Izuna does not come home after his mission.
Madara has long made a habit tracking his brother when he goes out on missions. Every few hours, he'll knead a net of sensory chakra and cast it out towards him. He could pick out his brother's chakra from across the country, easily, and he's sure the practice is half the reason his range is as large as it is. He knows around when Izuna's mission finished up, and when he and his team started heading home. He knows when they arrived at the gates to the village. And he knows that Izuna should have arrived home by now, even if the mission report was a long one.
He's supposed to be safe in the village, Madara reminds himself, heart picking up against his will, he probably got sidetracked. Because if he were injured badly enough to not come home, someone would have told him by now.
He kneads another net and casts it over the village. He's not at the hospital, nor is he at the hokage tower. He's -- he's in the compound, actually. For some reason he'd gone straight past the house without checking in with Madara, and currently sits unmoving in front of the shrine of Amaterasu.
That can not possibly be a good sign.
It's late enough in the night that Madara doesn't have to take to the rooftops to avoid being seen. He pulls a hanten over his sleeping yukata and slides out the door, sandals crunching in the early frost outside.
The shrine is glowing with candles, but when Madara approaches there's only one occupant. Izuna is on the ground, dogeza in front of an ash-filled offering bowl.
"…Izuna?" His brother glances up, face a waxy grey-ish green and pinched in a way that makes dread pool in Madara's stomach. "What happened?"
"I--" Izuna croaks, "Am cursed."
Madara activates his sharingan. He hadn't seen any wounds on his brother at first glance, but with this kind of reaction, the mission must have been bad. And yet there's nothing. Just dirt from travel, no blood nor even bruises that Madara can see.
"I'm fine." He scoffs, letting Madara pull him up and into a half hug, and hiding his face in his shoulder. "It's not new. I guess I just know why my luck is always so shit, now."
Before Madara can demand an explanation, he's startled by the sound of two claps. The head priestess of the shrine, his own great aunt Kei, must have been alerted by the noise. She straightens up from a bow to look at them, wry. She is also in her sleep clothes.
"Not that I'm going to complain if you two have a newfound passion for our goddess, but typically we worship Amaterasu when the sun is up."
Both of them cringe and mumble out some approximation of an apology, but then Izuna shakes himself and pushes away from Madara to bow, again, this time facing her.
"Actually obaa-sama, I think I need some advice." He hesitates, glancing to the side, looking for all the world like he did when he was younger and tou-san would scold him, "…If I were to, say… Find out that someone is Blessed. And they've been hiding it. And they told me not to do anything about it… What should I do?"
The puzzle pieces in Madara's mind slot into place at dizzying speed. The mission Izuna had just come back from. The people -- person -- on it. The fact that they've taken in a Blessed who'd been in disguise before, and they'd been a Senju -- too young to have come up with a seal that could disguise their colors on their own, but who they now know has a seal master for an older brother. Madara can hardly breathe.
"Tell me Tobirama Senju is not--"
"Oh, yeah." Izuna cuts him off miserably, "I might also have fought with him a lot. Most of my life. And have definitely harmed him more than once."
Their great aunt slowly kneels across from them, eyes wide. Madara is sure his face mirrors hers. Tobirama Senju, who does not have a singular scrap of trust to give to the Uchiha, may be the worst possible person in the world to turn up as a Blessed.
At least Madara isn't the one who has to figure out the religious implications of all this. The political ones will be bad enough as it is.
"Well, ah… At least it wasn't knowingly. Though you're certainly going to have to figure out how to make amends with Amaterasu." Kei considers, slowly. Izuna groans and she shoots him a glare, "I'm sure she's testing you for good reason, Izuna-kun. As for the Blessed…"
She trails off, clearly uncomfortable. Letting Itama go back to the Senju has been bad enough, even if he's still in the village. For there to be two Blessed, in the same family, no less…
Honestly, maybe they should just start taking it as a sign.
"He doesn't need protecting." Izuna says sourly, "And trying to bring him into the clan would probably be more dangerous than letting him carry on as he is."
"…It has been a long time since we've found a blessed as… Capable as him." Their great-aunt concedes, only slightly better at hiding her upset, "I'll have to look into old records. But…" She sighs, almost wistful, "We can at least keep an eye on him. And physical protections aren't all we provide. I think that for now the best we can do is encourage him to feel comfortable enough that he feels he can reveal himself to the rest of us."
Fat chance of that ever happening. Madara tries to share a glance with Izuna, but he refuses to look up, looking like he bit into a particularly bitter plum.
"We shouldn't tell anyone else." He says. "I told him I wouldn't."
Kei leans forward and swats him over the head.
"You're not making things any easier on yourself, are you?" Izuna whimpers, and she sighs again. Exasperated, this time. "Fine. You're going to be up bright and early to help cleanse the shrine. And you --" She turns on Madara, who's spine goes rigid under her gaze, "Are going to figure out how to fix this."
