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Izuna shoved the door open and rushed into the house. There was no time to waste. He barely paid attention to the figure of his brother-in-law at the kitchen table, too busy scrambling around the living area, searching for a hair ribbon. He swore he’d taken it off and left it here somewhere the other week.
“Why’s it so dark?” Izuna complained and poked the nearest oil lamp with a spark of flame at his fingertip. He was too impatient to light any of the others, already rifling through the detritus on a side table – a mix of clan head reports and jutsu notes.
Tobirama exhaled sharply. “Izuna, how many times do I have to tell you? Knock before coming in.”
“It’s fine,” Izuna said, lifting an arm to wave a dismissive hand in the air, his head busy ducking under a sofa. “I know Madara’s on a mission, so it’s not like I’m going to walk in on anything mentally scarring.”
Izuna froze at the response he received. It sounded like… a whine? Almost puppyish, in a pathetic yet sympathy-inducing way. One hundred percent dramatic. Which made no sense. That sort of drama was far more Izuna’s thing. Or his brother’s. Or even Tobirama’s brother.
Not to say Tobirama wasn’t fully capable of being a dramatic little bitch himself. But Tobirama’s version of drama was more poisoned barbs, icy glares, and pointed silences. Like a moody teen playing the ‘I am ignoring you’ game.
Despondent whines didn’t fit him at all. Too much overt emotional vulnerability.
Pulling his head slowly from beneath the sofa, Izuna knelt up and turned around. Tobirama looked normal enough at first glance. Same annoyingly perfect posture. Same annoyingly blank expression – the one the lovely Touka had apparently, and to Izuna’s delight, long ago coined Tobirama’s ‘resting bitch face’. Madara, Izuna’s infatuation-blinded fool of a brother, called it ‘composed’ and ‘elegant’ and other flowery things Izuna fake-gagged over until Madara shut up.
So, overall, everything looked normal. Except… except not quite.
Was he redder than usual?
Izuna darted a look at the oil lamp closest to the other man, did a few calculations, and spat a spark to light it. Not an easy thing to do from across the room – getting the aim just right, the arc perfect to land where it should, and the spark just strong enough that it wasn’t snuffed out mid-flight, yet weak enough not to simply set the oil lamp exploding.
Tobirama was evidently smart enough to realise the very impressive feat, as his face unfroze enough to give a begrudgingly impressed look. Hah, yes, it was impressive. Izuna deserved the admiration. Madara only ever gave him disapproving looks when he pulled that trick. And sure, Madara had the disadvantage of remembering the dozen lamps Izuna had destroyed while working it out, and also that one time Izuna nearly set the house on fire when a lamp exploded particularly badly, but still! The lack of trust was offensive!
But he digressed. Tobirama’s face, now that Izuna had a bit more light to see it by, was definitely redder than normal. He was positively flushed!
“Are you sick?” Izuna demanded, aghast. Then, upon realising the concern obvious in his tone, and remembering it went against their mortal-enemies-turned-awkward-in-laws-turned-kinda-friends-but-we-must-never-ever-show-it dynamic, he hurriedly found an excuse for the lapse. “Konoha would fall apart without your overbearing micromanagement. Gods know your brother can’t be trusted to even do his paperwork without your nagging.”
Tobirama snorted. “I’m perfectly healthy, I assure you.” And then he drained the last of his cup before refilling it from the nearby jug of…
“Is that saké? Wait, are you drunk?” Izuna stomped over and stole the cup. Or tried to. Tobirama dodged the grab quite deftly for a supposedly drunken man. So maybe not? Except, when Izuna grabbed the jug instead and took a swig, ignoring Tobirama’s disgusted expression and mutter about ‘backwash’, it was very clear that yes, it was saké. “You don’t even drink! I can’t count the number of times you’ve refused, even on special occasions.”
“I’m somewhat inebriated,” Tobirama admitted. “And I do drink. Just not often, and not in company.”
Izuna pursed his lips. He considered the situation – his brother-in-law drinking alone in a dark room in an empty house, emitting sad, puppyish whines – and tipped his head back, giving a frustrated groan at the ceiling. The ceiling had no sympathy to offer. Tragic. Almost as tragic as the fact that Izuna actually, and entirely against his will, cared about this emotionally constipated ice-block of a man.
He blamed Madara – and had, directly to his face. And also Touka, but would never say so, because she was perfect even in her flaws. Still, it was hard to keep disliking someone when your two most important people loved them. Kind of like caring by proxy. Or a contagion. It had spread to him like a disease they carried.
