#i'm gonna say tobirama wins this chapter

[hoe-imaginess]

Part 3

I’ll see you tomorrow, she had said.

But she doesn’t.

In fact, she doesn’t see Madara for the rest of the week. She avoids the library. She avoids the Uchiha neighborhood. She does all of this despite the fact she wants to see him, and somehow wants to forgive him of the bold trespass and act as if it doesn’t shoot chills down her spine even now.

She doesn’t even have the sense to send him a message and forewarn her absences from their library rendezvous. She can’t put her apprehension into words, let alone lie about it on a slip of paper.

She also fears that she may have angered or insulted him. And if that’s true, she doesn’t put it past him to come looking for her. For that reason, she explores the village. Remaining indoors will only encourage the stifling concerns, or make it easier for him to confront her, and that’s the last thing she needs.

Although she knows tending to paperwork could potentially serve as another distraction, she can’t force herself to endure it today. It will mean delaying a stack of documents waiting to be read, but she’ll allow herself the sacrifice just this once. As long as she can prolong a confrontation with Madara, just until she gathers her wits, she can face the consequences later.

She’s admiring a flower stall when a little voice catches her attention.

“Excuse me.”

She peers down to the girl poking her arm. Her full, bright eyes seem familiar.

“Hi,” the girl says, almost confidently, with an enthusiastic smile on her face.

She tries not to act as surprised as she feels. “Hello.”

“Do you know who I am?”

The naivety of the voice is amusing. She gives the girl a curious, long look. “You’re one of Tobirama’s disciples, I believe,” she recalls with a soft smile.

The girl’s smile brightens, and she nods. “I’m Koharu. What are you doing today?”

“What am I doing today?” she repeats, diverted by her charisma. She had met the girl only once, and in the briefest of encounters, but knows better than to question the endeavors of a child. “Well, nothing really—”

“Then will you come eat dango with me?”

She almost wants to laugh. “I’m sorry?”

“Tobirama-sensei won’t let us eat dango. If another adult comes, he might.” This time, the girl tugs on her sleeve and tries to lead her in the opposite direction. 

“Is that what he said?” the woman asks, genuinely curious, but hesitant to surrender to the girl’s impulse.

“No,” Koharu admits. “But I’m sure he will. You should come!”

“Koharu—” She’s surprised by how tight her grip is. “I don’t think I can—”

Tobirama rounds the corner of the flower stall, ready to scold the young girl for wandering off as soon as he spots her. “Koharu. I said—” Then he stops when he notices the woman at her side.

She’s equally anxious, and doesn’t know why a greeting is stuck in her throat, but she can’t find the will to speak. They hadn’t actually spoken since the day before the academy meeting, and presumably, with an air of civility. Yet for some reason, she questions where they stand in that moment, almost like the caution is instinctive.

“_______,” he says first.

“Tobirama.”

The Senju is trailed by the two other members of his team. The Sarutobi catches her attention first. His arms are crossed, and he’s frowning. She can’t help but wonder if he idolizes Tobirama that much.

“Stop wandering off Koharu,” the boy snaps.

“I was trying to get dango for us!” she protests, then turns to Tobirama. “Tobirama-sensei, if she comes with us, we have to go get dango.”

Tobirama perks a curious brow, wondering where the girl conjured such an ultimatum. "I told you no, Koharu.”

She pouts, but her tight grip on the woman’s sleeve is unyielding. How persistent.

“What if _______-san wants dango!?”

“Don’t argue!” Hiruzen contends. And the two are in a shouting match almost immediately. Koharu even forgets her grip on the woman’s sleeve as she storms toward the Sarutobi boy.

The woman watches them argue, both amused and perplexed by the spectacle. She didn’t imagine Tobirama’s disciples to be so rowdy. But they are kids, after all. And judging by the way Tobirama has yet to reprimand them, his leniency is more predominant than he would probably ever admit.

“It’s their day off,” he’s telling her suddenly, arms crossed, expression hard. “Which they don’t deserve.”

Koharu pouts, attention momentarily drawn away from Hiruzen. “That’s not fair, sensei. We haven’t had a break in weeks.”

"You don’t deserve one,” Hiruzen mutters, and suddenly they’re at it again, like second nature.

"They really are quite unruly.”

Tobirama looks at her as she says it, surprised to see the lightest of smiles adorning her lips.

He had seen her briefly days before, not long after their academy meeting, rushing into Hashirama’s office for something he never quite figured out. Unfortunately for her, Hashirama was absent, which only seemed to fluster her further when she came face-to-face with him instead.

Her efforts to subdue herself failed. He could see she was a mess of emotions, and it didn’t take much to sense Madara’s chakra clinging to her either. That was upsetting in itself. He had wanted to ask her about it, but the idea of badgering her while she was already distraught kept him from inquiring. And even now, he’s unsettled to see that she’s still distressed. He can read it in her expression, in the tentative glint of her eyes. But his students seem to serve as a suitable distraction for her. For once, he’s grateful.

