#literally was in my kitchen Wailing about them and forgot the bread slices i put in the toaster oven three seconds prior | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

officerjennie · 5 years

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Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara Characters: Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Madara, Senju Butsuma, Senju Hashirama, Senju Itama Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Supernatural Elements, Warring States Period (Naruto), Child Neglect, Child Abandonment, Tobirama doesn't die in this one, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have other stories I should be working on, Why Did I Write This? Series: Part 3 of Tobirama in Mythology Summary:

Abandoned as a child and left to starve in the streets, Tobirama hadn't expected to live long. But he stubbornly clung to life anyway, and a passing shinobi collected him and named him his ward, and he became an honorary member of the Senju family.

Or: How Tobirama wound up with a family, and found his place in the human world.

OR: I'm terrible at summaries, and have no idea what I'm doing with my life.

There wasn’t room for disobedience in a shinobi clan. Even small acts had to be heavily punished, defiance beaten out of children and replaced with deference as soon as they could grip a kunai - the wrong question could cost lives in the field, after all, and every soldier counted in such times of war.

That being said, Madara had a secret. His rebellious stage had barreled into him rather suddenly, and it had hit him hard. A grin split his face as he snuck into the kitchen, his eyes scouring the shadows for any hint of movement. A wicker basket hung from his arm, its inside padded with one of the older blankets he’d found shoved in the back of his oshiire. He only just managed to keep his snickering silent as he tucked a few loaves of fresh-baked bread into his basket, followed shortly by a decent hunk of cheese and a jar of their mildest pepper jam - leftover from the batch he’d made for his mother’s last birthday.

He froze for a minute, standing stalk still with one outstretched, following someone’s chakra as they entered a room on the other side of the house. After making sure they weren’t headed his way, he shoved a few fruits in with the rest of his haul, making off with it before someone could catch him in the act.

Avoiding the guard patrols was literal child’s play at this point, though he would deny even thinking that he was a child anymore, and he took off at a full sprint as soon as he hit the tree line.

As expected, his usual spot was blissfully quiet and empty when he arrived. The river flowed nearby, the sound of water helping ease the constant tension from his shoulders. It was still a bit early for lunch, but he set up his picnic anyway, shaking out the blanket before flopping himself down on it and tearing off some bread to chew on.

“Madara! You came back!”

So much for peace and quiet. He groaned, throwing himself back to the ground and blocking his eyes with his arms. “You say that every time! I told you I’d be here.” He braved a peek up, only to be blinded by the idiot’s stupid grin.

“I know. I’m just happy to see you.” Hashirama somehow managed to smile even wider. Madara had to push him over to sit back up, and didn’t bother hiding his laughter as the other boy squeaked, pouting as he rubbed at his sore backside.

His friend was an idiot.

“Help me eat this. I brought too much.” Madara shoved some bread and jam at his friend, pulling out a kunai to slice them some cheese. He scowled at his friend’s knowing smile, ignoring the gratitude in favor of his own food. The Uchiha clan had been more fortunate than most lately, due to a recent alliance with the affluent Hagoromo clan, and he couldn’t exactly ask his friend how his own clan was fairing. Mind you, if anyone asked, he would deny any implication that he was worried - he’d just so happened to bring enough food for three. It was a coincidence, nothing more; that was his story, and he was sticking to it.

At least when Hashirama’s mouth was stuffed he couldn’t talk. A gentle quiet settled around them, the cool breeze rustling the trees and grass and tossing their hair. Madara breathed in deep the peace between them, savoring the feeling and allowing himself to truly relax in a way he couldn’t elsewhere.

Here, in their secret spot at the river, tucked away in the forest, miles from their clans and the war waging on forever, it was easy to forget all they’d lost. Eiji might not be at home waiting for him, but it hurt a little less when he talked of him to Hashirama, his friend damn near pissing himself with laughter at how the boy had somehow managed to get udon stuck up his nose. Even Isamu seemed more at rest as of late, the nightmares of holding him as he bled out, his intestines spilling out in his hands - the aches dulled, all of it drowned out by his bright friend and the shinning village they’d built in their shared dreams.

