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His son is born with his eyes closed, not wailing nor moving.
Butsuma holds the small, fragile body of the child in his arms, and prays for him to start crying his lungs out. The future of their clan depends on it.
The child stays silent.
--
"He's as blind as a bat, Senju-sama." The midwife says after months wasted on the kid Butsuma gives the name Tobirama, her voice all too harsh and unforgiving. "He has a pair of half-made sharingan, and his hair is as white as the ashes left over from the pure fire of Amaterasu. This child is the sign of our luck turning against us!"
White hair, he thinks, but white as the snow that's rarely seen in this part of the Fire Country, instead of ash. He has seen his part of bloodshed with the war they're fighting against Uchiha, and the memory of ashes devoid of color is not welcome when he's in his home- yet here it is.
White hair, red eyes that do not see, pale skin covering a weak, sick body.
This has to be a curse.
"Red eyes," He hears himself breathing out with wonder, and takes a step forward to get a better look of his sleeping son in his wife's arms. "How in the world did this happen?"
There isn't even a moment of silence. The midwife immediately pounds on the doubt he shows for the strange features of his youngest. "This is the work of gods. They're warning us, Senju-sama!"
How unfortunate it is that the only thing she can see in the child's red eyes is bad luck, whether they belong to an enemy or not. This is what the Uchiha did to the world they're living in, what his own clan is fighting against. Butsuma feels disappointment burn in his chest- his hope had been to bring his children to a world that existed without the hatred Uchiha had in their heart, once.
He now understands that his plans are doomed to fail. Hashirama will have to take over this duty once Butsuma is ready to step down- or die while taking his enemies down. Shinobi usually don't get the chance to retire, after all.
Gods, Hashirama. His heir, the one that's supposed to carry the Senju to a future that's above the petty attacks of Uchiha, who is a pacifist of all things. And now, this? A cursed child?
What can he do when luck is not on their side? Are the gods really turning their backs to his Clan?
So this is what his son will wake up to once- no, if he opens his eyes. A disappointed family, his own Clan turned against him for their beliefs in bad omens, and a war that's been going on for centuries.
This is what war brings, his father, the Clan Head before him, had once said during one of Butsuma's lessons, do you see it, son? More and more misunderstandings, piling up on each other to cause another war.
"We will wait," Butsuma says at last. His eyes travel away from his youngest son, and he looks at the blazing inferno that is rage in his wife's eyes. He knows his words have disappointed her, but she can't speak up against her Clan Head's decision about her -their- children. "And see if we're feeding a snake among us, or not."
He distantly realizes his tone sounds like he hopes for it to be the former.
He really doesn't.
--
"Why do you train so much?" Even with his mouth full of berries, Hashirama's oh-so-serious focus keeps a track of every step Tobirama takes on the lake. "Why don't you stay in the compound and become a healer, Tobi?"
Tobirama knows what this is about. His lack of the ability to see hides Hashirama's expression from him, but with the bitter wave of the chakra that is all lively plants and damp soil and trees as old as the earth itself- simply Hashirama, Tobirama's mind recognizes his brother's chakra as easily as it does his own- he knows worry is clouding his brother's judgement.
His unseeing eyes. That's what everything is about these days- his shortcomings.
He thinks it's ridiculous, but it's been long since he has decided that he prefers being underestimated. Between his vicious water-based jutsus, the new snow leopards summoning contract that took so much from him to get, and his research about the techniques Senju -nor Uchiha, for that matter- has never heard of, it is only this small detail that's as good as nonexistent he is known for. He's just a blind, weak child that needs the protection of his handlers.
Hashirama doesn't know what he is talking about. Neither does anyone else, for that matter.
What Tobirama is capable of is a mystery, even to himself.
The thing is, Tobirama was born a shinobi. Unseeing eyes or not, he is a weapon, one that would gladly cut off the hand that's yielding him if he wishes to do so, and there's one thing he will do before he breaks and becomes useless, just like all weapons do when the time comes- he will protect his brothers as long as he can.
The enemies that underestimate him is like an opportunity served to him on a silver plate.
