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Madara yawned, stretching lazily and then rubbing his face, pulling his hair loose from where it had wound about his throat, nose wrinkling. He sat up, trying to remember what was in store for today, and shivered a little at the cool air.
“Good morning Aniki!” Izuna tapped at his door, then opened it and peered around it with a weak smile. Madara frowned. “Happy birthday! Ah, I promised I’d help Chiyo-san, I’ll be out all day, sorry!” he said hurriedly as Madara’s heart plummeted. “There’s breakfast from that little bakery you like and I made tea for you!”
Madara thanked him, forcing the words through a tight, achy throat, and then he was gone.
Madara looked at the closed door, breath catching and heart throbbing painfully in his chest. He let himself fall backwards again, then turned on his side and curled up, dragging the kakebuton over himself almost entirely. Why bother getting up.
He stifled a cry, closing his eyes. There was a tiny spark of maybe-hope that- that this year would be different, but. . .
It had been ten years. That spark had long ago guttered weakly and it died a little more every year.
“Happy birthday, Aniki!” Izuna cried, bouncing and hugging Madara the moment he was up from his futon. “It’s today! It’s today! Have you seen anything yet?”
Madara grinned, hugging Izuna as they toppled back over on his futon. “No! Not yet, I only just woke up!” he said, laughing. Izuna hummed, snuggling into him, and he sighed contentedly, nuzzling into his brother’s hair and looking at the ceiling.
He couldn’t wait, though. He laughed again and hugged Izuna tighter, wondering giddily what his soulmate’s life would be like, if he would be able to tell who they were from what he saw today, if he would recognise anything. . .
It was rare, of course, but sometimes it happened on the first year, and. . .
Madara grinned, hiding his face in Izuna’s hair as he whined about not being able to wait until he was old enough to glimpse his soulmate’s life. Madara could be patient. Soon he would know something, whatever it was he might see, and he would be happy with that.
“Happy birthday, son.”
Madara slunk to the table and knelt opposite his father. “Thank you.” he said softly. He saw his parents exchange a look, and Izuna nudged close against his side.
He found a smile for his brother, but he couldn’t swear to how steady it was.
“We have inarizushi for dinner. . .” Madara’s mother said, serving him herself.
“Did you have a good day, Madara?” Hikaku asked softly.
Madara’s breath caught and he smiled at his cousin, then ducked his head. He ate, but he didn’t taste the inarizushi, or the vegetables, or the tea.
“What did you see?” Madara’s father asked after a while of awkward silences and more awkward attempts to break them, and Madara choked on the bite of rice he was trying to swallow.
Madara raised his head, eyes burning, and opened his mouth, then-
Closing his mouth as he took a sharp breath, Madara rose from the table with a small bow. He abandoned his plate half finished and left the room, heading straight back to his bedroom. He closed himself in and- Two steps across his room he collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
“A- Aniki?” Izuna called from the other side of the door, and Madara bit his wrist, trying to be quiet.
After another minute or two, Izuna just let himself in. Madara wished he hadn’t, but couldn’t be surprised - Izuna was always welcome in his room, and knew it. He often came to pester Madara or play or drag him out to train together.
“A- Oh- Oh hell, did- Did you see an enemy symbol or something, Aniki?” Izuna asked, and Madara’s heart wrenched. “Or an enemy? Someone we know? You know it happens, and it’s not always the end of-”
“I didn’t see anything!” Madara snapped, twisting to look at his brother.
Izuna’s eyes widened and his breath hitched. “Oh. Oh Aniki. . . I-” Izuna crossed the distance between them and knelt, wrapping himself around Madara in a tight embrace and wriggling to get closer, rocking a little.
“All day,” Madara said brokenly, “I didn’t- There wasn’t-”
Not one single glimpse of anything that hadn’t been in front of him, not a flicker of his soulmate’s life before his eyes.
