Chapter Text
Staring at her older brother, Tobirama did not let the shock, nor betrayal, make it’s way onto her face. Instead, she let him babble on, his words becoming more frantic and nonsensical as her silence continued. And when he finally tampered off, nervously twitching, Tobirama finally spoke. With a bow of her head, she replied with a voice just as blank as her expression, “If that is what you wish, Aniue.”
He wailed and dragged her into a too tight hug, crying about what a good sister she was. But Tobirama just felt her mind growing distant with what her future would look like. She wasn’t an idiot, knowing if she didn’t die on the battlefield, she would just be married off the secure an alliance. Despite how sickly her complexion was, unable to be in the sunlight or heat for too long, or how her eye sight was impaired to mainly blurs, she was deemed fertile. And fertility went a long ways.
But, marriage to their enemies, the Uchiha, for peace was unexpected. Or at least, to many it would be. But not to her, mind too sharp for her own good sometimes. No matter how much their father hated it, he could not deny that between his two remaining children, she was the genius. She was what he wanted for a son: cold, calculating, logical. Willing to sacrifice anything for the sake of their family and legacy.
When Tobirama first heard her brother’s desperate pleads to end the war with the Uchiha, she scoffed, knowing there was no hope as long as the two previous patriarchs lived. But his despair hurt her heart, and she would do anything to make him happy. Killing her father was easy. Making it look like an old injury failing him was easy. Consoling her brother was easy. Knowing that the most ancient and easy way to call a truce was marriage, was hard. But their father was a threat to their clan, and it was his own fault for drilling unwavering loyalty into her head. So she did not hesitate to end his life for the good of their family and future.
Tobirama understood clan elders, not like her brother, and knew what they would suggest - or demand more likely - when her brother came forward with the proposal. He was stubborn and would not back down, Tobirama observed quietly with forever assessing eyes. The compromise would be marriage and she was the best contender, being the only female from the previous clan head. Her husband would either be Izuna, or Madara. When she noticed the way the elders chakra slithered and jumped with calculation, Tobirama knew her fate was sealed.
Still, it was nice of her brother to pretend like she had a choice or say in the matter. Most likely to make himself feel less guilty about sending his sister and last sibling off to her prison. She had no unrealistic expectations of her upcoming marriage. She would be a hostage, guaranteeing peace between the two clans whilst they build the village the two current clan head dreamt of as boys.
She loved her brother. And she would do anything for him. Even if that meant marrying a man who hated her for nearly killing his beloved brother.
Touka was furious. That was a given. She growled and spat her anger behind Tobirama, stalking around the room as Tobirama packed a chest of the things she was taking when moved into the Uchiha compound. People feared Touka for her anger and fearsome battle prowess, especially as she was a woman. Even Hashirama was uncertain at times around their cousin, but never Tobirama. As the only other female fighter in their clan, they stuck close to each other, relying on one another more than any other member in the clan. Tobirama knew however, that the anger hid the fear that all women in their family felt under the surface of composure. That’s not to say that Touka wasn’t angry ever, more like it was her first reaction to fear, to strike out with anger defensively. Tobirama knew this through a mixture of observation, intimate understanding of such fear, and sensing her chakra.
Folding the last kimono on top of some scrolls, Touka snapped, “How can you allow them to force you, Tobi!?”
She sighed, exhausted by this one-sided argument already, “It was my choice, Touka.” A lie but it made the bitterness on her tongue taste a little better if she pretended that she had an actual option when the elders told her.
Touka scoffed, “That’s bullshit and you know it. You could have easily argued against this decision.” And she was right, Tobirama could have ran the elders in circles with her logic and other options. But, she was tired of watching her family go out to fight and not return alive. Another body buried under the trees. So she agreed.
Pushing the trunk lid closed, Tobirama twisted around and gave a soft, rare smile, “It’s for the good of the clan.”
Now facing her, the albino could watch the rage play out on her cousins face as she growled, lips painted red and emphasizing the snarl, “Fuck the clan! What have they ever done for us? For the women here? We are just cattle to them to sell off, and now they want you to marry our enemy!”
Reaching out from her knelt position, Tobirama offered her hand for her cousin who stood above her, “We aren’t to be enemies anymore through this marriage.” Touka walked closer, and the younger female could see the tense acceptance in her cousin’s shoulder as she took her hand, “And through this union, no one has to die for a useless cause. No child has to be shoved into the frontlines to die. We could finally achieve that peace that Aniue liked to talk about.”