“Sensei.” Koharu turns to him when she runs out of fuel to contend Hiruzen any longer. “Will you let us eat dango if we promise to work extra hard tomorrow?”

Tobirama frowns. “You should be working extra hard regardless.”

“Yeah!” Hiruzen exclaims, but the determination and confidence in his face falls a moment later, even before Koharu can chastise him. “But I am pretty hungry.”

Now the trio look to their sensei expectedly. Even the quiet one in the back who has yet to speak, the woman notes.

And they all adopt that persuasive softness in their eyes that Tobirama hates. They pull his heart strings in an annoying way. He hopes his contriving talents aren’t rubbing off on them. They’re becoming much too proficient in the art of swaying him.

That, and it’s no help to his conviction that she’s still right next to him. Still smiling, still looking pleased and content with the scene before her.

He doesn’t care much about how she views him as a sensei. He would deny the trio, then command that they run laps around the village the rest of the evening, and with no qualms whatsoever. Whether or not she saw him as unfair or stern for that isn’t something that he would allow to bother him. Why should he care? She probably thought as much already.

Yet again… maybe he does care. Just a little.

“Fine.”

Koharu grins and shouts in joy, and Hiruzen looks awfully triumphant. Even Homura can’t stop his smile.

“Will you eat with us sensei?” Hiruzen asks.

“I have work to do.”

He frowns, then Hiruzen tests his luck and points to the woman at his side. “Will you come?"

Tobirama feels incredibly foolish for the way he listens in for the answer.

She considers it. "Well…” 

Would it be unprofessional to agree? She doesn’t have the time, which could definitely serve as an excuse to decline. Paperwork remains as an annoyingly persistent reminder at the back of her mind. However, that seems incidental, considering she’s been wandering around the village procrastinating for who knows how long… and then she remembers why she’s there in the first place. 

A dango shop is likely the last place Madara would ever think to visit. Or at least, she hopes. Moreover, the presence of Tobirama and his team is somehow comforting, no matter how unconventional. In the end, she decides there’s no harm in it. 

When she agrees, Tobirama wishes he had never permitted it. But it’s virtually impossible to quell the team’s enthusiasm at that point, and he’s compelled to join them after insistent pleading.

The trio take their own table in the shop, and she shares the adjacent with Tobirama. They substitute tea for dango, observing the trio’s antics to pass the time. She doesn’t realize he’s also been observing her, until she catches him staring.

He would glance away, not liking that he was caught, but something stops him. Which is surprising, since their shared, unyielding gaze denotes an awkward silence that makes him feel odd. He’s the first to look away in the end.

He wants to say something, just to mediate the tension, a sentiment he finds so unusual. When has he ever bothered with the formality of conversation just to alleviate silence? 

“Can I ask you something?” She takes over the task for him.

He looks at her, curious but apprehensive. “What?”

She probably shouldn’t say it. She knows it won’t welcome anything productive or pleasant. “You and Madara.” The second she says the Uchiha’s name, Tobirama’s eyes narrow. "Besides outdated clan tension… why?”

“Why what?”

She frowns. “You know what. Why the hostility?”

She already knows the answer, at least on Madara’s behalf. Losing a sibling is gruesome. Looking your sibling’s murderer in the eye day after day is even worse. But if Tobirama’s loathing is anything like Madara’s, there must be something more that encourages the ill will.

He works his jaw in annoyance. It’s frustrating that she would even ask. Not that he ever tires of disparaging Madara, but it’s unpleasant that she would meddle. He decides to press the responsibility on her.

“Why?” he asks. “What has he told you?”

And she knows what he’s doing. She should have expected him to take the opportunity and pry into Madara’s agenda. It’s only natural that he would be so shrewd.

“He’s told me a few things,” she admits. “But your dislike for Madara is well known. You don’t bother concealing it.”

“And what things has he told you?”

“I know you killed his last brother."

She says it with no hesitation at all, and can practically feel the frustration radiating off of him. The subject was merely beating a dead horse.

"Is that it? It was war,” he argues. “Was I supposed to let him kill me first?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then why run to Madara’s defense?”

“That’s not what I’m doing, either.”

Tobirama inhales a deep breath to dismantle his anger. If he had any ambition for their conversation to find a pleasant end, it was gone. “The Uchiha killed my brothers,” he tells her. “They probably killed your family, too. Your friends. Your clansmen.”

"The Uchiha. Not Madara in particular.”

Yet as she says it, she knows there’s logically no way to know for certain. She has no immediate family left. Only an aunt and a few cousins. The sting of that acknowledgement always eats at her. The idea of Madara taking a life that meant so much to her… it’s painful to entertain.

“You can’t blame Madara for everything,” she argues to repel the troubling thoughts. “Like you said, it was war. We were all fighting to survive. It’s only natural that some of us would kill, and die.” She takes a deep breath. “Even our families.”

“Then you can understand why I’m still sore about it.”