"Our clan needs warriors more than healers, Brother." And that is one of the reasons Tobirama trains to become one of the best on the battlefield. Tobirama tells no lies to his own blood, he doesn't fancy the idea of spouting nonsense to keep his brother off of his back, but that doesn't mean his words are the whole truth, either.
("You will become a shinobi." Father had said with a grim voice just months ago. "With those eyes, you will be our weapon against Uchiha.")
"But- but your eyes-!"
(And it's always, always the eyes people point out. Tobirama hates it.)
Hashirama jumps up from the patch of moss he's settled on, but Tobirama continues his kata on the lake steadily. He's been practicing to keep his body from sinking ever since he was old enough to use chakra, and it feels like coming home after a long day, to repeat this training routine. He feels in peace, regardless of Hashirama's words. "You can die, Tobirama!"
An opportunity, Butsuma calls Tobirama. A mistake, something that wasn't supposed to happen. Faulty, but still useful.
But he uses those words for Hashirama, too. For the dreams of peace he has, the soft heart he carries in his broad chest. He says the goals Hashirama has in his mind are things that can't exist, not even in dreams. Tobirama simply thinks that even if the peaceful future Hashirama dreams about comes to life one day, he wouldn't be there to see it. He's too violent, too ruthless for his brother's dreams, too much of a fighter to settle down. That's what everybody says about him. Too thirsty for blood, so much that even though he can't see, he still wants to fight in wars. He knows he's becoming the horror story parents tell their children to make them go to bed in time.
(Better me than Brother, Tobirama thinks, and bows to his Clan Head. "Yes, Father. Allow me to prove myself."
It's no matter if he wants to become a shinobi or not, because he will fight regardless. His brothers need someone to watch their backs, and Hashirama's dream will always thrive as long as Tobirama is alive.
"Show me what you can do." Butsuma replies at last. There's a strange tilt to his voice, something Tobirama thinks for a moment, that can be pride- but no. It can't be, not unless the world's coming to an end. "And we will see."
Tobirama needs to do this. After all, this is what family is for- to fight each other's battles.)
"So can anyone." Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Tobirama shrugs slightly. "But you don't see wars stopping for that reason."
"Please, Tobi…" Hashirama's voice sounds weak, and Tobirama knows his brother realizes once again that this isn't a fight he can win. But it doesn't mean that he's giving up, they've had this conversation countless times before, in different tones and words. Hashirama's point never changes. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."
"Don't worry, Brother." Letting his stance fall, Tobirama straightens his posture on the surface of the lake he's standing on and turns his head towards where he feels his brother's life essence burning bright against his senses, warm and rough and full of life, to give Hashirama a small but sharp grin. "I'll be okay."
(This is all Tobirama is good for.)
--
(The blazing-hot-sunshine that always curls around Tobirama's senses gently is the first loss of their family. His mother dies with dried blood under her fingernails and a snarl etched on her face, the back of her skull bashed in with a stone or a fist- which, Tobirama can't remember. He was there on the battlefield with her, but he still couldn't save her.
Her chakra that's slowly slipping away into the nature itself is not outlining his mother's features clearly under the sheet her body's covered with, not anymore. It's more of a cloud hanging over the corpse, slowly spreading and fading.
The cruelest thing death causes, Tobirama thinks as he listens Hashirama's sobs coming from the room next to his that night, is not only the inevitable loss. It's also the progress of losing, feeling the life fade away.
He wishes for the ability to see instead of feel for the first time. The sensation of his mother's life force fading away from his mind doesn't leave his nightmares for years.)
--
Tobirama is made for fighting against Uchiha.
That's what the Elders say behind closed doors as they ask Butsuma to send him out to the frontlines, because Tobirama is clever and good at jutsus and Sharingan can never trap him. He's the natural enemy of the Uchiha, they say, and so Tobirama ends up with a kunai in his hand that has blood dripping down from it, and a corpse of a stranger on the ground in front of him at the age of six.
The woman had asked if he was lost in the woods. She had tried to give him food, the limited amount of supplies she had leftover as she was going back from a mission she finished. Her hands were kind on his head when she reached out to pat his head twice with a smile on her face.
Her blood sticks to his skin uncomfortably, slowly cooling under the cloudy weather, and Tobirama swears he won't ever stab a person from their back ever again.
