him into the koi pond before screeching at him that he never learns.

When he refocuses on the Senju, it’s to see an empty space.

Ah, fuck.

Very, very quietly, he palms a kunai, sharingan cataloging his surroundings for an attack. There’s movement—

Izuna lets out a faint hiss as he winds up slicing his finger on the kunai at the sight of his rival through the doorway.

Somehow . . . somehow Senju Tobirama is more indecent wearing a yukata that he doesn’t close properly and oh my fucking Sage his chest looks so good

Focus! Izuna needs to not get caught, not be seen, finish his mission. He can go through these memories later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

Another look shows Tobirama turning the corner, out of sight. Izuna juggles his options, and a quick glance at the moon shows that he still has plenty of time to get to his mark.

With that thought, he trails silently after his rival.

Chapter Text

Tobirama’s well aware of his Uchiha-shaped shadow. Being aware of this fact doesn’t make his irritation any less, however. His lips twitch when he leaves the onsen and feels Izuna’s chakra flicker. He shakes his head as he makes his way to his room.

There’s the daifukumochi sitting on his table when he opens the door and it actually makes him smile. Baachan should be sleeping right now, not making sure he has a treat after his bath.

Bypassing the table, he heads towards the windows and, after checking to make sure the notches he’s made still line up, opens them further.

(Tobirama’s still not entirely sure how Baachan always has this room free for him to stay in—without fail. Nor how his tea always comes unprepared. He’s also not sure why he’s never been accused of vandalizing the window frame to make it easier to check for tampering. He’s long since put these questions to rest with a simple: it’s Baachan magic.)

He doesn’t do anything so gauche as speaking out loud—he knows Izuna can read lips.

You may as well come in, if you’re set on watching me. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.

Tobirama waits a beat before moving back to the table and sitting down on a cushion. There’s a small tap that Tobirama didn’t need to hear to know that Izuna has come into his room.

Instead, he busies himself with preparing some tea that’s been set out with his rabbit daifukumochi.

There’s two cups on the tray that was set out, when there’s only ever been one before.

Baachan magic.

Chapter Text

Izuna’s feet hit the tatami with a faint tap.


Between seeing Tobirama actually smile (dear Sage no wonder he doesn’t do it more—it’s fucking adorable) and the insult to his sneaking skills (he’s one of the best in the clan; since there’s no need to speak), Izuna hadn’t thought his action of entering the room through. In fact, his body seems to have moved itself without his knowledge.

(Izuna refuses to believe his Aniki that his involuntary body movements are tied to his rival.)

Thankfully, there’s no immediate traps, and looking around, Izuna can’t find evidence of any more. It’s not an overly large room, but it’s still large enough he could swing his tanto without worry of hitting anything. He deactivates his sharingan and internally pats himself on the back when the faint line of tension in Tobirama’s shoulders fades away.

(Ha! Take that, Aniki! Izuna can be civil and not escalate things if he chooses to!)

Refocusing on his rival, he watches Tobirama tilt the teapot in his direction, tip it upside down, before putting some tea leaves in and adding hot water. Izuna’s confused, until Tobirama places a cup opposite him and it dawns on Izuna that his rival is preparing tea for them and wanted to show that there’s nothing inside the teapot—like poison.

(Shinobi are paranoid. Shinobi facing the Senju are doubly paranoid since somehow they tend to use poisons they themselves are completely immune to and that’s really, really unfair.)

He eyes Tobirama again, and really, he should learn to tie a yukata right because Izuna doesn’t think they should show that much skin. He pauses.

What the hell.

Izuna plops down on the cushion opposite Tobirama and opens his mouth to speak but stops short when he recognizes the rabbit daifukumochi sitting on the table.

A little seed of unease blooms in his stomach.

Chapter Text

Hisako’s old enough where if she were to drop something, someone else usually picks it up for her. It’s nice, especially when the rain about to come makes her back hurt more than usual. It’s not so nice when the young man who picks up her dropped bag makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, even if he’s smiling politely.

She didn’t get this old through being stupid.

A lack of a sword strapped to his side means he’s not a samurai.