The tone irritates her. How is it possible to live in such ignorance? “If I treated you with the same contempt that you treat Madara, simply because of what happened in the past—”

“Are you suggesting that you don’t?”

She stops her next rebuttal, because she realizes it’s true. Even if her hostility has wavered significantly as of late, Tobirama makes it difficult to fully welcome cordiality. She can’t forget how strenuous he made her time as advisor during their negotiations. She hasn’t let go of the anger.

"My reasons are different. I don’t hold on to what happened during war. And I wouldn’t call it contempt. But the transition into the village was difficult for me and my clan, and you didn’t help that. Don’t tell me my anger isn’t solicited. With the way you treated us in the beginning—”

“That’s not what we’re discussing. And if you’re so adamant about forgiving past discretions, then speak no more of the negotiations.” The authority in his tone stops her from going on. “You asked me a question, and I’m answering.”

"You’re right,” she admits, but he can clearly see the frustration twisting into her expression. “So then answer my question. And truthfully. Because you can’t refute what I’ve told you. Even I can look past what transpired in war. So, why do you hate him?”

"I don’t trust him.”

It’s simple, but familiar. She feels like Madara is sitting across from her, spewing the same words, the same enmity.

“I’m not lenient with those I don’t trust,” he continues. “For my clan, and for the village.”

She doesn’t know what compels her. Maybe it’s because the little dango shop is void of the diplomatic restraint that always hangs over her. Maybe it’s because too much has been on her mind. But she snaps at him.

“The Uchiha are part of the village. And so are we, my clan. So am I. Yet you decided to neglect my clan and—”

“That’s not what I did—”

“How can you tell me that’s not what you did, when we were the ones suffering because of it?"

Her incredulous outburst is just loud enough that Tobirama’s team falls silent. It even draws the eyes of other customers.

Tobirama notices, but doesn’t feel ashamed. He only feels the ire grasping at his chest. Yet, he’s equally annoyed that it always comes down to this. A never ending contention he can’t seem to escape.

It’s a long moment before he wipes the scowl off of his face and exhales slowly. He forces down his anger, and realizes the calm is much more forgiving on his fatigued mind, even if his pride is compromised.

"I don’t want to argue,” he says quietly.

He takes a sip of his tea and enjoys the warmth that slides down his chest, before her next words bring that warmth back to his cheeks in the threat of irritation.

"Tobirama Senju doesn’t want to argue?” Her voice is softer now, seemingly inspired by the same composure. “I don’t believe that.”

He closes his eyes and frowns, ignoring the way his own conscience mocks his vulnerability. "I don’t have the time. I shouldn’t even be here. I should be at the academy.”

The mention of it brings her disconcerting memories. Madara defending her. Madara walking her around the village. The grassy field. His intense eyes. His hands on her.

She wonders what Tobirama had thought when Madara spoke out for her at the meeting, and wonders what he would think had he known what transpired between them afterward.

She puts down the shiver that runs through her and utilizes the change of atmosphere. “Have you had any luck funding the academy?”

He’s surprised at how easily she deserts her frustration, but decides not to comment, if only to encourage their little cease fire.

“A few clans back my efforts. But it won’t be enough if we want to put the academy into effect immediately. Without the resources and support we need, that won’t be possible. Building the damn thing was easier than stocking it.” She sees the lines of distress and prolonged anxiety in his face. She suddenly feels sympathy for him. "I can’t put nothing but Senju in this academy to serve as instructors. It needs to be a village effort.”

“My clan wasn’t opposed to it,” she offers.

“They didn’t agree to it either.”

That’s true. She had considered appealing to her clan heads after their obvious reluctance at the meeting, but hadn’t found the motivation to do so. At least, not until now.

“I can change their minds,” she says confidently.

He eyes her curiously, waiting for clarification.

“I think the academy is necessary,” she goes on. “Every clan that comes to the village brings children that need to be trained, trained the right way.”

That their ethics seem to correspond is unforeseen, though oddly pleasant. “Is that so?” he says, encouraging her to continue.

“It’s a comfort knowing the village as a whole can work towards a cause. No matter the differences between clans. If there’s anything we need right now, it’s an institution within the village to bring us together.”

And that’s when she realizes she’s used ‘us’ for the first time when referring to the village. Maybe the sense of isolation that weighed her down so vigorously those last few weeks was on account of her own obtuseness. It’s satisfying to actually acknowledge herself as a member of the village.

Maybe Tobirama notices the shift in her demeanor too, because he leans in, as if interested.

“At the meeting, you seemed more devoted to defending your clan’s grievances than promoting my agenda.”

“Yes,” she admits. “Maybe I just hadn’t thoroughly considered what you were saying.”

Or maybe she was distracted by Madara. As ridiculous as that sounds, it was probably true. She could hardly focus on anything except him that entire meeting. It makes her feel guilty, having not given Tobirama’s ambitions serious thought. She sees the value in his words, and finds the idea of the academy, the idea of collaborating with Tobirama, promising. Maybe even exciting. 

