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Senju Tobirama pauses mid-patrol, his head snapping around to face Uchiha territory.
“Lord Tobir—”
He holds up his hand for silence, unwilling to be distracted from observing a phenomenon with his sensory skills that shouldn’t be possible. Tobirama has mastered the Kage Bunshin no Jutsu, which allows him to create solid Shadow Clones. It’s his own invention. He’s yet to deploy it on the battlefield, preferring to keep it a secret and use it for espionage instead.
So how is it, exactly, that Uchiha Madara is inside the Uchiha Compound—where the home of the main family must be, given how often he’s in that precise place—while his wildfire chakra is also leaving the same area and scaling the wall around the compound?
Why would Madara need to sneak out of his own compound and leave a Shadow Clone in his place? It’s foolhardy at best and grossly negligent at worst. Clan Heads should always notify sentries when leaving. Yet, there isn’t even a spark of chakra reacting to Madara’s actions.
Tobirama turns his attention to the Senju Compound and breathes in relief when he confirms that his honorable elder brother, Senju Hashirama, is still within the compound walls. Apparently, Hashirama and Madara aren’t sneaking out to meet by the river again.
He drops his hand, his mind spinning as he attempts to work out the puzzle suddenly presented to him, even as worry flares inside him. There should be no possible way for any Uchiha, let alone Lord Uchiha Madara, to have copied the Kage Bunshin with the Sharingan. This means—
A traitor?
Tobirama is too practical to discount the possibility, even as he despises the thought of any member of the Senju Clan sharing his personally created jutsu with their enemies. And yes, even with the ceasefire in place for the past four months, Tobirama can’t bring himself to think of them as allies. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“What is it, Lord Tobirama?” Senju Hidema, one of his distant cousins, inquires.
“Madara,” Tobirama replies, staring at the green trees which might block his line-of-sight, but which do nothing whatsoever to hinder his sensing. Even when he can’t see the Uchiha Clan Head, Tobirama knows where he is.
“Is he hostile?” Senju Chieko asks, her brown hair, tied in a high tail, fluttering in the wind.
“No,” Tobirama replies. In fact, the wildfire feels … jubilant? Anticipatory? Smugly self-assured in the way that seems to infest every member of the Uchiha Clan, and doubly so in regard to those born to the main line.
The unmistakable chakra signature approaches Senju territory slowly. Does Madara truly believe that stealth will allow him to evade Tobirama’s sensory net, which spans the width and breadth of Fire Country and into the surrounding Elemental Nations as well?
“A hunt, perhaps?” Hidema suggests.
“Highly unlikely,” Tobirama states. The emotions in Madara’s chakra signature don’t align with someone hunting. Besides, that’s a duty for children who are barely old enough to join the battlefield. A Clan Head has too many important responsibilities to perform such a chore outside of dire circumstances.
Even before the ceasefire, when the Uchiha and Senju were the bitterest of enemies, Tobirama has always acknowledged that Madara is well-suited to the role of Clan Head. The Uchiha thrive under his protection.
“What would you have us do, Lord Tobirama?” Chieko inquires.
For all that Tobirama is accustomed to facing Uchiha Izuna in battle, Tobirama doesn’t fear fighting Madara if required. Along with Hashirama, they are the four strongest shinobi in Fire Country and equally—if differently—well-matched in power. Should this be a sign the ceasefire is ending—it will break Hashirama’s heart if it is, which is intolerable—Chieko and Hidema will only be in the way.
His cousins are skilled. They are nowhere near skilled enough to clash against shinobi of Madara’s and Tobirama’s caliber.
“Continue the patrol route,” Tobirama orders implacably, already turning toward Madara’s steadily approaching chakra. “I’ll handle him.”
Hidema steps forward. “Lord Tobirama, we can hel—”
“As you say, Lord Tobirama,” Chieko interrupts, before dragging Hidema back onto the patrol route.
Even without the Hiraishin, which he is exceedingly close to finishing, Tobirama is one of the fastest shinobi alive. When he completes it, he will be the fastest. If the ceasefire fails, he must have new jutsu to use against the Senju Clan’s enemies. A time of tentative peace is ideal for inventing new ways in which he might serve and protect his clan, standing as both sword and armor between the Senju and all who dare oppose them.
It takes hardly any time at all to arrive at the river that separates the Senju territory from the Uchiha territory.