A lack of a travelling cloak or bag means he’s not a merchant.

No, this young man, who’s barely out of his boyhood by the looks of it, is most assuredly a shinobi.

There’s only one shinobi she cares for, and that’s her sweet child Tobirama. Who, coincidentally, she’s out in the market for. See, her tea leaves this morning arranged themselves just so, and along with her intuition, means her boy is going to be coming by.

She also heard from Takao last night that he heard from his cousin Keikou that a messenger was seen delivering a scroll tied in red cords in the town over.

Which explains why the merchant who came in yesterday was so skittish; he knows there’s someone after him.

It’s not Hisako’s place to judge who gets to live or die, nor whether they deserve either.

“Thank you, young man.” She says with a dip of her head, not yet taking her bag.

“My pleasure!” The foolish boy says in reply.

“Good, good, then let’s go.” Hisako cackles internally as she starts walking away. Now she has a young man to carry her purchases.


“Now, now, didn’t you just say it’s your pleasure? Surely you wouldn’t leave an old woman to carry so many purchases by herself.”

“What purchases?”

“The ones I’m going to make!”

Hisako smiles genially at the poleaxed expression on the other. She doesn’t make small talk with anyone, and the boy should feel grateful for that. Her knees thank her that she was able to pull a fast one on the other; not having to carry all the vegetables and other food is wonderful.

She saves the most important purchase for last: the daifukumochi.

(Oh, how her poor boy looked close to tears when she had handed him one on his first night! It’s like he’d never gotten one before!)

“Say now, young man—”

“Yes?” He sounds so pitiful! Pah! Her Tobirama wouldn’t sound so tired after a day at the market!

“Which one of these would you give to someone truly special?” Hisako points to the display of rabbit daifukumochi and waits.

It says volumes that the boy simply doesn’t point at the nearest one, but truly takes his time to think about her question—meaning he’s thinking about a certain person while doing so.

“The blueberry one.”

Ah, that’s the one that Tobirama likes best, not that he’d ever tell her that to her face. But the lack of even the sugar dusting on the plate when she sets out a blueberry one speaks to his preferences. It’s not a flavor one would traditionally pick, and her eyes narrow as she watches the boy get lost in thought.

Perhaps they’re thinking of the same person, then. The young man blushes, and suddenly Hisako understands. Better set out two cups tonight, she thinks.

Chapter Text

“I’m not sharing.”

Izuna looks up from the daifukumochi. “The Obaasan—”

“Ah, she runs this ryokan.” Tobirama’s lips quirk up ever so slightly and Izuna swallows because his throat suddenly went dry. “I see you’ve met.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

That gets him a soft huff of almost laughter. Izuna wonders where his rival went, since clearly the person in front of him isn’t him. There’s no way this soft-looking and soft-spoken man is his rival.

(Without the happuri, Tobirama’s hair falls so sweetly against his face. Izuna vehemently squashes the small part of him that wants to touch.)

“What are you doing here?” Izuna blurts out and immediately regrets ever stopping to peek at Tobirama.

A raised eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that be my question?”

“Aha, you’re right.” Izuna sheepishly tilts his head in apology.

They fall back into silence and dear Sage deliver Izuna from this awkwardness. He fingers the top of his cup to give his hands something to do. After taking another sip, he can’t help but break the silence.

“Why aren’t you trying to kill me?”

Well, fuck. That’s not what Izuna should ask.

“Why indeed.” Tobirama takes a sip of his tea and Izuna watches that pale throat swallow. “I figured that you’d be better company if you weren’t bleeding by my hand.”

(Suddenly Izuna’s accosted by imagery of Tobirama gently marking his skin up in fine, crisp red lines not entirely unlike his tattoos. Dream Tobirama definitely, ah, makes up for the fact that he’s hurting Izuna. Mm.)

Heat floods his face and he ducks his head to try and shield himself from Tobirama’s gaze.

Watching from underneath his bangs, Izuna tracks Tobirama as he shifts the plate with the daifukumochi on it closer and—

Izuna feels faint. Those long, long pale fingers are being brought up to thin lips and a tongue that licks—

Sage give him strength.

Chapter Text

Tobirama is curious.