“Also,” he begins, uncertain whether it’s relevant anymore, or if he should address it at all, but he’s genuinely and painstakingly curious, “you let the Shimura reprove you, and didn’t counter him at all. Why?”

“Well, Madara did that for me.”

She doesn’t like how that sounds, suddenly. It suggests something along the lines of fragility and weakness. He doesn’t like it either.

The second the Shimura opened his mouth, Tobirama had half the mind to demand that he leave. He wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense. Then Madara chose to play her knight in shining armor, which now that Tobirama thinks about it, is a product of his own hesitance. That’s even more frustrating. Never before has he withheld admonishing as he saw fit, especially at the expense of someone as idiotic and unpalatable as the Shimura leader. He was more than ready to upbraid the man, so why didn’t he?

“Not that he had any right to do so,” she murmurs suddenly, and catches his attention. “Madara is... a little more familiar than he should be, at times.”

“Is that so?” He can’t help but suspect that she’s equivocating the situation. “You two seem more than familiar.”

“No,” she corrects him almost too hastily, and for some reason, she feels like she’s betraying Madara by saying it. “Not really. I just consider him… more like my first true acquaintance here.” She realizes then as she speaks it into reality, that she hasn’t even admitted that to Madara. 

Tobirama is giving her full attention, even if they are discussing the man he abhors. His sharp, scarlet eyes watch her with a casual warmth, comforting her in a way she can’t describe. If she could ever tell Tobirama Senju was actually invested in anything, it would look like this.

But that’s mostly a product of his fleeting guilt. For anyone to gravitate toward Madara Uchiha, they must be desperate. Lonely, even. Which is probably a direct result of the way he treated her and her clan in the beginning. Had he really left her with no other option but to turn to the Uchiha for solace?

“And what about now?” he asks.

“What about now?” she returns, a little too defensively.

His lips tug downward in irritated doubt. He’s no fool. It’s obvious there’s tension prevalent in her relationship with the man. The way she tenses up at the mere mention of Madara’s name is more than enough proof of that. He figures he might as well inquire while he can.

“You seem uncomfortable. Does it have something to do with him?”

“No,” she answers all too fast. “What makes you say that?”

Then he decides it’s no use, not at the risk of putting her in a position she probably doesn’t want to be in. He’s finally found a median between her fierceness and calm. Triggering her temper is not something he wants to entertain at the moment.

“It’s nothing.”

Before she can open her mouth to say another word, she stops. She probably shouldn’t pry into his curiosity. It would start another argument.

Besides, thinking about Madara and their current relationship for too long only sends a prickling apprehension through her. To make matters worse, Tobirama says nothing, dubiously inviting another silence, one only interrupted by the exuberant chattering and exclamations from the trio at their side.

“I think it’s about time I leave,” she says, and stands from her seat. “I have a ridiculous amount of paperwork to read over.”

She’s about to reach into her pockets to fish out money, but he stops her.

“It’s fine, I have it.”

Her mouth opens to thank him, but she realizes how awkward and unusually congenial that would be. For them, at least. She just nods.

Yet as she walks away, leaving him with the parting gift of tense silence, she realizes it can’t keep ending like this. Like it always does.

So she turns to him. “Could I stop by the Senju office sometime soon? I know we’ve already settled negotiations and there’s truly no need to pester you further. But perhaps to discuss the academy? I have some ideas. If you would even be interested, of course.”

Is it a little audacious of her? Probably. She had no reason to seek any further collaboration with him. Not after the disarray of their past negotiations. That in itself branches suspicion through him. Yet, the idea intrigues him in a curious, but confusing way.

After carefully examining her, he nods. “That’s fine.”

And then she nods in turn, even smiles, and walks out of the shop.

He watches her until she’s out of sight. The next moment, Hiruzen and Koharu are interrogating him about the entire ordeal.

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’s so caught up in the myriad of enthusiasm that she doesn’t realize she’s venturing down an alley adjacent to Hashirama’s office. Then Madara is walking out the front door and approaching her.

Her steps falter. She wonders if she should turn and hurry the other way, but he’s already spotted her. It would be foolish of her to run away from it now. It’s probably what he expects, anyways. So she walks on, and faces him.

“You must have been extremely engrossed with work this past week not to come by the library once,” he says when he stops and blocks her path, voice full of smooth, pointed condescension. 

His approach is so sudden she actually backs up against the nearest wall, a mistake she only acknowledges once he looms closer and leers down at her.

“Yes, actually. I have been busy.”

Madara has never heard her voice so laced with audacity. Normally, he would like it. Now, it’s just annoying.

He examines her closely, for a long time. “Do you want me to apologize for what I did?” he asks slowly.

“Madara, that’s not… I was busy, nothing else,” she assures, ignoring the question that flusters her so much, and finding it difficult to look into his eyes as he glowers.

She feels trapped against the wall, trapped by his powerful eyes. A genjutsu with no sign of his sharingan. Her eyes move down the alley to see if they’re alone. And they are.

