MadaTobi Week

Tobirama wakes up gasping, clutching his pillow desperately to his chest. He pants, can't think through the blazing pain, feeling every nerve in his ribcage scream their terror, aware of his heart throbbing against lung, muscle, bone. It is reviving piece by piece, brain roaring up the synapses, lungs inflating after a long stillness, heart thump thump thumping blood back to chilled veins and arteries; it is dying in equal measure, the synapses misfiring, the lungs stuttering in what once was their natural rhythm, heart stopping in irregular intervals of long (too long, too long) pauses before it beats hummingbird quick again. He can't take much more of this hellish limbo, straddling the line of life and death.

Then, something snaps into place.

Everything is calm.

He shudders through an imaginary aftershock and slowly loosens his hold around his pillow. He palms his sternum and though his hand instinctively flinches at pressing on a tender spot, the associated pain does not flare up. Aside from his tremors, he seems in perfect health.

He gets out of bed and crosses the room to the bathroom. If he harbored any delusional denials about what he remembers, the mirror reveals the truth tattooed upon his upper chest.

An encircled star cradled in nine waving tails, no bigger than the length of his sternum and as wide as it.

Tobirama presses on the star with the tip of his finger and focuses his sensory perception on it. Within the lines is the echo of the Kyuubi's will, corrosive chakra faint and tempered by an purple flame of hope gentling the spikes and neutralizing the corrosion. All that was left of a boy he saw and thought would succumb to the Curse of Hatred yet proved him wrong. He digs his nail in hard enough to cut yet the darkened flesh doesn't part.

A deep breath in, fingers in such a grip around the sink counter the knuckles are white, then a slow breath out, fingers unlatching one by one.

From what he saw of his bedroom and the bathroom now, he wasn't shot far enough back to prevent the event calculated to be the best turning point to erase the Fourth Shinobi War from existence. But it's not quite the worst case scenario with a hit list longer than even an international bingo book, if his memory about his room and personal effects layout is correct.

 He splashes on his face and dries off with a hand towel, feeling less frantic if not better for it. Walking back into the bedroom has him at the wall calendar and the coded shorthand marking the tiny squares.

The First Shinobi World War is in full swing as his calendar is packed with reminders about meetings, inspections, and a trip to Kumogakure the next day. That gives him pause, a nagging sense of importance, a warning, about the trip, but it's been too long since he lived this the first time around and he can't quite remember. In the pursuit of securing Kumogakure as an ally in the war, he made many such trips and can only recall the second one where he and the Nidaime Raikage were ambushed by the Gold and Silver Brothers. It's well past that trip, going by the date of the calendar, so what other trips would be important?

He analyzes the calendar once more than shakes his head and turns away to get dressed for the day, certain it will come to him later as he mentally notes to pack extra supplies as a precaution.

But it does not as he pushes it further and further into the back of his mind, focusing on village preparations in the Hokage office, strategies in the war room, and redrafting his proposal for the Konoha Police Force. Meeting the younger Hiruzen and the rest of his former students takes all of his attention, and the nagging thought is forgotten entirely; seeing Danzō, knowing what he will do in the future, alone takes all of his restraint not to grill the boy about any hidden prejudices and misconstrued concepts of people then and there. But there will be time for it later, for him to fix what he can in-between hunting trips for a certain dead to the world Uchiha. Hiruzen the Elder gave him a rundown on the major conflicts and turning points in the three world wars that started and ended them so he could delay or, more hopefully, prevent them.

The next day he sets off with the Escort Unit to Kumogakure and back, reaching halfway home before a subtle chakra signature in front of the Unit has him pulling everyone to a stop, realizing too late why he had that warning.

The Kinkaku Force Ambush.

The day he died to a man with Kyuubi strength and the Treasured Tools of the Sage of Six Paths.

“What’s wrong, Sensei?” Hiruzen whispers, breaking cover to creep closer to his position, the others following behind him.

The semi-circle they make as they crouch in front of him floods a startling rush of deja vu in his mind, the last time he saw them in his first life superimposing over them in the present. Tobirama takes a breath, slow and measured, and releases the instinctive fear kicked up by the realization in the exhale. He must keep a clearer mind than he did in his first life; perhaps that is why he fell to Kinkaku's blade before, the sudden ambush having him on the back foot trying to defend himself and his comrades, succeeding only with a personal sacrifice.

“I sense hostiles ahead of us. It may be an ambush so we must tread lightly.” 

“Can we avoid them, Hokage-sama?” Danzō asks.

To his comrades’ surprise, Tobirama shakes his head. “Their position is spread wide like a net in the front and I suspect there are more behind us to box us in if we try to return to Kumogakure for help. Right now, we are in a trap with no immediate way out.”