Yes, it was definitely that, and not at all that getting to know Tobirama in peacetime had revealed that he was not merely his merciless battlefield persona, but in fact a fully fleshed-out person. A person who was competent and intelligent, if emotionally obtuse at times, and unexpectedly weak to children, even Uchiha brats. A person who was, surprisingly, as dedicated to peace as his loud flower-child brother, just more reassuringly practical about it. And also, a person who was fully willing to get into hilarious snark competitions with Izuna at the drop of a hat.
Nooo, it was definitely none of that.
With another groan, Izuna hurriedly rustled up a spare bit of paper and pen. It was a wrench to do it, but he wrote a quick, mournful note begging forgiveness. Biting his thumb, he summoned one of his crows, muttered, “For Touka,” and opened the window just long enough for it to fly off. After that, he grabbed a cup from the cupboard, sat down opposite Tobirama, and poured himself a drink.
“And what,” Tobirama enunciated dangerously, eyes narrowed, “do you think you’re doing?”
Izuna rolled his eyes. “Oh, what, like I was going to just leave you to get trashed all gloomy and alone?” He tossed back his cup, exhaling sharply at the burn, and refilled it. He felt like this conversation would require alcoholic fortification. Not enough to dull his wits, just to brace himself. “Not that I care or anything,” he insisted in his snottiest tone. “But that’s really pathetic, and you’re an Uchiha these days, Tobirama. We have higher standards.”
“Fuck off,” Tobirama said, and Izuna coughed mid-sip, shocked by the crudity. “I said I don’t drink in company. So you can take your misplaced concern, and even more misplaced sense of superiority, and leave.”
Izuna set down his cup. “Okay, first of all, my sense of superiority is not misplaced.” He sniffed and flipped his loose hair back pointedly. “Secondly, no, you fuck off.”
“This is my house.”
“And thirdly,” Izuna continued like he hadn’t heard him, “you’re awfully articulate for a drunk man. And grim. Nothing like your slurring, over-affectionate floozy of a brother when he’s trashed.”
Tobirama glared until it became clear that Izuna was unmoved, then he huffed. “I, unlike Hashirama, have a sense of dignity. I’ve trained myself to maintain composure under a variety of intoxicants.”
“Then why only drink alone?” Izuna took on a mocking tone, “Is it because you blush like a maiden?”
Tobirama glared and muttered something about ‘stupid pale skin tone’ into his cup, like a grumpy toddler who thought he wouldn’t be heard. Which was objectively hilarious. “No,” Tobirama said. Then frowned. “Yes?” He waved a hand. “It’s annoying, but not the deciding factor.”
“What is?”
“It…” His nose wrinkled. “Loosens my tongue.”
Izuna’s attention sharpened. “How loose? Is this a security issue we should’ve been aware of?”
“No, it’s only with people I trust. Otherwise, I just clam up.”
“You’re being pretty chatty with me, though,” Izuna said without thought. And then he froze as the implication hit.
Tobirama’s flush definitely deepened. They both awkwardly avoided each other’s gaze for a moment. But only until Izuna remembered he was a bratty little brother without an inch of shame, and grinned tauntingly instead.
“Well, I am a naturally trustworthy kinda person. All full of, like, integrity and shit.” He ignored the incredulous scoff with great generosity. “Since you’re actually likely to answer a personal question directly for once, rather than talk around it – what had you whining like a sad puppy?”
“Excuse me?”
The offended tone did nothing to deter him. “When you were grumping at me for not knocking, and I said it was fine because Madara wasn’t here, so I wasn’t going to see anything gross and—” He jolted, and pointed at Tobirama. “That! You did it again! What’s that sound about?”
Tobirama pressed his lips together so tightly they went white. Like he was trying to hold the words in.
Izuna leaned forward, fascinated. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!” he demanded, wanting to know even more, now that he knew Tobirama didn’t want to tell him. He huffed. “Come on, you owe me.”
“Doubtful.”
“I,” Izuna said in an appropriately dire tone, “cancelled a date for this, Tobirama.” He nodded grimly when the man blinked at him in clear shock. “The only reason I’m even here is because I couldn’t find my purple hair ribbon. Touka told me the other day it was my colour.” He blushed. “I was going to wear it for her tonight. But I couldn’t find it at home, and I remembered taking it off here the last time I was over.”
“It’s on the mantel,” Tobirama said absently.
Izuna’s gaze snapped around, Sharingan flaring briefly. Which was definitely not overkill. Sure enough, he could see it there in picture perfect clarity. He sighed in relief and promised to grab it on the way out.