Touka’s face twisted into one of anguish as she fell to her knees across from the albino with a thump, “Tobi...”
The quiet voice, so different from her usual brashness, made Tobirama’s heart clench. Touka was not a gentle being, but with Tobirama, she was. The albino spoke with a gentle reassurance, “Touka. I always knew this day would happen to me. I’ve accepted in a long time ago. You must accept my fate now.”
Touka grasped her hands tightly, promising in a low tone, eyes pleading, “...If they hurt you in anyway, send me a summon. I will break you out of that prison and we can run away. Fuck the clan, we can become mercenaries.”
Tobirama smiled, and nodded, holding back the tears of gratitude from falling, “You would be the first I would call for.”
Touka was her closest person, no matter how much she loved her brother and would do anything for him. That was a mixture of filial piety and years of obedience that their father beat into her head at always listening to Hashirama. But with Touka, that was purely her choice. She loved her cousin like a sister, even with a five year age difference, and would do anything for her. Not out of any sense of taught duty, but out of true devotion.
The pure white kimono was beautiful, blending in with her own pale complexion and hair. The only colour on her was the hair pins tucked into her up-do, and her red eyes and tattoos. The Senju’s spared no expense in preparing for the ceremony, a way of boasting their wealth and shoving it into the Uchiha’s faces passive aggressively. Tobirama would prefer it to not have been so elaborate, wanting to just march into the shrine in her armour and get this entire affair over with. What was the point in dragging it all out when it will only last a day? The only thing she liked about her washed out appearance was the hair pins; her mother’s. She wore them for her own wedding, and had gifted them to Tobirama when she was five.
Staring into the mirror, Tobirama thought she looked like a doll, ready to be played with and broken. Cast aside when her husband eventually grew bored of her and found a way to kill her that wasn’t suspicious. ‘Probably during childbirth.’ She mused morbidly. She knew her place in their society. She knew that despite her battle prowess and genius intellect, she would always be reduced to nothing but the womb she carried.
However, no anger filled her, just acceptance. Tobirama was lucky that her father allowed her to even learn to fight, not wanting any of his children to be weak and vulnerable, no matter their gender. But when her younger brothers were killed so young, had her on the battlefield as soon as her armour had been fitted to her small body. Tobirama knew that the ability to fight like the men would not last long, that she would be bartered like cattle to whomever her father deemed wealthy or powerful enough. She knew this day would come, and would not put up a single fight.
Perhaps the melancholy that many old soldiers held was creeping into her. Perhaps this willingness to be walked into the jaws of the enemy was a subtle plea for death after all that she had done in her short years of life. Death and killing were a part of their life, and she was no stranger to the sensation of blood on her hands after a battle were she came out victorious.
Hashirama was there when she threw up after her first kill, speaking in gentle tones about how it was hard, and that it’s okay that she felt sick after taking a life. He spoke from first hand experience about how hard it was to take a life, and then proceed to do the same over and over. Tobirama allowed him the ignorance, as she was held tight in his embrace. She wasn’t throwing up because it was hard to kill. She was throwing up because it was too easy for her. It was too easy to look the enemy in the eyes as they faded, her sword plunged deep into their chest. It was too easy for her to not even give their bodies a second glance, moving on from one opponent to the next.
No. It was hard looking at the people she was unable to keep a live. Her family. Tobirama knew every name of the ones that died in battle, the ones she could not get to in time. She kept their names written down in a small notebook, the pages more full than empty.
Hashirama thought her cold, distant, and harsh to their way of life as they grew up, and that unsettled him. But she had to be. She couldn’t afford to truly enjoy any part of her life when she knew she was living in the minimal amount of freedom she had with borrowed time. The ability to dress in armour than demure kimonos would not last. And sitting next to the new hand that held her leash, Tobirama wished that she could wear it at least once more.
Madara’s chakra was near scorching with rage and indignation. His elders and Hashirama probably forced his hand in this marriage, and he did nothing to hide it. Expression a sneer, eyes cruel, Tobirama took it with a grace built in from years under her father’s scrutiny. That seemed to anger him more.
Sake drunk and vows spoken, her white kimono was changed out for one with cranes and flowers embroidered into the dark blue fabric. It was beautiful, and Tobirama took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship, having to peer at the fabric closely to inspect it with her bad eye sight. The feast was as awkward and tense as the ceremony, though much worse with the amount of Senju and Uchiha in one room together. But Tobirama kept still and silent, just as her mother would have told her to, eating little bites.