His rival must be here for a reason, since he’s obviously dressed for a nighttime excursion. If Izuna’s here, at the ryokan, then perhaps his mark is here. He nearly frowns at the thought; Baachan certainly doesn’t need to make her morning rounds and find a dead body.

Tobirama’s mind is made up: he needs to incapacitate his rival. At least until the sun comes up.

But how?

While he has no doubts he could slip some dried poppy milk powder onto his daifukumochi, he also wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t sharing it. Not the blueberry one. Never the blueberry one.

Which leaves his options rather limited—until he sees the blush on Izuna’s face and feels the tingle of his chakra.

Ah. Tobirama knows a good plan. He’ll have to execute it very, very carefully.

(Touka always did say that he’s absolutely terrible at flirting and should never take honeypot missions. Anija wholeheartedly agreed. Tobirama, annoyed, had spent countless hours pouring over scrolls and following all manner of people around to try and learn. He begrudgingly admitted that he’s probably not the best suited for such tasks.)

Of course, because of Izuna’s peeping, and subsequent stalking, Tobirama’s pretty sure he’s got the first step down. Izuna finds him visually appealing.

Next step, they both need to be naked. Right. Tobirama can do this.

“Say, Izuna,” Tobirama starts, making sure to meet those dark eyes, “Wouldn’t it only be fair for me to see all of you, given how much you saw of me?”

Hm. Tobirama may need to find more scrolls when all this is said and done. None of them ever said what to do if the recipient starts sputtering and flailing.

Tobirama can’t tell if the blush on Izuna’s face is from anger, embarrassment, or arousal.

Chapter Text

Izuna nearly runs head first into the next tree he jumps to as he remembers last night. After his fit—which was perfectly normal to have after your sworn enemy simply asks for you to get naked—Tobirama hummed and wondered out loud whether it was because Tobirama would still be dressed too, and then casually offered to shed his clothing as well!

And things went downhill from there, because after Izuna’s brain rebooted, he was already out of his shirt and halfway out of his pants.

“You have back dimples.”

Tobirama had sounded so pleased at the discovery and Izuna was so shocked at the sound that he’d let Tobirama touch his back. Tobirama clearly had taken his silence as permission and had stroked his back in a half-massage half-teasing way and—

Izuna lands near the gates to the compound and shivers at the aches he acquired last night making themselves known. Thank the Sage that his outfit has a high collar, because Tobirama had been very bitey and wasn’t that something? His rival: bitey.

(He has the teeth to match, too! Yet somehow the enthusiastic, yet amateur blowjob he had gotten didn’t even have a faint scrape of teeth.)

Then there’s the scratches that run along his shoulders and down his back, but Tobirama looked so pretty and debauched underneath him!

His happy mood lasts until he reaches Aniki’s office, because now he has to report what had happened, and why his target’s still up and alive.

(Wasn’t that a moment, when Izuna had woken up—woken up!—and realized that it was indeed morning and his target probably had already left and caused who knows how much damage with the trade agreement? Of course, when he sat up and looked around, there was Tobirama, simply sitting at the table eating breakfast. Izuna joined him, because what else was he supposed to do?)


“I don’t want to hear it.”

Izuna snaps his mouth shut as he watches Madara pinch the bridge of his nose. Probably to attempt to stave off the headache that’s bound to come from Izuna’s failed mission.

“I hope you realize how fucking bad this situation is.”

Izuna nods.

“I said we were sending our best.”

Izuna looks towards his feet.


Aniki’s right in front of him, so when he goes to shrug sheepishly, he gets a front row view of him wincing as his robe irritates the scratches on his back.

Immediately, Madara’s attention turns from scathing to concerned, and gloved hands are tugging on his robe and—

“Izuna. What is this.”

Izuna purses his lips.

A gloved finger presses mercilessly against a rather large hickey on Izuna’s neck.

A small hiss and half a flinch is all Izuna gives Madara in response.

Izuna watches Madara take a very big, deep breath in through his nose.

“You can contemplate what you’re going to tell the elders while you’re making your way out of the koi pond.”