“You really cancelled a date? With Touka. You?”
Izuna slumped over the table. “I knooooow.” Then he straightened. “But she’d understand, because it’s for you, and her one tragic flaw is her undying big sisterly love for you or whatever.” He sighed. In love with a woman who thought Tobirama was endearing. His life was so hard.
There was a long silence, then Tobirama sighed. “There’d be nothing inappropriate to see.” He was looking away, avoiding Izuna’s gaze. “If Madara was home, I mean. We’re not… intimate.”
Izuna snorted. Yeah, right. Those two were stupidly obvious in their affections. The ‘secret’ looks were disgusting. Across from him, however, Tobirama had stiffened. Izuna looked closer and saw the downturn to his lips, the way his fingers were white where they gripped his cup. Izuna took a deep breath.
No.
Noooo.
Surely the gods wouldn’t be so cruel. Surely they wouldn’t put a conversation like this on Izuna’s shoulders.
Urgh, they would.
“Okay. Alright.” Izuna took a hearty sip from his saké cup. “So, your relationship is… you two are… having troubles?”
Tobirama looked at him like he was an idiot. “Of course not. We’re very amicable.”
“What?” Izuna was confused. “Then why are you two not…” He grimaced, cursing the gods and his tragic lot in life. He better be racking up so much good karma for this! “You know…”
Evidently, Tobirama didn’t know.
Izuna buried his face in his hands for a breathless scream before looking up and blurting, “Why aren’t you banging anymore!?”
Tobirama turned the colour of a tomato. Literally. Izuna hadn’t known that level of mortified blushing was even possible. It distracted him from the horror of his own line of questioning. A little. A tiny bit.
Actually, that shade of red was worrying…
“Do you need water?” He got up and fetched some, pushing the glass at Tobirama till he took it. “Drink. Calm down. Before you rupture something.”
Tobirama stared between the water in one hand, the saké in the other, and wavered before sighing and doing the sensible thing. He even twisted his fingers and pulled water from the air to refill it once he was done. His face thankfully faded to a more reasonable reddened hue.
Izuna breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, so… think we can pick the conversation back up without you dying of embarrassment? Because Touka would never forgive me, and then I’d be doomed to eternal loneliness without the love of my life. And Madara would cry, and while he probably would forgive me because of his brother complex, he’d be doomed to eternal loneliness too, without the love of his life, and—”
“I’m not,” Tobirama said, visibly, bafflingly shocked. “I’m not the love of his life. He doesn’t…”
Izuna stared. What? No, really, what?
“Stop looking at me like that!”
“What, like you’re an idiot?”
“Yes!”
Izuna did not, in fact, stop looking at him like that. Because, “You’re so dumb,” he breathed. “How can you be so smart and yet so dumb?” He waved off Tobirama’s growing agitation, steepling his hands in front of his mouth. “Okay, let me try and figure this out. I know my brother and his tendency to put his foot in his mouth. Did Madara say something stupid? Something to make you doubt his feelings? And so you kicked him out of bed, exiled him to the couch. Is that why you guys aren’t…” He wrinkled his nose. “You know.”
“No! Izuna, that’s…” Tobirama growled, literally growled, and lurched forward. “Madara doesn’t love me. He never has. There were no feelings to doubt. I didn’t kick him out of bed, because we’ve never shared a bed!”
The room was silent except for Tobirama’s panting breaths. Izuna stared at his angry glower. No, not angry. Not entirely. That was a fragile mask of anger covering a pained glower. A pained glower of supposedly unrequited love.
Holy shit, this idiot really thought Madara wasn’t head-over-heels, sickeningly, undyingly in love with him! And—
“Wait,” Izuna said, bewildered. “What do you mean you two have never shared a bed? Are you telling me all that nauseating sexual chemistry you two ooze has actually been unresolved sexual tension all this time?”
Izuna was shocked. No, he was outraged! Years, he’d suffered, whenever in the presence of both his brother and brother-in-law. He’d thought they were just like that. And all along it was down to useless pining? Something that could have been fixed!?
Why did the gods hate him so!?
When he gathered himself enough to look at Tobirama, the man’s colouring was once more verging on worrisome. Izuna poked at his hand till he drank more water and calmed down.
“We don’t have sexual tension,” Tobirama muttered, shoulders up near his ears. “That implies a mutual interest. Madara doesn’t desire me that way.”
