#phlebas writes

"Hikaku?"

He turns upon hearing his name, a name he's borne through two lifetimes now, but only one in which he’d heard that voice.

"… Tōka-san." He bows but doesn't lower his gaze, carefully keeping his hands away from his sides to show he carries no weapon. "I did not expect to see you here."

"Here as in this country?" She raises an eyebrow, sardonic as ever. "Or here as in here?"

"It's a pity your clan head isn't here, Izuna-san." The young noble opposite him smirks, not even bothering to hide it. "Especially when I went out of my way to visit him."

It's a ridiculous thing to say when nii-san is at the daimyo's court for sankin-kōtai, just as this fool should be, and Izuna has to force down the impulse to roll his eyes. Spending time with Tobirama has made the habit contagious, which is usually amusing, but he can't afford to show that much of himself in front of this particular audience.

Tobirama curls up, keeping her breathing deep and even as she waits for the cramps to subside.

If she were back in the old house, under her father's watchful eye, she wouldn't dare show this much vulnerability, would force herself to stand straight and tall in the face of pain.

Even this pain.

The choice to give herself some ease, the ability to make that choice, is a reminder of where she is now, and the shoji that closes gently behind her is another.

The storm is worse than their elders had anticipated - they usually don't get frost this early in the fall. They'd been expecting high winds and rain, but the driving snow had come as a surprise.

Nevertheless, the signs of impending bad weather had been obvious. Even the humans should have known that traveling in this would be a bad idea, though Madara suspects the young man that's stumbling around in the knee deep snow outside their dwelling has good reason to be out despite the weather. A very good reason.

Madara opens his eyes slowly, staring up at the roof beams.

The same room, the same tatami, the same kakebuton… but the late afternoon light filtering in through the partially open shoji make it very clear that this is not the same place he went to sleep in. It doesn't have quite the same feel of a genjutsu, but there's something there that's… familiar.

And nothing so much as the sight of the gentle smile that greets him.

Part 2 of From Me to You (And Back Again)

With many thanks to @kurakura0-0 Jackie, @dawen, and @greencuttingmat for asking the questions that prompted me to expand this into a series.

Truly, it takes a village.

"Ah, look at you."

Izuna holds still as broad palms cup his cheeks, fingers dancing over his face in a pattern that every Uchiha knows. They are all trained in how to function when blind, a necessity in a world where each and every one of their enemies knows their dōjutsu as both the weakness and the strength that it is, and he's felt the touch of more than one elder as they see in a new way.

But not like this.

Because this is not some one who was blinded by an enemy, an eye thief - this is his father.

For @kurakura0-0 , @dawen, @greencuttingmat , and @lazuliofheaven who encouraged this insanity!

Part 3 of Fishing (For Family)

"Oh, hush." Madara bounces the boy in his arms a little, resettling Kagami more securely even as he ignores his brother's muttered curses. "You've always fought each other to a standstill before, I can't imagine why you thought that would change now."

"But it was the medaka!" Izuna protests angrily. "And I caught it! Surely that should have counted as a win!"

"Not when he caught one too," Madara presses a kiss to the wildly curling hair of the boy in his arms to hide his amusement, careful not to dislodge the bowl Kagami is cradling so carefully.

" - why would he do this?!"

Izuna nods along to show he's listening even as he paints his lips a deep red, tracking his rival in the mirror as she paces back and forth over the tatami behind him like a caged tiger.

"And in the middle of the market, no less!" Tobirama throws her hands up in mingled bewilderment and exasperation, the furthest thing from the person he got used to facing across the battlefield, a man so determined to win that he barely seemed human, even to the Sharingan.

That he'd never realised she was a woman, even after replaying all his memories of her, was shocking, and it made him wonder if she'd developed some kind of jutsu to deceive his eyes. But no, it's simply that her gender was so irrelevant to the way she conceived of herself - he didn't see it because she wasn't a woman in those moments.

She was a sword.

And that's all she believed she was.