Chapter Text
Tobirama wakes to find the deathly ache in his bones and the raw pain in his chest faded to merely the ache of a particularly bad flu, as if a healer of his brother’s caliber has spent hours healing him.
Oh. No. No, no, no.
His eyes fly open in panic before it occurs to him that there is no foreign chakra in his system. Hashirama’s chakra is familiar and beloved, but still foreign. For a moment, as his panic calms slightly, his eyes don’t register what he’s seeing. For a moment he thinks nothing of seeing dark eyes and hair and pale skin. Izuna had been there after all. Then his eyes focus, something they’ve protested recently. Imagine that. His eyes focus and he chokes, panic returning 3-fold as he sees that the person touching him, holding him close is Madara.
“No! Izuna said-!”
“Hush.”
He can’t help the sound of deep distress that slips out before he bites down on it. “It wasn’t enough that I’m dying? You wanted to watch me die?”
“If that’s what I wanted, all I had to do is stand there. I fail to see why it bothers you that I might want to, however, since you were letting Izuna do just that.” Madara replies blandly.
The confirmation phrased as denial stabs him deeply, restricting his lungs painfully. A deep, ragged cough wracks him, moisture starting to his eyes from the force of it, and he turns his head aside to feebly spit out blood. Too weak. Too weak to fight, too weak to spit properly. He wishes there was some satisfaction in getting his blood on Madara, as the bloody drool stains the Uchiha’s sleeve, but there’s only the ache of failing. Failing to avoid shattering his brother’s dream with his death, despite his best effort.
“Are you crying because you’re not going to die after all?” Madara asks, tone incredulous.
Tobirama favors him with a venomous glare, ignoring the moisture on his lashes. “Do you think me a fool? You have no reason to spare a Senju.”
There is a cackle of laughter from Izuna a few feet away, and he flinches. He had trusted his rival, his long term foe. The more fool him.
“You are a fool, Senju.” Madara tells him haughtily, echoing his thoughts eerily. “I’m not going to kill you or let you die. I’m going to use you to force your clan into a treaty they have no choice but to keep.”
He what…!?
“Why?” Tobirama is aware that he sounds like a bewildered child more than a suspicious shinobi, but he really doesn’t understand. His head is uncharacteristically fuzzy and he hates it. “You’ve rejected all of my brother’s attempts to make peace between our clans. Why would you need to force something he already wants?”
Madara sneers down at him. “Hashirama may share my dream of peace, but you and the rest of your clan are like a few in my clan. Backstabbing warmongers.”
Tobirama stares at him.
Funny. He’s can’t say he hasn’t occasionally thought the same thing of Madara, despite Hashirama’s opinion of him. But well…
Whatever. If being a hostage is what it takes to end the vicious feud between the clans, he can live with that. If Madara actually believes in peace, he can tolerate whatever spiteful measures Madara forces on him to keep him alive and ‘harmless’. Though really, harmless is pretty much guaranteed, given that there is simply no way he can see for Madara to truly accept him, and determination to keep him alive will only mean he dies by fractions of inches instead of at the steady progression he has been suffering. Given how close he is to death right now, perhaps a couple years at most instead of the few hours he’d had left.
As for his clan, even holding Tobirama as hostage won’t buy the Uchiha much extra in the way of concessions. The elders have lived too long, and seen too many die to leave the clan at the mercy of enemies for the sake of one person, no matter Hashirama’s opinion on it.
Not, he suspects, that he has much say in it at this point. He’s too weak to struggle, particularly after the coughing fit, and Madara telling him that he’s not going to let him die has eased the pain and shortness of breath to the duller thing he’d woken with. Perhaps he should hate the man for having so much power over him with a few words, but he can’t be bothered.
~
Izuna stares at his rival, laying lax and only half conscious across Madara’s lap as the elders bicker with Madara over his fate and Madara strokes the silver hair absently, and wonders. How grave a disservice has he done Tobirama in having Madara spare him his fate? He feels faintly guilty, because if the elders have their way, Tobirama will die a slow, slow death, neither rejected nor accepted by Madara, locked away, senses blinded by chakra seals.
And yet.
For Madara’s dream, as odd as it feels to support it, dooming Tobirama to such is worth it. Still, what they’re speaking of is foolishness. The Senju won’t feel compelled to keep a treaty if it means that their heir dies by painful inches while they keep it and doesn’t live beyond a year or two. Perhaps Hashirama’s frequent pleas for peace have blinded them to his nature. Even Izuna isn’t that blind. Hashirama may be foolishly stubborn about ignoring the fact that the clans have been feuding for generations and have taken it to bitter extremes in their fathers’ lifetimes, but that won’t extend to forgiving Madara if his only brother dies such a death. No more than Madara would be able to forgive it in Hashirama’s place. And despite Madara’s accusation, they all know backstabbing isn’t in Tobirama’s nature. Not when he can subvert the very laws of nature to his will and kill one face to face. Preferably with something very sharp, explosive, or watery. Not when he could have used his death to make the war worse and instead chose to suffer silently so it would have an unspoken chance to end in peace.
Madara is slowly turning red in the face and Izuna intervenes when it looks like he’s about ready to katon the elders and be done with them.