“Answer my question.”

Her eyes return to his. Would an apology compensate for what happened? Would it make any difference when the impression he made won’t disappear? Besides, she knows imploring for an apology would make her look weak. That’s not what she wants.

"No. I don’t need an apology.”

“Good.”

Her eyes narrow. She grasps for a quick witted reply, hopefully something insulting. She thinks it’s only fair to repay him with scorn.

Nothing comes, but he gives her no opportunity anyway. A meaningful, sharp look is all he offers as he steps away and continues down the alley in the opposite direction.

She stands still, doesn’t even look to watch him depart. She wants to be angry, wants to be disgusted. But she can’t. She just can’t.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~

Days shift into weeks, and she finds herself seeking solace in the Senju. One Senju in particular.

Collaborating with Tobirama for academy details has occupied most of her time. She often comes to speak with him and discuss lesson plans, classroom organization, and school hours, among other things. She’s half convinced he’s only allowing her input because she was one of, if not the first, to jump on board when it came to the academy’s foundation in the first place. But she finds that she’s more than happy to take up the job when they seem to function so surprisingly well together.

It’s unusual, given that weeks before, she would have found Tobirama’s presence alone troubling. She couldn’t settle in a room with him for more than minutes at a time without trying her own patience. But now she feels… welcomed by him.

Despite these occasional clemencies that for some reason got her heart pounding with excitement, she knows lingering tension is still buried within the depths of their conversations, within the very ambience around them. She would be foolish to assume it could be erased in its entirety, and in such a short amount of time. It hangs over them, a bomb waiting to be triggered. But so far, there have been no incidents, no jumping down each other’s throats. It’s a grand improvement from where they once were. Tobirama proves that one day in particular.

She comes to the office he shares with Hashirama to deliver an inventory report about weapons, rations, even the forehead protectors they had discussed—but when she walks in, she can feel the thickness of irritability around him.

He’s stressed. Very stressed. More so than usual. She figures it’s better to leave before he snaps at her and they spiral into an unnecessary argument.

She leaves the report on his desk. “Here’s the rundown of supplies we have, and what we need.”

Without waiting for a response, she turns to leave, a little disappointed that she’ll have to forfeit their daily conversation on account of his choleric nature.

Then softly, almost soft enough that she doesn’t even hear it,

"I appreciate it.”

His tone is distracted, but purposeful. She looks back as soon as he says it, because it’s obvious he doesn’t know what he’s done, not until he stops writing and glances up at her when he notices the pause.

It’s then he realizes, but attempts ignorance. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says, doing an exceptionally good job of feigning innocence as she walks away. But he can practically feel the smirk radiating off of her as she leaves.

                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s his anniversary, but Hashirama forces himself to spend the entire day in his office. He’s determined to clinch the pile of documents he’s amassed that week so he can head home and spend time with Mito. He feels like he hardly sees his wife at all as of late. 

She had swatted his shoulder playfully that morning and told him to finish work first before he tried to pull the anniversary card. Tobirama or Madara would undoubtedly upbraid him for even attempting it anyway, so he’ll keep his mouth shut. But certainly, there’s nothing wrong with a little incentive? Besides, he needs a break, even if no one but him thinks so.

Madara comes into the office a few minutes later, effectively distracting him from his work.

“Good afternoon,” Hashirama gushes, much too cheery for someone who looks like he’s drowning in scrolls.

Madara takes one look at the clutter on his desk and sighs. “What have you been doing all day, Hashirama?”

He pouts. “Don’t jump to conclusions! I finished all I needed to, and more. I’m trying to get ahead today.”

Madara is genuinely surprised, but also knows Hashirama doesn’t neglect village prosperity when it comes down to it, so it seems solicited.

He takes a seat next to the Senju, and aside from the normal brooding, Hashirama notes a gloomy air clinging to his friend.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No. I’m only considering this academy business that Tobirama is promoting.”

Hashirama frowns. “What specifically?”

"Asking these other clans to contribute and compromise, when they had enough of that moving into the village. It feels rushed.”

"Well, maybe.” Hashirama has considered that, but he’s too hesitant to imply to Tobirama that something seems amiss in his agenda. That’s not an argument he wants to risk. “But it’s something the village needs. We want the future generations to be unified.”

Madara makes a strained huff of agreement, but his concerns aren’t gone. “Everyone is running around in circles trying to acclimate and supply for their own, Hashirama. Expanding and settling. How can they be expected to make significant promises to the academy?”

“It’s going to be slow at first,” Hashirama admits, flipping through a stack of unsigned papers. His stomach twists in impatience already. "And the clans who don’t contribute the required amount will unfortunately be held responsible until they can supply their part. At least, that’s what Tobirama says. It will all fall into place with time.”

Madara looks at him. “What do you mean?”