Would have been nice if she had given me a single idea on how.
Madara sits at his desk in the hokage tower not a few hours later, having gotten no sleep and very pointedly not looking at Tobirama.
He looks the furthest from blessed as someone could possibly be. His hair is sandy brown, his eyes a shade darker, and his skin is the same tan as Hashirama's. But there's plenty of him Madara can't see. Plenty of places a seal could be.
He really wants to blame Tobirama for hiding who he is. The bastard probably has no idea just how badly he's put Izuna in debt to their goddess -- cursed was putting it lightly. And yet… He can't. Not when he's from the clan he is, not when the world at large has no idea that his clan doesn't kill the red eyed people who attract their attention. Not when being blessed is what got his younger brother taken from his family for over half of his life.
Tobirama knows, now, that they don't. But with the way things have gone -- with the lengths he and his clan have gone to keep Itama Senju close, they way most of them want to keep him away from his own family even now… Perhaps it's no wonder he hasn't already revealed himself.
Madara sighs and hunches further over the papers on his desk, though truthfully he hasn't absorbed a single word since he sat down this morning.
Now that Izuna knows, Tobirama is bound to be more distrustful of him than he already is. Any change in behavior from the rest of the clan will be taken as an indication that they've been told the truth, which would only break that trust even more. The way he figures it, protecting him, whatever that even means in this case, is entirely up to him.
And he'll have to do it without letting Tobirama know that he knows, or he might send him running. Or fighting, which will be a whole other problem.
He reaches up to rub at his eyes, and he must have made another noise, because when he looks up, Tobirama is watching him, brown eyes narrowed. Nice. Great start.
Madara doesn't acknowledge it. If he wants Tobirama not to catch him acting differently, he needs to not act differently. The change will have to be in his mindset ; he's watched Tobirama plenty, because the man is worthy being wary of, but never with the idea of helping, or protecting, or gaining his trust in mind.
The opportunities presented, now that he's looking, almost seem too easy.
The man stays practically glued to his desk all morning, assistants scurrying in and out with drafts and missives, and even the hokage himself waltzes over and drops off some dossier he wants a second pair of eyes on with an apologetic smile. He does not take breaks, does not stand up and stretch, or let his eyes rest, or even so much as fetch himself a cup of tea or water. As the morning rolls into the afternoon, Madara's stomach starts rumbling and he still shows no signs of moving.
It wasn't anything about Tobirama's habits that he didn't already know, but it's a simple enough place to start.
Madara makes a show of stretching his shoulders before he stands.
"Hashirama!" He calls out on a whim, "You up for lunch?"
Their Hokage's head appears around the door near immediately, brown eyes sparkling.
"I was just thinking the same thing!"
And so, ignoring another pointed glare from Tobirama at his back, he heads off for lunch with Hashirama. They end up at a gyuudon place after a long and probably too-loud argument, and Madara sits back and lets his old friend chatter on about inane nonsense. Mito is evidently demanding that he move his garden, but Hashirama is seeing if he can get away with only moving some of the more dangerous plants -- how many gardens does one man need, honestly?
As they finish up their food, Madara asks, "Oi, you think your brother's eaten yet?" And without waiting for an answer he flags down a server to order a bowl to go, and turns back to find Hashirama watching him with narrowed eyes.
Tobirama would, of course, inform his brother if his cover was broken. He's hoping that Hashirama will be less suspicious and will help soften Tobirama's paranoia.
"What."
"I was just thinking that's an awfully nice thing for you to do for my brother out of nowhere."
"Not really." Madara says flatly. "See, I've noticed he never eats. How much do you want to bet that he's so cranky because he's hungry half the day?"
Hashirama leans back, skepticism being tucked away where Madara can't see in favor of a pout, "You think so? He misses meals more often than I'd like… Do you have to give him something he's not gonna like today or something?"
Madara scoffs. "I have to give him something perfectly normal, and today he's not going to give me any shit about it because his stomach is full."
Hashirama turns away and snickers.
"Well I hope that works out for you."
The best part is, it kind of does.
Madara marches into the office and unceremoniously drops the takeout on Tobirama's desk.
"Lunch." He says, stopping himself just short of commanding that Tobirama eat it. The bewildered look on his face is already very nearly worth the trouble. Carefully, as though Madara has just handed him a bag full of explosive tags, Tobirama reaches in and pulls out the bowl of beef and rice, and blinks at it.
"If you don’t like it, then maybe you should try feeding yourself next time." Madara huffs. He pointedly turns away and stomps back over to his desk, and doesn't say a word about the way Tobirama pokes a prods at his food for minutes, eyes occasionally flicking up to Madara, before finally tasting it. He's like an animal that's too nervous to eat its food when someone's watching, but he does, eventually, even though it's probably cold and unappetizing by the time he gets around to it.