Technically, with the ceasefire in place, it’s no longer taboo for them to enter the fringes of each other’s claimed lands without permission. There’s a particular amount of leeway, intended to allow injured shinobi the shortest possible route home to medical treatment, safety, and so forth. Still, Tobirama has no intention whatsoever of crossing the river and entering Uchiha territory.
Alarm screams through the wildfire chakra still in the Uchiha Compound. It flares out dramatically, reminiscent of dry tinder dumped on burning flames. Then, what Tobirama believed to be a Shadow Clone left behind abruptly vaults over the wall, alerting the other Uchiha, as it tears after the identical chakra signature that has almost reached the river.
Tobirama palms a kunai from his pouch.
He’s no longer certain which Madara is real.
He is not conceited enough to think himself the smartest shinobi alive. There are certainly countless jutsu of which Tobirama is unaware, despite his mastery of all five elements. It’s not unthinkable for a clan or individual to be in possession of a jutsu similar to the Kage Bunshin. Perhaps it’s a Henge that fully mimics a person’s chakra signature? Had some enterprising shinobi or kunoichi snuck into the Uchiha Compound and gotten close enough to Madara, unnoticed, to steal his visage and—?
A child with moon-pale skin, tousled black curls, and obsidian eyes walks out of the forest on the Uchiha’s side of the river. He’s wearing dark blue, an uchiwa embroidered over his heart. The boy beams when he sees Tobirama waiting at the river, which is, to say the least, an unusual reaction for an Uchiha child to have upon seeing the Senju Demon, even though Tobirama doesn’t participate in child-slaying.
There’s a vibrant red silk rope draped over the boy’s shoulders. It radiates Madara’s chakra so strongly that, even at this short distance, Tobirama can barely feel the spark of the child’s chakra beneath it.
“This one is Uchiha Kagami!” the child says before bowing politely.
“Senju Tobirama,” he replies. Politics require manners, even when his identity and appearance must assuredly be known by even the Uchiha babes who still have milk teeth and toddle in their mothers’ wakes.
“This Uchiha Kagami is honored to meet Lord Tobirama,” Kagami says as he walks to the opposite bank of the river.
If Tobirama wasn’t completely certain that Uchiha Madara has too much pride to Henge himself into an inanimate object, Tobirama would swear that little Kagami is wearing Madara draped across his tiny shoulders. Whatever the rope is, there’s no doubt that Madara created it himself. It burns against his senses with the Uchiha Clan Head’s power.
“Why are you here alone, Kagami?” Tobirama asks.
A large part of Tobirama’s mind is whispering that it’s a trap, is calculating schemes, trying to unroot whatever nefarious plot has led to Uchiha Madara creating a rope that would only draw the attention of a sensor. A smaller, but insistent, part of his mind reminds him that there hasn’t even been a minor skirmish between their clans since the ceasefire was established. If Tobirama acts on assumptions and breaks the ceasefire, endangering his clan, whom he loves fiercely and is sworn to protect, Hashirama’s disappointment will be nothing when compared to how Tobirama will scorn himself for throwing his clansmen back into endless battles.
Madara—the real Madara—streaks through the forest toward them. A few Uchiha shinobi follow in his wake, though they are significantly behind their clan head.
Kagami’s brow furrows with intense concentration as he steps onto the river. His footsteps wobble precariously. “This Uchiha Kagami—” He flails wildly, almost falling beneath the water.
The water isn’t dangerously swift at this time of year, but Tobirama reacts out of reflex to seeing a child in potential danger. There is an excess of tiny graves in the world. Even one more is too many. He repockets his kunai, closes the distance between them in the blink of an eye, and lifts the boy into his arms before setting him firmly back down on the riverbank in Uchiha territory.
“Recklessness is unbecoming of a shinobi,” Tobirama states, struggling to calm his heart rate. This isn’t Itama. This is Uchiha Kagami. He’s not in any danger and—
“Please forgive this lowly one,” Kagami implores, raw sincerity pouring out of his spark of a chakra signature, his hands rising to steady the rope that is slipping off his shoulders.
“You should return to your compound,” Tobirama says, quite certain now that the boy slipped his minders and decided to go on an adventure. He must have brought the rope along to scare away any threats. After all, there are very few shinobi in the Elemental Nations who won’t flee headlong in the opposite direction at even a whiff of Uchiha Madara’s chakra.
Kagami bows again, even more deeply than before, and says, with determination shining in his black eyes, “First, I have to capture you, Lord Tobirama.” He pulls one end of the red silk rope forward and brings it toward Tobirama’s right wrist.
