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#au where tobirama helps found konoha and then runs away because he thinks the village cant survive because he killed izuna
thefairyletters · 3 years
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Ships and their wingmen
Part 2
Read -> Part 1
Because we can't be the only one who ship them. Or those who don't.
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MinaSaku
In time-travel AU, Sakura will possibly the only one who will not ship it, if only because that will change the future. But casting that aside, Team Minato will do everything in their power to make sure the two adults soon sire a pink-haired, blue-eyed kid or blond-haired, green-eyed kid, or any combination of those colors for that matter.
Kushina will be conflicted whether to pursue Minato and fight her best friend/soul-sister (because Sakura is Kushina in pink hair) or allow Sakura get Minato and keep their relationships as it is. If she chooses latter, she will give up on Minato, simp on Hokage hat instead, and becomes the best damn Hokage Konoha has ever seen. If not, she puts up a good fight, insert-a-lot-of-angst, a heartfelt moment between Sakura and Kushina later simps on Hokage's hat, and becomes the best damn Hokage Konoha has ever seen. Either way, Kushina sooner or later supports MinaSaku, because she doesn't get Minato then only Sakura gets to have him.
Like Ino and Sakura, Inoichi and Sakura become fast friends, even if it starts with Inoichi flirting and Sakura hitting him squarely on his jaw, and the man is excessively protective of his pink-haired friend. He will probably root for KushiMina just so to protect Sakura's chastity. He will give up soon and will make sure no one gets in the way of his OTP.
If it takes place in canon, let's say somehow Minato selectively gets to be revived for extended periodof time for some reason. Or he time-travels to post-war time and finds himself thrown into a loop. Both, in which, MinaSaku is a very slow burn that even Naruto notices the strange air between his dad and his teammate, and everyone comes to conclusion exactly where Naruto had gotten his denseness from. Kakashi ships MinaSaku because it's his father-no-2 and favourite student together, as weird as it sounds. Naruto doesn't ship, at all, because that would make Sakura his step-mother. Most angst in this MinaSaku will be caused by one Naruto Uzumaki. Ino simps for this ship just because Minato is hot, is loosely Sakura's type and she, being a good friend, completely supports her best friend bedding a heartbreaker like Minato.
Tsunade ships because he is a good man.
Konoha council ships because Namikaze genes need to be retained in the village one way or another.
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HashiSaku
For starters, Tobirama doesn't ship, at all. Hashirama was already very prone to get distracted even without Sakura in the picture, but now with someone of Sakura's colors by his side, it was as if Tobirama got prematurely promoted as the head of Senju clan AND Hokage. Tobirama doesn't appreciate it at all. He subtly tries to get Sakura killed, to ship her overseas without Hashirama noticing, and convince her to marry someone who wasn't tan-skinned, longhaired and a Senju to boot. When all failed, he tries to seduce her himself as a last-ditch effort to help her move on from Hashirama. He only manages to gain a black-eye and a harsh rejection on top of it. Then, it look a while, but he figured she would be a good leader and a competent backup if Hashirama remains distracted in all his future meetings.
Mito is a proud, powerful woman, and she desires strength in things that catches her attention. So when she found Sakura, she wanted her for herself but instead found herself in competition with Hashirama of all people. Regardless to say, they hate each other.
Madara sees Sakura as the second and the last brain cell of the Senju clan, next to Tobirama. He supports HashiSaku if only so his best friend can learn a thing or two about how to use his bright but otherwise inactive brain cell. He is always ready to adopt her into his clan should Senju throw her out, courtesy of Tobirama.
Izuna likes Sakura and if she likes Hashirama, then he will support it. Easy as that.
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MitoSaku
Madara doesn't care because his best friend is married to not one but two beautiful but powerful beasts of women. Hashirama has no room for complaints.
Hashirama is a third wheel in his own marriage.
Tobirama doesn't know if he ships it or not because his brother is married to a woman who is in love with another woman and that woman insists that they all remain together for the better of future.
Izuna ships, to say at least.
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TobiSaku
Hashirama is the biggest fan of TobiSaku. He grins his annoying grin in a way that makes everyone present in the room with him blush in embarrassment. He dubbed Sakura as his sister-in-law the moment he saw his brother with her.
Madara doesn't think someone like Tobirama deserves Sakura, but thinks someone like Sakura can persuade Tobirama to chill. It's better for Senju clan in a long run, so he supports their relationship.
Mito simps hard for this ship because she wants Sakura as her sister-in-law. Half of the TobiSaku moments happened because of HashiMito's meddling.
Izuna flirts with Sakura at every chance he could, if only to rile Tobirama. He might like Sakura as a bit more than a friend, but he also finds TobiSaku relationship precious in a passive-agressive way so he doesn't mostly get in their way because they make up to about 65% of his daily entertainment quota which he doesn't wish to lose.
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MadaSaku
If there's one person who is a die-hard fan of this ship then it's one Izuna Uchiha. He enjoys teasing his older brother at every chance he gets, ruthlessly and sadistically. He enjoys the way his brother softens at the very mention of Sakura and he thinks that is the most precious thing he's seen his older brother do for anyone who's not him. Sakura gets along with Izuna so well that he often thinks she knows him better than he knows himself, and for that he cherishes Sakura as one of his family. His love for MadaSaku stretches so far that he would kill anyone who dares to get in between two of his most important people.
Tobirama ships them because he thinks Sakura will help Madara lose some of the madness inherent in Uchiha clan. It is because of Sakura that Tobirama becomes less wary of Uchihas and warms up to them.
Hashirama jumps at Madara and Sakura everytime they come for a visit, much to his wife's embarassment. Sakura is considered one of the Senju clan, and with her marrying into Uchiha clan, strengthens Senju-Uchiha alliance. Hashirama, like Izuna, is very happy to see Madara at peace and wishes the best for the couple. Like Izuna, he teases Madara mercilessly everytime Madara does something even slightly uncharacteristic of him. Sakura isn't teased often only because her becoming flustered results only in bodily harm.
Mito approves of the pair, if only because it gets her husband's attention away from Madara and his clan. She respects Sakura and knows the Uchiha clan will thrive with her as their matriarch.
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IzuSaku
Madara doesn't ship it at first because his brother is easily charmed by beautiful women and she looked a little too much like a Uzushio woman. Mito and Madara aren't in the best of the terms, regardless of the alliance. He suspected it to be trap when he saw his brother smile a little too gently, his eye softening a little too much than he was accustomed to seeing. He didn't ship IzuSaku at all because he loves his brother first and foremost. Sakura and he started off in bad terms but he soon discerns her good intentions and her honest reciprocal of feelings for Izuna, so he gives them his blessings and promises his protection.
Tobirama doesn't believe it until he sees it. He thinks she is too good for someone like Izuna, but seeing Izuna happy and content with Sakura, he comes to an understanding that this arrangement does save a lot of women from falling his prey.
Hashirama doesn't hold a particular opinion on Izuna but knows his notorious reputation and thus fears for Sakura's heart. He doesn't get in their way but tries to make sure Sakura is safe. When he is assured Izuna is courting her with intention of marriage, he gives them his blessings as well because Sakura is part of his family.
Mito doesn't understand why Sakura chose someone like Izuna given his reputation, and how Izuna really fell hard for the woman like Sakura.
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SaiSaku
Sai doesn't have lot of friends to support him, but luckily for him, Sakura has.
It is Ino who digs their relationship. Ino who helps Sai learn a thing or two about women. Ino who helps him learn new ways to impress Sakura (failed everytime). Sai and Ino became close friends the more she stayed around as his part-time trainer/babysitter everytime Sakura is away on a mission/hospital (because Sakura doesn't trust Sai alone without her for long). It is through Ino that they ultimately got together in the end.
Naruto, as if on a clock, becomes sceptical if she didn't see Sasuke in Sai, but that idea goes out of the window everytime Sai opens his pretty mouth. He supports Sai and Sakura because he could. As much as Sai pisses him off, he is still one of his good friends that he treasure, but one he would never admit to about his feelings.
Sasuke never thought his position in Team 7 would be threatened, much less by an ANBU/Root member, and he most definitely didn't think it will be that member who will ultimately date Sakura. As much as he knew the world wouldn't have stopped moving when he left, he also didn't expect new faces to join his team and take what had been promised his. Sakura punches him square on his face when he vocalises his thoughts. Regardless to say, he isn't happy with this arrangement.
Yamato is most pleased to see Sai flourishing as a person instead of a killing machine they were made into. He thinks Sakura is scary and will keep Sai on his toes, but also that she will be patient and guide him on the right path. They couldn't be more different, but he knew they understand each other like no one else.
Yamato and Naruto becomes the best men in SaiSaku wedding, and no sightings of Sasuke is observed anywhere.
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ShiSaku
Surprisingly, Shisui gets green signal from all the members of team 7. When asked, he is told many reasons ranging from – "You're the only decent Uchiha" to "You're not emotionally dead.", which ultimately means he is approved because he is everything Sakura expects in a man, and that age is hardly a reason of disapproval from them if it is not a problem for Sakura.
Naruto sometimes – particularly on days when Shisui steals their female teammate to spend time with him – think if Shisui had not brainwashed Sakura into giving in to his vile intentions, because that's exactly what his Sharingan is specialized to do, but when Sakura hears a word about this, she always punches him hard enough to make him reconsider his words. Sasuke and Kakashi are smart enough to keep their opinions about her love life to themselves.
If Itachi thought Shisui was annoying when he was not in love, he thinks Shisui is downright nuts when he is in love. Sakura is all he ever talks about, and while Itachi is pleased to see his cousin and Sakura, who's a good friend to him, so happy in love, there's a line that need not be crossed. He is thankful that both make a lovely couple together who can make Uchiha clan a happy place with their shared positivity. But. But, Shisui is also a jealous idiot and those two words never make a good combination. Itachi blesses the couple for all happiness in the world, but he is just not the person they should come to looking for relationship advice whenever one of them (always Shisui) screws up.
You'd think since Shisui is not part of the main house and having no living family of his own, there'll be no family drama surrounding him and his love life, but you're dead wrong. Once Mikoto and Fugaku hear a word about ShiSaku being canon, they call Shisui in, gives him the earful of the lifetime, demands of him to propose marriage to her, and proceed to prepare for the big wedding. Sakura accepts but that's hardly a point, because next thing Shisui knows is getting adopted into the main house. There goes his freedom.
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KibaSaku
Tsume loves Sakura. She wants to adopt Sakura. Inuzuka clan loves Sakura. KibaSaku is real, so what happens? Tsume threatens to disown Kiba unless he proposes to Sakura and make her one of the pack soon. According to Tsume, Kiba has finally chosen "the one who will make up for his lack-of-thereof brain and strength".
When the word gets out about his entanglement with Sakura, Team 8 is pleased – especially Hinata and Shino. Kurenai looks at him like she doesn't believes him. Shino repeats Tsume's sentiments on the matter. Hinata only smiles in a way that screams 'finally!'.
Team 7 is not happy that their precious teammate is getting it on with someone who smells like dog.
Kurenai who is like a mother to both Sakura and Kiba is happy to help them get started with parenting. It got too awkward to further ask Tsume who only said to "break the bed and let nature play its role". Kurenai will take turns with rest of the Team 8 and Team 7 to babysit many kids that KibaSaku will sire because they are wild. Tsume is proud though.
Tsunade blesses the couple and knows she will enjoy spoiling her many grandchildren rotten. Shizune is only happy for her sister-figure, even if she is a bit worried for the children.
Ino smirks at Sakura like a sly cat, every time they meet, all the way until her friend is happily married. Kiba is a catch, even if he smells like a dog. And they both know it.
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GaaSaku
Baki cries in joy when GaaSaku reveals their relationship public. He had thought Gaara was a lost cause when it comes to romance. His son-figure made him proud that day.
Temari threatens Sakura if she breaks "her-precious-bean's-fragile-heart", she will see through that her body gets never found in the sand. When it became clear that Sakura was serious about Gaara, Temari crushes the other woman to her chest and cries over how lucky she was to have Gaara as her husband (because there's no way her precious bean, Gaara, is undeserving of someone).
Kankuro breaks down crying, thankful that his little brother Gaara was not asexual and that he only had high expectations of himself because there was no way Sakura wasn't the best bride for Gaara. A match made in heaven, he said. It doesn't help that Kankuro and Sakura are best friends who often conspire ways to make Gaara blush prettily like he does, much to Gaara's chagrin.
Tsunade stans GaaSaku and is aware of the political advantage in their marriage to back up their relationship. Temari marrying into Konoha and Sakura into Sand, is a fair exchange.
Konoha council begs to differ.
Naruto wants to feel betrayed but doesn't because Gaara deserves the love he will get from Sakura, and he knows him and knows her. That doesn't help him from sending threatening letters, dripping on rabbit's blood, to Gaara who isn't alarmed at all and patiently writes back about his feelings concerning his female teammate. Naruto cries like a baby on their wedding because Kazehime is such a fitting title for his precious Sakura-chan.
Sasuke never sees it coming. He is betrayed, but not because Sakura moved on but because it is Gaara she moved on to. He takes personal offence to it, confronts personally about it to her in Suna and Sakura isn't impressed. If Sakura gives him a beating that leaves him in Suna hospital for a week, that's not on Sakura.
Kakashi cannot care less whom his old genin team fucks and marries but he admits he is a bit impressed that Sakura marries Gaara of all people.
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ShikaSaku
Team 10 is ecstatic when Shikamaru and Sakura makes their relationship public. Ino is on cloud nine when she hears Sakura gets to be official part of Ino-Shika-Cho. She breaks into Sakura's apartment to crush her best friend in a hug that might as well suffocate her to death but a girl gotta express her joy one way or another. She demands Shikamaru to invite Sakura for all future clan get-togethers so Sakura will feel comfortable in future.
Choji is happy for his best friend. He secretly meets with Yoshino to prepare for the big day. He exclusively invites Sakura for all Akimichi parties when he hears about her passion for cooking, even if she's bad at it. It's safe to say Sakura became part of Ino-Shika-Cho even before her marriage to Shikamaru.
When Sasuke hears about it, he corners Shikamaru and inquires about all the intentions Shikamaru has towards his teammate. He might not like Sakura like she once wished to be liked by him, but she was still part of his family that is Team 7 and he cares enough to make sure she doesn't get heart broken the way she had with him. When he gets right answers, he drops his arm against his throat, draws back his kusanagi and walks away like nothing was amiss.
When Naruto hears about it, he pokes fun at Shikamaru for his taste in women – first Temari, now his teammate. To onlookers, it would look like two friends playfully teasing each other, but if you look closely, you'd notice the red of Naruto's eyes, how the grip on Shikamaru's fingers were tad too tight and the way Shikamaru looked like he would rather be anywhere but there. After a measured shake and few more teasing jabs, Naruto returned to his goofy self.
When Kakashi hears about it and comes across him, Shikamaru doesn't let the older man get a word in. With Kakashi, it might as well be chidori to heart so Shikamaru rushed to firmly asserted his very pure, no vile, feelings for his sole female student. By the time he is finished with his monologue, Kakashi has left.
Tsunade is neutral when the news gets to her. As simple as Shikamaru was, he was also not the most committed person so she decides to test Shikamaru before she gave him her blessings.
Temari flips the table when the word reaches Suna. She immediately leaves the village to make sure Shikamaru was truly serious, this time, about her friend. Gaara follows after her because he is still pissed at the certain man for breaking his sister's heart. Kankuro passes the hat to Baki for the meantime and leaves after his siblings to beat certain someone if this is just another ugly fling for him. Also, because he isn't going to miss on a good show.
If some ink tigers pop out of nowhere and attempt on Shikamaru's life or some carnivorous plants tries to taste the meat on his nether region, he doesn't speak of the incidents to anyone, let alone Sakura. It is only after Sakura is pronounced a Nara that the attempts on his life cease.
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The part 2 y'all wanted.
