Chapter Text
Madara would never admit to it, but he had spent the first ten minutes of his guard duty going over the memory of how Tobirama had looked when undressed. All pale skin and hard planes. So fit. So slim. So incredibly attractive. Madara had positioned himself so that neither Hikaku nor Togakushi could see his eyes, then he had very briefly activated his Sharingan, to preserve the image. Just in case he would be unable to persuade the Senju to make their marriage an intimate one. At least he would be able to fantasize about it. But he really hoped things would work out.
The longer he sat there without talking, the more he felt confusion from the Senju. He probably had expected interrogation. Maybe even torture.
It was not widely known that the Uchiha revered red eyes. They had made sure of that, to prevent anyone from using that knowledge against them. But Tobirama needed to know. To put the younger man at ease. Just… There were other things he needed to know as well, and Madara had to be sure that he would not be interrupted when he told him. So he waited until there was a soft knock on the door, and Togakushi peered inside. “The futon is in place, aniki. When should I relieve you?”
Smiling at his brother, Madara instructed him “Send someone with food for me and the Blessed in two hours, and make sure you get some rest. In six hours from now you can replace me, and then Hikaku-san can replace you at dawn.”
Bowing his head in acquiescence, Togakushi then retreated, leaving Madara alone with the Senju. Just to be sure, Madara stretched his senses, checking the nearest rooms for anyone spying on them. Other than a terrified mouse under the floorboards, the nearest living thing was a ninneko by the outer wall, and his sisters three rooms away. They would not hear him.
Walking over to the bars, he crouched down, pitching his voice so it would not carry. “I am sure you have already guessed what will happen. I apologize for that. I cannot change the customs of my clan, at least not until I am the head of it, and marrying you myself was the easiest way to ensure your safety.”
The suspicion in Tobirama’s stare was entirely warranted, given his treatment so far, but at least the fear had dimmed somewhat. To be replaced with something that felt almost like determination. Unfortunately, Madara could not read his mind through the link, so he had no idea what the Senju was determined about. Escape? Probably. But as long as he wore that collar, escape would not be possible. Or, maybe he should amend that to ‘probable’. It would not do to underestimate the young man.
Given no reply, Madara continued. “Due to your high rank, and the apparent value to your own clan, plus the way you acted upon arrival… Well, there were only two options for who you would be married to. My sisters, for all that they are formidable kunoichi, are not strong enough to take you on. My middle brother, Togakushi-kun, is already married. That leaves just Izuna-kun and me. And Izu-kun, for all his good qualities… He harbors a hatred for the Senju that would most likely make him unable to treat you as you should be treated.”
At long last he got a reaction out of the Senju. “...and how should I be treated?”
The accompanying emotions were mostly suspicion, but now there was a thin thread of hope cutting through it. Madara intended to nurture that into growing stronger.
“You are one of the Blessed, and as such you should be revered. But even were you not, you are Hashirama-san’s brother. I do not know what he has told you, but… despite what our fathers demanded, we have kept in touch. We remain friends.”
There had not been many meetings over the years, since they had to make sure they would not be caught, and the letters had been even fewer, since they always ran the risk of them getting intercepted and decrypted. But Madara still counted Hashirama as his friend. And for that… he would do his best to keep Tobirama safe and happy.
“And still you would marry me. Against my wishes.” Tobirama sounded despondent, but the emotions suggested he was planning something. All Madara could do was nod.
“As I said, the Uchiha revere the Blessed, those born with red eyes. If not me, then you would have been wed to someone else in the clan, to keep you here. To keep you safe.”
“Yet you claim that your brother would not be able to refrain from hurting me.”
Madara winced, then he sighed. “There is a difference between physical safety, and emotional… Mental safety. While I am sure even he would not dare to actually injure you… There are ways to make people miserable that would not necessarily leave scars.”
“Genjutsu you mean.” Tobirama’s suspicion had skyrocketed again.
Licking his lips, Madara turned to the side, uncomfortable with what he had already admitted, but unwilling to lie to someone he would soon be married to. “I would have preferred to be able to think that he would not stoop so low, but… I cannot risk it.”
Tobirama was silent for a moment, emotions churning. There was confusion there. Anger. Flashes of hope. Regret. More confusion. Brief moments of fear. And the same determination as before. Yes, Madara was sure Tobirama was planning his escape.
“Your… attraction to me had nothing to do with it?” Was that… derision in the Senju’s tone? It was! Madara felt both annoyed over it, and a tiny bit pleased that Tobirama felt secure enough with him already to take that kind of tone with him.
He allowed himself a small smirk. “I mean, I am not going to lie to you—You are attractive, and it might have played a tiny part in my decision. But make no mistake, I would have decided to wed you regardless of your looks, just to keep you safe.”