And the worst Madara weathers from him for the rest of the day is the occasional glance and frown, not a tantrum on how he's worded some proposal or another in sight. Ha!
Whether or not Tobirama remembers to feed himself on any given day after that feels like its now tied to how big of a deal Madara makes about it. If he announces he's going to get lunch, or stares at him too long around noon, he'll find a moment to slip away only to show back up with a bento box or more takeout and another glare if Madara so much as glances at it.
And if Madara doesn't do those things, chances are he'll work straight through lunch hour, which means Madara gets to decide what he eats.
If he'd started doing this before he'd known, Madara likely would have started finding increasingly bizarre foods to leave for him. As it stands now he tasks himself with the disappointingly bland task of discovering Tobirama's food preferences.
Fish. Spicy things, surprisingly, and pickled foods, too. Stronger flavors than Madara had imagined, and, barring the fish, ones that wouldn't be out of place in an Uchiha kitchen. To the point where half the things he drops on Tobirama's desk come straight from the Uchiha district. The other half, of course, is paperwork.
If this is making Madara any progress in building trust, it's happening too slow for him to see it. At least it's getting Tobirama to eat more, which, probably, is at least some sort of fulfillment of his religious obligation.
It's frustrating, but what other option does he have that wont cause a political nightmare? Tobirama has to come to him.
So, he brings food. He makes tea on days when he notices Tobirama rubbing at his temples overmuch, or when he comes into work wearing that fur mantle like he's cold, though he pretends he's made the pot for himself and is only deigning Tobirama with a cup. He picks up work he normally would have shuffled over to Tobirama to deal with.
He bites his tongue when Tobirama is sent out on missions. The Senju goes on surprisingly more than the rest of them, despite his workload; because of his teleporting nonsense he can be there and back in a fraction of the time. Madara half suspects Tobirama considers them a weird sort of break -- and he gets it, because he gets stir crazy, too, but now it makes him a weird sort of prickly-anxious, because Tobirama is out there alone half the time, and Izuna was right that Tobirama of all people doesn't need defending in that way, but the world is an unpredictable place, and Konoha is not without its enemies, and --
And demanding Tobirama stay in the village or only leave with an escort is probably exactly the sort of thing he's worried about happening if he reveals himself. So Madara sits by as he goes out to meet with an informant, says nothing, and acts like he doesn't see Izuna going twitchy in the corner of his eye.
What he does do is find a pair of reading glasses and leaves them right in the middle Tobirama's desk, to be found on his return, with no way for him to link the act back to Madara.
When he returns, unharmed, his investigation of them and the plain box they came in is a nearly half an hour long affair. Madara watches across the room with poorly concealed amusement, until he finally slides them on and pulls a face so comically disgruntled that it pulls a snort of laughter out of him.
"What!" He defends himself at Tobirama's predictable glare, "You act like you've never seen a pair of glasses before."
"I just don’t see why someone left a pair of them on my desk."
Because you pretend you're not squinting at anything not held right up to your nose? Or maybe because I'm pretty sure half your headaches come from eye strain?
Saying that would reveal far too much, so Madara only shrugs in response and acts like he's focused on his work again. To his surprise, Tobirama actually pushes them up his face and tries them out properly. And then he leaves them on, evidently having found enough use in them to keep, despite their unknown origins. When he pulls them out again all on his own the next day, Madara has to make sure to turn his head to hide the twitch of a smile that causes.
To be able to get Tobirama Senju to accept a help or a gift is no small feat, and Madara has managed both. Surely that has to be worth something to Amaterasu?
Tobirama must get so engrossed in being able to see small words like a normal person that he doesn't even notice when Madara stands up and shuffles off to go get lunch. Which means…
Madara is feeling in the mood for yakitori, but the stand he usually goes is having some kind of seasonal unagi special, which seems like something Tobirama would like, so he gets a few skewers of that, too.
Tobirama is leaning over his desk when Madara returns, and he glances up when he enters his office purely on reflex. When he sees the food Madara is holding he scowls on reflex, too. The look doesn't seem nearly as cold as normal when he's got a pair of glasses pushed down to the edge of his nose. Madara could almost trick himself into thinking he looks like something approaching cute.
Before Madara can thrust the food in his face, Tobirama's gaze sharpens into a glare.
"What do you think you're trying to pull with all this, Uchiha? Bribery won't work on me."
Ah, so he's finally talked to his brother.
"Who said bribery? I like to think this of this more like a peace offering."
Tobirama lifts an eyebrow in disbelief. "I did. You can hardly expect me to believe that you actually want to play nice."
Madara takes a deep breath and forcibly strangles down his irritation. He's Blessed, you can't punch him or you'll be waking up early with Izuna.