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I think I nearly covered all the popular pairings. There's still ShinoSaku, YamaSaku, DeiSaku, KisaSaku, KarinSaku, LeeSaku, HidaSaku and ChoSaku, AsuSaku and IndraSaku though. Maybe next time.
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louiserandom · 4 years
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Choose Your Own Adventure - MadaTobi Soulmate AU Arc I
Heart’s Desire (Ice and Fire)
Rated: E
Summary: A touch is all it takes, to find one’s soulmate, to initiate an exchange of chakra natures and powers that would later intermingle and make both of them stronger. Madara craves this—or at least thinks he does, until he awakens one morning sans Sharingan, his chakra alien and freezing, and watches an angry Senju Tobirama crash into his room, glaring murder at Madara with what used to be his exclusive Mangekyō pattern.
Or, Soulmate Idiots in Love and you get to choose how these fools get to the love part
Read it on AO3 or under the cut :3
(just in case, all the survey comment replies will be on AO3)
Chapter 1
Madara went to bed in a begrudgingly pleasant mood following the ostentatious celebrations Hashirama had organized to mark the first anniversary of Konoha’s founding.
He wakes up feeling parched, freezing, muscles aching all over, like he’s been hit fist-first by a Susanoo or several.
And perfect eyesight.
Madara blinks.
No. No, that can’t be right.
There’s no familiar prickling pressure of the Sharingan’s chakra behind his eyes, so it should be impossible for him to see the world in such perfect clarity.
Except, he does. Madara looks at his hands, now trembling from the unrelenting cold. Fever, some kind of psychedelic poison, perhaps. He shuts his eyes for a few moments and reopens them, slowly. Every irksome scar on his palm, every little wrinkle on his blanket, almost every strand of wild bedhead hair is visible to Madara in a way nothing has been since his Mangekyo had awakened at sixteen.
He tries to activate it and fails. And that’s when it finally hits him.
Soulmate. He sighs with no small measure of relief. Right. No need to panic.
Just a harmless exchange of powers which would easily lead to Madara’s Chosen since they’d end up, presumably, with his dōjutsu and a very distinctive fire nature chakra. Another shiver runs through him. Oh, how he misses his chakra now.
Regardless, once he’s next to his soulmate, he should feel better. Presumably, they’re still in the confines of the village, the longer delay in the bond’s manifestation is an inconvenience of adult soulmate bonding that Madara will have to deal with.
The icepick jolts of pain in his muscles aren’t easy to ignore, but Madara stands all the same, rushing to the bathroom to make himself presentable, mentally running through the list of people he’d touched last evening. Unfortunately, a lot. Mostly handshakes, because he’ll never be quite as comfortable with casual touches as Izuna and Hashirama are, and it already takes a lot of his willpower to drop the gloves and expose the mess that is his fire-charred skin.
But this is what he’s been waiting for, dreaming about since the times he was a starry-eyed child first hearing about the concept of partners made perfect for each other, chosen by fate. There was no harm in a platonic soulmate, of course, but Madara has secretly been craving his bond to be a romantic one. If only to feel, to taste, to have the chance to cherish the intimate closeness everyone around him seems to enjoy, with or without a soulmate, while Madara struggles, miserably at that, to connect with anyone on a deeper level than a shallow fling.  He’d never admit that this is the reason he’s suddenly become less averse to handshakes and touchy-feely attitudes, but there’s no point lying to himself, at least.
“Fuck.” The ache trickling through his veins gets so strong he has to pause mid-dressing and close his eyes to come down the force of it. What is…
“Godsdammit, Uchiha,” an unfortunately familiar voice bellows from within his house, for some inexplicable reason, “where are you?”
The world is spinning somewhat uncomfortably as Madara’s eyes fly open and he stumbles out of the bathroom to face the intruder—none other Senju Tobirama crashing into his room, glaring murder at Madara with what used to be his exclusive Mangekyō pattern.
“Senju?”
1) Maybe, Madara supposes, there is a tiny, infinitesimal advantage to self-deception.
“No,” he whispers, a shudder running through him from what he knows isn’t the nagging cold this time, “you can’t be my soulmate.”
2) Madara stares. Perhaps rudely, but he allows himself the indulgence as his brain scrambles to find a half-coherent answer to what the fuck is going on. “You’re my soulmate?”
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p.s. a sketch for this chapter based on a comment that cracked me up XD
Chapter 2
Madara stares. Perhaps rudely, but he allows himself the indulgence as his brain scrambles to find a half-coherent answer to what the fuck is going on. “You’re my soulmate?”
“Evidently, Uchiha, the gods have a strange sense of humor.” Tobirama narrows his eyes.  “Now, care to explain why I’m suddenly near-blind?”
Ah, Madara’s brain supplies eloquently, right.
“It’s the,” Madara stutters, because how does one explain that one of the most powerful and useful dōjutsu in existence also leads to blindness? “It’s the effect of the Sharingan. It affects eyesight.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Tobirama takes a step forward. Madara realizes, acutely, that he can feel the waves of anger radiating from the man. “Are you a complete idiot?”
Madara crosses his arms. “It’s none of your business, Senju, what I do and don’t do,” he says, barely managing to refrain from shouting.
“It is, apparently, because we’re bonded now,” Tobirama says, voice dangerously low, “I can barely see anything without this accursed thing,” he points to easily the most revered dōjutsu in existence, “your pathetic excuse for a sensing ability doesn’t compensate for it in the slightest and this migraine won't go away.”
“Well, deactivate it, genius,” Madara says, remembering his own suffering through the ache this morning that’s still wracking through his body. “And my sensing abilities—”
“Are bullshit,” Tobirama cuts him off, “and how would I know how to turn this thing off?”
“Oh.” Again, a show of eloquence. The fact honestly throws Madara off, because he can’t imagine having the Sharingan and not being able to intrinsically control it. “Just—just relax!”
“I can’t, Uchiha,” Tobirama growls, “because any time I focus on these godsdamned eyes, the pain only grows worse. I’m haunted by visions I can’t seem to stop—or unsee—and you want me to fucking relax?”
That is a fair point. He looks beyond distraught, just as agitated and disheveled as Madara—only that’s a look Madara’s never seen on him. Tobirama’s eyes gleam with a more potent red now and the deadly pattern engrained on them makes him look more threatening than usual, his hair is sticking at odd angles and so are his hastily thrown on clothes, his shirt barely tied, sandals askew, his attire showing so much skin when it’s usually barely visible.
Also, Hashirama had warned Madara that being near Tobirama is ‘unsafe’ when he starts to swear. Regardless, Madara only crosses his arms tighter and huffs; he will not be intimidated.
“Yes,” he says, “I want you to calm down and act rationally like you claim you always do. Every second you use the Mangekyo, you’re only making it worse.”
“Worse?” Another thing Madara has never seen the Senju express: panic. He takes a step back just as Madara takes one forward, raising his arms in a pacifying gesture. Panic and a Mangekyo with an unpredictable special ability never mixed well. “What do you mean—why wasn’t it a problem for Tōka when she and Izuna exchanged powers?”
“Because his is different,” Madara says. “He uses it less.”
“Why would you abuse it to this level then?” Tobirama’s new eyes were starting to bleed around the edges. Oh, perfect. "Do you have no sense of self-preservation?
“Senju, you need to calm down." Madara takes another tentative step towards him. "And if you have trouble remembering, just a year ago we were at war. I needed to.”
“You’re almost blind,” Tobirama says, as if Madara didn’t hear him the first time.
“Why would you care? Those are my eyes and I will ultimately deal with the consequences,” Madara growls.
“Because the consequence is you going blind, you idiot!” Tobirama explodes, even as he gasps and takes a few staggering steps back. He must have noticed the blood clouding his vision. And to top that, Madara feels familiar erratic energy gathering in the room. “What is…"
How does Izuna always calm him down from his rages?
“Listen, Senju,” Madara tries, approaching him slowly, “I get it, you’re upset, blindness, that’s—that’s bad. But we’ll talk about it,” he promises, “I’ll explain everything, and I’ll help, but you have to calm the fuck down.”
“How?” Tobirama is breathing heavily, Sharingan flitting wildly, unfocused.
“Choose any object in the room and focus on it, or, or on me.” Madara winces. He really doesn’t have Izuna’s talent for this. “And just—Senju, you’re not listening.”
“I can’t, Madara.” More shocking than Tobirama’s use of his first name is the intense surge of Tobirama’s chakra rippling through the room. Surprisingly, that suddenly makes Madara’s pain die down to a low buzz. “Everything’s—”
“Red and blurry and painful, I know,” Madara tries to ground him. “Kneading chakra into it isn’t how you deal with it.”
“The visions—”
“Aren’t real,” Madara lies, knowing that Tobirama is probably seeing figments of his memories, most likely not the pleasant kind.
“Madara, I can’t do this!” Tobirama shouts, all but huddled against the corner now. He’s hyperventilating, desperately trying to wipe away the blood only flowing harder from his sockets, and it’s all Madara can do to hope he doesn’t attempt to claw them out. “It’s getting—it’s—I…”
Madara watches him in a bit of a stupor. This isn’t like their usual shouting matches or heated arguments during yet another meeting where their interests clash. Tobirama is never vulnerable. He shouldn’t be.
This isn’t right.
Part of Madara wants to touch him, knead their bonded chakra together and comfort him, while the other urges him to run away, to use the Hiraishin Tobirama so favors and escape this strange, unfamiliar mess.
Madara finds he has no idea what to do, and the intimate knowledge of just how dangerous his Mangekyō can be keeps him frozen in place.
Madara swears under his breath and, throwing caution and his own mounting panic to the wind, closes the distance between himself Tobirama, all but wrestling his trembling frame into a hug.
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Chapter 3
Tobirama tenses up at once, his breath hitching, but doesn’t do much else to break the hold. Madara doesn’t die instantly, which is good, all things considered. The world doesn’t distort and disappear and there’s no hint of his Sharingan’s ability spontaneously acting up.
“What—” Tobirama finds his voice.
 “You’re okay, Senju. Just breathe.”
Tobirama shifts against him, muscles twitching in a half-hearted attempt to break free, but Madara doesn’t allow him, only drawing him closer and wrapping him tighter in his arms.
“You’re okay,” Madara says with as much conviction as he can muster. “Don’t mind those visions and try to ignore the pain. You’re going to be okay.” And that’s more of a truthful statement, because the way Tobirama keeps shaking as he tries and fails to catch his breath is more than a little unnerving.
He’s not supposed to be like this.
“You’re going to be okay,” he repeats, trying to calm the both of them, really, and to his surprise, it seems to be working, if just a little.
Tobirama doesn’t quite relax, but stays silent and doesn’t move, forcefully leveling out his breath as he squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head in the mess that is Madara’s unkempt hair. It’s a bit awkward, and Madara has no idea what to do with his hands, placing them stiffly on Tobirama’s shoulders. That makes their position more awkward and Madara settles for his lower back, trying for soothing motions that just end up being stilted pats of sorts. That has him giving up entirely and ending up completely still, staring at a single point in the wall and willing his mind stop repeating its incessant, panicked mantra of fuck.
A few still moments pass before Tobirama says, “Chakra.”
Madara blinks. “Chakra? What about it?”
To Madara’s steadily increasing surprise, Tobirama leans more into his embrace, willingly, and finally manages to take a deeper breath.
“Feels good,” he says simply, and it finally hits Madara that… something has changed.
Tobirama’s—well, Madara’s chakra now embedded in his coils—has spread out significantly, filling up the space around them like thick, almost tangible steam, feeling hot, familiar and comforting. So much so that, apparently, the last remnants of the ache bothering Madara since he’d woken up are gone.
Which is strange, considering how the pain spiked up after he had presumably sensed Tobirama approaching. Soulbonds do have the ability to calm and even heal soulmates in certain cases, but Madara had always assumed that soulmates had to have an accepted bond for that particular part of it to work.
Or at least be fond of one another. Not hate each other’s guts like he and Tobirama do.
Fuck.
It’s all a gigantic, confusing mess.
Madara closes his eyes, mimicking the pattern of Tobirama’s breathing. Just for the hell of it, he pushes out the alien chakra from his coils in a tentative attempt to further comfort Tobirama, and the effect is immediate. Both of them feel the intermingling of the energies—ice cold and molten hot. Usually clashing when they lose control during their fights, now merging instead into a force that makes Madara’s skin prickle in a surprisingly pleasant way. And judging by the feel of Tobirama finally relaxing into his hold, it seems to affect him similarly as well.  
“Senju, do your sensing abilities cause you chronic pain unless you’re overwhelmed by a particularly strong chakra signature?”
Madara doesn’t know what compelled him to ruin an otherwise blessedly peaceful moment, but he does want to find out if Tobirama is being hypocritical when chastising him for keeping self-destructive secrets.
Tobirama draws away, staring at Madara in confusion, Sharingan still blazing, almost blending in with the inflamed blood vessels as thin trails of blood keep trickling from them.
“No?” he says. “Why, are you in pain?”
“Fuck. No. Shut up,” Madara says, mentally kicking himself, “never mind.”
He doesn’t break eye contact and moves his hands to grip Tobirama’s shoulders, still kneading chakra into the space around him to ground them both.
“Now, Senju, like I said. You need to focus on something—anything in the room. Can you do that for me?”
Tobirama nods, keeping his gaze where it is, dead set on Madara’s eyes.
“Me. Okay. Right.” Madara’s face grows a little hot, probably due to the rising temperature of the room from Tobirama slamming his stolen chakra around like an untrained amateur. “Focus on the little things you can see. It can be anything, any details. You can say them out loud if you want.”
Tobirama gives another nod. Takes a deep breath. Runs his eyes slowly over Madara’s face. He looks so strange like this, his expression lacking the usual frown, lips trembling slightly, hair in disarray, eyes bloodshot and full of fear. Madara would pity him, were he a better man.
(Maybe he is a better man.)
“I can see every little strand of your hair,” Tobirama says suddenly, with a hint of awe, “and every tangle. It’s half over your face, like it always, but… there’s more of it sticking everywhere.” He tilts his head to the side. “You look a little stupid.”
Madara bites his lip to hold back his retort and motions for Tobirama to continue.
“Eyelashes,” Tobirama says next. “They’re wet. Waterdrops and…” He frowns, gaze growing a little distant. “There’s so much—so many particles on them?”
“No, no, no, no.” Madara shakes him slightly by the shoulders. “Don’t go that deep, ignore the particles. Keep your attention on the droplets, on the bigger picture,” he stumbles through the words quickly, hoping he isn’t too late and won’t have to deal with the impending chakra depletion his eyes’ ability entails.
Tobirama seems to refocus, but still asks, “Why not? Does every Sharingan allow you to focus on the atomic level?”
Madara shakes his head.
“Only mine as far as I’m aware, and that’s a power you do not want to test out, believe me,” he says in lieu of a proper explanation. That mess can come later. “Go on.”
Tobirama scowls, clearly unsatisfied, but complies.
“Right. Droplets. Your whole face is wet, actually.” He frames Madara’s face with his hand, hovering, barely touching. “Your cheeks, your lips. I didn’t notice before that your cheeks were so… not chubby. Fuller, I guess?”
Madara wonders if drowning in Hashirama’s tears is a price he’s willing to pay to commit a very satisfying murder. It’s tempting.
“And there’s,” Tobirama lifts his fingers to brush against the side of Madara’s face, suddenly grinning, “toothpaste.”
Madara swats his hand away and hastily brushes it off.
“Calm enough now?” he snaps, rubbing at his other cheek for good measure.
“I think so,” Tobirama answers, blinking. “It’s still not gone, though.”
“You have to refocus on your eyes now,” Madara says, “but don’t channel chakra. Just feel how the Sharingan influences your eyesight, your perception, simply be aware of it. And then—let go.”
A few heartbeats later, the black dissipates from Tobirama’s eyes, leaving him with his usual dim red irises. They both heave sighs of relief.