They take the news grimly, each of them calculating various scenarios and actions possible for them to escape. Homura has an increasingly frantic glint in his eyes as he thinks, Koharu narrows her eyes in rising anger, and Torifu rests a hand over the pouch with the Akimichi Three Colored Pills inside. Hiruzen, Danzō, and Kagami are more turned toward each other, muttering plans under breaths, and Danzō uses a kunai to mark their and the enemy's positions in the dirt to illustrate their ideas. The other three scoot closer to them after they notice this, and slip in their own ideas and thoughts, working together for the solution to their predicament.

Tobirama watches them for a moment, pride warming his heart, then aids the discussion with his memory of the first ambush.

But in the end, Kinkaku activates his Kyuubi chakra cloak and decimates their plan to ribbons. Tobirama manages to haul Kagami away from his attack, locking sword with claws when he tries another swing, and orders his students to run off without him. Hiruzen protests, but Homura and Danzō bodily drag him into a run with them as Koharu and Torifu cover Kagami's retreat from Tobirama's side.

Only two enemy shinobi follow after them once they leave the battlefield. The rest either fall by Tobirama’s sword or become collateral damage from Kinkaku's attacks. Kinkaku himself falls to his blade, impaled through the heart, but he dies with a vicious grin on his face, watching Tobirama try and fail to stem the outpouring of blood from his torn throat.

His vision fades, consciousness slipping away—

He jerks awake in his bed, gasping with a trembling hand on his throat.

He's… alive again?

….

Kagami, following Tobirama’s gaze to see what caught his attention, makes a face when his clansman lays his half-closed fan over his lips. “Really, in public, Hoshiko?”

The fan jerks closed and rests on his left cheek as Hoshiko turns to fix a gimlet eye on him. Kagami mimes holding a fan on his right cheek with a cheeky grin. Hoshiko’s fan slides to rest on his left ear as he glares harder. Kagami maturely sticks out his tongue at his cousin.

“You are such a brat,” Hoshiko huffs, rolling his eyes while fighting a smile.

“I’m not the one flirting with Rōga-san in public,” Kagami sing-songs.

Hoshiko blushes faster than he can hide his face behind his fan as Rōga chokes on a senbei. Rōga’s ninken partner jumps to his feet and barks, placing his front paws on Rōga’s hip, but he waves him off. They follow after Hoshiko as he beats a flustered retreat outside the shop, a strangled shout of “You were flirting with me?!” echoing from the street.

Kagami giggles his head off. Uchiha An, proprietress of Uchiha Senbei, levels a disapproving eye upon the genin, causing him to squeak and half hide behind Tobirama from her stern gaze.

Unperturbed, Tobirama asks Kagami, “Do the Uchiha have a sign language involving hand fans?”

“Yeah, it’s an old tradition from when we attended the Daimyo’s court more often.” Kagami makes a disgusted face as he steps out of hiding. “It’s mostly used for flirting nowadays.”

How fascinating, and with a history of being quite the discreet communication tool. It could be useful in his Anbu project, but for now the primary goal is to understand an entirely new language.

“Can it be taught to people outside of your clan?”

Kagami fumbles his hold on a senbei, cracking it down the middle. “Sensei, you want to learn about boring old fans?”

“I find it fascinating that people can convey an entire conversation in the gestures of their hand fan, as you just did with Hoshiko-san.”

“That’s because Hoshiko was flirting in public, Sensei! He was asking Rōga-san to kiss him right in front of my senbei!” Tobirama assumes he means the gesture before he interrupted them was the kiss question and mentally notes to never use it.

“Enough, Kagami,” An admonishes, coming around the counter with fresh baked senbei to give him. “You shouldn’t tease your cousin about his crushes or he’ll pay you back twice over when you have yours.” With Kagami busy grumbling into a senbei between bites, An turns to Tobirama. “If you wish to learn the Uchiwa Code there’s a class held by the koi pond in the heart of the Uchiha District. I’m afraid you may have some trouble being taught, tensions because of the feud lingering I’m sure, but just ask Hoshiko if you’re turned away.”

“Thank you for your help, An-san,” Tobirama says, nodding his head in gratitude.

The next day, Tobirama goes to the koi pond after work. Without Kagami or another person by his side, the Uchiha keep their distance and their eyes on his movements, but are otherwise content to ignore him.

The path as described to him by An leads him to the main clan house then a little ways off to the side, the pond self-contained but within the garden of the property. By the koi pond is a gazebo, red painted wood vibrant against the scenery, and where a chabudai has been set up inside. Sitting sprawled on a zabutan at the table is a youth with red tattoos on his face, engrossed in a book.

“Hello, Hoshiko-kun, correct?” Tobirama greets—and catches the book before it hits his face and watches in concern as the teen nearly slams his head against a pillar in his startled scramble to back away. “My apologies for startling you.”

The teen calms down, a hand over his heart. “No, I should have been paying attention. I’m sorry for throwing—” Here he seems to recognize who disturbed him, face blushing as he tries to hide it behind his hands. “Oh no, you’re Kagami’s sensei, I saw you in the shop yesterday…”

“If it’s any consolation, I only have one criticism of your exit.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I would have used shunshin to get out of there.”