Chapter Text

Izuna’s ribs creak in protest at the dull impact. Like a flash he buries his hands into the fur surrounding Tobirama’s neck, going so far as to drop his own katana to do so. He’s not sure what made his rival spare him, what made Tobirama decide to hit him with the broad side of his sword, but Izuna thanks Amaterasu above for her mercy, and swears to take advantage of it.

With his hands securing the Senju, he yanks himself closer, his lips meeting his rival’s.

He watches those red eyes widen, feels the way those lips twitch against his with a sense of immense satisfaction.

Pulling back when he hears Aniki’s screech, he once again thanks Amaterasu above when roots shoot up where he just was.

“WE’RE LEAVING. NOW.” Aniki grips his collar hard and all but drags him towards the treeline, leaving Izuna to smirk back at his rival where that stupid tree bastard is hovering around him.

Tobirama looks poleaxed, and Izuna has an epiphany, and can’t help but open his mouth.

“Bet that was the best kiss you’ve ever gotten, Senju!”

The grip on his collar increases, nearly choking him, and Izuna knows he’s in for a trip into the koi pond, but it's so, so worth it.

They’re far enough away that Izuna can’t hear Tobirama’s response, but with his sharingan, he certainly can read his lips.

“That was the only kiss I’ve ever gotten.”

Satisfaction curls heavy and hot in Izuna’s gut as trees begin to obscure his vision. A vicious smirk grows on his face and he looks over at his Aniki in victory.

“You know what they say: you never forget your first kiss.”

Izuna’s immensely proud of himself when his statement makes Aniki miss his next branch.

Chapter Text

Izuna’s eyes snap open, sharingan already whirling as hands wrap around his throat.



For fuck’s sake!

Izuna grips Tobirama’s wrists in an effort to stop himself from being choked out as he gathers enough chakra. In any other circumstance, Izuna would welcome the Senju to straddle him like this, but right now, Izuna really needs to focus.

He releases the chakra in one big burst, gasping as Tobirama’s hands flinch back from his throat.

Thank fuck Tobirama taught Izuna how to flare his chakra like that. He’s described it as a very bright flash in his sensor sight, and to have Izuna do it this close, well. It gives Izuna the precious few seconds to flip them and grab towards the edge of the futon.

“You filthy, cheating, no good Uch—”

“If you have nothing nice to say,” Izuna cuts Tobirama off, “then don’t say anything at all.”

Slapping a chakra suppression seal right over Tobirama’s mouth, Izuna smirks down at those vicious red eyes he hasn’t met for over a year before catching the punches thrown at him. It’s a moments work to have Tobirama’s hands bound and pinned above the futon.

“Now what do you have to say for yourself—oh wait, I almost forgot.” Izuna leans down and kisses the seal over Tobirama’s mouth.

That makes Tobirama stop struggling and tense up, their positions and their general nakedness apparently finally registering in his mind.

Izuna leans back, making extra sure to put weight down on Tobirama’s hips. He cheekily smiles at the glare it gets him.

Mito did say that Tobirama might wind up with amnesia, and that it was a bad idea to sleep next to him. But someone had to make sure his Tobira-chan woke up every few hours and he sure as hell wasn’t going to trust some stupid people at the hospital that was just built!

“If you’ve forgotten the last year of us being together, Tobira-chan”—Izuna places his hands on Tobirama’s chest and ignores the muffled sounds coming from him—“then I suppose I’ll just have to remind you~”

Tobirama struggles at that, but he really has no traction to do much asides from wriggle once Izuna twists so that Tobirama’s legs are braced on either side of his hips.

“Come now, Tobira-chan, you weren’t complaining so loudly last night when I pounded your ass into this futon.”

Tobirama’s legs clamp around Izuna’s waist in a bid to squeeze the life out of him, and fuck if his thighs weren’t so incredibly hot. But Izuna knows this trick, and it only takes a well placed pinch behind the soft part of one knee for a choked-off pained sound and Tobirama to stop.

“Look at that, it looks like I get to have your first time all over again, To-bi-ra-ma~”

The glare Izuna gets is blistering, yet with how his amnesia is going, it’s almost sad that Tobirama won’t remember this later. Good thing he’s recording it all with his sharingan!