“A- Aniki?” Izuna peeked into his room cautiously, but slipped around the frame and inside without really hesitating. At thirteen he was now all gangles and elbows, not-quite-graceful as he slid the shoji closed behind himself.
“I’m fine.” Madara said shortly as Izuna came closer.
“Right.” Izuna said slowly. “Of course you are.” He smiled, resting a hand on Madara’s shoulder. “I can see that.” he said, teasing gently, his eyes dark with worry as he searched Madara’s expression and he just-
Madara flinched and yanked away. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?” he demanded, shoulders tense. “So I didn’t-” his voice cracked despite his best efforts, “didn’t see anything.” again; three years . . . not a single glimpse of a soulmate’s life, nothing. . .
“Oh,” Izuna softened further, reaching for him, “Aniki, I-”
“Why should that mean I’m not just fine?” Madara snapped, shoulders tense, “I don’t see anything, because I don’t have a soulmate, because I don’t have a fucking heart, that’s-”
Madara’s harsh words were cut off as all the air left his lungs in a painful rush under Izuna’s weight, both of them thumping into the floor. His eyes widened as he looked up at his little brother, sitting on him and glaring down into his eyes. “First of all,” Izuna said, shoving at his shoulders a little harder, “shut up, Aniki. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know,” Izuna swallowed, his lips tugging into a pout, “and I know you have a soulmate, Aniki.” he said fiercely. “You’ll find them. You will.”
“Izuna-”
“And don’t you dare try and tell me that again!” Izuna yelled, his eyes damp. “I know you better than anyone and I can kick your ass if I have to, but I know better, damn it, Aniki!” he half-sobbed, shoving at Madara again.
Madara’s heart throbbed and he reached up a little. “Sorry.” he mumbled.
Izuna huffed, but flopped over on his chest and cuddled into him. “Dumb Aniki.” he muttered darkly.
“You-” Madara paused, swallowing. “You really think . . . I do? Somewhere? Even though I’ve never seen. . .”
“You do.” Izuna said with such conviction that even though there was no way his little brother could know anything . . . it was a little comforting.
The sensation of a powerful chakra signature approaching drew Madara from his miserable recollections, and he shuddered, curling up tighter in his bed.
The deep warmth of Izuna’s own chakra met the cool ocean that was Tobirama at the door, and they clashed mildly, as they usually did - most of the antagonism was gone, but their personalities didn’t always mesh the most easily - then a little more fiercely, and Madara thought he should possibly go see what Tobirama needed to bring him here. He. . . He didn’t want to get up, though, not to go in to the Tower . . . and not to face people who would, if they knew what today was to him, expect him to be happy today, or hopeful.
Eventually both signatures went away, and Madara sighed, not quite relief. He should get up, though. At least to eat the breakfast his brother had brought for him.
Madara rubbed his face, breath catching. It took him a little longer to drag himself out of his blankets. He slouched to his tansu and rummaged into the very bottom, pulling on an old and comfortable yukata. Though normally he might have pinned his hair up for a day at home like this, today he left it free, bowing his head as he left his room and letting it fall forwards around him.
Madara lifted his head from his book as something teased at the edges of his senses. Not Izuna, who he had been keeping an idle portion of his mind attuned for - he wasn’t due back just yet, but he was often a little early, and the mission had been an easy one - but. . .
Lighting up his senses with a little more chakra, Madara hummed, surprised. Why would Tobirama be seeking him out?
Today, particularly. Madara hadn’t known before - why should he? - but he had heard Hashirama wishing his brother a happy birthday early today, when he shouldn’t even have been at the office yet.
And asking, of course, about Tobirama’s soulmate. Asking if he had seen anything, if he knew who-
Madara swallowed painfully and shoved the thought away, along with the Senju brothers’ words from the morning, looking down at his book again with determined focus.
Tobirama knocked at his door.