“I cannot believe this,” Izuna muttered to himself and rubbed his hands over his face. A thought occurred, sobering him up. “Was… I mean, the wedding… was the consummation just…” Izuna knew his brother, and was absolutely certain Madara wouldn’t have mistreated his spouse, but the circumstances hadn’t been ideal. “Was it just really awkward or something? So you never tried again?”
Tobirama stared at him.
“I mean, arranged marriage for peace,” Izuna rambled, avoiding his gaze. “Not exactly the most romantic way to get someone in bed. Doesn’t really set the mood. And we were at war only a few short months before that. So it would be understandable if neither of you could trust enough to make the, er, experience good.” Gods, this was excruciating.
“…Izuna, we didn’t consummate. I thought you knew.”
It was Izuna’s turn to stare. “Nooooo? Why would I know that? You two have really never— No, wait, that makes no sense.” Izuna frowned. “I read the marriage contract, same as everyone else.” He grimaced, echoed by Tobirama.
It had been part of the peace treaty, and honestly, Izuna had expected the Senju to reject it outright for the outrageous level of… direction included in the consummation requirements section. It was offensive even to think of.
Actually, in hindsight, that had probably been the point. The Uchiha elders who’d written it had likely hoped the Senju would be so offended that they’d call the whole thing off. Too bad for them they’d underestimated Tobirama’s stubborn determination, dedication to peace, self-sacrificing streak, and general lack of give-a-fucks.
But Izuna was getting distracted. The consummation requirements. Which Tobirama said never happened.
Except they had to have happened! Because the Uchiha elders had gone so far as to commission the Uzumaki – from their own personal funds even, the petty bastards, when Madara outright refused them clan funds for it – to create a seal to confirm it. It had been engraved into chimes, and designed to only activate when the consummation conditions were met by the partners it was tied to.
“I know the chimes rang,” Izuna muttered into his cup, cringing at the memory.
He knew that for absolute certain. Unfortunately.
Standing outside his and Madara’s house after the wedding ceremony, because he hadn’t trusted the elders unattended as they’d lingered, watching and waiting for the chimes hung by the front door to sing out – or not to, as he imagined they’d hoped – had been the most uncomfortable night of Izuna’s life.
The chimes, very pointedly and defiantly, still hung outside their front door, moved from the old Uchiha main house to the new one in Konoha. Izuna always avoided looking at them when he came over. The only silver lining was the sour looks the elders gave every time they passed by. No doubt lamenting the reminder of their failed plot, and the hit to their purses – Uzumaki work didn’t come cheap.
Tobirama set his glass of water aside with a distinct clink, then reached for his saké cup and downed it. “Your brother spoke with the seal mistress who designed the chimes.”
“If you’re about to tell me the Uzumaki sabotaged a job…” Izuna would have a hard time believing it. Seal work was so esoteric, so indecipherable by the majority of ninja, that the only way any could trust enough to buy and use them was because the Uzumaki maintained a reputation for professional integrity.
“No, of course not,” Tobirama said. “But, well, the elders requested a seal that would confirm the consummation requirements were followed. And Madara, perhaps, pointed out to her that the wording in the contract was actually as vague as it was explicit.”
“I don’t follow.”
“The hypocrites were bold and perverse enough to specify who fucked who and how, yet prudish enough to be flowery about it.” Tobirama’s expression shifted towards disdain.
Izuna honestly wasn’t sure what Tobirama was more offended by – the elders’ sheer gall, or their apparent failure to do the thing properly. Because of course nitpicky Tobirama would get huffy at a lack of professionalism, even when it worked in his favour.
Now, what exactly had the contract stated? Something about…
“In essence,” Tobirama said, “behind all the flowery metaphors and unsavoury implications, the only things it explicitly required was that I be beneath Madara and that he be inside me when he peaked.”
Izuna’s skin crawled at thinking of the particulars of his brother and sex, but he nodded slowly, understanding taking form. “It didn’t say what inside where. And ‘beneath’ is vague too. Did you just…” He forced the words out, promising to get blackout drunk afterwards to forget. “Sit down and suck his fingers or something while he stood and – urgh – took care of himself?”
Tobirama covered his once more reddening face with a hand, and gave in with ill grace when Izuna stole his saké cup and shoved the water at him again. “Close,” he admitted. “It might, perhaps, have been less intimate that way.”
Izuna opened his mouth to say he didn’t need to know any more details, but was too slow.
He was cursed, truly.