No matter her calm facade though, her stomach turned. At a young age, perhaps too young for many, her mother had whispered in sad words about what was to be her future. Her childhood wasn’t spent in ignorance of her world, of her position in life. Her childhood was spent with long days next to her mother, discussing and explaining what was to become of her as a wife, what was demanded of her.
The blunt and factual tone did nothing to hide the anguish in her mother’s eyes. She would brush Tobirama’s hair, and speak of how to cover bruises. Teach her to make salves that would heal them faster. How to tell when you are at you most fertile so you would not have to go through useless nights laying on your back, praying for it to be over. Her mother’s soft voice did nothing to lessen the harsh reality of her future and how her body will never be hers. Only her husband’s and future children. But still, her mother would tuck flowers behind her ears, and teach her different songs to sing when the world got too hard. Too unforgiving for those who just wished for a little bit of kindness.
Her father never gave his wife any kindness. Or at least, he did. But perhaps that was an unkindness for Tobirama, that he bent to the will of his wife one time and only once.
When the sun fell, the night sky glittering with stars, Tobirama was the first to enter the bedroom. Madara would not be far behind her, so she took the small space of time she had alone, to sit down by the laid out futon, and sing softly under her breath.
If Tobirama imagined hard enough, her ears would pick up the voice of a mother who wasn’t there. A woman buried and long gone, now only rotted bones and flesh for the maggots and worms to feast off of. Tobirama wished she could be that corpse. Wished she could have been laid next to her mother the day she died, slowly sinking into the embrace of death with everyday that passed that she did not eat or drink. But instead, she was given a sword and forced onto a battlefield. Instead, she was married to a man who would not love her nor care for her well being.
All she could hope for in this new part of her life, was that she provided him an heir and would be allowed to waste away alone and unharmed for the rest of her imprisonment.
Sensing his chakra signature before hearing footsteps, Tobirama’s singing petered off, and she opened her eyes. Her back faced the door as it was pushed open a bit too harshly, slamming closed with an even more heavier hand. Hands were past the point of pale where they fisted tightly on her folded knees as she felt the weight of her husband’s presence.
In the still silence, their breaths was all that was heard, until Madara scoffed behind her. Nothing about him was ignorable. From his wild mane of hair and his ability on the battlefield, to the way he spoke with loud proclamation, unabashed in his opinions. He was loud in his fury as he came up behind her, falling hard to his knees that she felt the floor vibrate minutely.
It was like being too close to a bonfire, and her sensitive skin felt as if it was on fire by the sheer proximity.
His voice was a low snarl as he finally spoke to her, hissed sharply in her ear, “Too proud to even look at me? Your arrogance disgusts me, Senju.”
The arm that wrapped suddenly around her waist, pulling her tight to his chest, was as firm as steel. And she went with silent compliance. He had her move with such roughness that a faint breath of air left her, shoved out of her lungs. There was nothing sensual about this show of strength. It was violent. A warning. And Tobirama heeded it.
Words of derision fell from his lips, the hatred coming off him in waves making her nauseated stomach churn some more, and Tobirama could do nothing but swallow it down and take the manhandling. This was what her mother had explained to her, so the vulnerability and violation was expected. But even with mental preparations, when her body began to shake as her pulled her sleeping kimono off her shoulders, baring her chest to the chilled air, Tobirama couldn’t stop how her fear began to rise. How the shame flooded her cheeks at being so exposed. They came through as shivers, shaking up from her bones.
Harsh hands scratched and clawed at her vulnerable skin, and Madara bit into her neck with the feral behaviour of a street mutt. The gasp of pain that left her must have humoured him, because a deep laugh rumbled through the large chest that pressed suffocatingly against her smaller form.
“The great White Demon, in pain from a simple bite. Pathetic.” And he bit once more.
She was the second best warrior in her clan, and she could kill him bare handed if she wanted to. But duty was duty. And it was grounded hard into her mind by both of her parents. At least her mother softened it with kisses and hugs. The grasp of hands around her upper arms was painful and bruising. Tobirama hoped she would be able to get the supplies needed to heal them.
Finally, Madara seemed to grow impatient with his handling of her pliant body and began to shove her down. But something in her lurched, and Tobirama couldn’t help the whispered plea that fell from her lips.
Movement stilled behind her, and she waited with baited breath. Hashirama assured her of Madara’s person, explaining that he was a good man under all the bravado, and cared for his family. He spoke with a naivety that a man his age should never hold. Tobirama wasn’t seen as Madara’s family, nor an extension of Hashirama’s friendship. She was an enemy, completely and utterly at his mercy.