Damn. Tobirama was seeking him out, then. Something must have truly gone awry at the Tower or come in by messenger, surely, if Tobirama was coming to get him personally, and on a day he should be . . . well. If not spending it with his soulmate - or searching - then with his brother, his family. Relaxing. Not working.
Tossing aside his book, Madara went to the door to see what his evening would be interrupted for. He shivered in the gust of chill air that blew in the moment the door was open.
“I’m sorry to disturb you.” Tobirama began, with a tiny polite smile, inclining his head.
“If you have to, you have to.” Madara said with a shrug. “What is it?”
“May I come in?” Tobirama asked, hitching his fur-lined coat around himself a little higher and tilting his head.
“We don’t need to go in?” Madara asked, surprised. “Ah, of course, my apologies. Come in, Tobirama.” he invited, stepping aside.
“Thank you.” Tobirama moved forwards immediately and shivered as he stepped aside, getting away from the door without leaving the genkan. “No, no need to go . . . anywhere. This isn’t about work, it’s,” he paused, “a personal matter.”
Madara paused, the door mostly shut, and had to remind himself to keep moving. He closed the door and turned to Tobirama with a measuring look. “. . .personal?” he questioned, wondering what it could possibly be about. Something to do with Hashirama, presumably - they had little enough else in common, outside things that technically fell into the heading of work.
“. . .yes.” Tobirama said, lifting his head to look at Madara again.
“Well, come in properly.” Madara said slowly. “Welcome.”
Tobirama took off his shoes, lining them neatly against the wall, then shed his coat and held it in his hands, dipping his head in thanks. Madara eyed him for a moment, then glanced at the open hook right beside where his own coat hung.
“Let me take that.” he said after a moment, reaching for Tobirama’s coat.
He startled, then let Madara have it, and he slowly hung it up, right in front of Tobirama.
Moving towards the main floor, Tobirama nearly stepped on the pair of guest slippers before tucking his feet into them. Madara stepped back, with an inviting gesture, and led him deeper into the house.
“Perhaps we should sit by the irori?” Madara asked, glancing over his shoulder. “You’ve just come inside, and it’s cold out.”
“Thank you.” Tobirama said with a shiver, so Madara led them there, stoking the low fire absently higher once more as they settled. “I . . . tried to speak with you about this before, but Izuna was . . . insistent you would not want to see me on your birthday.”
Madara stilled, reaching for the kettle. “I,” he paused, “do not generally want to see anyone, on that day.” he said thinly.
“. . .you do not wish to meet your soulmate?” Tobirama asked softly, and Madara’s fingers curled in towards his palm. His grip made his fingers ache.
“I’m an Uchiha.” Madara said, forcing the words from his tightening throat.
Tobirama shifted, tugging one of the cushions over his legs, squashing it a little in his arms. “What does that mean? I wouldn’t have thought- Your clan . . . doesn’t appreciate soul-”
“I don’t have one!” Madara snapped, tense, and then recoiled, breath catching. He must be upset, to have so easily let that slip. But- Not appreciate. . . “Of course we do.” he said, voice softening as his eyes burned. “Just. Not for me. There isn’t- isn’t anyone. No shared glimpses, no-”
“There’s me.” Tobirama said while he was speaking, and it took a moment for the words to sink into Madara’s mind.
“. . .what?” Madara said, a spark of stinging temper lighting in his chest.
“There’s me.” Tobirama said again, lifting his head.
Madara was reeling a little and he probably looked ridiculous as his mouth dropped open. Of course there were people who- who sought relationships outside their soulmate, for one of myriad reasons, though Madara had never . . . quite been able to bring himself to do so - it would have meant killing that tiny spark of hope he still carried to even try. Even so. . .
Tobirama? Approaching him? Why? And without even knowing before-
“There’s me and . . . and the glimpses I’ve seen.” Tobirama said, and the shock made Madara gasp, aching.