"Is it so wrong to want to get along with my own allies? Maybe I just want an office where I don’t get in fights all the time. And besides, do you know how annoying it is to watch someone who's as genius as you're supposed to be fail at basic self-care?" Tobirama's face colors, but he doesn't come up with a retort fast enough to cut Madara off. Madara rolls his eyes and shoves the skewer at his face, until he's forced to take it or risk getting sauce-covered eel dropped onto his paperwork. "I already told you, do it yourself and I wont have to."
He stalks back over to his own desk, already planning on leaving early and stopping by a training field to burn off some anger. Tobirama is watching after him with an odd look on his face, but he doesn't say anything more.
He eats the eel.
The next day, Tobirama starts digging in his heels. Madara looks him in the eye half an hour till noon and keeps his gaze locked there as he slowly gets up from his desk and announces that he's going to lunch. Tobirama looks away, apparently totally disinterested.
Madara keeps his chakra sense pinned on Tobirama as he jumps from the window and heads for food. He doesn't move the entire hour Madara takes for lunch.
Is that his game? To blatantly test Madara's patience and get free lunch out of the deal? Idiot -- Madara won't be giving up on this anytime soon.
Still frustrating though. Tobirama is getting nothing but plain soba today.
This time, Tobirama pointedly ignores him when he enters the room, and he doesn’t react when Madara drops the bowl of noodles on his desk. Madara's eye twitches. He pushes the bowl until it's too in the way of Tobirama's work to ignore anymore.
"Ah." Says Tobirama, blasé, "I appreciate it, but I've already eaten."
"No you haven't."
Tobirama finally looks up at him, expression dripping pure disdain. Prove it, it says.
"There's no trash and no containers in here. And I bet anyone I ask will tell me you haven't left the room"
"I had onigiri. Tuna filled. Brought them in a sealing scroll. So --" He pushes the bowl back, "There's no need. Give it to someone else."
Madara has to bite his tongue to keep from retorting that he doesn't believe him. Instead he musters up his best politely-disappointed tone, which even he knows isn't every good. "What a shame. Everyone else I can think of would have already eaten. I'll just leave it there."
Tobirama looks outright disgusted at that. "It will only go to waste."
"Mmhm." Madara agrees. "If only I had known whether you were going to eat or not, we could have prevented this."
He leaves it. He doesn't like wasting food, and from the disgruntled way he keeps glancing at the bowl, Tobirama doesn't either, but Madara would do much, much worse to prove a point. Honestly, he's mostly surprised that Tobirama hasn't rejected food from him before now. If he'd had to predict how this plan would have turned out beforehand, he would have guessed it would end up with him trying to hold the Senju down to force feed him, and Madara would end up begging Amaterasu for forgiveness. It might, if Tobirama tries to keep up the hunger strike.
But no, it won't happen like that. Not when Madara already has the perfect plan.
Madara lets his usual lunch hour come and go without comment. Tobirama shoots him the occasional suspicious glance, but he doesn't say anything, too wary of triggering whatever trap Madara has set for him.
He's right to be wary of course. Madara waits until the Senju turns his attention fully back to his work before making a show of leaning back in his chair and stretching out his back and shoulders. Then he opens a drawer and takes out the one of the containers he'd specially prepared that morning.
Madara isn't the most practiced at cooking, but he can boil rice and cut vegetables just fine. Tobirama watches him open the bento with a strange intensity, half-curious and half-wary.
"Oh, did you forget your lunch again?" Madara asks after he's taken a few bites, faux-innocent. "If you get hungry I'd be happy to share some of mine."
Tobirama's instantly snaps back to his usual defensiveness.
"I couldn't possibly ask you to do that on my account." He says, "You need the food more than I. I assure you, I'll be fine."
"Nonsense." Madara says, getting up, grabbing the other bento he'd made this morning from it's drawer, and pulling his chair across the office so he can sit across from Tobirama at his own desk. "In fact, I made too much for one person this morning. I rather insist."
Tobirama's body language resembles that of a spooked cat, but he doesn't swipe at Madara when he sweeps the paperwork to the side and sets down the other box lunch in it's place.
Tobirama's has salmon laid out over the rice. Madara had even gone so far as to make it look pretty.
"Ah -- I --" He doesn't say thank you, but instead the instead the most irritated "Itadakimasu" Madara has ever heard in his life.
But he eats it, which is what really counts.
The homemade meal worked so well that Madara continues to bring bento boxes for the rest of the week. Tobirama is always reticent, but he always eats, in the end. If anyone else was in this situation, they might think Tobirama was acting this way just to get Madara's attention.
"You know, I'm starting to think you keep 'forgetting lunch' to get free meals out of me."
Because all it would take to make Madara stop would be to feed himself. But Tobirama is only doing this to test his patience, in the end.