The part of Tobirama’s mind that’s already analyzed the rope visually and with his sensing abilities assures him the rope will not hold him. It’s nothing more than a rope imbued with the Uchiha Clan Head’s chakra. There’s no danger in allowing the child to “capture” him. And as he imagines how horrifically affronted Uchiha Izuna will be when he learns a literal child has managed to accomplish on the first try what he could not in over a decade and a half, Tobirama holds still.
Kagami is very considerate as he winds the silk rope around Tobirama’s pale wrists. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he carefully creates knots that even a mediocre shinobi could slip.
The full weight of Madara’s chakra touching his skin so intimately is— It’s irrelevant. Tobirama calms his suddenly erratic thoughts.
When Kagami finishes, he holds the other end of the red rope in his little hand, grins up at Tobirama, his head tilted back so far it must hurt his neck, and declares, “Lord Tobirama, you are captured.”
“Impressive,” Tobirama replies, unable to entirely keep his amusement out of his voice. “Not even Izuna has managed to capture me.”
“He can’t!” Kagami declares, his curls flying as he shakes his head vigorously. “Lord Madara would be furious with him!”
That statement soothes the jagged edges of his worry. If even a child as young as Kagami is aware of some type of decree that Madara has issued to Izuna declaring that Tobirama is off-limits, perhaps this ceasefire will last. Perhaps—
“Everyone in the clan knows of Lord Madara’s claim on you!” Kagami declares, gesturing wildly in a way that tugs on the rope around Tobirama’s wrists.
A shiver wracks down Tobirama’s spine as Madara’s chakra brushes heavily against him. His thoughts fly as fast as the Hiraishin will. Madara has a claim on capturing Tobirama? That contradicts what—
Madara bursts out of the trees, his long, ink-black hair billowing behind him. His eyes, Sharingan bright, land on Tobirama and Kagami. He skids to a halt, ripping furrows in the grass beside the river, and promptly flushes almost as deep of a red as the rope itself.
“Lord Madara! Lord Madara!” Kagami yells, wriggling with excitement, accidentally yanking on the rope in the process. “This Kagami captured Lord Tobirama for you with your sacred marriage rope since Lord Izuna said you would never be able to catch him!”
If it were possible for a person to immolate from sheer embarrassment, then Uchiha Madara’s chakra would mark him as someone attempting such an endeavor with truly admirable dedication.
“Sacred what rope?” Tobirama demands.
Madara splutters wordlessly but, noticeably, he doesn’t turn off his Sharingan and he never once looks away from Tobirama … as if he’s eager—desperate, even—to burn the sight of the red silk rope binding Tobirama’s bare wrists into his memory. The possessive desire in his chakra stokes higher the longer he stares.
Tobirama is a superb shinobi from a revered clan. He’s physically fit, possesses pleasing features, and has enough cunning and intelligence to rival a motivated Nara. He’s more than accustomed to sensing others’ lust when they gaze upon him. But the all-encompassing love that twines with Madara’s desire, scorching against Tobirama’s senses with its strength? That’s a first.
“Marriage,” Madara finally manages to rasp out, though it honestly sounds more like a question.
Tobirama raises an eyebrow imperiously and slips his left wrist out of the loops of rope, not allowing Kagami’s whine of disappointment to stop him. “And you expect me to yield to a Lord Husband who didn’t catch me himself?” he scorns.
The wildfire inferno of Madara’s chakra stills momentarily, only for hope to burst into existence alongside the lust and love.
“Lord Tobirama?” Madara inquires, relentlessly focused on him.
The Uchiha who followed Madara from the compound are almost here. The volcanic ash of Uchiha Hikaku is among them. He’s sufficiently strong enough to protect Kagami while Madara and Tobirama are otherwise occupied.
Hashirama, who has been lamenting Tobirama’s lack of a spouse ever since his betrothal to Uzumaki Mito, will be unbearable in his effusiveness once he hears about this. But, well, what better way is there to turn a ceasefire into true peace between their clans than a marriage between the two of them? A marriage that, apparently, will contain love as one of its foundation stones.
Tobirama frees his right wrist, gently pulls the rope out of Kagami’s grasp, balls it up, and then throws it in Madara’s face. “If you want me to marry you, Lord Madara,” Tobirama taunts with a curl of his lips, “prove your worth and catch me yourself.”
Moments before the other Uchiha arrive at the riverbank, Tobirama sprints away at his top speed.
Madara chases him, his chakra brighter than the sun.