“Instead,” Tobirama continued, “Madara excused himself to the bathroom and closed the door. He leaned against it while I sat on the floor on the other side – beneath him. And then he… his chakra…” Tobirama took the initiative on his own this time, gulping down water like a drowning man. “He projected his chakra at me, into me, while he…”
In any other circumstance, the crude gesture Tobirama finished with would have brought Izuna to hysterics. It was so out of character. As it was, he just grimaced and hurriedly nodded. Yes, he got it. No need to expand.
A shiny tangent struck, and Izuna grasped at it, desperate for even a brief reprieve from this agony. “You would’ve had to consciously allow that. Because you trained yourself to subconsciously and semi-regularly disrupt your chakra, right? To flush anything foreign out.” He definitely had. Izuna remembered how annoying it had been, back when they were enemies. Tobirama had basically learned to ‘kai’ himself often and instinctually. It made genjutsu all but futile against him, rarely landing, and never lasting long when they did.
The worst part was that it hadn’t even been the point, just an infuriating side-effect. He’d actually learned it because… “Because your unfairly overpowered chakra sensing slips into empathy territory when foreign chakra hits your system.” A liability on the battlefield.
Tobirama just flushed, took another gulp of water, and nodded sharply.
Izuna’s thoughts froze as the implications sunk in. No! Noooo! His tangent had betrayed him!! He suppressed a distressed whine. Gods, no wonder being in different rooms had been more intimate than finger sucking. And he was not thinking on that any further. There were limits, okay!?
“Alright.” It came out strangled, and Izuna cleared his throat and eyed the jug of saké longingly. Soon, he promised. First, he had to get through the rest of this conversation with something resembling coherence. “Okay, so. You guys loopholed the consummation.”
“Yes.”
“And have never, in the five years since…” Please gods don’t make him say it.
“No.”
“Despite clearly wanting to.”
Tobirama’s expression did… something. Something weirdly vulnerable, and Izuna looked away. “It takes two to want, Izuna,” he said quietly. “Or should. Madara is incredibly generous in our marriage, but that’s not… that’s not something I’d ever demand of him.”
Izuna shook his head. While that was nice to hear, and he was genuinely pleased that Tobirama respected his brother – would respect his boundaries, even if Madara himself faltered – Tobirama was once again being dumb about the key point. “No, I meant…”
Gods, was this really happening? Was Izuna really going to help his brother get laid?
So much karma. So much!
“I meant,” he forced himself to say, “despite you both clearly wanting to.”
Tobirama’s expression tinged frosty, but his tone rang as upset as he said, “And I told you, Izuna, he doesn’t—”
“He does! And I’m his brother – I’ve known him my whole life. Credit me a little to know what my brother looks like smitten, okay? Especially since you suck at interpreting emotions.” Too harsh? Ah, yeah, Tobirama’s pissy expression said too harsh. “Well you do,” he whined, crossing his arms and refusing to apologise. This was a mortifying conversation, okay? Izuna was making a heroic sacrifice by having it, and should be forgiven a few missteps!
Tobirama’s fingers tap-tap-tapped against his glass. When he spoke, his voice was hesitant in a way Izuna had rarely heard. “Are you sure he…” He exhaled sharply and straightened, but his gaze slid past Izuna’s shoulder. “Sometimes I almost think… He looks at me a certain way – I’ve noticed it more often of late – and I think perhaps…”
“Yeah, he’s been giving you soppy looks since like half a year into your marriage,” Izuna said flatly. “They’ve only got worse. It’s super gross. I mean, I’m happy for him – or was, cause I figured it meant you two had made a real marriage out of your arrangement, not that you were pining like idiots – but there’s only so many apparently unresolved sexual tension-infused looks I can witness from my brother before wanting to barf. And it’s a low bar, okay?” Izuna huffed, wrinkling his nose.
Tobirama was looking at him directly now, eyes a touch wide, holding very, very still. Was Izuna getting through to him? Please let Izuna be getting through to him. The sooner he got through to him, the sooner this conversation could be over and Izuna could drown himself in the sweet, sweet siren call of saké and blissful oblivion!
“I think,” Izuna added slowly, thoughtfully, “the reason you’re finally noticing is that he’s realised he doesn’t need to be subtle. Like, at all. Because you’re just too oblivious to notice.” Izuna paused, frowning. “Or maybe he just thinks you don’t return his feelings, and will continue politely pretending not to notice his soppy looks, even if his supposed subtlety slips.”