Tobirama pauses, bite of rice halfway to his mouth, deeply unamused.
"You could just not give me any food."
"And watch you wither away?" Madara sighs theatrically, "No, I'd have to deal with your brother crying all over me."
"I'm not going to die just because I miss a meal."
"But a meal every day? That adds up."
"I just --" Tobirama cuts himself off, frustrated. There's an adorable little frown on his face that Madara has been getting to see a lot more of now that they've started having these stilted lunchtime conversations.
Well, Madara's response was probably going to be the same, no matter what the complaint was.
"Unfortunately for you Senju, I'm in this for the long haul now. I'm making sure you're getting fed, one way or another."
Tobirama shoves another bite into his mouth so he doesn't have to respond.
But it's frighteningly easy how quickly something can become a habit. Before it's even been a month, Tobirama stops trying to fight him when Madara makes his way over to his desk and drops lunch in his lap. Madara has even started to make a game of it for himself. Each dish is slightly more complex or painstakingly plated than the last
They're both abysmal at small talk. Sometimes they end the meal arguing. Sometimes, they'll complain about idiot coworkers and countil members -- Tobirama must have invented as many ways to call someone an idiot as he has jutsu, and some of his turns of phrase leave Madara struggling not to laugh. Sometimes, if Madara words himself carefully, he can get Tobirama talking about that jutsu creation, or his students, or on one very interesting occasion, his summons. Once he gets over his suspicion, he can talk for hours.
Sometimes, Madara finds himself starting to think that maybe Tobirama isn't so bad after all.
(Frequently they don't even try to talk at all, but Madara finds that doesn't hate the quiet).
The next time Tobirama goes out on a mission, Madara makes a big show of asking if Tobirama is really prepared, and knowing exactly what he's angling for, the Senju snaps back that of course he is, that he would never go on a mission as anything less, and that ration pills are sufficient. All it takes is a thinly veiled implication that his sealing scrolls cant handle a little extra weight for him to snatch the lunch box out of his hands, grumbling all the while. Hashirama watches the whole interaction with a growing smile, but he doesn't say a word, all too aware that it will set Tobirama off.
The next time Madara goes on a mission, he makes a weeks worth of lunches in advance and instructs Izuna to deliver them on his behalf. He gets a look in return like Madara has just asked him to stick his hand in a box of spiders, but he agrees to do it. Madara ends up having to take an extra day to tie up loose ends -- that is, make sure that there are no eyewitness survivors that can pin the blame on Konoha -- and Tobirama's greeting on his return is, "Good. I thought Izuna was trying to poison me, yesterday."
And just like that, he's won acceptance.
Because they're shinobi, and they are who they are, once something is routine they will inevitably find ways to break it. Often it's missions, but sometimes, it's just work.
When a clan wants to join the village, especially a big one, like the Hyuuga, it requires endless meetings and revisions of laws and bylaws and tax codes, and Tobirama has a hand in all of it, which means Madara does now, too. It's early morning after late night, day after day, and Madara just… Forgets. The amount of dread he feels when Tobirama glances up behind his eyelashes -- short, just once, but expectant-- is entirely too much than the situation calls for. He can't help but worry that this single slip up is going to undo all the progress he's made.
Well. Nothing for it.
"We should go out for lunch today." Madara announces, "I need a break from looking at this room."
Tobirama looks up at him, ponderously slow.
"…The food you've already made would go to waste then, wouldn't it?"
"No."
Rather than withdraw on himself as Madara has feared, Tobirama instead immediately pieces things together like the quick-witted bastard he is. There's twinkle in his eye that looks downright devious.
"Ah? You haven't forgotten your lunch, have you?"
"Even if I did, I'm still going to eat a full meal. You are too." He crosses the room, leans over Tobirama's desk, and tries sound coaxing, "I'm asking you to come eat with me."
Tobirama freezes for a long moment, eyes a little wide. Carefully, he sets down his writing brush.
"…Fine. But only because I need to think of something else for a while."
Madara smiles and doesn't even try to hide the way it widens when that makes Tobirama scoff.
Sometimes the work gets even worse. A string of small disasters, on top of everything else. Mission intel being wrong where it shouldn't, fires starting seemingly at random all over the village, and even their sewer system backing up and overflowing.
Tobirama is half out of his mind trying to comb over it all, desperate to understand if this is sabotage, or the result of his own mistakes somewhere, since he's involved with all of it in some way or another. He doesn't spare Madara a glance when he pulls his chair over and sets the food down.
Madara waits a minute, then two, then five, slowly chewing his own rice, but Tobirama makes no indication of having noticed the bento in front of him. There is a temptation there for Madara to demand Tobirama set the reports down for half an hour, to take a minute and breathe -- but for once, Tobirama's ire isn't directed at him, and Madara can recognize that reaching his hand in right now is liable to get it bitten off.