“Finally!” Tobirama shoves past Madara and starts pacing around the room, wiping away the dried blood clinging to his eyelids.
“Yeah, finally,” Madara grumbles. “And what do you mean my cheeks are chubby?”
“That’s what you want to focus on?” Tobirama says, turning to glare at him. “Not the fact that you’re steadily going blind and haven’t told anyone about it? Does Hashirama know? Does Izuna?”
“Yes, no, no and yes,” Madara says, rolling his eyes.
“Not funny, Uchiha.”
“Not trying to be, Senju.” Madara pinches the bridge of his nose. Unfortunately, now that they’re apart again, the low buzz of the ache in his joints has returned and is getting worse by the second. “It’s how the Mangekyō works. I didn’t make the rules.”
“Walk me through it,” Tobirama demands. “What exactly does this form of the Sharingan do and why is there no way to fix it?”
“There is,” Madara says. “The Mangekyō gradually destroys all the living cells in your eyes unless you get an eye transplant of another pair of Mangekyō, preferably a sibling’s.” He shifts his gaze from Tobirama’s horror-stricken face to an empty wall which suddenly looks so very mesmerizing. “Which is obviously something I refuse to do, and Izuna doesn’t want to, either.”
A few more beats of silence pass.
“And Izuna’s is better, you said.”
“Yes.” Madara chances a glance at him. Tobirama is frowning, eyes narrowed in his usual ‘thinking and analyzing’ expression Madara is used to seeing on their joint meetings. “I forbade him to use it unless absolutely necessary.”
“Hm. So that’s why he never used it when we fought.”
“Correct.”
“Pity.”
Madara almost chokes. “W-what?”
Tobirama shrugs. “I’ve always wanted to try going up against it. Anija always had so much fun with you, I felt like I was missing out a little.” It’s such a ridiculous admission, and Madara can’t seem to do anything but splutter harder. “I didn’t know it was causing you so much pain, though. That changes things.”
“Well—well, that doesn’t matter!” Madara throws up his hands. “Gods, Senju—people are terrified of this dōjutsu, you know!”
Tobirama hums, noncommittal, and Madara comes to the conclusion that Hashirama isn’t the only reckless idiot among the Senju after all. Before he can say anything else, though, Tobirama’s face lights up with the slightly manic expression he gets when he comes up with a new idea.
“You’ve tried transplanting both pairs of the Sharingan, of course?” he asks. “Just exchanging the eyes, I mean. What happened then?” He looks at Madara expectantly, only managing half a minute of silence. “Well? Madara?”
He still receives no answer.
“Please tell me,” Tobirama says slowly, voice pained, “that look means that my question is redundant, and you’ve obviously tried that before. Right?”
Madara doesn’t, in fact, know for sure if the Uchiha have attempted anything of the like.
But never let it be said he isn’t ready to defend his clan’s honor.
“Of course!” he says, flailing a little before forcing his arms to cross over his chest, a bit defensively. “Or, well, I think so. I’m sure,” he corrects himself, “I’m sure someone has done that and it evidently didn’t work, because then…” Madara thinks about the blind Uchiha he knows and had helped take care of, when he could. The hollow eyes of too many of his clanmates, haunted by tragedy and death. “Then decades of problems wouldn’t exist,” he finishes lamely.
 Centuries, more like. Gods does Madara hope he’s right.
“Let’s hope so, Uchiha,” Tobirama growls, “or I’m going to have to assume everyone in your clan lacks basic logical thinking skills, not just you.”
“Keep your mouth shut about my clan, Senju!”
“How can I, when I’ve got this damnable keepsake from you?” Tobirama says, gesturing to his eyes, which, thankfully, don’t switch over to the Sharingan despite his very apparent ire.
Madara takes a deep, calming breath.
“I get that it isn’t exactly pleasant, Senju,” he says in the most level tone he can muster. “Your abilities seem to cause me pain too, if to a lesser degree,” he can’t help but complain. “But the fact is—we’re soulmates. You’ll have to deal with my eyesight for… a while, until both of us learn to control and give our powers back to each other. Then the Sharingan will be solely my concern once again. All right?”
Tobirama stares at him like he’s said something stupid. Again.
“No, Madara. The fact is that we’re soulmates, and from what I’ve gathered about a concept I care little about, we’re going to have to support one another.”
It’s so strange for Madara to hear someone say they care little about the concept of soulmates, one that’s so sacred to his clan. It’s baffling. Though fate has chosen one who seems to be the complete opposite of what Madara wants and needs, the fact itself has him wondering about the possibility of—something.
“Which means,” Tobirama goes on, “I will not leave this alone, whether you like it or not.”
Tobirama tone is both a promise and a threat, and Madara finds he has no idea what to think about it, how to feel. He wants to tell Tobirama off for butting into his personal affairs, but knows, of course, that Tobirama is right. There’s no ‘his’ affairs anymore—just ‘theirs,’ per the gods fickle, incomprehensible whims. 
And of course, there’s one thing he has to know.
“Just because we’re bound by fate, Tobirama?” he asks, abandoning his carefully conscious use of Tobirama’s last name when they converse. “You won’t leave this alone just because you have to?”
That stops Tobirama short. His eyes never quite left Madara as they talked, but now he focuses on him fully, just like he had when his Sharingan had been activated.
“I need to think,” Tobirama says quietly, something shifting in his face, rending it cold and emotionless—Madara’s least favorite expression on him. He takes a few steps back towards the window. “I’ll find you later. Or you find me. Later,” he repeats firmly.
Madara feels rage starting to boil inside him.
“Now wait just one minute!”
Tobirama doesn’t pause and promptly leaps out of the window, flickering away, leaving Madara alone in an empty room with a brain buzzing with questions and a body prickling with renewed bouts of pain.
“What a fucking bastard,” he swears, “fucking impossible. Why couldn’t you be bonded to an asshole just like you are?!”
He knows screaming at empty space is a little weird and most likely very useless. No matter. There’s no one around but him to witness it anyway.
Only he turns out to be wrong about that, because apparently, their argument was loud enough to wake Izuna in his house across the street.
“Technically, nii-san, you’re kind of an asshole, too,” Izuna says with a yawn, shuffling into Madara’s room wrapped up in a blanket, eyes still sleep-heavy. “Hashirama and I are obviously the better brothers in our respective duos.” He grins, dodging the bedside table Madara throws at his head. “I think fate has chosen well.”
He doesn’t dodge the barrage of pillows, letting them land smack center onto his grinning face.
“Get the fuck out,” Madara growls, and Izuna moves to do just that. Madara scowls. “Wait.”
Izuna stops in his tracks, turning back to Madara with, shit-eating grin still in place. Madara sighs and comes over to him to wrap him into a particularly bone-crushing hug, ignoring the wheezing protests that follow.
“Channel your chakra, would you?” Madara asks. “Please?”
Izuna is a bit confused by the request but does as he’s told, thankfully silent this time, pushing Madara away for something more akin to a hug and not a suffocation attempt. The gentle crackle of his hearth-like signature soothes Madara’s nerves once more, numbing the pain to an extent, though not even close to the way Tobirama’s closeness had helped.
He will have to make do with this for now.
“You’re now my temporary personal painkiller,” Madara announces, “and I will not be accepting any complaints about this arrangement.”
“No idea what that’s supposed to mean, but I can’t wait to hear the whole account of your lovers spat, nii-san,” Izuna deadpans.
“Shut up, Izuna.”
“You’ll want me to give you advice, though,” Izuna says, tone teasing. “After all, I’m the one with the experience of being soulbound to a Senju.”
“Whatever. Shut up. Let me think.”
Izuna doesn’t in fact, let Madara think, because he is an incorrigible little shit and an utter menace.
“You know,” he says, “make-up sex is just the best way to—”
He gets cut off when Madara breaks away to grab one of the scattered pillows and starts attacking Izuna with it, unmindful of the feathers flying everywhere.
Izuna only laughs, arms himself in kind and gives as good as he gets.
*
The Uchiha are confusing, Tobirama decides as he finishes perusing what seems to be the thousandth text out of the documents he’s borrowed from the atrocious Uchiha Libraries. Plural because the clan has thousands upon tens of thousands of archived records. Atrocious because most of them are either redundant, incomplete (as if the record-keepers only wrote their accounts when inspiration struck and were prone to abandoning them half-way) or completely nonfactual, useless opinion pieces that Tobirama can’t base any of his theories on.
And gods, does he have a lot of theories in need of testing.
He takes a pain reliever as the Sharingan-induced migraine acts up again; he’d been careful not to activate it throughout the day, but the headache still lingered, making it a challenge to stay focused. Tobirama manages to, though, just barely, and there’s at least a little progress to show for it.
He’d left Madara early morning, obtained his free ticket into the Libraries almost immediately and has spent the whole day researching a dōjutsu that proved to be all the more incomprehensible with every piece of ‘research’ Tobirama got through. After hours of historical accounts (and thrice damned opinion pieces), Tobirama did stumble upon one instance of the Mangekyō having been exchanged between two Uchiha. The experiment failed, with both subjects ending up dead, was declared unholy and was never attempted again.
The sheer audacity of that made Tobirama’s eye twitch. Honestly, where would he have been if he had stopped at his first unsuccessful Edo Tensei attempt?
(Probably lacking in his brother’s occasional tearful, very annoying admonishments about desecrating the dead, but that isn’t the point.)
The attempt was done centuries ago, back when most of the shinobi clans were nothing more than nomad tribes wandering the then empty, nationless continents, trying to figure out how to use the Sage of Six Paths’ gift of chakra properly. With no established iryō jutsu practice at that time, of course the switch had a high chance of failing. For some reason, the Uchiha didn’t seem to take into account that an overwhelming majority of the simple eye transplants from the younger Uchiha brothers to their elders were unsuccessful, too. It really was an inexcusable abuse of the scientific principle to assume the worst after one godsdamned test.
It’s downright confusing, bordering on stupid, really. And even then, Tobirama can think of a dozen other ways to solve the Mangekyō problem without resorting to transplants and possible mutilation, most of them simple schemes of directed chakra manipulation and perhaps a little tinkering with DNA. But to do that—
Ah. He’s forgotten.
“Hikaku?” Tobirama says to the depths of his enormous lab. The size is suddenly an inconvenience, because he can’t really see anything that’s further than two feet away clearly—and sensing through Madara’s chakra is nothing but an exercise in futility.
“Right here.” Hikaku appears before him with a shunshin, holding a book on the latest discoveries in relativity—something Tobirama could be researching right now if he weren’t stuck with Madara’s problem.
Tobirama takes a deep breath, taking another pill for good measure to help him deal with the persistent headache. Not Madara’s. Theirs. He promised—they’re soulmates and that obliges him to have his partner’s back, no matter their evidently mutual dislike.
(Tobirama refuses to think about Madara’s question now, isn’t ready to contemplate impossible possibilities and delve through his complicated net of feelings for the person who annoys—and intrigues—him most. That can come later, because he’s otherwise preoccupied and definitely not running away.)
“You there, Tobirama?” Hikaku asks with an understanding smile, waving a hand in front of Tobirama’s face.
 “Yes. Sorry. And—sorry I made you wait this long. I shouldn’t have invited and ignored you like that.” Tobirama sighs.  “I got distracted again.”
“Don’t worry,” Hikaku says, inching a glass of water to Tobirama, always the one making sure Tobirama hydrates, his mother hen tendencies second only to Hashirama. “We only got here an hour ago. You know I adore your lab and I think Kagami’s busy with some of the chemicals you’ve labeled kid-friendly over there.”
As if in answer, the hiss of a chemical reaction and a triumphant whoop sounded from somewhere in the distance, making both of them smile.
“Right,” Tobirama says, “well, I’m ready now for the inspection. May I?” He stands, raising his hands. Hikaku gives an affirmative, and Tobirama pushes chakra into his palms, now glowing a faint green. “Activate your Sharingan, please.”
Hikaku does, without question, and Tobirama nears his hands towards his eyes, registering the feel, structure and movement of the distinct chakra, cataloguing the way cells behave more actively, how every one of them feels amplified by the Sharingan’s power.
“Now your Mangekyō.”
A swirly pattern replaces the tomoe, and the very essence of the chakra generated by the Sharingan seems to change. Tobirama frowns, making note of every little shifts, how the momentum of the chakra seems to increase exponentially, carrying with it potential for an enormous burst of power. The cells seem to be otherwise fine, expectantly.
“You have the Eternal Mangekyō, right?” Tobirama asks, tentative, remembering what Hikaku told him this morning.
“Yeah,” Hikaku says, averting his gaze. “Not a pretty story, but one I can tell if you’d like.”
Tobirama shakes his head. “No need. I have an idea of what must have happened and it’s not too relevant to my search for another solution.”
He pushes more chakra through one of his palms, gaining greater clarity, and reaches for ink and paper with the other to scribble down his findings.
“It’d be easier if you used your new Sharingan, you know,” Hikaku says, making Tobirama splutter, of all things, much like a certain Uchiha when caught by surprise. “You’d remember all you need in perfect detail.”
Tobirama stares.
“Hikaku,” he chokes out, “how did you—”
“We’re friends, Tobirama,” Hikaku says, rolling his eyes, “and I’m afraid I’m the more emotionally perceptive of the both of us.”
“Am I really that obvious?” Tobirama asks, frowning.
“Yep.” Hikaku grins. “It also helps that you radiate Madara’s very potent chakra like crazy. Seriously, I’m not even a sensor.” Tobirama scowls, shoving him away. “It’s good you’re not out and about or you’d be giving every sensory ninja in the village a massive migraine.”
“Ugh.” Tobirama groans, sinking back down into his chair. “Don’t remind me that I have his chakra to deal with now. I feel hot all the time. Are all the Uchiha this hot?”
“Depends on what definition of hot you’re using.”
“Hikaku!”
“Relax, Tobirama,” Hikaku says through laughter, hopping onto the table. “It’s a normal soulbond experience, it’s never painless. You’ll get a hang of it, eventually. And I’m sure our esteemed and very composed Clan Head isn’t faring much better.”
“No,” Tobirama says, crossing his arms. “He isn’t.”
Hikaku gives him an appraising look.
“Listen,” Hikaku starts, “I know you both… find it difficult… to communicate normally,” he awkwardly circumvents the word hate, “but it really isn’t healthy to be apart from your soulmate like this.”
“I know, Hikaku.” Tobirama buries his face in his hands. “I’ll talk to him, I promise.”
“And you’ll tell me about it.”
“I’d rather not.” Tobirama opens one eye to look at Hikaku through the space between his fingers. “It’ll probably end in disaster.”
“Tell me all the juicy details then,” Hikaku demands cheerfully. “Come on. You can’t bribe the Chief Record Keeper for an illegal pass into my clan’s secret archives and not provide something in return.”
“A month babysitting your son isn’t enough for you?” Tobirama says, tone sour even though they both know he’ll enjoy every minute of spare time spent with his first ever student.
“It is,” Hikaku agrees, “or, would be under any normal circumstances. As it stands, you owe me a bigger reward for making me break Clan Law.”
“Your Clan Law and its stupid restrictions are the reason you have this stupid problem with your Mangekyō Sharingan in the first place,” Tobirama mutters. “And I’m going to fix it.”
“For your soulmate,” Hikaku says with a pretensiously dreamy sigh.
“Not for him.” Tobirama sinks into his chair further. “Not just for him. So Kagami doesn’t have to deal with similar pain in the future, nor any other Uchiha child.”
And it’s true of course; Tobirama would be just as deep in research if he’d found out about this issue without the added hassle of being Madara's soulmate. Hikaku knows this, of course, because he’s just as much of a dear friend as Izuna is to Tobirama, if not more.