--
(The second blow comes when Tobirama feels Itama's warm-hand-reaching-out wavering miles away, and he realizes what's happening in a flash, because he always keeps a track of his brothers. His little brother's life force flickers violently once, twice, and then-
Then he disappears.
Hashirama rages day and night, rebels to Butsuma only for Tobirama to get in the way. Then, he doesn't even turn his head towards Tobirama for next four days, and Tobirama wonders if he lost two brothers that day, instead of one.)
--
He witnesses sharingan's ability to copy the techniques of an enemy on battlefield for the first time. It makes him realize the cruel truth.
Tobirama is blind.
He has always known that he lacks something others have, something that's supposed to be such a big part of his life that he shouldn't be able to live without it- but Tobirama doesn't have it. He never did. And just like how Hashirama says he can't imagine a new color that he hasn't seen before, Tobirama can't think what seeing would be like.
And it's not just that. He doesn't feel the lack of something in his life. Sensing brought him to this day, allowed him to step into a battlefield and leave it with his breath still in his lungs. He's living, he doesn't need more.
Or he didn't, but now a kunai is lodged between his ribs, and he thinks that I could've dodged it if the chakra in the mist didn't cloud my senses, I could've avoided it-!
He shouldn't have become a shinobi. Butsuma was wrong all along, because sight is everything in a battle- the reach of his senses may overpower seeing, but he's fighting against people he can't tell apart from their chakra conductive weapons. He's doomed to lose, no matter what he does.
"Being a healer would suit me, Brother," He hears himself gasping out distantly. His voice sounds muted, pained, but he can't feel the hurt over the shock. "I'd be a- a good healer."
A sniffle reached to his ears. "No," Hashirama's face flickers into life in his mind, tears that are dripping down his cheeks bright with his powerful chakra outlining them- because everything has the essence of life in it, even his brother's tears. A healer from their Clan is standing behind him, leaning over Tobirama's body that's resting on a- is this a mattress? No, they're back at the compound. When did they even get back? He can swear they were fighting against a group of shinobi from the Land of Water just a moment ago. "No, you'd hate being a healer."
An unexpected chuckle escapes from him, but it gets interrupted with a racking cough that rattles Tobirama's bones. He feels the metallic taste of blood behind his tongue, and his unseeing eyes roll behind his head a little. "Yeah, I- I would."
He feels hands on his cheeks, but his control slips and the world fades into nothing.
He rests.
--
(Kawarama's is the worst one even though every single one hurts immensely. He is, well, he's the youngest one between them, and no matter how fast Tobirama goes, how intolerable he acts, Kawarama is always there to watch. He's understanding, loving, and by far, the softest sibling they have. That's what brings him his demise.
Tobirama doesn't feel him when it happens -he doesn't know whether it's a mercy or the worst punishment possible that he doesn't- because he's unconscious after getting hit by a jutsu of Kurama Clan. When he wakes up, he can't find Kawarama's dry-earth-under-sun.
That's when he realizes he doesn't want to live long enough to feel his last remaining brother's death.
The burial happens, Hashirama mourns, and Tobirama endures.)
--
"You've always been one to take over more than you can handle, Brother." With a sigh, Tobirama subtly turns his head towards the pile of paperwork that's sitting on Hashirama's desk- had been Butsuma's, just a few months ago, but that doesn't mean much to Tobirama. Butsuma used to be a Clan Head for him, as well as one of the people that gave him the gift of life, but never a proper father. It's simply a fact, like how the soul of forest obeys Hashirama's wishes, or like the unbelievable amount of danger a weapon in Touka's hands means.
"I just didn't want Mito to be angry," Hashirama mumbles, but his voice is barely heard from where he has his head hidden behind all those books. It's a surprising sight, one Tobirama hasn't seen ever since his childhood when Mother wanted Hashirama to choose a book to read Kawarama. The memory doesn't sting at all, these days. "She doesn't like it when I take a break before lunch."
Tobirama shakes his head with a snort. "What she doesn't like is you leaving all the work to her."
His brother lets a pathetic whimper. If Tobirama didn't know any better, he's really consider believing Hashirama. "But Tobi, I'm tired from doing… uh, Clan Head business! I'm allowed to want to take some time for myself now and then."