Metaphorically, of course. Physically, he picks up another bite of food and puts his hand right in Tobirama's face. Brown eyes track over to meet Madara's, but he can't open his mouth without risking the food being pushed in.
"Keep doing what you're doing." Madara says lightly, "I'm just making sure you eat."
Tobirama will either find being hand fed so patronizing that he feeds himself in protest, or allow Madara to continue. Bizarrely, against Madara's expectations, he chooses the latter. He barely acknowledges that its' even happening as he turns back to reading some thick folio he's working through, except to open his mouth every time Madara brings food near it near it.
He does leave bite marks in Madara's chopsticks, though.
Sometimes the break in routine isn't work at all, but Tobirama sliding a finished bento box back over to him and saying, "You wont need to bring food for me tomorrow. I've promised to meet Itama for lunch."
…Which is not something Madara should interfere with, nor does he want to. Nothing will get on Tobirama's bad side faster than an Uchiha trying to get between him and his little brother.
Something must still show on his face though, because Tobirama rolls his eyes, unimpressed.
"He'll make sure I eat. And we're only going to be in the garden anyways, if you're really so paranoid about it."
He nods his head towards the window, to the view of the oak tree and rhododendrons Hashirama had insisted planting by hand.
Madara makes two lunchboxes the next morning out of habit, then sighs and resigns himself to eating the extra for dinner later.
Come noon, Tobirama excuses himself without a word, and Madara finds himself strangely off-kilter. Maybe he should go track down Izuna. In fact, he probably will, but first, he goes over to the window where, as promised, Tobirama is sitting in the grass, eating some takeout dish and talking with his little brother. Madara doesn't hesitate for even a moment before activating his sharingan so he can read their lips.
When they'd first brought Itama into the clan, Madara had been entirely focused on mourning his brothers and getting strong enough to protect the one that was left. He only knew that the adults were upset about the potential for Blessed to hide themselves from them -- Apparently, before they broke some kind of seal that had been one him, Itama's hair and both of his eyes had been totally brown; but as long as Madara's known him half his hair is white, and one of his eyes blessed red.
He hadn't really cared at the time. Obviously he should have.
Itama also a conniving little shit who's good at stirring up trouble and suffering none of the consequences. Today he's wearing a haori that has the Senju clan mon on one shoulder and the Uchiha mon on the other, which some people will see as a sign of unity, and others will come to him to raise hell about.
Ugh. At least he has some advance warning.
"Yeah, there's no way my opinion is objective, nii-san." Itama is teasing, "I've seen him get so mad he flash boiled all the fish in a koi pond, so I'm always gonna see him like… Well…."
…Oh, great. Itama is telling Tobirama embarrassing stores about him.
"An idiot?" Tobirama chimes in.
"I was going to say eccentric." Itama corrects, "If he was an idiot you wouldn't talk to him half as much as you do. Isn't that the problem?"
Tobirama ducks his head. He must say something around his bite of noodles because next word that Madara can make from him is, "--wrong?"
Itama shrugs.
"I mean, there as many good reasons for you feel that way as there aren't. But I don’t think right and wrong really apply to this anyways." He pauses, then points his chopsticks at Tobirama, "And do you even care about that sort of thing? Or are you just trying to get my approval?"
Tobirama glances at his brother, guilty, and earns himself a whack over the head for it.
"I would have told you by now if I thought he was bad. He was like, nine, and I was Itsuki."
"Still I--" Tobirama's eyes stay down, thank Ameterasu, or he would notice Madara watching for certain, "It's dangerous too, isn't it?"
"Yeah. But I think…" Itama trails off, shakes his head, "He respects you. Most people can't say that."
Tobirama's throat bobs in a hum, and the two of them go quiet. Madara deactivates his doujutsu and steps back from the window, feeling winded.
He's not sure what to read into that conversation -- probably nothing, yet, unless you want to jump to wrong conclusions. They were talking about him but -- not in a way he expected. It almost seemed like --
Like, maybe there's some good news on the horizon. Madara can be patient a little longer.
Madara and Hashirama have slowly migrated their weekly sparring sessions further and further from the village as its grown. The two of them, without any clansmen at their backs to have to worry about defending or catching in the crossfire can end up being quite destructive.
Its far more fun this way than it ever was when they were at war.
Today Hashirama picked their spot, and led them right into the middle of a giant, deadly forest that he grew himself. They're normally on equal footing. When Hashirama gives himself this much of an advantage --
"Hashirama!" Madara ducks a branch only to find the footing ripped out from under him. He only has barely enough space to ask "What crawled up your ass and died?" before having to swing his gunbai around and break a net of roots before it can form around him.
"Can't say I know what you mean, old friend!" Is the shouted response. But Madara knows Hashirama is lying, because all the plants around here are too green and wet to catch fire, and Hashirama usually doesn't hamper his fun like that.