Inevitably, that train of thought leads him to question why he and Madara seem to be so completely at odds when the Uchiha’s general wariness of Tobirama (and vice versa) have all but disappeared. Perhaps they can become friends, if nothing else, if and when they figure out how to talk without losing their cool every single time. He’d wondered about that before, what it would feel like for Madara to smile at him with genuine care instead of the usual derision. It’s honestly a pity they aren’t platonic soulmates. Although—
Tobirama imagines the prospect of being trapped in Madara’s body for an indefinite amount of time and thinks, No. No, it’s good that we aren’t.
“By the way,” Hikaku says, thankfully distracting Tobirama from his thoughts again, “Kagami, come here for a bit?”
“Yes, Dad!” Kagami leaps towards them, light on his feet but still almost knocking down a vial with a moderately pesky virus that Tobirama makes a note to properly seal later. “Tobirama-sensei!” Kagami instantly focuses on him, eyes gleaming as he surveys all the notes Tobirama has piled up. “What were you working on all this time? Did you make any progress? Is it a new awesome jutsu? Will you teach it to me?”
“No, Kagami, it isn’t anything flashy this time,” Tobirama says, ruffling his student’s hair with a smile. “You’d probably find it boring. But we’ll work on your Grand Fireball Jutsu tomorrow, I promise.” Tobirama suddenly realizes he’ll have to spend tomorrow’s training session without his—well, Madara’s—chakra. What a pain.
“Awesome!” Kagami jumps up and down with his usual bouncy excitement. “I’m getting so great at fire jutsu—you’ll see tomorrow. I’ve got so many new tricks I can show you!”
“I hope you’re making as much progress in chakra theory, Kagami,” Tobirama chuckles as Kagami’s expression switches to one of horror. “Don’t forget your little test tomorrow.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. And so as not to keep you from studying,” Tobirama says, “before you leave, may I take a look at your Sharingan, Kagami? With a diagnostic iryō jutsu?”
Kagami gives him a curious look, glancing at Hikaku, then back at Tobirama again.
“Sure thing, sensei.”
As expected, Kagami’s Sharingan isn’t much different than Hikaku’s basic version, but much weaker in energy compared to it, despite all three of his tomoe being fully developed.
That’s an interesting detail compared to all the other data Tobirama has gathered. Hikaku had explained to him earlier that day that Kagami’s Sharingan awakened after a particularly traumatizing experience—his mother’s death—and was one of the strongest in the clan among children. If anything, that motivated Tobirama to work more, faster, better to find an adequate cure for the Mangekyō’s degenerative effect. Hopefully, Kagami won’t have to suffer enough to acquire it, but none of them know what the future holds, and Tobirama wants to squander the potential for tragedy before it manifests.
It's not long after that before Hikaku makes Tobirama swear on the periodic table of elements (“Because you lack any whatsoever respect for the gods, you heathen") to get proper sleep after they leave and continue his work tomorrow. And really, with the amount of chaos he's had to suffer through today, Tobirama is yearning to do just that.
If only…
Tobirama gets back to his empty, sterile home, barely lived in because he spends most of his time in the office, at Hashirama’s place, with his students or in his lab. He tries, unsuccessfully, to get himself to fall asleep. Sedatives have long since lost their effect on him and his body seems to have stopped registering painkillers, because despite all the pills in his system, the migraine and the dizziness that comes with it return full force just as he’s trying to will himself to sleep.
He can’t.
His thoughts unerringly stray to Madara again.
It’s annoying.
And now that Tobirama has no research or people around to distract him, he feels treacherous feelings of guilt encroaching as his mind supplies him with memories of their whole conversation.
There was something different in Madara’s tone, in his expression as he asked Tobirama the question that caught him completely unawares.
Just because we’re bound by fate, Tobirama?
No, Tobirama thinks, I would have helped anyway. 
You won’t leave this alone just because you have to?
It wasn’t the hidden implications of the question that bothered him most. Not even the complete change in Madara’s demeanor as he asked it—a change to a softer, almost vulnerable side Tobirama had never seen before. It was the epiphany Tobirama had in that very moment, realizing that he was, for some reason, genuinely concerned about Madara’s wellbeing. This despite their long-standing status quo of mutual hostility and Tobirama’s self-proclaimed lack of care about the inherently irrational (and therefore irritating) idea of soulmates.
It’s unnerving.
He turns to bury himself in the pillows on his couch, closing his eyes, desperately begging for his mind to just stop. Stop analyzing, stop wondering and making dozens of possible predictions for the future, stop dissecting every one of his actions and feelings and impulses and just—rest.
Well.
Another impossibility, it seems.
And since rest is out of the question, he reasons he can safely break one promise he’d made to Hikaku and make good on the other. Stopping himself just before he reaches for the Hiraishin marker in the Uchiha district, Tobirama leaps through the window and sets out towards Madara’s house for a much-needed conversation.
Preparing himself for a long, sleepless night, Tobirama shifts onto his back and turns to stare out the wide window at the stars glimmering around the full moon. It’s much too soon to deal with this enormous mess, Tobirama decides, making up his mind to let Madara seek him out himself.
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Chapter 4
And since rest is out of the question, he reasons he can safely break one promise he’d made to Hikaku and make good on the other. Stopping himself just before he reaches for the Hiraishin marker in the Uchiha district, Tobirama leaps through the window and sets out towards Madara’s house for a much-needed conversation.
It's grating, being unable to properly sense his surroundings with his chakra all over the place, but Tobirama deals with it as best as he can, for the first time in his life relying solely on his sense of sight as he leaps from rooftop to rooftop. At least this simple chakra manipulation is manageable, though he does almost slip a few times—another novel experience—which leaves him all the more yearning for his former impeccable chakra control.
And eyesight.
He finds Madara in a similar state of sleeplessness, pacing next to the koi pond in the little garden adjacent to his house. Madara stops in his tracks and turns to look in the direction of Tobirama’s approach just before Tobirama jumps down to face him.
Madara looks downright exhausted, disheveled and cold, what with his slight trembling. He’s probably still in pain, Tobirama realizes with a tinge of irrational guilt—which immediately disappears when Madara flicks his hand and the water from the koi pond rises to form a giant wave that descends upon Tobirama, knocking him onto the ground and soaking him to the bone.
“What,” Tobirama growls, body and voice shaking as he blinks the wetness away, “the fuck do you think you’re doing, Uchiha?”
Even with his blurry vision, Tobirama can make out the bastard’s smirk—a crooked, self-satisfied thing. Madara clumsily redirects half of the water back into the pond and crosses his arms.
“Giving my soulmate a proper greeting, of course,” he drawls as Tobirama stands, trying his best to shake off the water that feels wrong, wet and annoying, not soothing and playfully mingling with his chakra like it usually would. “Most fitting for your dashing farewell, I’d say.”
To his credit, Tobirama doesn’t move to burn Madara to a crisp in answer for his glaring stupidity. Yet.
It’s tempting, though.
But there are safer ways to retaliate, he decides.
“Is this a bad time to mention,” Tobirama says, “that my chakra is exceptionally attuned to water?”
Madara rolls his eyes.
“I know you think others inferior to you in intelligence, Senju, and me most of all,” Tobirama nods as Madara says this, just to rile him up further, “but I am not going to fall for your idiotic taunts.”
“Oh, I’m not trying to taunt you, Madara, just to warn you,” Tobirama says, mock-concerned, “that if you go on using my chakra this carelessly, you might just accidentally end up manipulating the water inside a human body.”
It’s viscerally pleasing, seeing Madara’s smirk dissipate, replaced by a horrified scowl.
“WHAT?”
The way Madara shrieks will never stop being amusing, and it seems the absence of his explosive fiery chakra does little to quell his usual temper. He recoils from the pond, looks at his hands like he's considering cutting them off, looks at Tobirama with a look of such disgust that—well, isn’t exactly pleasant but still entertaining.
“Like blood?” Madara asks, voice strained.
“Blood is known to be partially made of water, Uchiha—”
“You idiot!” Madara shouts, starting to pace again, burrowing his hands in his sleeves. “That is not fucking funny!”
“It isn’t,” Tobirama agrees, “I’ve caused enough of people’s insides to accidentally rupture as a child that I find it far from a laughing matter.” He doesn’t mention that those accidents only ever amounted to two events and both victims were enemies; the rest were deliberate targets of Tobirama’s honed, precise chakra control.  
“You mean—” Madara’s eyes grow wide with ever-growing terror. “You mean I could have—I spent the whole day with Izuna, you prick! Couldn’t you have warned me that I’m now a godsdamned spontaneous murder weapon?”
To be fair, you always have been, Tobirama wants to say, but that nagging spike of guilt raises its ugly head again, and he begrudgingly decides to go the pacifistic way. That’s what he came here for, after all—a conversation, not a fight.
“Kind of. But it would only happen if you’re truly angry, far more than you are now, or if you’re on the verge of death, as a defense mechanism,” Tobirama explains. “I’m just messing with you, Uchiha. Calm down.”
“Calm down when you’re around, you infuriating asshole?” The remaining water in the pond ripples in reaction to his anger and he takes another step back, eyeing it warily. “What the hell did you come here for anyway?”
“To talk.”
“Go to hell.” With the way Madara is glaring at him, Tobirama prepares himself for another splash of water, but the assault never comes. “I won’t speak with you on your terms.”
“What if I offer an apology?”
Madara raises an eyebrow. “Really? You? An apology. If I weren’t in such a foul mood that would warrant a laugh, Senju, good one.”
Tobirama counts from five to one before answering, finding it suddenly a convenience how his skin runs hot, how chakra crackles and burns around him, enough so that he’s almost dry and comforted, rather than annoyed by its warmth. Anija would approve, he thinks bitterly
“I’m sorry. My leaving you like that was neither polite nor called for. But I truly needed to think about…” He gestures vaguely in Madara’s direction. “All this.”
Madara is staring at him like he’s grown another head, and it’s somehow even more unnerving than his death glare.
“You—actually—” Madara shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “Huh.”
He crosses his arms again, and as often as Tobirama has seen that gesture on him, he finds himself suddenly curious why Madara likes it so much. Arms tightly locked and shoulders raised defensively, he looks somewhat like a petulant child. His posture is stiffer than usual, though, and Tobirama makes an effort to quell his chakra lashing out as much as possible to avoid causing unnecessary pain.
“Did a lot of thinking then, Senju?” Madara asks with a much more level tone, which is, Tobirama supposes, the only acknowledgement of his apology he’s going to get.
“No, actually.” Tobirama averts his gaze, biting his lip. “I got side-tracked. I spent the whole day researching your godsdamned dōjutsu.”
Madara frowns, confused.
“Why in the world would you be doing that?”
“I told you,” Tobirama says, “I’m not leaving this alone. There has to be another way to stop the Mangekyō from deteriorating your eyesight, and I’m going to find it.”
“Oh, so you think it’s going to be easy,” Madara asks, voice leaking skepticism, “fixing a centuries-old curse?”
“It’s not going to be that hard, considering that over all those centuries your good-for-nothing clan only had the idea to transplant two pairs of Mangekyō once, then gave up on that idea and didn’t even try any alternatives just blinding people left and right.” Tobirama is still avoiding Madara’s gaze, focusing on one the sakura trees in the garden. “I mean, good clan,” he amends, “you’re okay, I guess.”
“Drop the insolence, Senju,” Madara growls, narrowing his eyes. “And how would you even know that? That isn’t in any of the public libraries, did you—did you break into our archives?”
Ah, Tobirama belatedly realizes his mistake.
“I did,” he tries, although Hashirama’s been telling him since his earliest childhood that he’s a hopelessly terrible liar. He chances a glance at Madara, who’s fuming, making wavelets surge through the pond again.
“Hikaku,” Madara says, and Tobirama curses Hashirama for being right, as always. “That bastard. Should have known.” He sighs. “He was a good Uchiha. I’ll miss him.”
“The killing intent isn’t appreciated, Madara, and for the love of the gods, stop your theatrics.”
“When you stop your meddling.”
“I’m not going to stand by when innocent people are suffering because someone refuses to act and fix this!” Tobirama snaps, turning back to Madara and realizing his world is suddenly in perfect clarity again. “Dammit.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and blanks his mind, easing himself back into a calmer mindset. It doesn’t feel as painful as the Mangekyō did, so he deduces he only activated the base version of the Sharingan this time. Thankfully.
“I won’t let innocent people suffer,” Tobirama repeats, “let innocent children suffer, when I’m in a position to do something about it. I’m not doing this because you’re my soulmate. I’m going to help, whether you like it or not, just because I can. Because I want to.”
Tobirama reopens his eyes only to see Madara standing close—far too close—and reaching out with his hands as if to hug him, but Tobirama flinches and takes a nervous step back, strangely comforted by the world becoming blurred once more.
“Don’t,” he says, “I’m fine.”
Madara is staring at him again, shock painted on his face, eyes searching Tobirama’s expression for—something, and Tobirama struggles not to squirm at the scrutiny.
“Uchiha?” The man in question only blinks in reply. “Hello?”
“You’re insane,” Madara finally says with a slightly dazed smile, “you’re actually insane.”
“The insane one is you,” Tobirama snarls, “because if I had the idiotic notion of keeping my progressing blindness a secret, I would at least be actively doing something to fix it.” It’s Madara’s turn to avoid his eyes, it seems. “Is this how you feel every day? The migraines even without the Mangekyō activated? The pain, the random flashes in your eyes?”
“Yeah,” Madara mutters, “what of it?”
“You don’t just keep these things from people, Madara,” Tobirama raises his voice, losing the last of his tenuous grip on his patience, “especially from my brother who may well be able to reverse the damage, at least temporarily!”
“Why do you care so fucking much about that, Tobirama?”
The sound of his name slipping from Madara’s lips is a bit of a shock.
“I just told you, Madara.”
“No. I get wanting to help my clan, I’d get it even if you wanted to fix the Mangekyō just for the hell of it, like your raising the dead thing or whatever other fuckery you’re up to.” Madara scowls, probably remembering what Hashirama has dubbed the Graveyard Fiasco. “But keeping this a secret is—was my problem. I may have acted… unwisely, but why do you care?”
Tobirama shrugs. “We’re soulmates.”
“And you told me you don’t give a shit about the concept.”
“Care little about,” Tobirama corrects him, “which doesn’t erase the fact that soulmates exist, and I feel a responsibility to…” he trails off. It’s physically painful, being unable to express himself when he usually has no problem with eloquence.
“To help someone you hate?” Madara finishes for him. “You don’t exactly seem happy you’re stuck with me now.”
 “Neither do you, judging by all your screaming,” Tobirama parries. “And that’s not the point.”
“What is, then?”
“I’m worried, and not just because of the bond,” Tobirama says, recalling the question they’d left off before, “but because even if we don’t get along, you’re still—” He gestures helplessly.
My brother’s best friend. My close friend’s brother. An admirable shinobi. The cornerstone of our village.
What comes out instead is, “I’m not as emotionless as you paint me out to be, Madara. That’s all.”
A strange look passes through Madara’s eyes.
“No,” he says, “you’re not.”
Annoyingly, he falls into silence once more, tilting his head to the side and watching Tobirama with an appraising look that makes shivers run down his spine for no particular reason. It’s a far cry from what he thought this conversation would turn out to be—a barely salvageable screaming match, an extremely tenuous quasi-truce, perhaps. A physical fight.
(What Tobirama wouldn’t give right now to be able to let out his frustration through kicks and punches. And preferably a Water Dragon Jutsu or several, but he supposes he’ll have to get used to working with fireballs from now on. A tragedy, really.)
“Well?” Tobirama asks after the few seconds of his shortened patience reserves run out. “Are you going to say anything else?”
Madara blinks, then smiles.
Tobirama feels like his heart skips a beat from the shock of it—seeing an actual smile on Madara’s face. Not a smirk or the murderous grins he so favors. A smile. It’s almost unsettling.
“Fine, Senju. Tobirama,” Madara draws out the syllables of his name, as if slowly tasting how it feels to say it. “That’s a satisfactory answer. But don’t think for one second I’m letting you attempt this on your own.”