"Yes, you are." Tobirama says. "But only after you're actually done with that whole Clan Head business you're talking about."
Hashirama only groans, and Tobirama hides a small quirk of his lips behind his hand.
He has failed to save his family three times now, only succeeding at watching it from afar. Now, though, maybe it's time for the tables to turn. His brother is married to a clever woman that knows the fundamentals of fuuinjutsu, the Clan now is being commanded by his peace-loving brother instead of warmongering Butsuma, and Tobirama-
Tobirama realizes that the guilt isn't so heavy on his shoulders, now.
--
Tobirama throws himself forward, lets the sharp kunai painted with invisible ink fly towards Izuna as his brothers' names go through his head in a flash, repeated one by one over and again. They are what he's fighting for, what he will kill and die for.
And die, he will.
His fingers twitch on a seal, and he reaches out with his senses to keep the track of his weapon as it sails past the huge trees that are brimming with nature chakra and Hashirama's Mokuton, goes through a cloud of hot-pure-intent-of-harm that is an Uchiha's fireball jutsu, and slips past the naginata Touka lifts up in her hands to strike down an enemy.
Then, Tobirama unleashes his chakra and disappears in a wave of chakra, made from thin cords of his own life force, woven together with care as well as rage.
Izuna is planning something- Tobirama isn't going to give him enough time to make his dream of Hashirama's fall happen. This will end, today and now.
No matter what.
--
He misses.
It's a small miscalculation on his part- he hadn't expected the shock of momentary sensory blindness -he can't sense chakra when he's traveling through space and time, he doesn't think it's even possible, and that's a whole new research subject he's willing to indulge himself with once he gets some free time for himself- Flying Thunder God causes being enough to make him sloppy with his lunge even after all the times he used the technique to get used to it.
His pride will probably be the cause of his death, one of these days.
No, that's not right. He knows it will be.
--
Another theory proven, Tobirama thinks, and tries to ignore how much it stings that he is right. He had known how his life would end, for he is a shinobi and a warrior bred for war and killing, and there's no other possibility of his demise coming to get him if it's not for violence.
But knowing he won't even get to die in a battlefield does not make living that moment easier.
I won't leave this place alive, he thinks. Brother will have to bury me, too.
He doesn't feel guilty for being thankful that he won't be the one burying his last brother. Maybe it's cruel of him, but he doesn't want to stand in front of Hashirama's grave and grieve, not after Kawarama.
This is the end for him. He has nothing he can do; he lost enough blood that his limbs don't even respond to his wishes properly, the countless injuries that litter his body are not tended -the one on his leg is the worst, the blade that Ootsutsuki used probably tore away a chunk of muscle too- and worst of all, his hands are bound with chakra sealing shackles and the cell he's in has seals that keep his chakra contained under his skin. He can't even sense properly, everything is either dark or blurry. The shackles and seals do not only bind him, they also blunt his perception.
He's truly blind for the first time in his life.
Tobirama believes in knowing his enemy, in taking in the facts before judging. He's been casted aside for so long for his differences that he can't bring himself to do the same to those that have captured him, and so he searches.
There's nothing. He can feel a hint of victory-mine-home that's guarding his cell, the only one left alive after Tobirama went through her squad to tear all of their limbs apart for killing that innocent family traveling with their child, but his captor is far away enough that Tobirama can't understand what she's doing. Maybe she's tending his wounds, or waiting for the friends of hers that saved her from the certain death in Tobirama's hands to finish reporting to their team leader about what happened and get back, so that she can start interrogating him.
He moves his hands, tries to see if he can get out of the shackles, but then- oh, then the hissing-lava-and-sunset replaces the woman's life force, touches his mind and wraps around him in a familiar way- like Mother's used to do, but this doesn't caress Tobirama's mind gently, it pulls and pushes as if it's the moon and Tobirama is a bottomless ocean. This chakra impression is not something new, but this is the first time it's focused completely on Tobirama.