“So you're telling me that you are not eagerly awaiting your chance to consummate the marriage?” The skepticism was rolling off the younger man in waves.
Madara huffed out a small laugh. “Actually, consummation isn’t required, seeing as we are both male and there is no chance of offspring. However, that said, I would not be opposed to doing something, if you would be amenable. We are after all to be married for life, and that means I will never seek out another for pleasure again.”
Tobirama scoffed. “You expect me to believe that there will be no concubines? No demands for children of your loins? Please. As if your Elders would allow your bloodline to perish.”
“Ah, but the main-line is already secured. Toga-kun’s wife is expecting any day now. Besides, Izuna, Myoko, and Kurohime will most likely also be seeking spouses soon. So you see, I don’t need to father a child in order to secure our line.”
He softened his stance, giving a careful smile. “Uchiha generally don’t take concubines. It’s seen as a crude thing to do. No, there will only be you. And I do hope that we can come to an understanding. If not, it will be a long life with no physical pleasures to make it more bearable.”
He could tell that Tobirama didn’t believe him, but that was okay. The seeds were planted, and in time the younger man would see that Madara was genuine about it.
There was one more thing he should mention though. “After Toga-kun has relieved me, you should lie down and try to sleep. I will need to go to my rooms and then to the aviary, and it might take me outside the range of the collar, meaning you will be paralyzed for the time I’m too far away. I understand that it will be uncomfortable, but… I intend to send a letter to Hashirama-san, to let him know that you are safe.”
~*~
It took Tobirama a moment to realize that Madara was awaiting some kind of reply, possibly a sign that Tobirama agreed to his actions, but Tobirama was thrown by the statement. Madara would let Hashirama know that he was still alive? Why? Was this another trick to make him more pliant, or had his anija really kept such a huge secret from him as a continued friendship with an Uchiha? He was not sure what to think, so he just gave a small nod. It wasn’t as if he could do anything to stop Madara either way. Though, perhaps that was part of what Madara wanted to demonstrate with this? The power he had over Tobirama, and to reveal to him that the collar truly worked as advertised.
Dejected, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
Thinking about it more, he understood the comment about how only Madara or Izuna was strong enough. It probably didn’t actually have anything to do with the strength required to use the collar or cuff itself, but how Tobirama might overpower the one with the cuff, potentially removing the cuff by cutting off the hand. So in that way Madara himself was as much the deterrent for his escape as the collar was.
Seeing as Madara fell silent after that, Tobirama mirrored him. It was not as if he had anything to say yet. No, for now he would observe. And plan.
That worked for about an hour. Then nature started to become annoyingly persistent in insisting his bladder was full.
With a silent sigh, Tobirama got up, heading over to the bucket in the corner. As he was unlacing his new Uchiha style pants, Madara suddenly let out a squeak. “What are you doing?!”
Turning to look at the other man, Tobirama found Madara staring at him with wide eyes and a blush staining his cheeks. Was the Uchiha heir shy? Surely not? But… why would he pretend to be? That made little sense. Was it an attempt at putting Tobirama at ease? He turned back to the bucket and started peeing. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Madara had jumped to his feet and turned to face the wall. Really? That was taking things a bit far, wasn’t it? Unless…? Was he actually truly shy about such things? And letting Tobirama know? Huh?
Taking the opportunity presented, Tobirama was quick to reach up with his free hand and feel around the collar, to examine the locking mechanism. He found none. Just a faint seam. Locked by seals then. That meant Tobirama would need a mirror to examine them, and a chance to do so without the Uchiha catching on to what he was doing.
Shaking the last drops off, he tucked himself away again and laced the pants closed again. As he sat down in his previous spot, Madara slowly shuffled back around and sat down as well, cheeks still pink.
Silence fell again. It lasted until the door slid open and the middle brother—Togakushi, the alleged diplomat of the family—arrived with a tray. He handed most of it to Madara, but took a bowl of food and a flask off the tray. As he moved towards the cell, Madara spoke up. “The bucket needs emptying.”
Peering into the cell, the brother spoke to Tobirama in a neutral tone. “Push the bucket over to the door and sit in the opposite corner.”
Were they afraid he would toss the contents of the bucket at them? That would just end up ruining the food they had brought. Tobirama was many things, but wasteful was not one of them, so he complied.
The food was placed inside the cell, and the bucket removed. Then the door was locked again. As Tobirama moved over to collect the food, Madara asked, sounding curious, “You are not worried that it is poisoned?”
Sitting down with the bowl in his lap, Tobirama wiped his hands on his clothes, sighing at the unhygienic options he had. “No, I doubt you would waste expensive poisons when you could have just used me as target practice for fireballs.”
