#uchihasghost

Her mouth opened then closed when nothing came out. It’s only one word, a certain name on her lips, on her mind. She hadn’t really talked about him to anyone, much less Madara, of all people. But now..

“Izuna,” came the specified answer after she tried again. She continued to peer at him, to watch his face closely.

She didn’t remember him, sadly. Though there’s a memory that crossed her mind of impatiently waiting by the door as tiny fists curled then reached upwards soon as said door opened. A laugh emitted in the room and she’s picked up. A refusal to be put down afterwards.

“Do you miss him..Izuna..?”

✱ ˚｡⋆ ↪ MORBIDCURIOSITY ... [ REMASTERED ]

Rains have pelted Konoha and the greater part of Fire Country for a week now, and the weather has been all-around dreary. Tobirama though basks in the chill, though he gets cold easily, and for a Senju rains meant that another guaranteed chance that the earth can replenish itself.

But the cold weather ensures that he utilizes the hiraishin seals he placed discreetly around Madara's home, and that evening, with the downpour muting the rest of the world, he's in the Uchiha's house and they're sitting together reading each their respective books, the quiet only punctuated by the purring of Madara's cats.

One cat is presently curled on Tobirama's lap, a ginger female with a short stub of a tail and white socks on all four paws. She is one of the five cats belonging to the Uchiha that likes him.

Madara speaks, and Tobirama lifts his ruby gaze from his page. His gaze is soft as he looks at the other shinobi, and he considers the implied offer. A sigh.

Questioning Sentences, Vol. 57

Tobirama pauses from inspecting Hashirama's proposed wardrobe for the next meeting with the Fire Country daimyo. Currently he is holding up a hideous carrot-print haori. He gives the Uchiha an unimpressed stare.

Eyebrows furrow as he carefully assesses Madara as a potential threat. Though it's not really potential. Madara is a threat. The question is whether he means any harm. What he's planning. Does he mean to harm the village? The world?

If it weren't for the soft flush on his cheeks and nose from the slight chill in the air, the man stood across from Madara could very well have been a ghost. Dressed in all white, with the red of the sharingan staring the other down, the air of a time long passed surrounded him.

"I do not come to haunt you. You know who I am, and I assume that means you know what I've done." His voice was quiet, patient. Finding this man had been no easy feat, and getting his attention was just as difficult, if not more so. "But now, I've come to try to understand."