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Madara is more or less relieved to see that Konoha High School seems normal. There are more attractive people than he thinks is strictly necessary, and a lot of people seem weirdly enthusiastic and almost cultish about the swim team, but he manages to make it through the first week without much of anything exciting happening. 

The one dubious spot in the peace comes when he makes frenemies with a redheaded girl in his class. She sits next to him, takes great pleasure in tormenting him, and is decently intelligent to the point where Madara might not have to fling himself out the third-story window to get away from her. 

It’s Mito who finally convinces him to tag along with what seems like three quarters of the school, male and female alike, to watch the swim team practice. 

(In retrospect, maybe it would be better if Madara really does throw himself out that window.) 

If Madara had thought that the rest of the school was more or less model-worthy, the swim team - pardon the pun - simply blows them out of the water. 

The first one out of the pool - to a chorus of groans Madara would really rather not contemplate too closely - is tall and broad-shouldered, with a braid of long black hair and golden skin. He pulls himself out of the water, waves cheerfully to the drooling crowd, and then turns to offer his hand to the next swimmer. It’s batted away impatiently as long fingers grip the side of the pool. And - 

Madara’s eyes might possibly bug out of his head. 

Pale, lean, as sleekly muscled as a large cat, with a shock of silver hair and accents of red high up on his cheeks and then down his chin. Smaller than the other swimmer, but beautiful.

And also dressed in the tightest, most indecent, most form-fitting swimsuit Madara has ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. 

He’s - he’s - Madara can see more about him than he should ever know before the fifth date fuck. 

Oh god it’s so appealing and it shouldn’t be, but Madara can’t tear his eyes away no matter what his prudishness is telling him. 

“Oh look,” Mito says, serenely evil, and latches onto his hand. “It looks like they’re taking a break. I’ll introduce you to my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?” No wonder she’d been so insistent about coming out here to watch.

Madara attempts to plant his heels, but Mito is freakishly strong (like a damned gorilla, not that he’s about to share that comparison) and hauls him out of the bleachers. “Yes,” she says with a winning smile. “The big one, not the one you’re drooling over. Tobirama! Stop torturing your brother and come over here!”

The silver-haired god water deity sexy asshole SWIMMER GOD DAMN IT looks over from where he’s ducking his brother’s attempts to catch him (or something? The big one looks a little dim, what with that beaming smile on his face) and the brunet swimmer promptly lunges, wrapping himself around Tobirama like an octopus. 

Madara thinks he hears half the crowd in the stands faint.

Not that he blames them that’s a lot of wet muscular skin tangled up together and he’s only human how is he supposed to keep his mind pure when they’re doing THAT??

Mito needs to die. That’s the only solution. 

With a snarl like a pissed-off tiger, Tobirama twists, eels out of his brother’s grasp, and promptly boots him right back into the pool. 


Mito gives him the gleefully pitying look that makes her the devil incarnate and goes to fish her laughing boyfriend out of the water. 

She entirely deserves it when he gives her a beaming grin and pulls her in after him.