Tobirama made a pained sound. Izuna was at once uncomfortable and pleased to hear it. Uncomfortable because Tobirama was not a man that showed vulnerability, and it felt wrong to witness it. Pleased because Madara deserved a beloved who was unmistakably pained at the thought of Madara’s suffering – especially suffering that only existed because Tobirama had been too thick to see it.
“Of course I return— How could I not when he’s—”
“Right, right,” Izuna hurriedly said. He did not need to know what, exactly, Tobirama considered to be Madara’s attractive points. Fifty-fifty, it would be either wholesome or appallingly carnal. Those weren’t odds he was willing to risk!
“You’re sure?” Tobirama leaned towards him, eyes sharp despite his inebriation. “You’re sure he—”
“Is head-over-heels in love with you? Positive.”
Tobirama’s drunken flushed deepened – not red this time, but darker pink – and he ducked his head, actually looking like the blushing maiden Izuna had earlier accused him of. “Then how do I make him do something about it?”
Ah, well, that was the question, wasn’t it? And more complicated than Tobirama likely realised, Izuna mused as he considered the situation.
“Do I…” Tobirama paused to sip his water. The glass clattered a little when he set it back down, as if his hand had been trembling. He took a deep breath. “Do I need to… confess my own affections? So he knows his own aren’t one-sided?”
Izuna hummed. “To start.”
“To start?” Tobirama looked appalled. Which, to be fair, apparently just confessing would require a huge act of courage from him.
“Look, you said it yourself earlier – Madara’s generous in your marriage, right?”
“Always. Right from the beginning. I… hadn’t expected it.” Tobirama frowned a little. “Considering my battlefield reputation was all the Uchiha really knew of me, back then, I thought… I didn’t think he’d mistreat me – Hashirama spoke too well of him for that – but I expected more caution, more rules and limitations. Metaphorical chains. It would’ve been understandable. Reasonable.”
“Yeah, except Madara also had Hashirama nattering in his ear about you,” Izuna pointed out. “And even taking it all with a grain of salt – or even, like, a mountain of it on account of Hashirama’s blind optimism – he still painted you in a pretty admirable light.
“Then there’s the fact that your marriage was essentially a cornerstone for peace – the peace Madara has dreamed of all his life. Ensuring your marriage went well, was at least comfortable, even if never more than that, was pretty crucial.
“Lastly, and probably most importantly, you came into your marriage at a distinct disadvantage. The elders made sure of that, even beyond that offensive garbage about consummation requirements – though that certainly set the tone from the outset in a horrifically unignorable way. You married into a clan not your own, downgrading from heir to outclan-born spouse, and—” Izuna grimaced. “Do you know, the elders actually tried to have the marriage contract refer to you as ‘the wife’?”
Tobirama’s eyes narrowed. “I did not, but I’m not surprised either.”
“Hmm. And the thing is,” Izuna said, crossing his arms on the table and leaning on them, “Madara’s a powerhouse, right?”
Tobirama raised an eyebrow, expression dry. Which was fair. That was a vast understatement.
“Right. And not just on the battlefield – though his chakra stores and fighting skills are undeniable. But he’s also powerful politically and socially, just because of who he is – the Uchiha clan head. Well, clan heir back when our mother spoke to him about it. She was a smart woman,” Izuna reminisced. “Not book smart – no, well, she was that too – but she was smart about people and power in all its forms. And she made it clear to Madara, really early on, that there would almost always be a power imbalance in any interaction he had, and he needed to be aware of that, to not take advantage, to not mistake compliance for consent.
“After she died….” Izuna sighed. “Well, you know how it is when you lose someone you both love and look up to. Suddenly their words become sacrosanct – less advice, and more rules to live by.”
Tobirama quietly hummed in understanding.
“So picture this – there you are, Hashirama’s adored brother who he speaks well of, all but forced by our elders’ transparently obstructionist plotting to agree to be Madara’s spouse, the cornerstone of peace dependent on your contentment in marriage. And, on top of that, said marriage is so clearly, undeniably founded on a power imbalance, which Madara would’ve been incredibly aware of and, thanks to our mother, incredibly uncomfortable with. The idea of leveraging what power he had over you – with rules or limitations or anything of the sort…”
“It would be anathema,” Tobirama said, thoughtful.
“To say the least.”
“That explains why Madara, right from the beginning, was so generous. Oh, there were guards to start with, but they were never intrusive, and didn’t last long. And he never placed many restrictions on me. Or any, really. If anything, he has consistently supported my rights.”
“And spoils you rotten.” Which Izuna had mistaken for courtship at first, and later, simply Madara being Madara. Because of course he’d be the doting, besotted sort of husband.