Chapter Text

“Who are you?”

“Now you’re just fucking with me.” Izuna says, grimacing at the question Tobirama just asked.

Tobirama tilts his head like he’s thinking hard and—fuck.

Izuna’s pissed.

Tobirama’s memory of him should be stronger than a fucking head wound!

“Come on, we need to get you to someone to get your head checked out. Fucking you like this wouldn’t be as fun.”

That gets him a questioning sound, but Izuna simply grabs his wrist and walks him over to Hashirama’s house. Because Hashirama’s known Tobirama longer than Izuna, so he’ll probably remember Hashirama. Yep. Solid plan.


“Izuna! Tobi!” Hashirama’s voice is as good a beacon as ever and Izuna drags Tobirama further into the house.

“And you are?”

It would take a much bigger person than Izuna to not snicker at Hashirama’s devastated face.

“Tobi! It’s me: your Anija!”

“I apologize, I don’t remember.”

The wailing Hashirama does is decidedly less funny. But it does bring Aniki in from outside.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”


Izuna nearly snarls at his Aniki, and a quick glance at Hashirama confirms they’re both in agreement.

“What?” Aniki says, irritated.

“You’re Madara.” Tobirama sounds so incredibly pleased that it makes Izuna’s upper lip curl back into a sneer.

Only he should make Tobira sound that pleased!

“Yes . . . ? What’s this about?” Good. Let Aniki sound worried! He should be!

“Tobi can’t remember who Izuna or I am, yet he can remember you.” Hashirama’s smile is actually creeping Izuna out. Thank fuck it’s not directed at him.

Izuna can recognize the moment Aniki finally gets it, and in the blink of an eye, he’s gone.

A snarling Hashirama disappears moments later.

“I sure hope I’m not related to him.”

Izuna snorts and pointedly doesn’t answer him.

“Come on, let’s go get some breakfast before we find a healer.”

Chapter Text

Izuna stops himself from knocking on Mito’s door. He won’t have a better opportunity to ask, what with Tobirama out on a long mission, and yet he can’t help but feel nervous for how Mito will respond to his request.

Hence why he’s still dithering about on her doorstep.

And why he doesn’t notice Mito leaning out a front window.

“Izuna. You know my rule: in or out.”

Izuna doesn’t startle so much as freeze at Mito’s tone. Ducking his head, he lets himself in the front door.

“Mito, I have a request.” Izuna blurts out the moment he sits down across from Mito, a cup of tea already poured out for him.

“Yes, a rather good one, judging by the fact you stood outside my door for half an hour.”

Izuna winces. Best to just get this over with.

“I would like to ask if there’s a seal you could create that could mask my chakra presence completely without actually sealing my chakra.”


Izuna looks up to see Mito taking a sip of her tea.

“This is for Tobirama, I presume?”

Izuna sends a flat look at her.

“And why would you need to sneak up on Tobirama?”

And there’s the heart of the issue, the tiny thread of doubt. While it’s true that Mito and him have gotten along rather amicably, especially once Tobirama started vouching for him, it’s still rather intimidating to be in front of her.

“Well,” Izuna starts slowly, trying and failing to ignore his face heating up, “a blindfold doesn’t do too much to dampen Tobirama’s chakra sensing, and there’s no way I want to take away both his sights at once.”

Mito, ever patient, simply sips her tea again.

Izuna sits there, trying not to fidget.

“His birthday isn’t for another two months.”

“I know. I didn’t know how long it would take to create a seal like this.”

“Hm. I’ll have it done for you.”

“Really?!—wait, no, thank you.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure—especially since you’ll be telling me all about when you use the seal, and his response to it.”

Izuna sweats. “Yes ma’am.”

All the details.”

Izuna sweats more. “O-Of course, Mito!”

“Good. Then we have an agreement.”

Chapter Text

“I presume this is when you’ll give me my gift?”

Izuna huffs as he ties the blindfold maybe a little tighter than strictly necessary in response to the dry tone.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.” Izuna growls lowly.

Tobirama hums, smirk in place.