A finger jabs Tobirama’s chest, making him go almost cross-eyed as he stares at it. Madara’s chakra spikes immediately, sending a wave of soothing pleasure throughout Tobirama’s body; Madara seems to feel the same, quickly drawing his hand away as he continues.
“You’re researching something that directly concerns me—and my clan. Again, despite whatever you may think, I have studied chakra theory and iryō jutsu. I may simply need a little brushing up,” Madara adds, quieter.
“Fair enough. I’m not averse to working together, and I’ll make an effort to put our differences aside if you are." Tobirama offers a tentative smile of his own. "And I’m told I’m a good teacher.”
Does Madara blush at that? Tobirama blinks. No, must be a trick of the light—or lack thereof in the dim moonlight.
“Yeah, yeah. Just make an effort to curb your insult for once," Madara grumbles.
Tobirama chuckles. The hypocrite.
“If you curb it with the drama," he says, "perhaps I'll make an effort."
“You of all people should know that Izuna is the more dramatic one out of us two. And you grew up with Hashirama, for gods’ sakes.”
“True, but Anija isn’t as loud,” Tobirama says, grinning wider. It’s a nice change, this light-hearted feel of their exchange. Comforting. “And Izuna swears he learned everything from you.”
“He’s lying."
“He does seem more persuading, Madara."
“You believe your precious friend more than you do your new soulmate, Tobirama?” Madara scoffs. “Fate disapproves.”
“Fate can go fuck itself.” That makes Madara chuckle. Tobirama doesn’t understand why that feels like some sort of victory, but it does. “And Izuna doesn’t greet me with a scowl every morning I show up at the Tower, at least.”
Madara sobers up, suddenly serious, and there’s that odd, contemplative look again, boring through Tobirama’s own eyes as if trying to find an answer to a question Madara has yet to voice.
“Tell me this, Tobirama,” he says, “you haven’t rejected our bond. We've reached some… semblance of an agreement. I wonder—what exactly would you like to get out of this bond, at this stage, at least?”
The question catches Tobirama by surprise, so much so that he feels the urge to run away once more. It’s stupid, he knows, and another irritating tendency of the day, since he’s prided himself in seldom—if ever—fleeing from uncomfortable situations.
“If you even think about leaving again, I will master that Water Dragon tehcnique of yours and drown you,” Madara threatens.
Tobirama rolls his eyes and promises nothing.
It’s frustrating, because he is somewhat sure of what he would like from this—whatever he and Madara have or will have. Something like his closeness with Izuna or Hikaku, perhaps. No outright aggression and no need to insult each other at every opportunity. Someone he can confide in and ask for advice. Someone who will listen to him and not mock Tobirama for his many oddities and obsessive ideas, like so many others have before.
He knows, though, that the sheer nature of the bond will never let it end there. The hint of something more hangs over his head even now like a sword waiting to strike. That’s what makes Tobirama yearn for escape, because he’s so painfully unsure of what to even think about the implication.
“Just friendship. For now,” Tobirama says, ignoring how his heart starts drumming faster against his ribcage.
“I don’t know, Madara. So I can’t give you an honest answer—yet,” Tobirama says, knowing, though, that it’ll be the cause of many restless nights to come. “What about you? What do you want to gain from this?”
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Chapter 5
“I don’t know, Madara. So I can’t give you an honest answer—yet,” Tobirama says, knowing, though, that it’ll be the cause of many restless nights to come. “What about you? What do you want to gain from this?”
“Such crude wording,” Madara chastises, a playful glint in his eyes. “I want to gain nothing, Tobirama, except what you’re willing to give me. Don’t mistake my annoyance at this constant fucking pain as displeasure at meeting my soulmate. Soulbonds are revered in my clan. Sacred. And I would gladly forge one with you—a bond that would make us both stronger together than when we are apart.”
Madara pauses, looking as if he’s about to say something else possibly even more outlandish, but instead there’s that soft, genuine smile again, which looks so alien on Madara’s face Tobirama feels like he’s been caught in a particularly unrealistic genjutsu.
“But only if you would wish to gift me such a bond, Tobirama.” Just like the smile, Madara’s tone has turned soft, unthreatening, almost tentative, and Tobirama feels—
Confused.
He knows the stories, of course, has read and heard enough about the Uchiha’s dedication to the ideal of soulbonds and love in general. Even today he’s seen more of the clan scholars’ philosophical treatises about how emotional attachment affects the Sharingan’s development instead of actual observation of the process itself.
Madara hasn’t exactly hinted at love or anything romantic per se, but the insinuation of it is evident. And, quite frankly, terrifying. It’s annoying that by evading Madara’s initial question, Tobirama still ends up feeling unsettled by Madara’s answer. It feels as if he’s exposing himself to something terrible, making himself vulnerable by merely thinking about the notion of opening himself up to the man he’s never even been on good terms with.
The reasons stem far back to his childhood, of course, when his only friends had been Anija and Tōka, while the rest of the clan had seen Tobirama as nothing but an asset, a dangerous and unpredictable one at that.
Then came Mito, almost unnoticeably turning from formidable sister-in-law Tobirama cautiously respected to a trusted partner in seal-developing sprees (or crime, Hashirama would argue) and random journeys together into the wild to study near-mythical creatures and underresearched phenomena. And that closeness had taken a good decade to cement—nearly half of Tobirama’s life.
It was smoother with Izuna, who’d shifted gears so quickly after peace was established that it felt as if Tobirama suddenly had another overly loud, clingy Anija stuck to him almost almost every hour of the day. More or less effortless with Hikaku, who’d approached Tobirama with nothing but kindness despite the years of war behind them. It seems safer, in the village they’ve built from childhood dreams, to extend his trust to others.
But Madara is different.
The problem with him is nothing like the fear he had of Mito monopolizing his brother’s love and attention when she and Hashirama had discovered their bond. Not his rivalry with Izuna, which resembled Madara and Hashirama’s almost playful standstill battles with each passing year of the war. It’s an inexplicable, irrational dislike he and Madara have for each other that makes them fight almost at every turn. Their poor excuses for conversations are never boring, Tobirama supposes, but amusement at Madara’s angry shrieking is far from a basis for friendship, much less something more.
Even so, steadfast determination burns in Madara’s eyes, the fire that hasn’t quite left him even though Tobirama’s chakra now runs through his coils. Seeing him open up like this, offering a truce, the possibility of something better—Tobirama can’t help but feel at least slightly curious.
“I’m willing to try,” Tobirama says, not bothering to apologize for his lengthy silence, “and see where this leads us.”
“Good.” Madara’s grin widens. “And, of course, another perk I’ve always wanted from a soulbond is a stable sex life, but we’ll see how that goes, yes?”
Tobirama clenches his fists. Runs through a few mental scenarios of strangling Madara with his mess of black hair and only then reminds himself of the ubiquitous taboo against the murder of one’s soulmate. 
“Out of the two of you, Uchiha, your brother also clearly has the better sense of humor,” he manages a more or less polite reply.
Madara scoffs. “Bullshit. You’re talking about the idiot who still hasn’t outgrown potty humor.”
“Yes.” Tobirama glares. “I am.”
Annoyingly, it only makes Madara laugh more. Even more maddening is how pleasing it feels to see Madara enjoying himself, how it makes Tobirama want to smile, in turn. He keeps his face neutral, though, even as it becomes harder to curtail his amusement.
“Tell me this then, Tobirama,” Madara says as he calms down, “since you haven’t answered my previous question. You said you care little about soulmates. Why?”
Tobirama contemplates weaseling how way out of that one as well, but for fairness’ sake, he opts to tell the truth.
“I’ve always struggled to build connections with people,” he admits. “I only have a handful of friends and most of them are my family, anyway. People don’t usually connect to what I say or what I do.” Echoes of freak, ghost, demon, probably bondless surface somewhere in the back of his mind. Tobirama ignores them. “And the idea of soulmates always seemed strange to me. Two people chosen by the gods to be together for life? Perfect lovers, perfect friends—it all seems like badly written fairy tale. One that I never thought I’d be a part of.”
“You’ve befriended at least two people from my clan easily enough,” Madara points out.
“I know. Things change. It’s…” Tobirama sighs. “Not as hard as it used to be. But I will need some space. And lots of time.”
“You can have those if your promise not to break spacetime again,” Madara says wryly, “like with the Monster Portal Debacle last month.”
“I closed it and all of the yōkai that came out of it were killed,” Tobirama says, sick of the unceasing complaints—and of people invoking his brother’s tasteless monikers for his lab incidents.
“Ridiculous man," Madara says, the sheer hypocrisy of his statement going right over his head, as always. “But to quell your worries, as I’ve said, I won’t push you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. No need to be intimidated.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Uchiha,” Tobirama snaps to hide the relief flooding through him at the words. “I’m not intimidated by you.”
“Oh?” Madara raises an eyebrow, giving Tobirama a skeptical onceover. “I’d say you are.”
“Am not.”
“Don’t lie to me. Soulmates are supposed to be honest with each other,” Madara says in a sickly-sweet tone.
“Well, if we are being honest, you weren’t all that intimidating when you had this thing,” Tobirama points to his eyes, “either. Now you’re just a puff of smoke compared to that Majestic Destroyer Flame you’re so partial to.”
Tobirama can’t help the grin as Madara, predictably, growls a heartfelt curse and tries to soak Tobirama again. Following the motion of his hand, the koi water ripples, rises slightly, then sinks back to the ground as Madara gives up, staring at the pond like it’s offended him on a personal level.
“Not angry enough, Uchiha,” Tobirama teases, squinting to check on the poor koi fish, thankfully still living.
“Oh, it’s funny when I’m angry is it,” Madara hisses.
“Extremely.”
“Fuck you, Senju,” Madara glowers. Tobirama could swear his spiky hair actually bristles in irritation, just like a cat's. “And we should really start getting a hang of our powers.”
“Are you only saying this so you can learn my Water Dragon Jutsu and attempt to terrorize me with it?” Tobirama asks, feigning suspicion.
“There’ll be no attempting about it. I will have my revenge for every single insult.”
Tobirama huffs out a laugh. “We’ll see who has the upper hand, Uchiha. I suggest we meet tomorrow then. After my training session with my students.”
Madara nods. “Fine.” He’s picked up Kagami from his lessons often enough, whenever Hikaku was too busy with village and clan bureaucracy, to have memorized Tobirama’s training schedule.
At that thought, Tobirama realizes there’s one thing he unambiguously likes about his new soulmate—Madara’s begrudging love for children.
That’s one thing in common, at least.
Madara shivers and crosses his arms—again—and Tobirama suddenly realizes, now that he’s looking at Madara more closely, what’s been throwing him off about the gesture today. Madara doesn’t just seem uncomfortable; there are miniscule twitches in his muscles, the near-constant grimace marring his face, as well as rigidity and tension that speak of pain rather than cold or embarrassment.
“Tell me,” Tobirama says, finally approaching Madara of his own accord. “How much does it hurt?”
Madara flinches as Tobirama touches his shoulder, then immediately relaxes under the touch, letting out a deep breath.
“It’s fine. It’s manageable. I’ve had the whole day to meditate on it and it’s crazy. Like every fucking living thing flinging its chakra at my senses tenfold, and it hurts,” Madara complains, slightly leaning into Tobirama’s touch.
“It’s only ever been overwhelming for me, maybe a bit dizzying,” Tobirama says, frowning. “It’s probably the added burden of a chakra affinity completely opposite yours.”
Tobirama reminds himself, forcefully, of the inherent irrationality of fear and, before he can think better of it, wraps his arms around Madara’s shoulders, returning his favor from this morning. Madara sags against him after a moment of shocked stillness, letting out a drawn-out sigh of relief as he uncrosses his arms and returns the hug, tentative, gentle, as if expecting Tobirama to withdraw at any moment.
And there’s the guilt again. Tobirama can barely remember the last time he’d felt it nag him so many times in the span of a single day.
“What’s changed?” he prompts, breathing in the soft, slightly sweet scent of Madara's hair.
Madara lifts his head and stares at him for the few moments it takes for him to figure it out.
“Oh. I don’t know,” Madara says, dropping his forehead on Tobirama’s shoulder once more. “All I feel is your chakra when we touch. Well, mine. It’s familiar. Helps me focus and ignore all the others, to an extent. But I can’t focus on one signature at a distance.”
“Hm. Neither can I.” Tobirama remembers something. “Did you spend all day hugging Izuna then?”
“Carried him piggyback style.”
“Can’t imagine he was happy about that.”
“I didn’t give him much of a choice,” Madara says, smirk evident in his tone. “He escaped my clutches just an hour ago to go whining to Tōka.”
Tobirama snorts. What a world it would be if he could embed such moments for blackmail in an image without resorting to drawing from memory. Perhaps using a lens that could gather light and concentrate it… but that’s an experiment for later.
His current experiment is to determine which one of them gives in first and ends the embrace, which is steadily getting more awkward with each moment they stay like this. There’s not much Tobirama can do, and he’s not about to throw Madara back into the pit of chronic pain just because he feels uncomfortable—and even that is questionable, at best. He, too, finds himself focusing on the raging ocean where there was a sizzling fire before, and Tobirama would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good.
(A little too good, if he were being completely honest, but it’s probably the stupid bond affecting his perception.)
Madara pulls away first after a few long minutes, taking a step back but not quite letting go of Tobirama’s shoulders, touch light and lingering. He mutters his thanks but otherwise stays silent, contemplating Tobirama with an almost imploring gaze.
Tobirama reaches to gently pry Madara’s hands off his shoulders.
“I’d better get going.” Before this gets any stranger, Tobirama finishes in his mind. “I’ll figure out a way to fix this for you. I promise. It’s just a matter of refining chakra control, but I have an idea for a seal as a short-term solution,” he says with what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
He is, of course, compelled to offer to help but he hates how vulnerable it makes him feel. Madara still hasn’t uttered a word, though, and seems intent on continuing to suffer in solitude. That’s something Tobirama will not—cannot—allow. “Should I… May I stay?” Tobirama flinches at his crooked phrasing. “To help with the pain?”
“Sleep with me,” Madara blurts out and immediately slaps his palms over his mouth, shaking his head and mumbling what Tobirama supposes is a much-needed clarification. He realizes the inherent stupidity of that action soon enough, drops his hands and shouts, “That’s not what I meant, godsdammit!”
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Chapter 6
He is, of course, compelled to offer to help but he hates how vulnerable it makes him feel. Madara still hasn’t uttered a word, though, and seems intent on continuing to suffer in solitude. That’s something Tobirama will not—cannot—allow.
“May I—” Tobirama starts.
“Sleep with me,” Madara blurts out and immediately slaps his palms over his mouth, shaking his head and mumbling what Tobirama supposes is a much-needed clarification. He realizes the inherent stupidity of that action soon enough, drops his hands and shouts, “That’s not what I meant, godsdammit!”
It takes every ounce of Tobirama’s self-restraint to keep himself from smiling and instead give Madara his most unimpressed stare.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Madara shrieks, all but vibrating with fury. “Shut up!”
“I have yet to say anything,” Tobirama says, “while you’re the one waking up your neighbors.” And Izuna, probably, Tobirama supposes, dreading the moment he’ll have to endure his friend’s reaction to this mess.
“You’re talking now,” Madara growls, then manages to take one full breath and hopefully gather his thoughts before speaking, for once.
“What I meant—” Madara tries to clarify, at the same moment Tobirama decides he might as well get another laugh out of this, and says, “You want a stable sex life, yes, and we’ve established that it’s a little too soon for that, have we not?”
“Godsdamn you, Senju!”
This time, Madara is definitely pissed off enough to disturb the koi again and launch hurl another stream of water Tobirama’s way. This time, though, Tobirama shifts to dodge it easily enough.
The water trickles back into the pond as Madara glares murder at him, and Tobirama doesn’t bother to hide his grin.