“I do have to be careful about mentioning an interest in anything in particular, otherwise he acquires it for me in short order. No matter how impractical.”
Izuna snickered. “The snow leopard cub?”
Tobirama rolled his eyes. “It was almost a disaster.”
That was an understatement. And not just because snow leopards were unsuited to Fire Country’s hotter climate in the long term. No, as it turned out, the cub Madara had brought back from Snow Country hadn’t been orphaned or abandoned, but rather had wandered away from its mother – its summons animal mother.
Having a veritable army of towering murderous felines descend on Konoha en masse could’ve resulted in a bloodbath, if their primary goal hadn’t been to find the cub before taking vengeance. As a result, they’d barged in on Tobirama loudly mid-lecture of an apologetic Madara about his short-sightedness. He’d also been sitting inside a hastily designed seal barrier, containing an artificial snowfall, playing with the cub, alternately pretending to fall over or correct it’s form whenever it delightedly pounced at him.
It had very much endeared him to the snow leopards, turning a near disaster into a boon.
“It all worked out,” Izuna said. “You got a summons contract out of it.”
Tobirama’s fond smile – he adored his summons, and everyone knew it – was short-lived. He jolted upright, looking into the distance, and his expression became at once pleased and nervous. “Madara is returning.”
“He’s a day early.”
“The mission must have gone well.”
“How far out?”
Tobirama tilted his head. “Five minutes.”
“Right.” Izuna straightened. Time to wrap this nightmare of a conversation up. Because he was definitely not putting a pin in it and picking it up again another day. Nope. Nuh-uh. No way, no how. Getting it over with and never thinking about it again was the only way to go. Izuna’s sanity depended on it. “Okay, so. Madara.”
Tobirama bit his lip. “Madara?”
“He adores you. You adore him. But he doesn’t know it. And even if that changes, he’s absolutely conscious of the power imbalance, so he’s never, ever going to make the first move.”
Tobirama took a deep breath. “I’ll have to tell him.”
“More than tell him, I think. You’ll have to be completely upfront about exactly what you want from him. He’s not going to assume, even if it should be obvious. He’s not going to risk being wrong and taking advantage.”
“…How upfront?”
Izuna’s nose wrinkled. “Explicitly. Crawl into his lap levels of upfront. But use your words too.”
Tobirama made a despairing sound, covering his flushed-red face. Izuna huffed, because how dare he look so pitiful when Izuna was the one truly suffering here. He shoved the water at Tobirama again, knee bouncing impatiently as he waited for the man to drink and recover, because they were running out of time!
“Okay,” Tobirama said. “I can… I can do that. Maybe?”
“It’s that or pine forever,” Izuna said bluntly. Then he considered who he was talking to – an emotionally repressed dumbass – and also remembered that self-sacrificing streak of his, and added, “And Madara will have to pine forever too, thinking you’ll never love him back.”
Tobirama jerked back at that, as if struck. And then his expression firmed with determination.
Yes! Success! That meant this awfulness was over. Thank fuck.
Izuna heaved a great sigh of relief and jumped to his feet, swiping the half-empty saké jug – ignoring Tobirama’s sound of offended objection, because Izuna had earned this, dammit! – just as he heard the front door open.
“Izuna?” Madara said with pleasant surprise as he stepped inside. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” They met in the middle of the sitting area and shared a brief hug before Izuna pulled back. “Are you leaving already?”
“Yep. You and your husband need to talk.” As Madara’s expression clouded with concern, Izuna hurried to reassure him. “Good talk. Great talk. You’ll like it. But I’m not staying.” Nope. Definitely not. He was so out of here. He was not sticking around to hear what happened next.
Just as he reached the door, Izuna heard an oomph, followed by a hilariously squeaky “Tobirama!?”, and couldn’t help but glance back.
He regretted it immediately.
Evidently, Tobirama had taken Izuna’s comment of ‘crawl into his lap levels of upfront’ very literally. Madara was wide-eyed and flushed and gaping. Very unattractive, all told. The way Tobirama was staring back said he disagreed, like a love-blinded fool. Madara’s hands were very carefully held away from him, though they twitched as though they wanted not to be. Gross.
“Husband,” Tobirama said firmly, “you should kiss me.” Then he paused, faltered. “I mean, only if you want to, of course.”
“Of course I want—!” Madara spluttered even as Tobirama’s face lit up. Weird. Izuna hadn’t known it could do that. Madara took a deep breath then froze. “Oh, that scent… Are you drunk?”