“And you would approach me?” Madara said thinly, then- “Why the hell would you talk to me about it? Just- Go! You have a soulmate! Appreciate it!” he snapped bitterly, rising to his feet and half turning away.
“It’s you, you impossible-”
“That’s impossible!” Madara bellowed back, hurting and offended that Tobirama would even try such a ridiculous, horrible lie. True that they weren’t close but to do such a thing. . . Not that he would have guessed it of Tobirama at all, but- “. . .what?” he turned back to look at Tobirama fully, what he’d heard making no sense.
“I said I am blind, you idiot!” Tobirama shouted again, and Madara blinked, staring at him.
“You- You’re what? How?” Madara asked, and Tobirama buried his face in the pillow he was holding in his lap. “That isn’t- You can’t possibly expect that. . .”
Tobirama threw the pillow aside as he lunged to his feet. “I will fucking prove it.” he said, and Madara yelped as Tobirama reached out to him, one hand splaying across his chest and the other cupping his jaw, then-
Madara’s world realigned as Tobirama kissed him, sparking waves flooding his body and setting his mind to whirling. Tobirama’s mouth was soft against his, softer than he could have guessed, but the kiss was firm enough to almost ache.
And-
And Madara was dizzy and lightheaded with it, clinging, he realised, to Tobirama for balance and support. Tobirama finally broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and whined softly as he nuzzled Madara’s cheek and then pulled slowly away, stroking Madara’s jaw.
“Tobirama.” Madara said faintly, wavering on his feet. He sank down weakly. “You-”
“Yes?” Tobirama said, looking a little flustered and still breathless.
“Soulmate- My life? You’ve seen- You’re-” Madara licked his lips. “You’re blind?” he repeated, confused. Half a lifetime of watching Izuna face off across the battlefield from this man played in scraps of Sharingan-sharp memory; days spent working in the village offices, or just seeing Tobirama in the village. “I- What?”
Tobirama sighed, running his fingers through his hair, ruffling it and tilting his head aside for a moment. Madara’s gaze dropped to follow the line of his neck before darting back up to his own - gorgeous, striking, blind? - eyes.
“Yes, I’m blind. I have been for-” Tobirama took a breath, shaking his head slightly as Madara choked, staring at him. “Long before you could have seen through my eyes.” He reached out and brushed his fingertips over Madara’s cheek, lips curved into a faint, not quite happy smile. “I’ll . . . leave you to . . . think about this. Come find me when you’ve managed to get your head around it.”
Madara protested wordlessly, tensing.
“If you even wish to.” Tobirama said more quietly as he turned away.
Madara blinked, trying to- Wait. If he wished-
Tobirama was walking away and he thought Madara might not want to- to find him, to- His soulmate.
Madara lunged for Tobirama as he walked away, barely thinking, not managing to get all the way to his feet first and sending them both sprawling across the floor as Tobirama half-turned, a startled sound on his lips. Madara struggled to speak, his tongue tangled and his throat feeling as though there was something thick blocking it.
Tobirama winced. “Ow?” he said faintly, and Madara’s arms slipped further around his waist, tightening. He’d landed twisted onto one hip, Madara’s weight carrying him down - he’d taken the crest of Tobirama’s other hip to the breastbone, and it throbbed, though he’d already caught his breath.
“Ah. . . Madara?” Tobirama questioned softly, shifting very slightly beneath his weight.
“Please.” Madara managed, his throat painfully tight. “Please don’t leave.”
“Madara. . .”
“Please. Please.” Madara buried his face against Tobirama’s ribs, shaking. He was shocked and he still wasn’t sure what to think but- but this was his soulmate, here in front of him - in his arms - after- after ten years of thinking. . .
Madara couldn’t face him walking away.
“I’m . . . right here.” Tobirama said quietly, tentative fingers brushing Madara’s brow and over his hair. “If you want. . . I’ll stay.”
Madara swallowed thickly. He nodded, face still hidden against Tobirama’s side.