He dodges a barrage of wooden splinters that are flung at him, incinerates more and a good chunk of the underbrush with them. Using his own fireball as cover, he shunshins close enough to punch Hashirama right in the ribs. He explodes into bark and leaves.
"HASHIRAMA." He bellows, "ANSWER ME!"
"Mm, well if you really want to know…" Hashirama -- the real one -- is up in the branches of one of the giant trees he's grown, "I guess I am wondering when my best friend is going to stop toying with my little brother's heart."
Madara freezes, feeling like Hashirama may as well have hit him over the head. And for his hesitance, Hashirama does, smacking him hard enough to crash through several trees and still leave him skidding through the dirt where he lands. He doesn't get up.
"You know you're supposed to ask me permission before courting one of my clan members. Especially my immediate family."
Hashirama's voice gets louder as he approaches, until he's looming over Madara and obscuring his entire field of vision. He's frowning.
"…I'm courting Tobirama."
Madara doesn't phrase it as a question, because now that it's been pointed out he knows exactly why Hashirama thinks he would be. Only--
"No, you're not." Hashirama's frown darkens, "You're only bringing him homemade lunch every single day and being really unclear about why!"
Madara sits up, clutching at his head, but that’s more from the realization that's just been upended over his head like so much ice water than any injury.
He can't pin the moment, but taking care of Tobirama stopped being about obligation to Amaterasu a while ago. Getting to know him and earn his trust is no longer a plot, but it's own reward. Now that he's scratched the surface -- seen the biting wit that can match his own, the dedication to his work and to his family, the terrifying speed of his mind -- he feels voracious to eat up every bit of Tobirama that the man will give to him.
And he wants to keep making him lunch. Because fuck it all, but Madara really does care if he's eating enough.
"I like Tobirama." He says, and it sounds right. He looks up and meet's his friend's eye. "Hashirama, I'm going to court your brother."
"You--" it takes a lot to stun Hashirama into speechlessness, but Madara has done it. Hashirama gapes at him while he pushes himself to his feet and brushes the dirt off his armor. When he continues to say nothing, he raises an eyebrow and turns to start walking towards the village, only to be caught by the arm.
"Madara, you're not going to take my brother away." Hashirama sounds too desperate for it to be a command.
"Of course not!" Madara snaps back, "If I want him to like me back, I would never!"
He meets Hashirama's gaze evenly, tries his hardest to convey his sincerity, as if he's ever anything but. He's not supposed to know why Hashirama is as concerned as he is, but he does, and even if he can't say it out loud he tried to convey it with a look. We're supposed to protect him. Taking him away from his family would only hurt him. I know that now.
Slowly, the grip on his arm loosens. Hashirama's desperation firms into conviction, and he nods.
"I'll hold you to that Madara."
"Wouldn't expect anything less."
This time when Madara pulls out of Hashirama's grip, he lets him go.
Deciding that he wanted to properly court Tobirama had been easy. Deciding how, as it turns out, is exceptionally hard.
(Izuna had been horrified and had immediately made himself scarce, and so has been of little help.)
He can't settle on a good idea for a gift -- too many good ideas, but no great ones -- and while he toys around with just getting it everything that comes to his head for Tobirama, he suspects that it wont go over well, since the man is not fond of excess in anything except his jutsu creation.
In the end, he figures the best course of action is to continue what's worked for him so well already. He makes a lunch that is exquisitely well crafted, but with a small portion. He gives it to Tobirama, as usual, and they eat.
"…It's good." Tobirama seems surprised that he's said it, one hand going up to hide his mouth, which still has food in it. It's possibly one of the highest compliments Tobirama has ever given.
"I should hope so, at this point." Madara says, dry. He waits a moment, heart pounding harder than it has his permission to. "Actually, if you'd like, I'll cook you dinner as well. After work today."
Tobirama's expression instantly becomes exasperated. But… Fondly so, Madara would like to think.
"Are you suddenly feeling the need to make sure I eat all my meals?"
That would be a nice bonus, yes.
"I want to cook for you." He says easily, "For real, not just a lunchbox."
Tobirama fumbles his chopsticks, eyes darting to the side -- back to Madara and then skittering away again.
"I suppose you've shown enough skill to prove it's worth the trouble." He hesitates, then sighs, "I'll go this once, but don't expect this to become a regular occurrence."
Oh, we'll see about that.
Madara finds himself rather in a rush after work. He needs to go to the market, because Tobirama likes fish, and that needs to be fresh, and he needs to actually cook everything, and he needs to get himself at least reasonably clean and presentable before Tobirama arrives.
He manages the first two. He's still a little sweaty from standing at the stove when there's a light knock at the door. Madara curses softly and goes to answer it.
