Chapter Text
Madara’s breath catches. His face drains of color. “What?”
Izuna nods, grim. “I don’t know how bad it got or the details of the fight. But the caretaker who was supposed to be watching them?” His voice drops even lower. “She’s been imprisoned. She’ll be put on trial soon.”
Madara’s hands curl into fists. He shakes his head in disbelief, muttering, “I can’t believe they survived an encounter with the Kurama.”
Izuna hesitates, then leans in closer. His voice is now a whisper. “Tobirama found them before the Kurama could kill them.”
Madara goes still. Izuna watches his brother silently work through the implications, tension settling in his shoulders as understanding dawns.
Izuna leans in even more, angling his head to shield his lips from view. “Haruki-kun was caught in the Kurama’s genjutsu.”
Madara goes rigid.
Silence stretches between them, dense and suffocating. Izuna doesn’t move. He waits, watching Madara’s thoughts catch up—watching his brother’s face darken as each piece falls into place.
At last, Madara exhales sharply. He speaks just as quietly, his voice barely a breath. “That’s why he took you.”
Izuna’s lips curl into something not quite a smile. “Actually,” he whispers, “I was only Plan B.”
Madara’s head snaps toward him, eyes narrowing. But Izuna doesn’t stop.
“They tried to hire one of us first—preferably you, but they would’ve settled for me as well.” His voice stays steady, but his pulse spikes as he recalls what his husband had told him—the price he had been willing to pay.
“They sent you a mission scroll. Offered two million ryo, thirty-five reusable long-term preservation scrolls, and two medical ninjutsu of your choosing—for breaking Haruki-kun out of the genjutsu.”
Madara’s eyes widen, shocked.
“You declined,” Izuna murmurs. “So Tobirama declared a marriage hunt on me.” He pauses, then adds, voice dry, “And carefully selected the marriage vows so I would have no choice but to save Haruki-kun.”
Madara moves before Izuna can react.
A sharp tug pulls him forward. Madara cups Izuna’s face in both hands, thumbs resting against his temples. His expression is raw—filled with pain and guilt.
“How badly were your eyes hurt?” he demands.
Izuna blinks, startled. “Nii-san—”
Madara’s grip tightens slightly. “I burnt that scroll,” he breathes, voice heavy with regret. “I thought it was just another one of Hashirama’s stupid pleas to meet and talk about peace. If I had just read it—”
Izuna leans into the touch and closes his eyes briefly. Madara has always loved fiercely, his emotions worn plainly on his face.
“I’m fine,” Izuna murmurs, voice soft. “Tobirama and Hashirama healed my eyes.” A wry smile tugs at his lips. “Tobirama was... pretty shocked when he realized it had hurt me. He seems to genuinely feel bad about it.”
His chest tightens at the memory—at the look on Tobirama’s face.
Madara’s jaw clenches. “How bad was it?”
Izuna sighs. “Bad enough. Tobirama had to regrow part of my chakra channels because they were too damaged to heal properly.”
He lifts a hand and rubs his wrist, fingers brushing over the chakra suppression seal there—an ever-present reminder of how fragile his body still is. “So my chakra is sealed for a few days, until the channels settle.”
Madara exhales hard. His grip on Izuna’s head softens into something almost gentle. His thumbs brush over Izuna’s temples before he finally lets go, hands dropping to his sides.
For a while, neither of them speaks.
Everything Izuna just revealed hangs between them, heavy and unspoken. But he has no desire to linger on it—not now, not when his emotions already feel stretched thin. He takes a breath and shifts the topic to something else.
“What were Kazuki and Kagami even doing outside the Uchiha compound?” he asks, voice quieter now, but still firm. “They had to be far for a Senju patrol to pick them up.”
Madara runs a hand through his hair and exhales again, guilt flickering across his face. It’s a rare look for him. “They must have snuck out,” he admits. “I didn’t even notice they were gone until they were already out of my sensory range.”
Izuna frowns. “Why would they do that?”
Madara hesitates. His brows draw together. Another sigh. “They were probably looking for you,” he says. “After word got out that Tobirama marriage hunted you, the elders started pushing for the boys to move out of the clan head’s house. I… should have shut them down more firmly. I didn’t make it clear enough to the boys that they were allowed to stay.”
Izuna clenches his jaw. Frustration stirs beneath his skin. “Of course they wanted to find me,” he mutters.
The thought of those boys wandering alone—lost, desperate, abandoned—makes something twist deep in his chest.
Madara gives him a look, one filled with regret. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.
“We’re lucky they did, and that they were found by that Senju patrol.” Izuna’s voice drops, steady but more subdued. “Kazuki was injured. A badly infected wound on his thigh.”
“How bad was it?” Madara asks, voice tight. “I didn’t notice anything amiss. Surely—”
“Kazuki would be dead now if Hashirama had been a less skilled medic!” Izuna snaps, cutting him off.
“Oh…” Madara mutters, shoulders tensing. He looks torn between relief that Kazuki is alive and guilt that he didn’t catch the injury.
Izuna exhales through his nose and shakes his head. “The boys are staying with me now.” His voice is calm, but resolute. “Tobirama and Hashirama already agreed.”
Madara blinks, clearly surprised. “Are you certain? Hashirama, sure, that’s no surprise. He’s just a big softy,” he says, waving a hand. “But Tobirama? I wouldn’t have expected that level of generosity.”
Izuna lets out a quiet laugh and shakes his head. “It’s not generosity,” he corrects. “The Senju have a law. If a child is orphaned and has no close relatives to take them in, that child becomes the ward of their sensei. That sensei—and by extension, their family—becomes responsible for them.”
Madara’s eyes narrow as he processes that. He crosses his arms, and Izuna can practically see the thoughts turning behind his brother’s eyes. “So Kazuki and Kagami are now wards of the Senju main family,” he says, tone even but with a trace of unease.
Izuna understands. It’s not easy to feel good about it. He’s grateful the boys have a place—but being bound to the Senju comes with strings.
“About that…” Izuna rubs the back of his neck, embarrassment prickling at his skin.
Madara’s gaze sharpens instantly.
“I might have… panicked and, uh, told Tobirama that Kagami is my son.”
Madara turns to stare at him like he’s grown another head. “You what?”
Izuna winces. “I didn’t know what else to say!” he says quickly, throwing up his hands in a helpless gesture. “One of the patrol members wanted to take Kagami away, and he was crying, and—I panicked.” He shifts under Madara’s stare, squirming slightly. “I was afraid that if Tobirama thought Kagami wasn’t mine, he might…”
His voice trails off. He looks away, unwilling to finish that thought.
Madara doesn’t miss the hesitation. His expression shifts, the sharp edges softening into something harder to read.
“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters after a pause. “Do you realize how much trouble this could cause?”
Izuna sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I panicked, nii-san,” he says again, frustrated. “I didn’t know about that stupid Senju law. Kazuki’s obviously too old to pass for my kid. I didn’t have time to think, and it’s not like I could take it back after I said it!”
He looks up at Madara, lips pressed together. “And now that I have said it… Can you just go along with it? If anyone asks, can you please claim Kagami is mine?”