Well, if Tobirama wants to be a little shit, Izuna’s going to treat him like a little shit, birthday be damned.

“Bastard.” Izuna mutters under his breath as he gets out the rope and refuses to believe that it has even a smidge of fondness.

Tobirama’s significantly less smug after Izuna finishes getting him naked and tying him up.


“Shh! Be a good bitch and be quiet or I’ll make you be quiet.”

Izuna watches as Tobirama’s cock twitches and clear liquid beads at the tip.

“Heh, I know you’d like that, Tobira-chan”—Izuna takes a step closer to where Tobirama’s kneeling on the bed, arms tied behind his back, calves bound to his thighs, knees spread apart—“but I’d much rather spend the night giving you your gift, rather than punishing you.”

His low-pitched confession gets him a full-body shudder and a soft groan.

Stepping back, sharingan spinning in anticipation, he carefully transfers Mito’s seal to the back of his hand. The reaction is near immediate, with Tobirama’s head snapping up and Izuna can feel his chakra simply whoosh by him, bypassing him completely.

Then there’s a build-up of what’s probably the start to a very good kai, and honestly, it’s like—

“You don’t trust me?” Izuna playfully pouts. “After all this time, trying to dispel a genjustu. One would think you’d learn to spot when something isn’t one.”

“Izuna? But how—you’re chakra—it’s just gone. If not genjustu, and you’re still alive, that leaves seals. Yet for you to talk so readily, without pain, and—judging from how high up your voice is—you’re still standing, that means it’s not a usual chakra suppression seal that usually leaves at least someone’s ambient chakra they need to live.”

Izuna grimaces. He really probably should have seen this coming.

“Okay, I’m going to give you a free pass for that one, since it’s your birthday and all. But really, Tobira”—Izuna shoots a hand out to lightly pet that dripping cock and revels in the way Tobirama jerks from his unexpected touch—“you should be worried about what I’m going to do to you next, and from where.”

And then Izuna backs away, watching Tobirama angle his head to try and listen for him.

Time to show his sweet Tobira why Izuna’s the Uchiha clan’s most successful assassin.

Chapter Text

“Tobirama-sama, please go collect your husband.”

Tobirama sighs and looks up from his work to see a slightly singed Uchiha Hikaku.

“He’s not my husband.” Tobirama finally settles on saying.

The long-suffering face of Uchiha Hikaku stares back at him.

He stares back.

A moment passes and Tobirama’s not actually sure Hikaku put himself out properly, given how bits of his hair are still smoking.

Finally, Hikaku sighs. “Please, Tobirama-sama, he’s making a scene.”

Tobirama lifts an unimpressed brow but says nothing as he stands up.

After all, he is curious—what kind of scene causes Hikaku to show up on fire and be more worried about Izuna than personal injury?

Chapter Text

Izuna’s night has gotten ten—no—a hundred times better.

“Tobira! I was just talking about you!” Izuna sends his not-quite-a-husband-but-he’s-working-on-that one of his trademark grins as he shifts his weight and accidentally knocks the glass next to him over.

“Oh, shit, my bad, that’s really—hnn—you should ask Tobira to do his thing where he”—Izuna gesticulates—“goes fwoosh and—and then waaaaah and gets your drink back into your cup!”

“Izuna, what are you—”


His almost husband stands there, even when Izuna shifts to pat the half a stool in invitation. They can share half a stool at this point in their relationship, right? Maybe Izuna should move over another bit; his Tobira’s a fair amount bigger than him. Yes, a sound decision.

The floor hits his side and Izuna feels mildly insulted.

He hears a huff of not-quite-laughter and looks up to his soon-to-be husband and freezes.

The floor making him look bad? He can handle that. But the floor making him look bad in front of Tobira? Oh. It’s on.

“ . . . fucking blow a fireball up your ass see how you like it then you piece of shit floor—”

Izuna’s cut off from his rambles when large hands pull him upright and makes his vision swim nauseatingly before he finally focuses enough—

“TOBIRA!” Oh, oh man. Izuna’s night’s just gotten a thousand times better. “I was just talking about you! Had to defend your honor.”

“From the floor?”