Tobirama huffed. And was that a pout? It looked ridiculous on his face. But Madara was as love-blinded as Tobirama, it seemed, given the horrible, mentally-scarring way his gaze lingered there before tearing away.
Izuna needed to leave. He needed to leave now.
Tragically, a mixture of morbid curiosity and utter horror froze him in his tracks.
Madara sighed regretfully. “Come on, let’s get you some water and you can sleep this off.”
Tobirama stared, and his expression softened. “Thank you for taking care of me. You always… right from the start…” He leaned in and pressed his forehead to Madara’s, and Izuna’s brother held his breath. “I’ve never felt trapped in this marriage. Or unsafe. Or like I don’t have every choice in the world.”
Madara’s breath hitched, and his hands tentatively came to rest on Tobirama’s upper back. “Good,” he said, voice hoarse, and cleared his throat. “I’m glad.”
“I’m glad too – glad I married you. I’m happy. With you.”
Madara exhaled shakily and swallowed hard.
Tobirama sighed. “And also a little annoyed, right now, that you won’t kiss me.”
Madara choked and flushed. “You’re—”
“Drunk, yes. Which is why I’m only a little annoyed. Because you’re just being good to me. And I appreciate it. So…” Tobirama frowned in thought, then nodded. “So I’ll ask you again tomorrow, when I’m sober, okay?”
“Okay?”
“And if you say yes, and that goes well, I’m going to ask you to do more than just kiss me. I’ll ask you to take me to bed. If that’s alright.”
“Bed?”
Tobirama’s voice dropped to a purr as he repeated, “Bed.”
The sheer awfulness of it – of that tone from Tobirama of all people, and directed at Izuna’s brother – finally jolted Izuna into motion. He rushed out of the house like his sanity depended on it – because it absolutely did – then slumped back against the door in relief at his successful escape. The two lovebirds didn’t seem to have noticed his exit, still talking. He could hear the words, only somewhat muffled.
“If— if you— when you’re sober—” Madara was stuttering. Then he seemed to gather himself. “We can continue this conversation when you’re sober. If you still want to. And if you don’t, then… that’s fine too.”
Izuna straightened. They’d worked it out – or would, in the morning. And it was all thanks to him! He was definitely going to reincarnate as, like, a daimyo or something equally cushy in his next life, given the sheer amount of karma he’d racked up tonight. Maybe even a god.
But it was time to go. Past time. Touka, if he knew her at all, would be waiting up for him. After cancelling a date last minute, she’d definitely expect an explanation. And his explanation – of the horrors he’d endured for the sake of her beloved honorary little brother – would earn him more than mere karma. Forget blessings on his soul – they paled in comparison to the admiration of the lovely, deadly woman who owned his heart.
Wait! He froze a few meters down the road as he realised he’d completely forgotten the reason he’d come in the first place. His ribbon! He’d forgotten the ribbon Touka had complimented him on!
Izuna spun around, dashing back to the clan head house, then froze, one hand on the door. Did he dare risk it? Surely nothing scarring would be going on. Madara wouldn’t, not while Tobirama wasn’t clear-headed.
Hesitantly, bracing himself, he leaned his ear closer to the door.
“Wait,” Tobirama was saying. “One thing first. Because I don’t think I’ll have the courage without saké.”
“Then you shouldn’t—”
“I might be bad at it. The more than kissing part.”
Madara spluttered. “That’s— I don’t— I very much doubt—”
“No, I might be. Because I’ve never…” A deep, bracing breath was heard. “I’ve never actually taken anyone to bed before.”
It took a second for that to sink in. And then, without thinking about it, Izuna shoved the door open, bratty little brother instincts fully engaged, loudly saying, “So when I accused you of being a blushing maiden—” He screeched and ducked as Tobirama’s hand darted out to grab a scroll from a side table, throwing it so hard at his head that it embedded into the wall. “Oh my gods you could’ve killed me. And after everything I did for you tonight? The way I suffered!! You—”
Another scroll. Another near death.
Izuna decided discretion was the better part of valour. He could get the ribbon another day, he decided. Clutching the saké bottle to his chest, he made a hasty retreat.
Izuna did not, in fact, get the ribbon another day. He gave it up for lost and bought another. It was the only option left to him when he could no longer step foot on Madara and Tobirama’s street, let alone enter their house.
As it turned out, the Uzumaki seal hadn’t been a once-and-done type of deal. And, horror of horrors, the next time Izuna tried to pop by… the chimes had been ringing.