Only the Uchiha has the honor of acquiring the Sharingan and remembering all the moments they witness, but for Tobirama, it isn't so easy to just call up a memory of nature chakra outlining his surroundings and the life force of the people he spends the day with burning bright in his mind. It's so easy to lose a memory, like how it had been so simple to forget his mother's scent after she was gone for good.
The seconds are fleeting, Mito had once said, and it's so very easy to forget the details, and Tobirama fully agrees that the small signs residing within a precious scene of his life can be forgotten. But even when he does, his soul won't, for his chakra will forever be imprinted by every single second Tobirama lives, and his chakra is Tobirama's eyes, colors, memories. Tobirama can forget words, actions, shapes the nature chakra outlines- but his brain will never fully let go of what his own chakra senses.
He knows he and his now-gone captor have company, and the newcomer is both an acquaintance and an enemy.
It's Uchiha Madara.
--
"This is the best thing I've ever seen." Madara says a few feet away from him, amusement lacing his voice. "Senju Tobirama, bound and on his knees in front of me- and I didn't even need to lift a finger! I'm so lucky."
Tobirama's day is not going the way he has expected it to go. It really, really isn't.
He sighs. "... tell me about it."
His hands are still bound behind his back, his captor is dead -Tobirama knows that because Madara, that idiot, threw the body on him and now he's drenched in blood- and his biggest enemy is apparently hoping to take Tobirama as a prisoner.
This whole day must be a nightmare.
Madara's armor clangs as the man takes a step back- with the seals on the shackles his chakra pathways feels blurry enough that Tobirama can't tell whether he's making a gesture with his hand or just fidgeting. "Well, get up, Senju. I'm taking you back as my prisoner, and we have a long way to go."
There is almost no way this will end up good for him, Tobirama knows that. If he goes, he can be used as a bargaining chip against his brother, but does he even have a choice? He's vulnerable, bound and powerless and blind, in the very situation Butsuma had once said he inevitably would be in when Tobirama had first started training to become a shinobi despite everyone telling him otherwise. He has managed to hide his defect from enemies long enough- there are rumors that genjutsu don't work on him, because spies are everywhere and they're unavoidable, but even though his enemies know his unusual durability against genjutsu and how good of a sensor Tobirama is, they have never seen what chakra can be, what it is and where it resides.
Chakra is everything, it's life and death and everything in between. Tobirama doesn't think anyone has ever realized it before him.
But his best weapon that is sensing, is also his worst weakness in the shape of blindness. He can't allow it to be found out.
"I won't agree to becoming your prisoner, Uchiha," He scoffs at last, his frown deepening on his face despite the tiredness pulling his limbs down. He doesn't know where to turn his head to, his senses are getting weaker by second, so he just lowers his head towards ground and spits to get rid of the metallic taste on his tongue. "You know that as well as I do."
Madara snorts in response. "Who says I need an agreement? I'll drag you to Uchiha compound cells if I have to, and it'll be very easy from the looks of it."
That's not much of a lie. Tobirama knows he looks weak, depleted. He hasn't been able to sleep for two days, maybe three if the sun has risen again while he was trapped, he isn't sure- feeling the warmth of sun is not optional when he's trapped in a cell. He wasn't given much to eat and drink during the few hours he had been trapped inside the cells of Ootsutsuki Clan, and the chakra binding seals are still on his wrists, as well as the suppression seals that decorate the room. This is the weakest he's ever been in so long.
"You can try," Tobirama snarls, because fighting and resisting is all he knows, "But you won't succeed."
Madara moves towards him, finally steps into Tobirama's range properly, and reaches a hand to catch his arm. "We will see."
Tobirama grins, all teeth and blood, and throws a weak kick. It's an useless move, Madara sees it coming even before Tobirama even attempts it, but that's exactly what Tobirama counts on. Chakra climbs all the way up to Madara's eyes, and Tobirama feels the familiar chakra pathways opening up to activate the sharingan.
Madara probably tries a genjutsu, maybe to knock him out, but Tobirama's immune to those tricks of sharingan. He takes advantage of the element of surprise and lets the senbon he stole from the corpse fly towards Madara's eyes- then, he lunges after it to Madara, and uses the way Madara shoves him towards the wall as a boost to throw himself out of the door of the cell.