“Can’t bear the touch of an Uchiha? Are you trembling with disgust, wife?” He spat the title with vitriol. He growled it out with hatred, and she felt herself shoved around to face him, body half fallen onto their futon. His eyes were bright red, the sharingan blazing brightly in the darkness, and the fear she felt was nothing like ever before, instinct being the only thing that had her darting her own eyes to stare at his barred lips. Even during her first battle, she had never felt such soul quaking fear. So small with him towering above her, Tobirama pleaded once more, a futile hope flickering in her chest at the way he completely froze when he looked upon her.
“Please...”
Tobirama knew that unwilling tears had spilt from her eyes, unable to stop the reaction to such molestation. His eyes did not move from in that moment, and her heart was so loud, pounding in her ribcage. For once in her life, Tobirama was the prey. The wolf that glared down at her stirred an old fear. The same fear when her father looked at her with that same expression. Like she couldn’t measure up to his expectations.
Then, the painful grip around her wrist let go, and pins and needles began to stab through it with the rush of blood flow. Trembling, Tobirama shifted back onto the futon, wanting to at least be taken on a softer surface than the wooden floor. With a stilted breath, those eyes still scrutinising her, Tobirama shifted her arm to cover her chest, shame still hot in her blood.
He gazed upon her form, the glare fading into a frustrated confusion, and she found a minute courage to ask, beg, “Please,” The word so natural falling from her lips, “You may hurt me later. But in this instance, be kind.”
Madara’s face softened to bafflement, his eyes flickering from red to blackness. Their stilted breaths filled the silence, until finally, he moved once more. She forced herself not to flinch, but the sharp inhale through her nose was heard and he froze again. His body now looming over her with uncertainty.
His face made a complicated movement, and she couldn’t decipher what it conveyed, but with his body coming closer, she made herself lay down on her back. So minuscule under his hovering from, Tobirama hated how weak she felt. His chakra was a mess of uncertainty, but from what she didn’t know. Perhaps it was the sight of his enemy begging underneath him. Maybe it was how willing she was to lay there and take it without a fight. Either way, it did not matter in the end.
The pin prick of tears at the corners of her eyes was involuntary as he breeched her walls, and her hands flew up to grasp his shoulders, wishing to push him away. He stilled inside her, but did not move away. She did not expect him to.
Her mind slipped away from her body, head turning to the side to stare blankly out the window, the night sky a blur but a comfort. With him this close, she could make out all his expressions, but Tobirama did not wish to know if he was gaining pleasure from this, or if his face was twisted up in disgust like before. Instead, she let her eye lids slip close, and waited for it to be over.
She woke up alone, just as she fell asleep alone. Madara had left after the consummation, and Tobirama curled into her body, aching and uncomfortable, letting the exhaustion overtake her. Despite the calm behaviour over the last few week that hid the fear from everyone around her, she couldn’t hide it from herself. Tobirama was not free with her emotions, was not allowed to be. And apathy was easy to fake by now. But alone, Tobirama let more tears spill out, expression blank despite the loss she left in that moment.
On her side, she observed the slant of sunlight streaming from the window down onto her outstretched hand. Dust floated through it, and she felt a moment of peace in relaxing in the moment, in the sensation between sleep and awake despite the silent tears. That was until the door slide open and Touka entered.
“Tobi?” And footsteps lightly hurried to her side. Knees met her vision as her cousin knelt beside her head. Tobirama let her gaze slide up to meet Touka’s, not even bothering to wipe her face clean, and she couldn't muster up even a reassuring nod.
Instead, her hand reached out and took her cousin’s. A firm squeeze was all she could offer. Touka squeezed back, softly saying, “Say the word, and we will leave here for good.” So desperately, her heart ached to say ‘yes’. To allow her cousin to sweep her out of their clan compound and run free.
But Touka knew Tobirama too well, just as Tobirama knew her cousin. Tobirama understood duty like no other, and would do her part. Touka had never been offered a hand in marriage, nor had any arrangement been set up. No one in the clan wished to marry her, and certainly no one from the outside wished to try their hand in wooing the woman. But like all women in this world, Touka knew the ache of living a life that was never allowed to be fully yours, no matter how hard you struggled to grasp at it.
So with a solemn, understanding gaze, Touka just sat in the silence, offering Tobirama her last moments of true security with how uncertain the future had become for her.