Madara wasn’t an idiot. He knew who Hashirama really was - knew who his father was, too. Knew what would happen if his own father discovered this treason. But he was tired of the war, tired of constantly fighting for no real reason. And he was tired of burying his brothers - Izuna was all he had left now, and he would do anything to keep him safe.

His friend might be an enemy, but he understood him more than anyone from his own clan ever had. Besides, Hashirama hadn’t been the one to kill his brothers. Madara had hunted those bastards down himself, and had made sure their deaths weren’t easy.

He watched Hashirama in his periphery, ignoring his friend’s uncultured whining about not liking jam with cheese. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea if the other had recognized him as an Uchiha. His friend was incredibly stupid, but he had a nasty habit of being dangerously perceptive when he wanted to be. Well, if he had, he’d chosen not to mention it - and Madara was more than happy to leave that topic be as well.

He was in the middle of laughing at Hashirama, who had tripped over a large tree root, wailing with big, watery eyes in an attempt to gain some sympathy, when a rather undignified - and horrifyingly familiar - squawk came from the bushes behind them. Before Madara had time to place the sound, his little brother was hurling himself out of the brush, rushing behind him to put his big brother between him and whatever had caused his panic.

“Ghost! A hungry ghost! Kill it, Nii-san!”

“Kill a ghost?” He tried to twist enough to see his brother, but it was near impossible with how tight Izuna was holding him. And what was he on about anyway? He’d told Hikaku to knock it off with those bedtime ghost stories.

“Your friend was followed, Hashirama.”

If anyone asked later, Madara would deny starting at the new voice. He would also deny the undignified sound he made as he whirled around to spot the source. Somehow, the new boy had managed to sneak up on them without so much as a sound, and was watching the two Uchiha from his spot next to Hashirama, sharp red eyes studying them and an unreadable expression on his pale face.

“Don’t just stand there! He’ll eat us! Kill us and eat our corpses!” Izuna dug his feet into the ground, trying his best to push Madara forward. Madara just scowled back at him and stuck his feet to the ground with chakra. Sure, Hashirama’s other friend looked odd, but he didn’t look like a ghost - not like a hungry ghost, anyway. No spitting fire, no horrid stench. And his body seemed proportionate enough.

“He’s not a hungry ghost, you brat. The sun’s still up.” Remembering how the ghosts could only be seen at night, he waved a hand up at the sky to prove his point. His brother looked unconvinced, but notably stopped pushing on his back.

Hashirama stepped towards them then, leaning to the side to beam at Izuna, who was still firmly tucked behind his brother. “You must be Madara’s little brother, right?” When he refused to answer, ducking his head back behind him as Hashirama waved, Madara nodded for him with a nervous scratch at his neck. He found it hard to look away form the new boy; it was weird meeting someone outside of his clan with red eyes, and he’d never met anyone his own age with white hair. He scooted a bit closer, dragging his brother with him as he not so subtly gawked at the boy’s tattoos. How come he got to have tattoos so young?

“Who’s that?” He meant to sound more casual, but the boy had stared to stare right back at him, his mouth twitching down in the barest suggestion of a frown. Hashirama near knocked the poor kid over with an enthusiastic clap to his back, puffing his chest up with sudden and uncharacteristic pride.

“This is my brother, Tobirama!” Tobirama blinked over at his brother with wide eyes, and Madara was glad for the distraction, cursing the heat he had felt building in his cheeks. The new boy had started to say something when Izuna cut in with a hiss, tugging at Madara’s arm to get his attention.

“What are you doing? You can’t talk to them!” Madara felt himself pale at the words, and it finally dawned on him just how bad this situation was.

Izuna knew. He knew, and if he said anything, their peace would be broken. Hashirama and him could feign ignorance all they wanted, but their brothers were here. Could they really stay friends, secret allies, if their names were spoken out loud now?

“Why can’t he talk to us?” The tip of Tobirama’s nose scrunched up in offense, and in Madara’s fearful daze he couldn’t help but think how cute it made him look. Izuna poked his head out under Madara’s arm to shoot the boy a scathing glare, and Madara let his arm rest on the smaller boy’s shoulder, feeling a bit better at the protective gesture.