“I couldn’t resist.” Really, it’s immensely satisfying to watch Madara make a fool of himself, soulmate or not. But because Tobirama doesn’t consider himself a complete lost cause when it comes to politeness, he says, “I’m sorry. What did you mean to say?”
“See if I tell you now, dumbass.”
Tobirama doesn’t avoid the unnecessarily hard punch to his arm, chuckling as Madara huffs and stalks off towards his house, shoulders stiff and head held high.
Tobirama waits.
He’s seen enough of such petulance from Hashirama to know what’s going to happen next. He’s fairly sure he can even time it.
Predictably, Madara stops in his tracks before he barrages through the front door. He slowly turns back to Tobirama, frown and pout in place, looking much like a disappointed child.
“You’re not leaving?”
“Not without giving my soulmate a proper goodbye, of course,” Tobirama teases, echoing Madara’s words from before, and—well. Madara definitely blushes this time. That’s an intriguing point to keep in mind.
“You are so fucking infuriating, Senju,” Madara snarls. “Idiot.” He runs a hand through his hair, releasing another put-upon sigh before gritting out his poor excuse for a response. “I meant that you could…” Madara runs a hand through the hair shrouding his face, managing to only make it messier. “If you want—like, fuck… you know.”
He makes a quick, incomprehensible gesture with his hands and falls silent.
What a disaster.
“I don’t, in fact, know,” Tobirama prods.
He takes the few steps towards where Madara is shuffling on his porch and still blushing furiously, staring intently at the ground. Tobirama does actually have an idea of what Madara is getting at, but he’d like to hear it from the man himself.
After all, if Madara is supposed to be his soulmate, he’d better get a grip of his eloquence at some point, because Tobirama is not willing to spend the rest of his life stuck with a literal child.
“If you,” Madara continues, fidgeting with his hands now, “wanted to—stay and help with—because the pain and I—and you feel okay when we—touch—hugging. Ugh. Whatever.”
“What you mean to ask,” Tobirama finally takes pity on him, “is whether I’ll stay for… a sleepover? So I can help with the pain you’re feeling?”
Madara’s whole body droops in a perfect imitation of Hashirama’s ‘depressive’ episodes. “Yes.”
He’s bent his head so far down all Tobirama sees in front of him is the spiky black mess that is his hair. It looks coarse and tangled, but Tobirama remembers how soft it felt, a part of him wishing he could touch it again.
Tobirama shakes his head at the strange thought. Another side effect of the bond, probably.
“I’d like that,” Tobirama says, softening his smile as Madara’s eyes snap to his.
“You would?” he asks in a high-pitched voice. “I mean. Okay. Oh. Right. I mean of course you would.” Madara flinches. “I didn’t mean to say that last part either. Shut up.”
“Do you have no filter whatsoever,” Tobirama asks, incredulous, “between what you think and what comes out of your mouth?”
“Shut. Up.”
Tobirama huffs out a laugh and raises his hands in surrender.
Without another word (but with enough jumbled grumbling under his breath about ‘stupid Senjus’ to make himself resemble a cranky elder) Madara grabs Tobirama by the collar and hauls him into his house, waving his hand at the space in lieu of a welcome.
It’s a much more lived in home compared to Tobirama’s, hints of a clumsy presence all over the place. What Tobirama can see of the kitchen from here is an ungodly mess, and he glimpses a grand fireplace in the living room he’d have loved to curl up to, normally, if not for the sweltering heat of his current chakra. The walls are covered with paintings of Izuna and people who are probably the rest of Madara’s family, of landscapes familiar to Tobirama only from his brief and rare forays onto the Uchiha’s former territory. He wonders if the paintings are Madara’s own, and a love for art is another thing they share in common.
Tobirama would ask now, if the silence they’d found themselves in wasn’t beyond awkward.
“So.” Madara fidgets again, staring at Tobirama expectantly. “Get ready for bed?”
Tobirama shrugs. “That is what you invited me for.”
Madara gives him an annoyed look for some reason; Tobirama supposes he’ll have to get used to those. He has a fleeting urge to mention that he’d wanted to propose the same arrangement for the night, to make Madara more at ease—but the admission feels too vulnerable, frightening even, and so he stays silent, watching Madara flit about bringing him extra clothes and a toothbrush.
Another amusing tendency of Madara’s is his pushy attitude when he’s nervous; he practically shoves Tobirama into the bathroom, ordering him to get ready. Tobirama reins in his teasing this time but can’t help but groan as he unfolds the sleeping yukata Madara’s offered him, the all too familiar uchiwa sown onto its back.
“Don’t you have any clothes without this accursed thing?” he asks, wondering if it’s really worth changing from his rumpled attire.
“Nope,” Madara answers cheerfully. “Deal with it, Senju.”
Tobirama makes a note to ask Mito, when she comes back from her travels, how to deal with a soulmate who’s a constant pain in the ass.
Large amounts of ice-cold water do nothing to quell the scorching fire in his coils, so Tobirama gives up soon enough. Stalling is another thing he isn’t used to but catches himself doing quite a lot of it in hopes of derailing the moment he has to get into bed next to—Madara.
Madara Uchiha.
His soulmate.
It still seems like something out of a lurid dream, if not a nightmare.
They find themselves lying down shoulder to shoulder, staring silently at the ceiling, neither of them willing to break the awkward silence or fall asleep.
Tobirama sighs.
“I have an idea for a seal that can help you deal with the pain while you’re learning to control my chakra.” He intended to say something completely different, like comment on the fact that they’ve ended up lying on top of the covers even though Madara obviously feels cold, but his own nervousness gets the better of him. “A matrix that’s a bit challenging, but if I use the same principles used for chakra masking, only to tune it down to a more comfortable—”
“Senju.”
“Hm?”
Tobirama glances to the side to see Madara frowning at him, seeming genuinely concerned.
“I’ve been in pain all day, but you, too, look like death warmed over,” he says, moving to lie on his side and curling his hand over Tobirama’s forearm. “Think about it tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow.”
Tobirama rolls his eyes but relents, allowing himself to relax as much as he can, still lying on his back as Madara curls next to him. He casts his usual jutsu to adjust his dreams for the night, then carefully, slowly channels some of his chakra outward, hopefully enough to keep Madara warm, and judging by his contented sigh, it does the job.
It’s a testament to how exhausted Tobirama feels that sleep overtakes him almost instantly after he closes his eyes, the soft, pleasant thrum of their intertwining chakra a comforting, grounding force.
He doesn’t know if he imagines the soft ‘Thank you’ whispered so quietly he can barely hear it, but regardless, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.
End of Arc I: Truce
Arc II on tumblr
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lovestruckay · 6 years
Text
WIP Game
Talk about the WIPs you’re intending to work on this year.
I was tagged by @crimsonriley and this looks like a good opportunity to taunt all my readers lot of fun!
I’m going to tag @vesperlionheart, @shyyynobi, and @beyondthemoor to join in on the fun. And, because I absolutely count WIPs as including art, I’m going to tag @yomi-gaeru, @byelawliet, and @maybe-please! <3
I have a number of WIPs (over a dozen) but there are only a few that are going to be actively worked on this coming year.
Homeward
MadaSaku, Time Travel AU, Eventually Mature
[FF - AO3]
This is my most popular fic and my main focus as a writer. It’s an AU where Sakura is thrown backwards in time during the battle between Danzo and Sasuke. The majority of the story so far is her amassing a reputation as a miracle healer and as an incredibly powerful kunoichi. I thought it would be more realistic for Sakura to have to survive and eventually thrive in the past before she came across one of the major clans (well, except for the poor Fuma clan). 
The story has already gotten to the point where she meets Madara and Izuna (in a pretty flashy way). This is my pride and joy and it’s a fic I’m very happy to write. I love writing Sakura as this incredibly powerful and indomitable woman who demands respect wherever she goes while simultaneously being this sweet, openhearted healer and friend. And I love writing Madara as being this powerful, intelligent and calculating, yet kind man who people have to work to earn a way into his heart. I always envisioned Madara as being a man who needed a indomitable woman like Sakura to make him happy. A woman who could challenge him yet encourage him at the same time. And this woman would certainly be Sakura.
Snippets
“But you have blood on you,” she pointed out, taking a step towards him and reaching forward to touch a splatter of blood on the neck of his high collared shirt.
He nearly shivered as her fingertips brushed his clothed collar bone, his sharingan flickering on of its own accord. The world around him became sharp and crisp and the sight of her reaching out to touch him embedded in his mind before his sharingan returned to inactivity in the span of a heartbeat.
“It’s not mine,” he muttered in a tone deeper than normal as he stared at her concerned expression.
...
He turned his head to face her and could feel heat rising to his cheeks as he noticed how close they were, their noses nearly touching. All he could see of her was her half lidded eyes and her dilated pupils, the black heavily encroaching on the sea green of her irises. She stared right back into his lazily spinning sharingan, her own cheeks taking a red hue.
Uchiha MC
MadaSaku, Outlaw Biker AU, Mature
[FF - AO3]
This fic was actually the beginning of me rejoining the fanfiction world. I had written a couple fics but this was the first one I actually went out and posted. It started as a oneshot but I combined it with a couple other WIPs I had and created this awesome story that I was just giddy to write. It has turned out a long longer than I had anticipated although it has been so much fun to write.
It has just begun to rapidly escalate. The story is a little more than halfway done but there is going to be a lot of incredibly intense and “holy shit” moments coming up that are going to keep everyone on their toes! The story is really at a pivotal moment right now so any snippets will give away what’s going to happen. Sorry!
Untitled ObiSaku
[FF - AO3]
ObiSaku, AU where Obito comes back to the village, non-massacre, Mature
EDIT: I posted this fic while I was doing Sakura Week 2018. It didn’t turn out as absolutely filthy as I had previously planned as another fic (a MadaSaku fic - FF, AO3) I wrote decided to take the whole choking kink. While this fic is still smut, it’s not as dirty as I had originally planned.
This fic is one purely written out of spite. Some random user on AO3 was talking poorly about one of my MadaSaku fics and asked if I was going to do an ObiSaku fic too (because that’s soooooo ridiculous). So I replied with a “you better fucking believe it” and put together an outline for this pure filth with a heaping of fluff and plot.
Some aspects of this fic: Rin will be alive but her, Obito, and Kakashi will be non-romantic best friends. How Kushina and Minato will live and how Minato be Obito’s mentor as he trains him to take over as Hokage. Kakashi will still become the sensei for Team 7 and how Team 7 will split up to train individually, Sakura and Naruto going on journey’s with Tsunade and Jiraiya respectively and Sasuke going with Shisui to train with the Military Police. There will be a lot of self hate, kink self-shame, angst, and a wide age difference.
Nesting
MadaSaku, alpha omega beta AU, founders era, Mature
This fic was entirely inspired by the “nesting” phenomenon in ABO fics. And the fact I very much wanted to write a MadaSaku ABO fic.
Sakura is the leader of the famous clan of healers, the Haruno clan. The Harunos are close allies of the Uzumaki clan, hailing from the same region, and Sakura and Mito are such close friends they consider each other sisters. It is because of Sakura’s influence that Hashirama puts fourth a peace treaty in exchange for him healing Izuna (much to Tobirama’s horror). When the village if finally founded, there is a meeting where all of the clan leaders that are allies of the Hidden Leaf join together to discuss the future. And this is where Madara and Sakura finally meet and everyone makes the catastrophic (at least for a city block) decision of trying to drag them apart.
There will of course be ABO smut with mating bites, pupping, womb sex, etc. But a huge aspect of it will be Sakura and her “nesting” behavior as she chooses a place to make her nest and have her pup. Very sweet and fluffy.
Nonsensical
[FF - AO3]
ShisuiSaku, soulmarks AU, Mature
A cute and kind of funny little one shot made because there is a drastic shortage of ShisuiSakura fics. Depending on how long it turns out being I might break it up into smaller bites. It’ll be a non massacre fic with a healthy amount of angst, some super bad first impressions, some happy endings, Sakura being a badass, Team 7 being bffs, and Hokage Itachi.
Here are a coupe snippets although they are very rough because they are part of the outline and not actual written material.
Snippets:
Shisui didn’t get his soul mark until March 28th when he was eight years old.
He had gone to bed that night with clear skin and woke up that morning with his soul mark written across his left pectoral in a flowing, feminine script. He was excited to learn that he did in fact have a soulmate but the fact that the phrase now inked across his chest was the most random, nonsensical bullshit he had ever read in his short life dampened the feeling. Was his red string connecting him to a psychopath?
He couldn’t think of any other reason as to why someone’s first words to him would be “Pants are not ripe water grass bastard”.
What in the hell does that even mean? Was it some sort of secret code? Was she going to be drunk? Was she insane?
...
Sakura has had her soul mark since she was born although she didn’t learn this until she was a young girl.
When she had asked her parents why she didn’t have one, at the tender age of five after her friend Ino had shown off hers, her parents had laughed with mirth, given her a hand mirror, and told her to find it. After a solid fifteen minutes of searching and acts of stretching that contortionists would be proud of, she located her soul mark printed in a small, professional script in the crook where her inner thigh met her hip. While part of her had been disappointed it was in a very personal place, a spot she could never show up, she had been overwhelmingly satisfied with the words on her soulmark.
I didn’t know angels had pink hair”.
Other Fics (may or may not get written)
Broken Trust
ObiSaku, Uchiha MC branch off, lots of angst
Guardians
MadaSaku fic where Impure World Reincarnation is never outlawed and instead becomes a technique for raising “Guardians” to protect the village. Izuna becomes the first guardian and leads to the formation of the village. Madara, Hashirama, Tobirama, all the hokages, Itachi, etc become Guardians and never technically die, instead being treated as well respected protectors
Fighting Dreamers
MadaSaku MMA AU, Sakura “Cherry Bomb” Haruno and Madara “Wildfire” Uchiha
The Chances
MadaSaku soulmark AU, takes place during the war
Three Rejects
NaruSakuSasu, dark fic where the trio runs away from Konoha after suffering through years of abuse and neglect. Sakura is an orphan, stolen from her clan of incredible healers following the massacre of her family. They can only trust each other and only love each other, ends in tragedy for the rest of the world but bliss for them
Wake Up
MadaSaku fic where Sakura, Madara’s wife, is in a coma in the Warring States Era and imagining her life in the future
Like the Ocean
IndraSaku fic where Indra goes on his journey to help the distant village to determine if he would become the next leader of his village and comes across a strange woman on the beach, part of an even stranger clan of healers and mystics who live on the ocean’s edge
Cosplay
I have a new wig from Shippuden Sakura that I’m very excited to try out. I even got a pair of customized boots that are pretty incredible! I even met a Sasuke cosplayer who is so incredibly sweet and is just as into cosplay and Naruto as I am! So you may or may not see me and Sasuke at Anime Matsuri in Houston, TX this year.
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raendown · 7 years
Link
Pairing: TobiramaKakashi Soulmate au: The one where you gain a unique power when you touch for the first time
Follow the link or read it under the cut.
The thing about living in a place called Fire Country is that one very quickly grows tired of the irony of the frequent forest fires which blazed through the surrounding areas. As a young snarky child Tobirama had always wondered why his parents never bothered to move away to somewhere better, somewhere safer. It wasn’t until he had grown up and gone away to university in another city that he understood. One can’t help falling in love with home, no matter what flaws you find there.
He’d been lucky in life to have never been personally affected by the fires which sometimes touched the edges of the little village he lived in. No, his personal heartbreaks came from another source. Konoha was a mostly quiet place which appeared almost to hold its breath in the wake of the tragedies which happened over a decade ago, when a rare sickness had spread throughout the population and caused deaths by the dozens. Tobirama had lost two of his three brothers as well as his mother. His father had been broken by it all, withdrawing into himself until most days it seemed as though only Tobirama and his eldest brother Hashirama were left in their sprawling family home.