Their procession was small and quick, consisting on Tobirama as the only Senju, and the rest being Uchiha. Good byes were either short and stilted between her and the elders, or a weeping mess that was her brother. Mito and Touka were at least more restrained in such hysterics, and gave her firm hugs of goodbyes.
Izuna had come along to witness the wedding, having sent glares her way through out the entire ordeal. It made the who ordeal even more unbearable with tension. Around them was a squad of guards, surrounding them. Surrounding her. But besides the scroll on her hip, sealing her belongings, she held no weapon on her. Though they knew she could easily fight without a blade, it was an appeasement.
They ran, darting through trees until they reached the border of the Uchiha clan territory. Tobirama couldn’t help the glance back, as if she could see all the people her senses could feel, miles away. The main two she focused on washer brother and cousin; Hashirama a ball of nerves at her departure as well as excitement at what the future would hold, and Touka, who felt like a storm of worry, fear, and rage. It was a comfort to know that they thought of her when she wasn’t in sight.
Facing forward once more, she taught the glance of Madara looking her way, his figure blurred through her terrible eyesight. There was still that disgust and resentment burning bright in his chakra signature, but something new flickered there. Like a weak candle during the rain. Tobirama couldn’t get the sense of what it was, but at the very least, he didn’t glare at her when their eyes met. He just gave her a cursory once over, before turning away.
Suspicion flared in Izuna, and Tobirama made sure to keep her eyes from trailing to his direction. She did not want to cause anymore harm to him, not wanting anymore animosity that was already there to occur. It would be very difficult to live with now.
Having never been to the Uchiha compound, Tobirama instinctively spread her sense out to feel all the lives that burnt bright within the secure walls. The Senju’s typically felt like either the life of a forest, surrounded by trees, or the strength of water rushing around you. The Uchiha’s we like pure fiery sunlight, shocks of lighting currents running through it all. She wondered if being surrounded by so much fire chakra nature she would get burns on her susceptible skin.
When passing through the gate, guards watched their group, and Tobirama felt vulnerable under all the stares as they passed buildings and people, unable to reach for even a kunai. Though happiness radiated at the safe return of their clan head, uncertainty and wariness was there in abundance at the sight of her. She wore a simple blue kimono and sandals, but the civilian wear did nothing to ease their fears at the sight of the White Demon.
She was caught between the need to show that she would not be cowed in the face of their scrutiny, and to duck her head down and show submission so as to ease the pain to come. In the end, she went with keeping her head levelled but eyes looking at the ground. Not like her sight would help her in any possible fight. However, her senses were up and alert as she would be if in battle. It wouldn’t be good for all those excruciatingly painful hours of training under her father to fail her now, in the heart of enemy territory.
Tobirama wasn’t fooled in thinking that just because she was technically the lady of the Uchiha, that she would be taken care of and respected. At the best, she expected avoidance and quiet hostility. Perhaps over cooked and cold meals. At worst...
Her mind was at it’s height of calculating every possible scenario in that moment, and her anxiety level began to rise with all the horrible torture that could come her way. Mentally preparing herself for the worst, Tobirama followed Madara and Izuna into what was more than likely the clan head home, leaving their guards behind them. She was sure the home was tastefully designed and decorated, but all she could feel was trepidation as her new husband slid open a door and gestured for her to enter. She did without a hint of hesitance. For a prison cell, it was large. Empty but for a low table off the the side with two cushions tucked under, and a small, low vanity table. A jug of water sat on the vanity, and an empty tray and tea set laid on the table. Stepping through and taking a quick analysis of the room, Tobirama couldn’t spot any torture devices nor any way that was barred from entry.
Standing in the middle, Tobirama turned to her husband and brother-in-law, and gave a deep bow, “Thank you for the room.”
Izuna let out a soft scoff which she ignored, only looking at Madara. The man replied, “We won’t be sharing as I want to sleep without being stabbed in the back. Futons in that closet, bathroom through that door, and that door leads to the engawa.” And with that gesturing over and done with, he snapped the room door shut.
It was better living situation than she expected, especially in a political hate marriage. With a silent deep breath, Tobirama forced her nerves to calm, mentally making a note to meditate later that evening to truly calm herself. Wandering over to the doors Madara mentioned, she slid them open to reveal a garden.
With a koi pond just a foot away from the engawa and a small wind chime hanging on the roof above it, Tobirama decided that this could be a worse prison to spend the rest of her life in.