Tobirama keeps his face deadpan as Hoshiko stares at him wide-eyed then breaks into laughter, waving him to a seat next to him. Tobirama gives him a smile and offers him his book back once he’s seated.

Catching the title as it exchanges hands, Tobirama asks, “Are you studying Senju medical texts?”

“Yeah. I mean, I already read through everything Elder Healer Amiha would let me borrow from the clan library and the new public library has a more thorough medical section so I figured…”

He’s interrupted by the arrival of four older people, one carrying a tea service tray as the three others have bento boxes and another tray. There’s a noticeable pause in their steps when they see him, but the man strides forward after a quick glance around the gazebo, the rest falling in line behind him. Tobirama and Hoshiko get up from their seats to help where they can, though Tobirama is gently guided back to his by an elderly woman with a sharp hair stick in her hair bun and sharper eyes. Once the tea and snack trays have been laid out and everyone in their seats, the first man turns to him, holding his hand fan open in his left hand.

“Hello, I’m Akamatsu, Hoshiko’s grandfather. What brings you here today, Senju-san?”

If that’s the same Uchiha Akamatsu from his grandfather’s tales, then it is best to tread lightly. “Honored to meet you, Akamatsu-san. An-san from Uchiha Senbei said I could learn the Uchiwa Code here?”

“You could, but to be taught, what is your reason for learning it?”

“I have a project in mind for the village’s security that I believe the code could be used as the shorthand language for, if not then the basis for it.”

Akamatsu hums, flicking his fan in a quick wave at Hoshiko. He responds in kind with his fan, twirls it in a little circle in Tobirama’s direction, passes it to his left hand, and opens it wide. A middle-aged kunoichi flicks hers closed toward her forehead with a small jerk to the right and is rebutted by Hoshiko resting the fan on his right cheek. Then follows a discussion in a rapidfire shorthand version of the code language, and Tobirama watches their expressions instead to keep track of the conversation. Akamatsu is unflappable throughout it all, but the others scowl and narrow their eyes at Hoshiko, who scowls right back, mouth twitching at the corner like he wants to vocally argue in addition to his hand fan.

Hoshiko thrusts his hand toward Tobirama and lets the fan drop from his grip, the clatter of it on the chabudai startling the others into stillness.

A glint of interest alights in Akamatsu’s eyes and he leans forward, watching Tobirama. Hoshiko and the women do as well, their fans closed and carried in the right hand. Hoshiko nods his head toward the fan when he sees Tobirama’s attention on him.

He reaches for the fan and, when no one stops him, picks it up. Then, at a calculated guess, rests it on his right cheek.

Hoshiko beams happily, the women sighing as they set their fans on the table, and Akamatsu laughs as he sets his down.

An inro with matching netsuke of exquisite craftsmanship. It depicts a lone koi, pure white with ruby red spots, in a tranquil koi pond. The netsuke is of a dragon, pure white jade with ruby inlay for the red eyes and stripes on its body, coiled around a genuine pearl, soft milk white glistening iridescent. Even the ojime bead is pearl and the cord is braided silk. Defining lines in the pattern on the inro made with maki-e sparkle silver, the thin keshifun lines outlining the intricate details whitish and dull from years of handling contrasting the bright and flashy blue marufun of the pond water. Near the top of the container is a torii gate in gold radan, a beacon to which the little koi is facing from the lip of the pond, heedless of the enamel trees separating pond and gate.

“Oh, that bastard,” he hisses through his teeth, feeling a headache coming on.

It’s been three months since the village was named. Three months after that meeting with Hashirama on the mountain where he and Tobirama came face to face for the first time outside of the initial negotiations. Three months since Hashirama got it into his head to try to get his best friend and little brother to be less antagonistic toward each other.

It’s wonderful to know he wasn’t the one to break first under Hashirama’s well-meaning meddling, and so quickly at that. But irritating now that a peace offering has been given he has to reciprocate in kind or face Hashirama’s suffocating disappointment.

Madara scowls down at the inro, rubbing his sternum. Thinking of Hashirama disappointed reminds him too much of that final battle before his downward spiral, the look on Hashirama’s face when Madara reached for the smoke bombs instead of ignoring the furiously beating heart next to his, the demands to not trust him from Izu—

Madara sets his ink brush down with an aggravated sigh and gulps down his tea, reheated almost to boiling with a liberal application of chakra. Thinking of him just reminds him how cold and empty his chest has become, accustomed to two fire-natured hearts beating within, and how his lone heart freezes over from the absence of his brother's. To distract himself from it, he picks up the inro, turning it this and that way in the light.

It’s pretty, he’ll give Tobirama that. Something that fits his style more than Madara’s, but it’s an acceptable gift. He’s been meaning to get one to hold his identity and clan seals anyway so this is fortunate timing.