“You’re Senju.” The word was spat out, and it hung heavy in the air between them. Madara saw his friend still with him at the name, feeling the horror he saw mirrored in Hashirama’s eyes. “We’re enemies. You don’t talk to enemies.”

Madara forgot how to breathe, and his limbs loosened in anticipation of an attack. The blow was coming. It had to be. Hashirama couldn’t let him get away with knowing his name - it felt like the trees were suddenly too close, like his chest was too tight for his lungs.

This was it. Their peace was over. And he didn’t want it to end.

“That makes no sense.” Madara snapped his head over to stare at Tobirama. The boy’s brow was furrowed ever so slightly with genuine confusion. “We should talk because we’re enemies.”

Since he found it quite difficult to speak at the moment, Madara grunted out a questioning noise instead, managing to make it sound like he wasn’t currently struggling to process words. It earned him a lazy shrug in return.

“You’re Uchiha. We’re Senju. Killing each other will only fuel the war.” He paused for a moment, ruby gaze unfocused on the ground between them. “Enough people have died for the war. Only a truce will end the fighting. And truces are reached by talking.”

“Wow.” Hashirama stared over at his brother with bright, watery eyes, and Madara found himself grudgingly agreeing with the inane comment. Wow, indeed. The boy had, in the span of a minute, made more sense to him than over a decade of his elder’s endless drivel. Those few sentences had a flicker of warmth starting up in his gut. Maybe this wasn’t the end after all.

“I’ve never heard you say so much, Tobira! I’m so proud!”

Madara’s eye twitched. Scratch that; apparently they weren’t on the same page. Hashirama tried to throw himself onto his brother, blubbering some nonsense about progress as the boy expertly wriggled free and dodged a second attempt at crushing him. Why was he friends with this idiot again?

Never mind his friend’s dramatics. Madara shook his head, focusing back on the actual issues at hand. “How are we supposed to make a truce?” The two Senju stopped as well, Hashirama sobering up enough from his antics to actually be serious. “We’re not clan heads, we’re not even elders. We don’t have any say in the matter.”

“I know!” Hashirama lit up, a hopeful smile warming his tan face as he stepped forward. “We’ll make our own truce, just between us. Then, when we are clan heads, we’ll make a new truce that includes our clans, too.”

Madara blinked at his friend’s outstretched hand. So he had known. At least that was all cleared up. And really, if they of all people could get along - two clan heirs, sons of the fiercest enemies - anyone could. Live and lead by example, and whatnot.

It only took a moment to make up his own mind, and Madara could feel his own matching, stupid grin split his face as he clasped his best friend’s hand. They could do this. They really could. Together, the both of them would bring an end to this so called endless war.

After a promise to meet again soon, and some more unsightly blubbering from Hashirama, both sets of brothers set off towards their respective homes. Izuna was uncharacteristically quiet the entire way back, his whole face pulled down in a deep frown and his feet dragging. He didn’t say a word until they’d made it up their porch, pausing as his brother held the front door open for him.

“You shouldn’t trust them, Nii-san.”

He didn’t try to respond, nor did he try to stop his brother from heading off somewhere into the compound. It’s not like he knew what to say, anyway. He still wasn’t sure why he trusted Hashirama, couldn’t put the gut feeling he had about the boy to words. He just watched Izuna walk off, then made his way inside to his bedroom. He could ponder the enigma of his own emotions later; skipping study time to meet with his friend meant he had to make it up sometime, and doing it now would let him get to bed at a reasonable time.

His thoughts wandered a bit more than usual as he sat at his desk, pen having a mind of it’s own and filling the margins with sketchy versions of those striking ruby eyes he’s sure he’d be seeing in his dreams that’s night. Hopefully, sensei wouldn’t comment on them when he turned his work in.

#also on ao3 #madatobi #midfic #mywriting #slowburn #madara uchiha #izuna uchiha #hashirama #tobirama

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