“Not all poisons are lethal.”
“Are you trying to convince me to not eat?”
Curiously enough Madara blushed again. But he vehemently shook his head. “No, that’s not… I didn’t mean… Gah! I… The food is safe. I’m sorry.”
Was this truly the man destined to be the next clan head of the Uchiha? He appeared far too easily flustered, and a little clumsy in his interactions with Tobirama so far. Though, perhaps it was silly to disparage the man for something that might end up aiding Tobirama in his escape. If he could persuade the man that he had accepted his fate, then perhaps he could be allowed more time alone? More time to examine the collar, and perhaps detect exactly what kind of seals were on it?
Yes, putting on a docile and amenable personality for now would probably garner him more goodwill, though it would most likely be a while before they trusted him enough for him to make any decent headway.
Opting to use a bit of the water to clean his fingers, he then started to eat the food, hoping that his Senju resistance to poisons would take care of anything that might have been added to the food intending to make him more cooperative. Refusing to eat would only weaken him over time, and ruin any impression he was trying to make of being resigned to his fate.
By the time the brother returned with the bucket, clearly rinsed out with water, Tobirama had finished his meal and placed the bowl and flask by the entrance to his cell. Then he settled down on the futon, in a position suited for meditation. Closing his eyes, he attempted to use his other senses to learn what he could about the place he was held. The noises traveling through the house suggested a very large building. Was this the clan head’s home, or was it some kind of council building? Or both? He had been led through several corridors on the way from the room where he had been collared, but none of the corridors had given any indication as to what kind of building this was.
Beyond the house, he could hear faint clangs from what he assumed was a smithy or a forge. The Uchiha were known for their metal-works, so it made sense. There was also a hint of smoke in the air, the particular scent you got from using coal to fuel your fire. Though, considering how most of the Uchiha were fire-natured, perhaps it was a natural scent that permeated the entire compound?
There was also a smell of food cooking that had wafted in when the brother arrived with the tray, probably sticking to the utensils and the tray all the way from the kitchens. Things cooking that had not been a part of the meal he had been served. Did the Uchiha have a communal kitchen like the Senju, or did each family unit make their own food? There were so many things he did not know about the Uchiha, having never been tasked with infiltrating them due to the confirmation that they had sensors in the clan and Tobirama with his water-nature would stick out like a sore thumb.
It took a while after the brother had left before Madara spoke again. “I only really know what Hashirama told me about you, and that was not much. He said you’re smart, and fast, but we have never seen you on the battlefield, despite you clearly having skills in combat. Why is that?”
Tobirama considered what to say, and went with a half-truth. “My skill set is more suited for other work. I guard the compound, and I go out on solo-missions. Mainly acquisitions.”
“You’re a thief.” Madara didn’t say it in a derisive tone, more a surprised one.
Tobirama just shrugged. Half the missions he did take were acquisitions of some sort, it just varied greatly whether that was the only objective, and what kind of acquisition it was. The other half… Assassinations. He was exceedingly skilled at his job. A lot of times, unless he had been instructed to make it obvious it was a hit, he left people thinking the death had been natural, or just an unfortunate accident.
His kill-count was nearly as high as anija’s, despite never having set foot on the battlefields whenever the Senju were hired on one side of a conflict. No, that was more Hashirama and Kawarama’s thing. While Itama had managed to persuade his father to let him become a healer. And the older he got, the better that decision had turned out to be. Like Tobirama, Itama was an inventor, but where Tobirama invented jutsu for practical uses, or for violent uses, Itama invented jutsu for healing, for extracting poisons, for regenerating cells, or blood. Itama’s inventions saved lives. Tobirama’s took them. He was the darkness to Itama’s light, and together they kept the Senju safe.
Or, they had used to. Now Tobirama might end up stuck with the Uchiha unless he could flee before his captors managed to arrange a wedding.
Annoyed, he realized that he was not able to meditate. His mind was churning too much. However, he could get started on the collar if he was careful.
Shuffling around, he pulled the blanket over himself, finding it to be surprisingly thick and soft. He settled with his back to the bars, and incidentally Uchiha Madara. With one arm angled as if he had tucked it under his head, he was able to start mapping out the feel of the collar, tracing the seals etched into the metal.
He could still feel the Uchiha’s eyes on him, but their conversation had allowed him to calm down a bit. It could still all be one elaborate lie, but to what end? No, it was far more likely that Madara had told the truth. Certainly the reaction of the other Uchiha present when the cloth had been removed corroborated his claim that they saw red eyes as something special. Unless it was his hair? But no, the Uchiha had a dōjutsu. It was far more likely that they would fixate on eyes. Besides, the Sharingan was known to be red. So, his red eyes probably bought him some leeway. Maybe. Though, until he could be absolutely sure of that, he should tread carefully.