Leaving for university had been healthy for him, a three-year window of breathing space to finally put the past behind himself. Coming home had been inevitable however. Tobirama didn’t think he could ever live very far from his older brother. He was twenty two years old now and although he most often chose to close himself up in his own wing of their large house, he felt at peace knowing that Hashirama was safe inside the same walls when he went to bed at night.
Life was good for the most part – a little lonely, but good. He’d been very happy for his brother when the older man found his soulmate just last year, an occasion marked by a sudden explosion of flowers from the man’s hand the moment he brushed skin with Uzumaki Mito for the first time. It had been amusing to watch but it had also pushed the thought to the front of his mind that he had yet to find his own soulmate. He was still fairly young, still plenty of time ahead of himself, but Tobirama had never been fond of waiting. He was good at it, was capable of being much more patient than any of the rest of his family ever had been, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He liked having things done sooner rather than later and this was something that was rather important.
People might think him cold because of his typical lack of expression but really Tobirama had a lot of love to give and no one around to give it to.
Four months after his twenty-second birthday the young Senju found himself chased out of the house by his only remaining sibling and told not to come back for at least an hour. It was, he knew, an attempt to force him to go be social somewhere. Unfortunately for the other Tobirama had no such inclinations; he was lonely and anxious for his soul mate but he also had a marked dislike for small talk with strangers.
To be perfectly honest, Tobirama had high hopes that his Power would manifest itself in the same spectacular manner that Hashirama’s had so that he would be able to identify his soulmate without having to go through the trial of greeting every new stranger that he came across. He had taken an elective course in university studying what little science was understood about the Powers each person developed upon meeting their soulmate for the first time. It was something that had always fascinated him – and part of him thought that if he could understand the science of it he might be able to do something about it: hurry the process, reverse engineer it to bring him to his partner, something. He was well aware that his standoffish personality meant finding his soulmate was likely his only chance at ever falling in love.
Unfortunately his studies had been disappointing in that department. A great deal of their discussions had centered around the possible answers to why certain people developed certain Powers. While it would have been interesting to find out why his brother had been given the ability to create flowers at will instead of something more useful, it wasn’t what he had been hoping for. He’d been hoping for a way to find love, a faster way than just waiting patiently for the universe to do its thing.
Since he knew very well that Hashirama would annoy him back out of the house if he did try to go back before the designated hour was up, Tobirama headed towards a nearby park instead. Luckily there were very few people out today. A mother was pushing her son on the swing set, a lone man was walking his dog around the circular path, and two teenagers were heavily involved in each other’s tonsils at the far side of the large lawn. The grass in the park was yellow and parched from the rising summer heat and not enough rain. The trees were wilted and crisp, reminding him that the news had been full of fire risk warnings again this morning. His eyes drifted back to the mother by the swings, cigarette drooping loosely between her lips, watching her carefully.
With a huff he dropped his eyes, pulling out his phone and slumping down on to a nearby bench. He’d been extremely lucky to get in to the course he wanted in university, a very specific branch of biology that only accepted so many students per year, but his shiny degree did little to help him when there were no jobs to be had in his field around here. Konoha didn’t exactly have a bustling scientific community out. Coming from such an old family they would never be short on money but Tobirama wanted to do more with himself than live off his family’s charity. He wanted to make something of himself, to spend money that he had earned with his own two hands. None of the job websites he was scrolling through, however, had any openings. If he wanted a job in this town the best he was going to get was the title of Fry Cook.
If he had his way he would get a position at the Hatake Research Institute, the small branch building next to their local hospital which rumor said had been given funding recently for all sorts of interesting projects. Trouble was that it was a small institute with no job openings. He would probably have to wait for one of the old geezers working there to drop dead before anyone even looked his way. It was starting to look like if he truly wanted a job in the field he had studied he would either need to move away from home or make a two hour commute to work every day.
Neither of those options sounded appealing to him. Sometimes it sucked to live in a small town.
Tobirama’s concentration was broken by a rough bark and he looked up from his phone to scowl at the little pug that was yapping at his feet. The thing looked as though it were telling him off for something and it took a great deal of willpower not to stick out his tongue childishly. Honestly. He wasn’t even doing anything.
“Ah sorry! Pakkun, stop that!”
He looked up to see the man at the other end of the leash, tugging on it and murmuring scolding words to his pet. Tobirama blinked. He hadn’t been able to tell from a distance earlier but the man was gorgeous. His light hair was spiky but floppy, falling over his eyes yet not quite managing to cover the scar that ran through one of them. His pink lips turned down in a strangely attractive frown as he reprimanded the very unapologetic pug. ‘Pakkun’ continued to yap at Tobirama’s toes until his owner bent down and picked him up.
“I’m really sorry,” the other man said. “Pakkun’s just a grumpy old fart. I promise he won’t bite.”
“That’s quite alright, he wasn’t causing any harm.” Tobirama paused, wondering what to say. He really was no good at small talk but he didn’t want to let this vision leave. Luck, it seemed, was on his side suddenly, for the man smiled and shuffled the dog in to one arm to hold out his other hand.
“I’m Kakashi,” he declared, eyes turning up in an adorable smile.
Tobirama reached out with a quiet, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Their hands met and he was pleased by the tight grip of the other’s fingers. Then the moment was marred by the slight grimace that took over Kakashi’s features. Tobirama dropped their hands at the same time the other did.
“Your hand is wet,” the other man. He sounded as though he were trying to point it out politely and not sound grossed out. Tobirama frowned.
“On the contrary, it’s your hand that’s wet.” His palm had been bone dry until he touched the stranger. He wouldn’t have dared to hold his phone with wet hands, he knew better than that. Hashirama ruined cellphones all the time by checking text messages in the middle of doing dishes without bothering to dry his hands first.
Kakashi took a step back from him, opening his mouth to give some kind of retort. Then he paused as he looked down at his hand. It was dripping, small droplets forming in the center of his palm to run down each finger. Tobirama blinked and looked down at his own appendage, startled to see that it was doing the exact same thing. When he held it up perpendicular to the ground, a small pool of water gathered in the palm and dribbled down over the sides.
The two men looked at each other in disbelief, Kakashi’s head tilting slightly to one side while Pakkun strained his neck to try and sniff the hand not holding him.
“I…I didn’t have a Power this morning,” the other man mumbled. “My hand’s never done this before.”
“Neither has mine,” Tobirama admitted. He hesitated before adding, “I’ve never heard of two people having the exact same Power.”
“Me neither.”
Both of them stared in silence, neither sure what to say for a few long moments. It hit Kakashi first. Between one second and the next his eyes widened and he rocked back on his heels in shock, throat bobbing like he was trying to speak around a lump that had suddenly appeared there.
“Holy shit you’re my soulmate…you’re my soulmate!”
Tobirama nodded slowly as it hit him too, feeling faint. As much as he had been hoping to simply stumble across his soulmate by accident he hadn’t truly expected it – certainly he hadn’t expected to find him just by sitting down in the park for a while. He wondered if they would have found each other if the little pug Pakkun hadn’t taken exception to him for some reason.
He’d been looking forward to this moment since he was young and now that it was here Tobirama was a little embarrassed by his inability to react like a functioning human being. His body didn’t seem to want to do more than simply stand there like an idiot, one arm hanging uselessly by his side while the other hovered motionlessly in the air, palm still turned upright and continuing to produce water. He should probably try to stop doing that. With a bit of concentration and a furrowed brow he managed to make his hand stop pooling liquid, the tiny puddle already gathered draining away droplet by droplet.
Then he jumped a little when another pale hand touched his, looking up to see Kakashi gazing back at him in wonder. Pakkun was gone, presumably somewhere on the ground now.
“You never told me your name,” the other man breathed, damp fingers clamping down around his own.
“Tobirama.”
He watched Kakashi mouth the name to himself silently then lick his lips as though to taste the syllables of it on them. It was just a quick flash of a tiny pink tongue yet for some reason Tobirama felt heat rise to his cheeks and he had to look away quickly. When he turned back Kakashi was smiling the most brilliant smile he’d ever seen on someone other than his older brother.
Although he would deny it to his dying day and insist that the very notion was cheesy and overly sappy, in the back of his mind Tobirama would always know that the moment he saw that smile he was already in love. He’s never seen anything quite so beautiful before.
Whatever he said next he had no memory of. Before he knew it he had led Kakashi back to his house and Pakkun was sniffing around the living room as he introduced his new partner to Hashirama. At some point they had woven their fingers together and he was strangely reluctant to let go so that the other two men could shake hands, trading enthusiastic greetings that he didn’t listen to. He was too distracted by the sound of his soulmate’s voice and the shapes his lips made as he spoke.
He did pay attention, however, when Hashirama gleefully asked them to demonstrate their matching Powers, jokingly proclaiming that they should register with the city as volunteer firefighters. Tobirama stuck his hand over the kitchen sink and concentrated, giving birth to a small stream of water. With practice he could probably create a tiny river all at once. His brother’s idea might have merit if he could figure out how to do that. If he couldn’t do what he wanted with his fancy degree then he might as well do something else useful – like help fight the fires that might spring up again any day now.
Confusion reigned, however, when Kakashi held his hand over the sink as well only to have his palm burst forth with flowers instead of water.
“What the hell?” Kakashi looked down at the peony in his hand, eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. “I’m not crazy right? It was water before?” He looked to Tobirama for confirmation, who nodded.
“I saw it too,” he agreed.
“That’s so cool!” Hashirama crowed, undeterred. “He matches both of us!”
Tobirama blinked, something clicking in to place as his mind made a twisting leap of logic. He reached out and brushed his fingers against the back of Kakashi’s hand – and suddenly the flowers turned to water, burbling out from his skin like a backyard fountain.  
“How!?” Kakashi demanded. Tobirama grinned, fascinated.
“Your Power isn’t the same as mine,” he said. “It’s the same as the last person you touched. Your Power is to copy the Power of others!”
Without thinking he went off on a tangent about the possible scientific explanation for that and how it would work, the formation of DNA and the ‘memory’ of Kakashi’s cells. Hashirama groaned and the sound made him realize he was probably being boring again, going on about science and biology and all of the research he’d always wanted to do on the subject. His jaw snapped shut with a small click, cutting off the flowed of words. Kakashi made a quiet noise of protest.
“Wha-? Don’t stop there!” He tugged on their entwined hands, making Tobirama wonder when they had woven their fingers back together again. “You were on to something good there! The idea that my DNA has a rapid-adaptation mutation is fascinating! I’d love to bring you over to the Institute some time and set you free with all the equipment. Some of those studies you mentioned have incredible merit!”
Tobirama blinked. Then stared. Then blinked again. He’d never met anyone outside of his university classes who wasn’t instantly bored when he started talking about these things.
“Institute?” he asked. Kakashi nodded with a wide grin.
“The Hatake Research Institute? By the hospital? I guess I didn’t get a chance to mention my full name, Hatake Kakashi. Technically I haven’t inherited anything yet but my dad’s pretty much retired and I run most things around the place anyway.” He paused to tilt his head questioningly. “I don’t suppose I could talk you in to a visit? If I could bribe you in to joining the team we’d love to have someone with your kind of mind.”
Hashirama guffawed, head thrown back and both hands holding his stomach, while Tobirama found himself stunned into immobility not for the first time that day.
“Bribe him!?” Hashirama boomed out another laugh. “He’s been salivating over your Institute for years. You’ll have to force him to go home every day!”
“Oh.” Kakashi took a good look at the transcendent expression on Tobirama’s face, then affected a very smug look. “You’re just getting all sorts of good news today, aren’t you?”
Tobirama didn’t have the words to reply and so he didn’t even try to speak. He’d never been the best at expressing himself verbally anyway. Instead he simply leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a frantic first kiss, fisting one hand in the front of Kakashi’s shirt like the other man was all that was holding him to the earth. Kakashi gave a quiet moan of approval and slid his own hands around Tobirama’s hips.
Neither of them heard Hashirama gagging and telling them to take it elsewhere. Nor did either of them notice the older man giving up and leaving, giving them a little time to themselves. What they did notice was how complete they felt to be in each other’s arms – and the slow seeping of water through clothing as each of them lost control of their newly discovered Power, soaking their shirts and entirely ruining the moment.
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raendown · 7 years
Text
Chapter 69
@6miray6​ put in the request for the latest chapter of the Soulmate Collection. Requests are opening up today, at long last. I’ll be taking about 20 in total. Today’s offering is MadaTobi and it’s a rather unique au, credit to Miray for suggesting it!
Under the cut or on AO3!
Pairing: MadaraTobirama Soulmate au: The one where every sensor has a soulmate and they will die if their soulmate rejects them
As a toddler Tobirama hadn’t understood why the world was so bright, so overwhelming. He hadn’t understood why no one else seemed affected. By the time he was three he understood that he was a sensor and that this was both a blessing and a curse.
True sensors were rare and the Senju clan were blessed to have one born in their midst. Tobirama had the ability to feel chakra in nearly all living things, differentiate them from each other, and assess the strength of each signature. As he grew older he developed the even rarer ability to sense emotions from those chakra signatures if he concentrated hard enough. He was the strongest sensor ever to be born in Fire Country, able to feel a single individual four days travel away.
On the other hand, sensors were in a way cursed as well. Each true sensor was born with a soulmate, a perfect other half that existed to help them deal with the overwhelming sensations that constantly bombarded them. The touch of one’s soulmate would ground a sensor, help them deal with the overload of information and help them process it to even greater effect than they would be able to achieve on their own. Everything comes with a price, however, and the price of ‘true love’ was that in finding them, a sensor was forever bound. If rejected a sensor’s chakra system had a way of overloading, burning itself out until they passed away in overwhelming agony.
Tobirama had hoped to never find his soulmate. He had gotten very used to the world being too bright around him, used to the headaches and the tension in his shoulders from not being able to stop receiving so much information. He thought it was better just to go on like that rather than surrender his fate in to the hands of someone who may not even want him.
He was lucky to survive twenty-one years without finding out that his soulmate had been in front of him the entire time. Madara had never viewed him as more than Hashirama’s younger brother, the nuisance who faced Izuna on the battlefield whenever their two clans clashed. Tobirama, in return, saw Madara as nothing more than the one who had stolen away his brother’s time and affection only to give back nothing by pain. In short, they didn’t have very high regard for each other. Not even when Madara finally agreed to peace and the building of their dream village did either give any special thought to the other.
It wasn’t until the Uchiha clan finally migrated to Konoha that things changed. The Senju had been living there for quite some time already as their head of clan used his unique jutsu to create homes, offices, playscapes, a school, a hospital, everything imaginable that a village could possibly need. Day by day he grew his dreams from seed to reality. Tobirama watched it happen with a smile on his face which faded only when Madara stood across from him, Hashirama between them with wide, pleading eyes.
“We’re at peace,” his brother insisted. “The two of you need to learn to get along. Madara, Izuna has agreed to be polite with Tobirama, why can’t you do the same?”
“All the times he attempted to take my brother’s life are not so easily forgotten,” Madara huffed, arms crossed. “Izuna has always been more forgiving than I.”
“If you are truly my friend, Madara, you will try to get along with him. For my sake. At the very least you two can pretend to make peace to set an example for others!” Hashirama turned the full dose of his famous puppy eyes on his old friend and Madara gave him a disgusted look. Then he capitulated because even big bad Uchiha’s could not stand against prolonged exposure to Hashirama’s puppy eyes.
The younger Senju brother eyed the hand that was reluctantly held out towards him for a moment, almost considering not taking it. There wouldn’t be many that would blame him for being suspicious of ulterior motives. It wasn’t worth the dramatics of a refusal though so he reached out his own hand and clasped Madara’s.
And the world went quiet.
Tobirama’s eyes went wide and unfocused, breathless at the sudden peace within him. He felt weightless, calm. His mind felt so blissfully clear and sharp that he thought he would have been able to solve any problem handed to him right in that moment.