Realizing his mistake a moment too late, Hashirama flushes, and can only stare at his Uchiha comrade. “Well…”

He knows he shouldn’t have mentioned it at all, but it was inevitable. He can’t keep anything from Madara. That, and Tobirama’s harsh diplomacy has been pestering his peace of mind. It’s no longer possible to keep the waves of uncertainty under wraps. He needed to share it with somebody.

“Tobirama is convinced we should limit the amount of students from each clan that we allow to join the academy. The number will be proportionate to the amount of teachers and supplies that certain clan can offer. A give and take policy, Tobirama said…”

Hashirama is immediately disheartened, because he can practically feel Madara’s disgust with his brother growing. 

He can’t decide if what happens next proves to be a reprieve from the burgeoning tension, or an incentive. But it does hinder whatever argument was meant to entail.

Madara hears her before he sees her. Outside the office resonates her sweet, familiar laugh, and by the time his eyes wander to the door, she’s already walking in behind Tobirama.

Strange enough, even he’s smiling about whatever had her so amused. It’s a genuine smile, too. One Madara doesn’t think he’s ever seen on the younger Senju before.

They quickly stifle their diversion after realizing that Hashirama is not the only one present. That they hide it makes it all the worse for Madara.

"Tobirama! ______-san,” Hashirama gleams. She smiles, but isn’t surprised when Tobirama brushes aside the greeting, and automatically takes the artfulness of diplomacy.

"Brother.” Tobirama glances away from Madara finally, attempting to ignore the Uchiha’s dark scrutiny. “I trust you reviewed the preceding requests from the daimyo.”

“Yes! I have.” Hashirama sounds so excited, so proud.

As he shuffles through a stack of scrolls, Tobirama realizes she’s not at his side anymore. She remains at the door, not daring to come closer. But he doesn’t have to guess why.

Madara’s eyes are firmly planted on her. She doesn’t break eye contact with the Uchiha, not once as the conversation between brothers continues undisturbed.

Hashirama is bragging about the work he’s managed to finish, and Tobirama is trying to focus, since his elder brother’s accomplishment is both surprising and pleasing. But he can’t handle the tension between the two others in the room. It stirs the pain of curiosity that has been eating at him since the night she came into Hashirama’s office looking flustered and anxious, with the Uchiha’s chakra all over her. What the hell had Madara done to agitate her that much?

Then Hashirama says something particular that breaks his train of thought.

“Brother,” Tobirama snaps. “We can’t establish trade routes until we actually have commodities to trade.”

"But we can promise something, at least,” Hashirama insists. “At least what the Senju have exported before.”

“Not yet. Before you even think of showing these to the daimyo, you have to budget our own goods to make certain you’re not blindly lending out your generosity.”

“Tobirama—”

“No. Our first priority is supplying for the village.”

“But—”

“No—”

"Enough,” Madara snaps. For the first time, his eyes leave the woman and hone in on Tobirama. “The Uchiha will contribute to the trade exports. That will be sufficient.”

Hashirama is startled. Madara is never that responsive to Tobirama’s attitude. He’s not usually one to antagonize. Hashirama hoped to never witness equal grounds of acrimony between them, and it’s fretfully unsettling that they’ve come to that point.

Tobirama glares, naturally. If there’s one thing he hates more than the Uchiha opening his mouth, it’s when he opens his mouth and addresses him directly. And to chide him no less? Tobirama is almost as disgruntled as his brother, ready to argue, until Madara breaks the thick gaze for a second. Just a split second, and he glances back to the office door, to her. Tobirama puts together the pieces almost immediately.

Madara is expecting him to fly off the handle. To make a scene. To embellish whatever unpleasant and heinous image of him that the Uchiha has tried to fashion in her mind. Madara expects him to be the bad guy. 

So Tobirama bites back what he wants to say, though it’s quite the task. Hashirama aids his restraint, jumping at the opportunity of silence and trying to redirect Tobirama’s attention.

"Yes, I’ll make arrangements,” he promises quickly. “That was my mistake.”

Hashirama doesn’t often appeal to Tobirama’s whims so easily, not unless he’s uncomfortable with the tension and hopes to mediate it as swiftly and harmlessly as possible. Now that tension is stifling. Not just with his brother and his best friend. Now, Hashirama soaks up the new tension he has discovered—the subtle, grim looks Madara sends to the other side of the room not going unnoticed.

“Good,” Tobirama mutters, practically seething with suppressed indignation.

He doesn’t look at Madara again. He passes over a document to Hashirama, the entire purpose for the toilsome visit. “Read over these,” he says curtly, and makes for the door.

Madara’s eyes are still on her, up until the very moment she leaves the room with Tobirama, trailing him, like a loyal dog, he thinks heatedly. 

“That was cold, Madara,“ Hashirama says as soon as they’re alone.

The Uchiha scoffs. “The myriad of times your brother has treated me with the same scorn, and now you admonish me?”

“I wasn’t talking about Tobirama.”

Madara doesn’t even blink, but notes the unwelcome feelings of irritation take over once again. “Why do you say that?”