Izuna nods sharply and nearly overbalances himself but he stubbornly clings to the long, strong arms around him.


“Somehow I never would have considered Izuna to be a happy drunk.”

Izuna looks over to the other side of his Tobira to see who he's talking to and sees Hikaku and his grin nearly splits his face as he continues on over top of all the noise.


A hand slaps over his face and Izuna wonders if he could blow a fireball like this and not burn himself.

“Izuna, please, let’s just get home.”

Oh, well, if his lovely Senju wants to go home then Izuna’s completely down for that.

“Anything you want, Senju~”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Bastard—” Izuna pulls up short.

Tobirama isn’t in his office.

Izuna’s gaze narrows. The sun’s still up—albeit not by much—and Senju Tobirama isn’t in his office. His soft kai sounds utterly too loud in the quiet (and empty) space.

Not an illusion, then.

(His sharingan also verifies that what he’s seeing is, in fact, the truth.)

Izuna has to wonder where his deadly pretty and pretty deadly husband—although Izuna has yet to make it Official official—is.

There’s no sky falling, no other worldly disaster happening that would pull Tobirama away from his paperwork. Nothing truly pulls Tobirama away from his paperwork.

(Amaterasu, he needs to compete with stupid sheets of dead tree for Tobirama’s attention!)

Sneering, Izuna quickly turns around and leaves, intent to pump the twitchy secretary for info.

He makes it three steps before Hikaku accosts him.

“Izuna-sama, please go collect your husband.”

Izuna preens. Most of the Uchiha already know of his claim to Tobirama, and on one notable account several years ago, actually put Tobirama down in the Uchiha Clan records as officially his husband.

(Izuna loathes that he can’t actually remember that night. Thankfully when he woke up with a massive hangover, he was still able to read the copy he was given—the only way that Izuna actually knows that it’s clan official.)

“Hikaku!” Izuna starts as he walks, and thankfully Hikaku wastes no time guiding them. “What’s going on.”

Hikaku makes the most pained expression he’s ever made, and that’s certainly impressive given that Madara drives him mad.

“Tobirama-sama is making a scene.”

Color Izuna impressed; Hikaku’s made of stern stuff—the sternest, to deal with Madara and his antics—so if Hikaku says there’s a scene, then there’s a scene.

Izuna hopes he can get some blackmail—er, emotionally-charged material for the sole use of sentimentality and nostalgic purposes. Yes.

Chapter Text

Tobirama doesn’t normally indulge in public, too wary of others to fully relax, too severe looking for good company to seek him out.

His high alcohol tolerance also doesn’t help.

(And if Tobirama’s honest with himself, it’s much more inexpensive to simply drink at home—better company, too.)

However the moon is close to the earth, and its pull—as always—evokes a visceral response from him. Normally, he hides himself away during the worst of it, however, it doesn’t help that the sun is also in alignment, strengthening that tugging, that bone-deep ache Tobirama has.

Hashirama never fully understands, his spring instincts tend to run more towards the propagate, sow seeds of life rather than his own rise rise risepushpullspread

Tobirama’s sake dances along his fingertips as he flutters them above his cup. He sees the way his current drinking rival eyes them, clearly trying to see if he’s cheating by sending the sake away and not matching him cup for cup.

No hesitation, he finishes off his cup and makes the last remaining sake twirl around his fingertips before bringing them closer to his mouth and depositing the sake right onto his tongue.

The weak-constitution of his fourth opponent makes itself known when they topple over, a flush from their excessive alcohol intake making their face look terrible.

Letting the smooth warmth from the sake spread through his chest, he breathes in and out slowly, feeling the water around answer him, rising up and settling back down.

There’s so much humidity in the air that the dryer, warm air in his senses hits him much like a punch to the face. And with those sorts of chakra signatures—

“You didn’t tell me he was—was doing that.” Izuna sounds like something got stuck in his throat, voice cracking.

Tobirama focuses his gaze towards his rival and, without breaking eye contact, twirls some sake in the air towards Izuna’s mouth, taunting, teasing, brushing the smallest amounts across those full lips—

“Oh my Goddess, Hikaku, I’m going to die, but I’m going to die happy.”