“You’re all overlooking something. Madara is Tobirama’s mate, therefore Tobirama belongs to Madara. He’s basically an Uchiha now. The fact that we can use him to force the Senju’s compliance is just a nice bonus.” He pauses a moment to savor the ‘kicked in the face’ looks the elders wear. “Treat him well and assure him of Madara’s acceptance of him and we gain a peerless sensor to our gain against other foes. And even if the Senju don’t cooperate or try to betray us, they won’t have him on their side. They won’t have Hashirama either, because that sap won’t do something to endanger his only brother. You want to throw away that advantage for the pleasure of being petty over past grievances? Before you start ranting about how justified those grievances are, think on this: What you’re talking about amounts to slowly torturing him to death. What do you think Madara would do if the Senju were holding me hostage and slowly torturing me to death, hm? Do you really want to go back to the days of the Senju hunting our children? Or for Hashirama, who has the ability to turn every plant and wooden thing against us, to suddenly start taking this feud seriously instead of constantly trying to end it? If you want the Uchiha to die that badly, perhaps you should retire and give your positions to those who actually care about the future of our clan.”
There is dead silence, the elders casting looks at Madara as if expecting him to defend their position, their faces rather pale at the specters of possibility that he has thrust in their faces so bluntly. Unsurprisingly, Madara lets them stew.
Finally, Madara nods, and gets to his feet with Tobirama lying limply in his arms. “Hashirama has never seriously tried to kill me because he wants peace. Now that we’ve all agreed that you’re wasting my time, I’m going to go take care of my sensor. And you lot can turn your questionable common sense to coming up with terms for a peace treaty that will actually benefit both sides enough that the Senju will be actually inclined to keep to it for reasons beyond Tobirama. Izuna, come with me. I need to send Hashirama a note, letting him know that we have his brother.”
“Of course, Aniki.” Izuna favors the elders with a scathingly amused smile as he rises gracefully to follow Madara.
Fools.
They’d only been able to keep Madara from acting on his desire for peace thus far because Izuna hadn’t supported what he’d regarded as a pipe dream. They would do well to remember that Izuna, too, is Tajima Uchiha’s son and exactly what that means. He can be as cruel as needed to accomplish his goals. Or Madara’s goals, in this case. With Tobirama in their hands, they finally have a real chance for peace, not just a dream made of pretty words and empty promises. If they get in the way, well…
Never let it be said that Izuna can’t be just as petty and vindictive as any other member of his clan. His mangekyo isn’t for show. And he doesn’t value the egos or lives of a few petty elders over the well-being of his clan.
~
Madara watches as Tobirama stirs and lifts his head, red eyes hazed with sleep. As with the previous time he woke, it seems to take him a moment to focus and register Madara’s presence. Unlike then, he doesn’t visibly panic this time.
Instead, he asks in a vaguely curious tone, “Not that I’m objecting to not waking up in chains and chakra seals, but is there a reason I’m lying on you? Naked?”
“I had Izuna help me bathe you, but you reacted badly when out of skin contact with me, when I took time to get clean myself.” Madara informs him calmly. “You’re mine now; I’m hardly going to let you suffer.”
His eyes widen, then a flush dusts his cheeks. “Oh.”
Madara pauses in rubbing tiny circles on his back to slide a hand up and press Tobirama’s head back against his shoulder before Tobirama hurts himself with the effort of holding his head up. The younger man is obviously straining with the effort, the fine tremors conducting themselves clearly given how in close contact they are. It makes Madara far too aware of how young the other is, how fragile. “Rest. You need it.”
Tobirama huffs a sigh, but acquiesces, relaxing against Madara again.
It’s almost cute. Cute? This enemy, not-enemy, best friend’s little brother cute? Madara’s eyes narrow at the thought. He did not think that! “You seem pretty comfortable with this.”
“Should I not be?”
“Honestly you don’t strike me as someone familiar with this. Shouldn’t you be struggling and complaining? Threatening me with your brother should he find out?”
Tobirama makes a sound that could be mistaken as a laugh. “Have you met Hashirama? He’s a cuddler and doesn’t see the point of wearing clothes to bed. And he runs almost as hot as you do. It’s lovely in the winter. We all used to crawl in bed with him to keep warm in the winter. Although, admittedly, I usually have clothes on.”
“Usually?” He feels a flicker of…something.
“You can’t tell me that you’ve never come home from a battle so weary that all you managed was stripping off filthy clothes and armor before collapsing into sleep.” Tobirama replies, sounding puzzled at the question.
Oh. Of course. Hashirama’s not that kind, there’s no reason to be jea- … He’s not jealous. There’s no reason to be jealous. Tobirama is his sensor now and…
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I can feel your brain overheating.”
What? “Excuse me?”
“Are you sure you’re not Hashirama’s grumpy twin, separated at birth? I swear, now I understand why the two of you are friends. You are stupidly alike in some things, aren’t you?” Tobirama sounds fondly exasperated.
“Hush.” Madara grumps. He’s fairly certain that Tobirama has just decided to treat him like a second Hashirama, and he’s really not sure what he thinks about that. Izuna will probably laugh himself sick as soon as he figures it out, too.