“Why? Because I notice you hardly speak to her anymore.”

“I’ve been doing other things. So has she, apparently.” He adds the last part in only to appease his own spite.

Hashirama scratches his cheek. “She does spend a lot of time with Tobirama. Which I’m glad for. That whole ordeal with her clan and the treaty was a mess, and they seem to get along now. But you two always seemed so—”

“I have been doing other things,” he reiterates.

“Like?”

Madara looks at him. “You’re more persistent than usual.”

“I’m just curious.”

He sighs. “As I said, this academy dilemma is distracting. Hopefully we can alleviate the pressure on clans in the village, while at the same time reinforcing our hold on this land with trade negations. Then I will be at ease.”

He sounds honest. Honest enough that Hashirama wants to believe him. The idea of Madara juggling underlying tension outside of village negotiations is upsetting. Hashirama wants to know. He feels like he needs to. He wants to pry, but he knows Madara’s patience and willingness to open up is brittle. And if Madara says it’s only slight problems justifying his anxieties, then perhaps Hashirama’s own are unwarranted.

Besides, the Senju is reminded of the workload he’s burdened with when he looks upon his desk. He momentarily puts aside his concerns in favor signing as many documents as he can.

                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She meets with Tobirama the following day. It’s not a necessary venture, but she finds herself steering toward the Senju office as soon as she steps out of her home every morning, needing some sense of comfort to distract her incessantly busy mind.

Before she can take the first step toward the office door, however, Tobirama walks out.

He appears momentarily surprised to see her. “My brother and Madara are conducting a meeting with the Akimichi today,” he says almost immediately.

She realizes he means that the building is currently occupied. Tobirama is simply saving the both of them from being in the same vicinity as the Uchiha, possibly evading another awkward encounter. She’s grateful.

“Oh. I see.”

He expects her to leave, to tell him that they can discuss more academy business another day.

“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind coming to my side of the village to talk about the academy?” she suggests.

His eyes narrow. He doesn’t like that idea. Not at all. Almost immediately, it shifts his mind into a discomfort of unfamiliarity.

“We have our own office that the clan heads rarely use. Also, our own library,” she adds, like she’s trying to convince him. “It’s smaller than the public library, but reserved only for advisors and the clan heads. We won’t be disturbed.”

He considers it, wondering why he’s so anxious. It’s definitely going to remove him from his comfort zone, if he ever had one in the first place.

Then he clears his throat without thoroughly considering his own verdict. “Fine.”

She smiles softly, satisfied that he put up no fight.

However, on the way there, it’s quiet, and annoyingly awkward. She also receives a decent number of quizzical looks from her clansmen when she wanders through the streets with Tobirama Senju at her side, but she tries to ignore them.

There’s no conversation, even though she has a setting suspicion that he’s trying to furnish one. She starts thinking about how funny it all seems. The Senju, so feared in war. Tobirama for his cunning nature on the battlefield, for his dexterity and quickness. Now he’s there, pretending to admire nearby buildings to avoid conversation with her. She would laugh if she wasn’t convinced it would start an argument.

When they arrive at the library, she realizes she hasn’t stepped foot inside of the place for far too long. She only frequents the village’s main library, and always with Madara at her side. That’s one of the most obvious differences—walking in and watching Tobirama take the farthest seat away from her, as if proximity is to be avoided at all costs. He even persists his silence, offering no casual repartee. It’s not what she’s used to, and not what she expected.

Eventually, she caters to her curiosity and boldly asks about the arrangements being made with daimyo, and reluctantly, Tobirama explains the situation, mostly prattling on about Hashirama’s impetuous enthusiasm, which she doesn’t mind. If slandering his brother is an outlet for his irritation, she won’t stop him, even if somewhere deep down, she feels guilty for allowing jovial, good-natured Hashirama to be shamed so freely. She should be coming to his defense, but Tobirama looks more relaxed as he continues. The calm is infectious, and she finds herself smiling more often than not.

Along the way, the conversation shifts, and they’re suddenly arguing about something completely off topic. Yet she notices for the first time, it’s a harmless dispute more than anything.

He’s convinced that beyond the valley where the village is settled, there’s no closer stream for fresh water than one that runs parallel to the village. Which means the capacity will become scarce if the entire populace depends on that alone. Any outside source of water is much too far, and requires an unnecessary commute that they can’t afford. And she’s convinced they can afford it, swearing by the fact there was indeed another source of water nearby. It leads to her searching for a map among the hundreds of scrolls stocked in the library.

“It’s here somewhere,” she says, sifting through the highest possible shelf, standing on the highest possible step of a dangerously aged ladder.

Tobirama is ridiculously nervous, for whatever reason. Like he’s watching a toddler waddle too close to the pointed edge of a table. Before he knows it, he’s standing at the foot of the ladder, waiting tentatively.

“Don’t you keep anything organized in here,” he mutters, glancing around at the shelves. "Nothing is in order. How do you find anything?”