“Please think of the other patrons’ blood pressures, Izuna-sama.”

“You’re absolutely right. We should definitely go somewhere else.”

Tobirama arches his brow as Izuna takes three long strides over to him, slams money onto the counter, and then grips his wrist gentler than Tobirama thought he was going to.

“Let’s go. Now.”

Tobirama makes a sound of disapproval.

There’s a pause.

Tobirama focuses on making water skitter and slide and spread along his hand, down his wrist, across Izuna’s wrist—

“I have water”—Tobirama’s interest is piqued—“Lots, lots of water.”

His cheeks are warm from the sake he’s drank, but the call of a place with more water than the bar he’s in, of more water

He nearly skips alongside Izuna.

Chapter Text

Izuna tries to catch his breath where he’s laying next to Tobirama. His hair’s sticking uncomfortably against his skin and he makes a disgusted noise as he works up enough energy to get his ponytail out from underneath him.

Fucking his boyfriend into the mattress is always, always worth it, though.

Tobirama sighs, or, well, not much of a sigh but Izuna knows it’s a sigh. Izuna purses his lips, because—

“I would love to brush—”

“No one touches my hair.” Izuna is quick to cut him off. Not even Aniki gets to touch his hair, not after Mother died.

“I suppose it’s just as well,” Tobirama states dryly, “It’s never been your hair I’d love to brush the most. Now, your brother’s—”

Izuna bristles, then promptly uses both feet to shove the Senju off the bed.

Chapter Text

There’s little that Tobirama hates more than sleazy rich men, and that would be sleazy rich men who are mean to children.

His current mark is going to die a rather painless death, as per the mission requirements, and Tobirama has never wished to fail a mission this much before.

(Okay, that’s a lie; that one time in Hot Springs Country notwithstanding, because what happens in Hot Springs Country, stays in Hot Springs Country. Sage save everyone if Anija finds out what happened.)

Tobirama makes an encouraging sound when his mark starts enthusiastically (grossly) licking his neck, and as he tilts his neck the strap of his dress slides off his shoulder.

(It’s a tiny little black thing that Touka had found somewhere that’s more straps than fabric, but lent itself well to being dipped in poison that would sit on his skin but not be absorbed due to the oil Tobirama put on beforehand.)

The poison’s a particular beauty that the Senju normally save for killing their livestock, since the poison dissipates and leaves the meat viable—too hard to make and precious to waste on simple assassinations, but the client was adamant that it must look like a natural death.

“You taste so sweet, little bunny.”

Tobirama nearly sneers, but instead his eye catches a shadow on the other side of the room, by the balcony window. He doesn’t tense, but doesn’t avert his eyes, hoping that whoever it is knows that he’s dangerous and will kill him, even if he’s wearing ridiculously high heels.

(Tobirama practiced, okay? Touka oversaw his progress and was thoroughly impressed when he could tree run with the heels on. He’s not going to be taken out by something as stupid as not being able to run in shoes.)

“How about you lay down, and I’ll show you how sweet I can taste.” Tobirama makes sure to pitch his request lowly.

But as soon as the man disengages and flops down onto his back, Tobirama continues to stand, counting back from the time his mark first licked his neck.

Once he reaches zero, and after he’s rearranged the uppermost straps of his dress to recover his neck, he turns towards his shadowy companion.

“Going to simply stare at me all night, Uchiha?” Tobirama would know that chakra even asleep, and while Izuna has better chakra control than Madara, it’s not enough to fool him.

(It’s never enough to fool Tobirama. Tobirama can feel when Izuna activates his sharingan inside his own compound for training.)

Tobirama hears Izuna sputter, and wonders exactly what his problem is for three seconds, before walking towards him.

It’s not Hot Springs Country, but Izuna and Tobirama have never truly fought each other outside of their clan battles save when certain missions coincide. Judging by how Izuna didn’t step in as Creepy licked poison off his skin, Izuna was probably hired for the same assassination.

“Have a good night, Uchiha.” Tobirama murmurs as he passes the still staring Izuna.

Honestly, Tobirama has no idea what Izuna’s problem is.