He still has the shackles on him, but getting away from the chakra dampening seals on the room's walls gives Tobirama a drop of the ocean full of waves his chakra should've been. It's more than enough for Flying Thunder God.
His technique is far from being completed yet, but it doesn't require too much chakra, only control delicate enough that he won't lose himself within the space-time matrix. It'll get him away from this place, and that's all Tobirama needs.
Butsuma would be proud.
--
"Madara finally replied to Hashirama," Mito says as she brushes her long hair in front of the mirror she says is there. She's getting ready for a meeting with the Yamanaka, not as the wife of the Senju Clan Head, but as the ambassador of Uzumaki Clan in the Land of Fire. "It seems that he finally managed to get enough of the Elders to win the vote about the peace treaty."
A treaty. So this was it, Tobirama realizes. Madara was hoping to use Tobirama as a bargaining chip to make sure the Uchiha would get a fair deal out of the treaty. "I see."
"The peace talks will start the beginning of the next week." Mito says, and she turns her head towards him. She's trying to see if I'm pleased, Tobirama thinks, and he lifts an eyebrow before hears her continuing. "What do you think?"
"That it may be a trap." He replies truthfully. He knows Mito is also thinking it, just like any and every other person that has learned this news will undoubtedly do.
"Or it may be the start of a new era."
Tobirama hopes she's right. If she is, then he will get to witness the end of a dozens-of-years-long war, and the start of a new life for the Fire Country. He has never doubted his brother's ability to succeed, but he also never thought that he'd live long enough to see Hashirama's dream coming true.
He decides he wouldn't mind being proven wrong this once, even if it's Madara that'll be the one surprising him if that happens.
--
"- and the genin teams are unnecessary, we have Academy for that, you bastard-!"
Tobirama feels a headache coming the second his office's door is thrown open violently, but even then, he doesn't expect a lecture coming from Madara. Really, after weeks of working together to get this village up and running, the man still doesn't get his lesson.
"Academy will not be enough of an experience for field work," He interrupts Madara, "We need to get the children used to obeying their superiors-"
Madara returns the favor soon, "So they should paint houses to learn how to be a shinobi?" His voice is loud enough that Tobirama thinks it can be heard from the other side of the village, and the rush of chakra around the man's eyes obviously spells sharingan in big, bold letters. "We're training shinobi, idiot, not civilians!"
There's one idiot in this room, Tobirama thinks, and it's definitely not him.
"Brother agreed to my suggestion, and the paperwork is already done." He says as a final, and rises from his seat behind the desk. "You can't do anything about it, so do everyone in this village a favor and shut your mouth."
"You little-!"
Tobirama sighs. For a moment, he fancies the thought of days he spent in newly found Konoha being harder than living during the time of war, but- well, he can admit to himself that it isn't so bad. Not even with Madara screaming his lungs off.
He feels like he can get used to this.
--
"You're too reckless." Tobirama points out as he takes out a roll of bandage from his pouch. "You spend too much telling your enemies how cool you supposedly are, and then come crying to Brother to ask him to heal you once you get a beating."
"Shut up." Madara grumbles in reply, but his words don't carry the fire they are usually so full of. He's a mess- not one that's bad to sense, but a mess nonetheless. His hair is probably a nightmare, full of leaves and twigs after being thrown around in the woods. It's a mix of nature chakra and Madara's own hissing, bright one, as far as Tobirama can sense. There are also has cuts littering his arms from the moment he was thrown into the bush full of roses with thorns, but Tobirama can't tell them apart from his skin properly, they're small and yet smaller.
"Sit down." He points to the couch -fortunately the inn they're in is decent enough to have one- and walks towards the kitchen to get a bowl of clean water.
By the time he gets back, Madara is already out of his armor, sitting on the opposite side of where Tobirama pointed on the couch.
"You're so childish." Grumbling, Tobirama settles to the other side and sets the bowl down between them on the couch. "I trust you'll be fine on your own?"
"Look at who's talking," Madara frowns, "What, are scared of getting your hands dirty while helping me patch up?"
Tobirama feels his eyebrows twitch.
This isn't what he had thought would happen when his Brother first told him about the mission he was sending both him and Madara out to. "You can do it yourself."