“I manage. Besides, we’re still in the process of stocking it with all of our records.” And suddenly, the slit of her dress slips down her bent leg, leaving her thigh much too exposed.

He stares, much longer than he cares to admit, before shutting his eyes and turning away. “It seems impossible to function,” he says.

“Why do you think I settle for the public library?”

He frowns at the tease of a counter, but says nothing, too occupied with pacifying his thoughts.

“Here it is.”

She rises on her toes for the reach, then pulls out a scroll by her very fingertips. In the blink of an eye, as she descends the ladder, her foot misses one step by an inch, and she’s slipping.

Natural of a kunoichi, she catches herself just as quickly as she falls, but not before he reacts.

Were they in battle, his agile and intuitiveness would have proven admirable. But his quick reaction apparently serves no benefit. When he reaches out to catch her, he grabs what’s right in front of him, with no thought at all.

She doesn’t even realize the firm grip planted on her ass is Tobirama’s hand, not until he recoils just as swiftly. She goes stiff and doesn’t move. She hears his futile attempt at an apology, then he goes completely silent.

All she wants to do is laugh, but she can’t. That wouldn’t be fair to him.

When she climbs down the steps and turns to face him, she finds that he’s much more flustered than she is, arms crossed, stance rigid, refusing to look at her. She’s about to say something, but he beats her to it.

“Can I see?”

“I’m sorry?”

He holds out his hand. “The map.”

She comes back to reality with a muddled oh, and hands him the scroll.

He returns to his seat almost immediately, and as soon as he’s out of sight, she clasps a hand over her mouth and smirks. It’s almost enough entertainment to subdue the pressures of clan and village drama that constantly beat down on her. She doesn’t compose herself until he’s impatiently calling for her and insisting that they return to their work.

She goes to the table, choosing the seat closest to him this time.

                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~

During their midday break, they visit the academy. His team is there, along with a group of other students she doesn’t recognize. They’re training and sparring, but mostly goofing around.

She glances at Tobirama as they stand by and watch. He looks pleased, for once.

On the way there, and for the duration of the time since their little incident, he hadn’t been able to look her in the eyes. He still won’t, in fact. She finds it oddly amusing, though maybe a little ridiculous. But she can forgive it, for the time being. The genuine smile on his face as he watches his students compensates for the cold demeanor.

She joked with him once and told him how much nicer he looked when he wasn’t brooding. And he had responded, of course, with a brooding frown. But looking at him now, with his uncharacteristically soft and relaxed expression, it’s undeniably true.

It was what she imagined a village to look like. Standing with a Senju, watching children of different clans cavort with one another. Peaceful. Comforting.

Then it’s swept away.

Hashirama makes his approach known with that distinguishable, exuberant voice of his. “Tobirama!” he grins, then notices her at his side. “Ah, ______-san, what are you two doing here?” His presence would normally be a jovial addition to the fine moment, but it’s who trails him that throws anxiety back into her body.

As soon as he sees her, Madara’s disposition too seems to change. It goes unnoticed only by Hashirama, who falls into conversation with Tobirama as he comes to his brother’s side.

Luckily, Madara remains near Hashirama, and the Senju brothers serve as a strong barrier between her and the Uchiha. Yet all it takes is a swift glance across them to confirm that he’s staring at her.

In the blink of an eye, she returns her focus to the training children, though it’s impossible to shake the weight of his gaze.

She looks to Tobirama for help, hoping she can intervene on his conversation in an effort to distract her from the grievous anxiety, but no such look. Naturally, he seems to be chastising Hashirama for something she can’t quite decipher. When she confirms that they’ll likely remain occupied with their own dilemmas, she tests her fortitude, glancing over once again and hoping to find that Madara has abandoned his severe scrutiny.

Still, he glowers. It’s then she understands tenacity won’t help her.

She clears her throat just loud enough to put a pause to whatever protest Hashirama had for Tobirama’s scolding. “I have more business to attend to with my clan heads,” she speaks. “You’ll have to excuse me, I think I should head back now.”

“Of course,” Hashirama smiles. “I hope my brother hasn’t taken up too much of your time.”

“No, of course not. The fault is mine, actually. I just lost track of time. I have work to do.”

Tobirama’s eyes narrow imperceptibly. He knows that’s not true. When he had inquired earlier about her schedule, she made it quite clear that she had no matters to attend to, the reason she had been so accepting of their academy discussions in the first place. He knows there’s something amiss.

As she leaves, Madara calls her name quietly in passing, and speaks to her under his breath.

Tobirama is the only one outside of the pair to notice, but he doesn’t hear what the Uchiha is saying, no matter how he strains to listen. Hashirama has returned to his prattling, and it’s impossible to drone out that zealous voice.

Nevertheless, Tobirama gathers it’s not a pleasant exchange. He doesn’t like the apprehension that pools into her features as the Uchiha speaks down to her.

All that Tobirama hears is her response. In a clipped, low voice, she answers him,

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

Then she’s gone.