Wondering if the hair at his nape or the blanket covered the collar enough to hide it if he rotated it slightly, he regretted not considering that when he pulled the blanket over himself. But he didn’t dare to. Instead he familiarized himself with the bits he could reach, brushing the tips of his fingers over the metal to catch every swirl or groove from the etching, attempting to build a mental picture of it.
It would have been much easier if he’d had a mirror, or something else that could reflect, but even the bowl he had been served food in had been matte. No, most likely he would have to wait until they led him out of the cell for any reason before he could find something that he could use. Surely they would not keep him here forever. Especially not if they intended to marry him to Madara. Though, that could be weeks away. Months even, if they wanted to make a big deal out of it. Madara was the heir after all, and in the Senju, even the engagement for Hashirama had been a huge affair.
So, it meant he might end up stuck in this cell for a long time. Unless he could somehow manipulate his captors into letting him out. Perhaps he could persuade them to let him have a bath? Surely Madara would be amenable to that, considering he was already lusting after Tobirama? Seeing him naked, probably again, since he had surely been there when they changed his clothes… Yes, that might be the bait needed to get out of this cell.
The sound of clothes rustling, and a soft scrape against wood suggested that Madara had leaned further against the wall behind him. Relaxing? Did he think Tobirama had fallen asleep? Ensuring that his breathing was even and deep, to further that impression, Tobirama continued planning.
~*~
The various feelings trickling along the bond from the bracer was interesting. With no context, it left Madara to speculate on what Tobirama was thinking. He was nearly certain that the young Senju was planning his escape, but whether or not he had any concrete plans, or had somehow detected a weakness, those things eluded Madara.
He spent some time considering the cell, if there actually was a weakness somewhere, but there should not be. They had spent good money to get a rogue Uzumaki to craft the seals that strengthened the walls and the bars, so even if the chakra suppression should fail, Tobirama would be hard pressed to fight his way out. No, the weakest point was the door, and then only when it was opened. It was not like Tobirama could have any hope of fighting his way past Madara and whoever else was there at the time. Not with his chakra sealed. Though, he should probably warn his brother and Hikaku to be extra on guard during those moments.
Madara kept staring at Tobirama’s back, admiring the pale hair. It looked so soft. What would it be like to run his fingers through it? He caught himself fidgeting with his gloves.
Eventually though, his thoughts drifted over to the thing he had told Tobirama he was going to do—the letter he was going to write to Hashirama. How could he tell his friend that they had his younger brother captive? That he was going to be forced to marry? That he had to marry Madara himself? How would that affect their friendship?
He supposed he should start with the fact that Tobirama was fine, uninjured, and treated well. Then, perhaps point out that the marriage had been inevitable when it was discovered that he had red eyes, and that Madara was really his best bet, given what the option had been. Perhaps not mention Izuna, just a vague someone else. And make it clear that Madara had every intention of treating Tobirama well. Better than well. He would treat him like the Blessed he was, treasuring him.
Though, perhaps avoid mentioning the part where Madara really hoped that their marriage could be a genuine one, with physical affection. Perhaps even emotional affection given time. Although, the last part could possibly be safe to add? Surely Hashirama would be glad to know that Madara thought he could grow to love Tobirama? Though, perhaps it was a bit premature to toss out such lofty sentiments? Even if Madara thought Tobirama was fascinating, going from there to loving him… Yeah, adding that to the letter could end up backfiring if it turned out that Madara could not in fact love the younger man.
Although… Looking at him curled up on that futon… Madara could very easily imagine curling up behind him, wrapping him in Madara’s arms, cuddling close to him at night.
Suddenly something occurred to him. There was not really any fear among the emotions he felt from the younger man now. His body-language didn’t imply it either, given that he had laid down with his back towards Madara, something Madara himself struggled to do even with clan-mates. Did he truly trust Madara that much already? Or…?
Slowly Madara stood up, silently moving closer to the bars, peering inside. The younger man was not sleeping. So what was he doing? A tiny movement at the nape of his neck, hair shivering slightly despite there being no breeze to move it. The collar! He was trying to figure out the collar.
Moving back to the wall and sitting down again, Madara considered what that meant. If Tobirama genuinely thought he had a chance to figure it out, then that must mean he had some knowledge of seals. Given the Senju’s close ties to the Uzumaki, that was not entirely out of the question. Which in turn meant that it might not be such a good idea for Madara to sleep in a different room after all.
He would just have to collect his futon and drag it in here after he’d sent off the letter. That way, should the impossible happen, and Tobirama got his collar off, then Madara would be here to assist Togakushi or Hikaku. He was not about to let his precious husband-to-be escape.