Tobirama might have understood his intentions a little better than Madara had thought. He's come dressed in a soft looking dark teal kimono, with a subtle wave pattern on the edges of the sleeves -- not truly formal, but absolutely the nicest thing Madara has ever seen him wear, and he's counting that hideous excuse the Senju call formal wear.
"Come in." He greets. "And sit down. Everything's almost done."
Tobirama's gaze lingers a little too long before he moves to do so. He does not say anything as he steps inside and slips off his sandals at the genkan. Madara can feel the weight of Tobirama's eyes on his back as he turns back to the stove, making his back feel hotter than the fire he's cooking with.
It truly doesn't take long, he only has to fry the fish, and then turn around and set out the dishes -- six in all -- at the chabudai for him and Tobirama to share.
Tobirama examines each one as its set out, but he still has no words. He's…. Tense, Madara realizes, and he doesn't have enough information to discern the reason.
He claps his hands together.
"Itadakimasu." He says.
"Itadakimasu." Tobirama echoes softly.
Madara tries not to make his staring to obvious, but even if it is, it's not like it's wrong for him to want to see how Tobirama likes his cooking when he's put so much effort in. He carefully samples each dish. Give an appreciative hum at the sashimi, which of course is the thing Madara had done the least to. Then, abruptly, he says, "What would you do if my brother wanted to join the shinobi forces again?"
"Make sure he's well trained enough to handle himself." Madara says at once, recognizing that Tobirama is not asking for this just for Itama, if he is at all.
Tobirama tilts his head, "You wouldn't call it too unsafe? Demand he only go on missions with an Uchiha present?"
"If he can defend himself that would be a waste of resources." Madara says, blood thrumming, knowing what they're dancing around, "Some of the clan might throw a fit, but I think it's about time they start realizing that protecting someone and controlling their life isn't the same thing."
Tobirama hums a note that could be agreement. His gaze on Madara feels so, so heavy, and only grows heavier as the silence stretches. Then:
"You already know."
The tension bleeds out of Madara all at once, though his heart doesn't know what emotion to replace it with quite yet. He's already known from the beginning that if the question came up that he wasn't going to lie, because if Tobirama ever found out that he had, there could be no trust between them at all.
"I do." He admits, "But that's not what this is about."
Tobirama frowns, eyes following Madara sharply as he stands up and circles the table to kneel across from him. His grip on his chopsticks tightens, like he thinks might be using them as a weapon soon.
Madara ignores it, and sits up formally straight. He didn't bother to plan out a speech for how he was going to say this. Tobirama is blunt, and can handle someone being blunt at him in return, and to be too flowery or dance around the subject would risk a misunderstanding where he wants none. It's not as though he's afraid of his own emotions.
"I like you, Tobirama Senju." Tobirama flinches minutely, mouth falling open in disbelief. Madara wants so badly to reach out and take his hand, but restrains himself, "I want to court you."
Tobirama's other hand clenches into a fist where it sits on his knee, wrinkling the fabric of his kimono.
"And how do I know this isn't some plot to bring me into your clan?" Tobirama asks, slightly too hoarse, and too flushed in the cheeks to be a true challenge.
Madara snorts.
"Because I don't hate myself that much. All I have to do is keep you safe. What I want to do..." So very many things. He leans in, placing a hand on either side of Tobirama's thighs, "Is learn you, Tobirama."
The Senju's breath hitches.
"…Against my better judgement" He says after a beat. "I'll allow you to try."
Madara grins, but as he reaches out to take Tobirama's hand properly it's pulled up and away from him, as if Tobirama is rubbing tension out of his shoulder. There is the tiniest of chakra pulses and then, like someone rinsing paint off of a brush, the color leeches out of him, until all that's left is white and red.
Madara did not need proof. He trusts his brother's word, and he had no plans to ask Tobirama to reveal what he looked like without the seal disguising him -- hadn't really cared, in truth. He was handsome enough to be pleasing to look at, even if he wasn't exactly eye-catching.
But now -- Now, he looks like some fey being that Madara has invited into his home. He could be made of porcelain, so pale that his veins are visible under his skin, yet at the same time he holds himself with the lazy grace of a predator. Madara's breath catches as ruby red eyes roam him over, taking in his reaction. It takes incredible will not to activate his sharingan and record the sight -- Ameterasu willing, he will have more chances.
"You're gorgeous." He breathes. Like this, the blush that brings to Tobirama's cheeks is so much more obvious, so much more lovely. He doesn't resist when, as he drops his hand, Madara reaches for it. The pink on his cheekbones only deepens when Madara brings it to his kips and presses a kiss into his palm.
"Let's finish eating." Tobirama mumbles. Madara smiles, knowing Tobirama can feel it before he lets the hand go and Tobirama pulls it to his chest, fingers curling around where his lips rested.
"Lets." Madara agrees. He's got plenty of meals left to cook, after all.