"Yes, but it'd be easier," Madara hesitates, then growls. "Ugh, whatever, asshole. I was trying to get along with you, but the stick up your ass would never allow that."
"Get along with me?" Tobirama repeats to make sure, but Madara doesn't wait for him to process his words.
He snatches up the wet cloth from the bowl and gets up from the couch quickly, turns towards his own bed with the intent of marching there. Tobirama feels himself hesitating, realizes this is probably the part where he and Madara will decide not to speak for the rest of the way to Konoha, and-
And he doesn't like that thought.
It's a sudden decision on his part. He decides to leave the lack of trust between them aside, for they both are Konoha shinobi now- and maybe Tobirama feels too fond of the man's fierce personality to actually think keeping his heart close to himself, so he could avoid getting it broken.
Instead of letting the matter drop, he speaks up before Madara can get away, "I think I can spare a moment for your ungrateful self, Uchiha."
Madara freezes with the cloth hanging down limply in his hand, water dripping from it drop by drop with nature chakra outlining them, and Tobirama feels the hissing-lava-and-sunset slowly settling down as the man turns on his heels. "Can you, now?" He sounds suspicious.
Tobirama rises from his seat to step towards him, and doesn't stop until there's only a feet between them. His heart is beating too fast, he realizes distantly, but he ignores it.
This is his decision -to let himself be vulnerable in front of Madara, to let him see what no one ever got to learn about him except his family- and he will follow it thoroughly.
Determined, he reaches to take the cloth from Madara's hand, and lifts the other one up to touch Madara's face. He gets a flinch in response, but his hand doesn't falter, instead he lets his fingers dance on the skin they're on, trying to find a wound that needs tending. The stubble Madara has scratches his hand, but it's a welcome sensation, even if it is unusual.
When he feels a sticky liquid touching his hand by the side of Madara's nose, he follows it up, from the corner of his eyes up to his temple, and finds the edge of a rough wound.
"Here." He lifts the damp cloth to wipe the wound, slow and deliberate.
The room stays silent as he tries to avoid the wound, and he has no idea if he can get all the blood off, he can't see, he doesn't know what he's doing right now, this is completely meaningless and stupid, insane, what is he doing-?
"You can't see." Madara breathes out into the silence at last, and his face slackens under Tobirama's hands with the realization.
"I can't," Tobirama affirms, feeling relief spread from his chest to the rest of his body now that he got his point across and doesn't need to continue this ridiculous… thing. But instead of stepping away, he lets his fingertips press firmer against Madara's cheek and stops wiping. The skin is warm under his hands, pleasant. "I was born without the ability."
The only response he gets is a loud exhale that hits his cheek and burns that spot as if it's a fireball jutsu Madara always seems so fond of. Then- then a hand sneaks around his waist, gentle and slow, and Tobirama lets it. His breath escapes from his lips as a shaky sigh, and he lets himself lean against the arm around him a little.
This whole thing is so strange, alien to him. All he's good for is fighting, he knows that, so what is he doing here? Madara is… Madara. He's a Clan Head that will need a proper match to spend a lifetime with him. Izuna already hates Tobirama enough that he probably wouldn't hesitate to poison him in his sleep- hell, Tobirama hates him just as much too, despises the possibility of one of Madara's clansmen having the blood of his brothers on their hands and yet living in the village he helped raising from the ground.
This -the possibility of this- can never work.
Then, the spark of life that belongs to Madara leans over to him, and rough, chapped lips press against the corner of his left eye.
All the doubts he has leaves Tobirama's mind, sinks into the sensation of Madara's careful touch that's like quicksand, and leaves its place to another peaceful sigh that slips past Tobirama's lips.
"You're impossible." Madara says, and his lips dance on the tender skin around his eye as he leaves another lingering kiss. Then, he draws back to let his head rest by Tobirama's, and pulls him into a hug.
Tobirama lets himself cling to the broad frame of the man instead of shooting back a comment of his own. He feels too off balance to reply, like he has lost his footing and can't get himself together again. Everything feels tender, too real that it burns.
"Impossible." Madara repeats fondly, and chuckles a little.
Tobirama doesn't fully hate the sound of it.