It took a couple full minutes for him to realize that he had simply been standing there swaying on the spot, his hand crushingly tight around Madara’s. The Uchiha was staring at him with trepidation while his brother called his name, his voice heavy with concern. By the look in Madara’s eye he knew that something had just happened between them, though he didn’t seem to know exactly what. As soon as it registered in Tobirama’s brain what it was, he was filled with dread.
So this is how I die, he thought.
“Brother? What’s wrong?” Hashirama hovered near him, hands out and fluttering as if he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how to.
“Everything went…quiet,” Tobirama said distantly. “I can see. Feel. It’s all…very sharp.” He wasn’t sure he had better words for it at the moment. His brother broke out in to a massive grin that Tobirama wasn’t sure the situation warranted.
“That means Madara is your soulmate! You’ve found your match, brother! That’s incredible!”
Madara didn’t seem to think so. In fact, he looked rather repulsed. He snatched his hand back with obvious intent and Tobirama grunted, doubling over in pain.
“Tobirama!” His brother reached out to steady him while he grit his teeth together. If before he had lived in discomfort then what he felt now was agony. It felt like microscopic knives tearing him open from the inside out.
“I’m fine, shut up,” he gasped out. The last thing he wanted was to look weak, no matter that it was the truth at the moment. Madara watched him but did nothing. Hashirama helped him stand straight again, wincing when he momentarily scrunched his pain at another wave of pain.
“You’re not fine,” his brother refuted him. “You’re…oh. Madara, how could you!”
“How could I what? I’ve done nothing.”
“You’ll kill him!”
Tobirama wanted to tell them both to shut up. If this is what was how he was going to die then he wanted to do so in peace. He could barely keep his eyes open but he managed to see the way Madara was looking at him, like his death wasn’t necessarily considered a bad thing. Then the Uchiha looked over at Hashirama to see how horrified he was, the terror in his face at the prospect of watching his only remaining brother die in his arms.
Madara lived to protect his own little brother, even Tobirama knew that. Perhaps it was seeing himself in Hashirama’s shoes that moved him to mercy or pity or whatever it might have been which inspired him to relent. He made sure to show his reluctance, however, by rolling his eyes and sighing.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, stepping forward to take hold of Tobirama’s wrist.
The pain didn’t exactly go away but it lessoned to the point that he was capable of hiding it. Tobirama smoothed his face and forced his shoulders to lower until he appeared calm and relaxed. He and the older man held each other’s eyes and Tobirama knew without a doubt that Madara had only saved his life for the sake of his brother.
It wasn’t a true acceptance but it wasn’t a true rejection either. Madara accepted that they were soulmates but did not accept him as a partner and it left Tobirama in a strange state of limbo he’d never heard of before. He did not die but he lived in constant pain, even worse than before he had discovered who his supposed ‘perfect other half’ was. He made sure no one knew, not even Hashirama. He presented himself to the world as calmly as he ever had. After all, he had plenty of years of practice holding in the pain.
He existed in this half state for several years, the agony only lessening on the rare occasions Madara deigned to sit close enough that their skin brushed. He was able to mitigate it somewhat by carving chakra suppression seals in to a pair of iron bands that he wore around his wrists. It didn’t stop the pain and he could wear them nowhere but inside the village, but it blocked the copious information from the chakra networks around him and made it easier to bear.
There was one thing about his situation, however, that nothing could make easier to bear. The thing about finding one’s perfect other half was that the knowledge of this was never far from one’s mind. Tobirama’s thoughts were constantly circling back to the possibilities, the what if’s. He paid extra attention to Madara now, almost without meaning to, and he hated that he began to notice things. He hated noticing the pleasing shape of Madara’s eyes, the caring manner in which he spoke of his sibling, the proud way he fought against slander towards his clan. Tobirama hated himself for running his eyes down the other’s long legs or remembering how it had felt to hold his hand.
Most of all, Tobirama hated himself for falling in love. It was all too obvious that Madara did not truly want him and never would, that he had been granted only a slower death instead of a quick one. Chronic pain had a way of wearing on a body and Tobirama was certain that there had never been a pain like his own. If he were anyone else he would have ceased to function.
On the fourth anniversary of Hashirama being named Hokage, Tobirama slipped away from the celebrations and in to the public gardens. It was quiet here, peaceful, yet not quiet enough. Tobirama slid one of his carved arm bands out from the pocket of his yukata, sliding it on to his wrist and closing his eyes as the brilliant star of the gathered villagers sipped away from him. He sighed in relief and slumped on to a nearby bench. He would have gone home hours ago if it weren’t for his brother.
Hashirama had been trying to get him to ‘lighten up’ the entire evening, a difficult task with Madara trailing along at the man’s other side, smug expression firmly settled on his features. Tobirama did his best to avoid his soulmate when possible. Those two were making that impossible to do tonight.
With his senses blocked out he could feel no one approaching. He did not feel the two signatures approaching from the east. And he did not feel the smaller one approaching from the north. He was entirely surprised to open his eyes and find the pale lavender of a Hyuga’s staring up at him from only inches away.
He stiffened, leaning away with a frown to take in the sight of the young girl before him. She wore a brown yukata with a splash of pretty pink flowers across the sleeves. Her long hair was tied back loosely and she was looking back at him with slight confusion.
“You didn’t feel me coming, Senju-sama?” she asked. He lifted his wrist.
“Chakra suppression seals,” he said shortly. “I feel nothing.”
“Oh.” The look in the girl’s eyes was wistful, slightly jealous. “I wish I could feel nothing. I-I wanted to ask you...some advice, Senju-sama.”
He tilted his head. “You’re a sensor,” he surmised. She nodded.
“I am. And the whole village knows you’re a sensor too. Can you…can you help me?”
Without answering right away, Tobirama reached in to his pocket and pulled out the twin to the cuff he wore on his wrist. The girl’s eyes latched on to it greedily and she nearly cried when he slid it on to her wrist.
He watched with a great deal of understanding as she closed her eyes, tension slowly draining out of her as her face when slack with the bliss of silence. He allowed her as long as she needed to recover, to open her eyes and meet his again with a slightly sheepish expression. Then he waved away her profuse thanks.
“Keep it. I can make another. Is that the help you wished for?”
“Actually, I had hoped Senju-sama might provide me with advice?” She looked at him hopefully and Tobirama lifted an eyebrow.
“My advice to you as a sensor would be not to go looking for your soulmate,” he said. She stared and he sighed softly. “Perhaps you would be luckier than I; perhaps your soulmate will want you. But it’s a calculated risk. Are you willing to place your life in to the hands of another? I was not. And I was right to try not to.”
“You mean-?” Dainty little hands flew up in front of a dainty little mouth. “Are you dying Senju-sama!?”
Tobirama shrugged. “My situation is rather unique and it will take me quite a lot longer than it should, but yes. I will die.”
“Does it hurt?” She sounded terrified but Tobirama believed in telling children the truth. He nodded and she was silent for a long while before asking very quietly, “Can I see?”
“See?” How does one see pain, he wondered. Then he understood when she blinked her large, pale eyes. “Ah. We would need to remove these again in order to do that,” he said, tapping at the bracelet he wore.
“Right!” She slipped hers off right away, swaying as information rushed in and flooded her senses again. Tobirama steadied her even as he slipped his own off. It could be quite a disorienting experience the first few times and it never stopped feeling unpleasant. He himself didn’t bother to concentrate on sorting any of the input. There were too many signatures all gathered in one place for him to make out individuals from the harsh bright blur.
When she had collected herself, he sat still as veins bulged out along her temple. She blinked, obviously not very skilled at using her clan’s dōjutsu yet, then gasped as he apparently came in to focus.
“So much pain…Senju-sama I’ve never seen anything like it. I…I don’t want to feel like that. I’m scared!” Her dōjutsu faded as tears gathered and Tobirama slid both of their bracelets back on before reaching out to brush at her hair without thinking. Many might call him cold-hearted but if there one thing he couldn’t abide it was a crying child.
“Hush, you won’t feel this,” he assured her. “As I said, my situation is rather unique. I promise you will not live with this pain. It’s alright.” He dabbed at her eyes with the corners of his sleeves, unprepared for her next words.
“Do you love them?”
“I – what?” He froze, arms extended and palms framing her tiny face.
“Your soulmate. If you’re dying then that means they rejected you. Do you love them?”
Tobirama’s arms fell back in to his lap and he sat there, stunned. No one had ever asked him that before. In four years no one had ever thought to ask him how he felt about the man who had turned him away – no one but a child who feared the same fate.
“I do,” he admitted in an uneven voice. “God help me but I do.”
The girl gave him a sympathetic look, looking a little startled at how shaken he was. For a moment all Tobirama could do was stare back at her helplessly. He did love Madara. And it hurt. It hurt almost as much as the pain that coursed through his veins every moment of every day. And it was just as likely to go on hurting until the day he bowed under the pressure and laid down to his final rest.
“Senju-sama? Are you okay?” His tiny companion poked at his knee, concerned. He shook his head wordlessly.
“Keep the bracelet, little one,” he mumbled. “And good luck.”
With that, he rose and hurried away.
He did not stay long enough to see his companion walk around a wall of tall bushes and nearly run in to the Hokage and his best friend, both standing frozen in place with their jaws hanging somewhere around their knees.
After the headache inducing festival and the whirlwind of emotions kicked up by his encounter with that little girl, Tobirama holed himself up at home for the next few days. He wore his bracelet and shut out the world, locking himself in his lab where he could neither feel nor hear if anyone came knocking. He didn’t really get much done, he never did these days, but puttering away at his experiments was one of the few comforts he had.
On the fifth day he fell asleep at his workbench, face pressed in to a book about the human nervous system. He woke to excruciating pain running down his spine and, thinking himself alone, cried out when he tried to sit up.
“Shit, fuck!” His forehead slammed back down on to the work surface while his hands clenched uselessly where they were wrapped around his head. A pained whine escaped him only for his ears to redden a moment later when he heard someone speak from across the room.
“Tobirama!” That was definitely Hashirama’s voice. “Are you okay?” Footsteps hurried over to him and Tobirama drew in a long breath through his nose, forcing himself under control and slowly sitting up as if his spine weren’t currently shattering itself underneath the skin.
“I’m fine,” he said, grinding out the words. “What are you doing here?”
“We wanted to talk to you but you haven’t been answering your door so I got worried.” Hashirama wring his hands together. “I…uh…I already replaced your door, I promise! You were asleep for a long time.”
Tobirama blinked sluggishly at his brother. “You broke my door?” he asked. Then, “Wait, who is ‘we’?”
Hashirama waved vaguely across the room and he very carefully turned around to see Madara looking rather uncomfortable, making himself as small as possible in a chair across the room and staring determinedly at the floor. He looked back to his brother and gave him a flat stare.
“The village had better be burning down around your ears because if you’ve broken in to my home toting him along behind you for something that isn’t life threatening then I swear, brother or no brother, I will feed you your own teeth. Individually.”
Hashirama stared at him in flabbergasted horror but Tobirama was more interested in the considering look he could see the other man wearing out of the corner of his eye. Strange. He set that aside in his mind and went back to glaring at his only remaining sibling, trying to impress upon him the doom that was about to be unleashed if this intrusion wasn’t for something important.
After a minute Hashirama shook himself and put his hands on his hips, affecting a stern look.
“Life threatening? It is life threatening! It’s threatening your life!” The older man leaned down to get in his face but Tobirama carefully wheeled his chair backwards to get away.
“What are you going on about?” he snapped. “I’m sleeping in my own laboratory. There’s nothing threatening my life right now.”
“You told that little girl you were dying!”
“What!?” Tobirama’s eyes widened. “Were you…you were there. You were listening. You were eavesdropping on my conversation.” He bit off every fragmented sentence like he hated the taste of it – and he did. He hated that his privacy had been violated in such a manner. Hashirama looked a little guilty but nodded.
“We didn’t really mean to. I was looking for you and we found you when that girl startled you. I thought it was really strange that you hadn’t sensed her coming. I thought you would have sensed us coming. And then…”
Tobirama could feel himself shaking, so many repressed emotions threatening to come spilling over the edges. “And then you stood there, hiding from sight, and listened to a private conversation that you were not intended to hear.” It was a hard struggle to keep a lid on himself. He rose from his chair, forcing his spine to straighten to his full height and holding the worktable beside him with a white-knuckled grip. “Get out, both of you. Now.”
“Tobirama! You’re dying!”
“And?” he said, watching the older man’s jaw snap shit in bewilderment at his answer. “What of it? It cannot be changed and therefore is pointless to talk about. I told you to get out, why are you still here?”
“I can’t just sit back and watch you die!”
“Well you’ll have to!” he burst at last. “There is nothing you can do! Nothing I can do! Without a soulmate who accepts them a sensor will die, that is a fact of life! Be grateful you had this much extra time! Now GET OUT!”
He let go of the workbench to reach for something – anything – to throw at his sibling, hoping to chase him away with violence. His body chose that moment to send him a fresh wave of pain, more intense than he had ever felt before. With a startled cry his knees buckled underneath him and he tumbled to the ground, gasping for air. Hashirama fell next to him and Tobirama hung his head in shame, hands fisting on the floor.
“Make him go,” he pleaded quietly. Not quietly enough.
“You want me gone,” Madara’s voice said from much too close. He cracked open his eyes to see the other man’s feet only a meter away. “Tell me something. Are you truly in love with me?”
There was something about the way he spoke that Tobirama could not put his finger on, distracted as he was. He didn’t sound as arrogant or as mocking as he usually would have. Not that Tobirama had the energy for a verbal spar today. All he had in him was a sigh.
“Yes,” he said shortly. That one word felt like surrendering himself to the devil, signing over his soul and giving the Shinigami permission to do as he wanted. Madara knelt down in his peripheral vision, murmuring something to Hashirama that he didn’t bother to listen to.
“Then you are just as stupid as I am.”
A large hand reached out in front of Tobirama’s face and down to lay itself over his balled fist. The sensation that followed afterward was vaguely familiar: he had only experienced it once before in his entire life.
The world went perfectly quiet and the tempest inside his body dissipated to nothing in an instant. Without the pain that had been holding him down for the past four years he felt weightless. A peace the likes of which he had never known settled down around him and, dazed, he began to fall forward. Two sets of arms caught him but one set easily relinquished their hold as the other pulled him back against a solid chest.
Tobirama stared in to the middle distance and blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend the lack of pain. He felt as if something were missing until he felt a tug on his wrist and the chakra suppression band was pulled off of him. Then suddenly the world existed in perfect clarity. He could feel…everything. In perfect, precise detail. Which meant he could feel the chakra signature of the one who held him and how self-consciously hesitant it was.
He looked up in to Madara’s unreadable face with no idea of what to say, at first.
“You hated me,” he said softly. Madara scoffed.
“Even I’m allowed to change my mind on occasion,” he said. Then he shifted awkwardly. “I may not be in love but I find you…interesting. You could have used your pain to cause me guilt. You could have used it to garner sympathy. You could lashed out in anger. You could even have given up and hurried your death to escape to the seemingly inevitable end. You did none of these things. What you did do was show kindness to a child you owed nothing and suffered in silence rather than cause trouble for others.” Madara looked away. “I admire the strength it took to do what you have been doing.” It looked like it cost him a little of his pride to say it and Tobirama wanted to smirk.
He would have, too, if he could remember how to make any expression but an awed one. It was an entirely unique experience to feel overwhelmed by nothing but his own emotions and he had no idea how to deal with it. So he simply closed his eyes and breathed, soft inhales in and out. Madara’s scent filled his nostrils and his chakra enveloped Tobirama like a cloak, soothing and strangely calm. The older man might not be in love with him but he accepted him and, for now, that was more than enough.
“Tobirama?” he heard his brother call in a worried voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes I’m fine.”
And for the first time in his life he meant it. He felt good.
He opened his eyes again and looked up at Madara once more. The future felt pretty good too.  
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