Tobirama’s fingers continued to gently stroke through his hair, brushing his face from time to time. Madara breathed, trying to steady his wobbly nerves. “I’m sorry.” he said into Tobirama’s side.
“For what?” Tobirama asked, voice low and calm.
Madara lifted his head to look and found Tobirama’s expression had smoothed out as well, almost peaceful. “For,” he paused, “this. And for. . .” he trailed off, staring at Tobirama’s brilliant eyes. Closer now, he could see that they were red-on-red, no pupils, and wondered how he had never seen that before. “I never knew you were. . .”
“Yes, I . . . gathered as much.” Tobirama said quietly. “I realised, and then I-” His fingers curled. “I thought you- you must not know.” He swallowed. “I didn’t know if you would . . . want, even after our peace, but I had to. . .”
After our peace, Madara thought, and- Tobirama must have known, before. What they were - could be - to each other. He pressed his lips together, a shudder running through him.
“Madara, this is- I know it’s a lot of new information,” Tobirama said, clearing his throat, then taking a breath, “it’s understandable if you need time to . . . think about it. Get it squared away in your mind.”
Madara’s arms tightened reflexively, and his breath caught painfully.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Tobirama said, “I will still be there, after you’ve had time to think, you don’t have to- to hold on to me to make sure.” His lips twitched towards a tiny smile, and Madara flinched.
“I’m sorry.” Madara said, the words rasping unpleasantly. “I just need- I-”
Tobirama touched his face gently and Madara realised a few tears had escaped. He shuddered.
“Of course, if it’s simply that you want to,” Tobirama said, voice even quieter, face soft with concern, “then . . . I’ll be right here. You can.” He cleared his throat. “Hold- hold on to me.”
Madara’s breath caught. Tobirama’s hand pressed to his cheek. “Madara?”
Madara swallowed, leaning into the touch. “Please. I’m sorry.” he said again.
“Stop apologising.” Tobirama said gently. “I just didn’t want to . . . to push you. I knew it would be-” He paused, taking a breath. “I knew that if you had no idea, this would be quite a lot to have thrust upon you. I didn’t want it to be. . .”
“It . . . is.” Madara admitted. “And I am- I don’t know what to-” He shook his head. He definitely did need time, and to think, and calm down - if he could at all, his soulmate, he had one, Tobirama, Tobirama who was here and in his arms - but- “I don’t need you to go away,” he choked on a pained sound, “I would really . . . rather you didn’t.”
“Then I’ll stay.” Tobirama said simply, closing his eyes and sighing, relaxing a little in Madara’s arms. His forearm pressed against the floor in a new, equally uncomfortable angle with the slight movement. Tobirama, sprawled under his weight and pressed down against the floor, had to be even more uncomfortable.
Tobirama ran his fingers through Madara’s fringe. “Madara?” he said softly.
Madara hummed and nodded, cheek rubbing against Tobirama’s ribs.
“Perhaps, though, we could go back to the cushions?” Tobirama suggested. “I can finish the tea you were about to make. Perhaps.”
“Ah.” Madara said, and shifted his grip a little, beginning to slide his arms away. It hurt to let go, and he stomped on the feeling, reminding himself that Tobirama was going nowhere. Not now. He had promised, and Madara knew Tobirama didn’t lie - not in his personal life. “Yes, of course.”
He pulled reluctantly away, fingers twitching in towards his palms, and rolled back up onto his heels. Tobirama caught his wrist, and Madara startled, looking at him.
“I’m not going anywhere, Madara.” Tobirama said, squeezing gently. “Not now . . . not if you don’t want me to leave. Not until you’re ready.”
What if I don’t ever want you to leave me again? Madara thought, but didn’t say. He wasn’t quite thinking straight right now, he was well aware.
Twenty minutes later Madara was curled between Tobirama’s legs, leaning against his chest with an arm around his shoulders and fingers stroking lightly over his nape beneath his hair, a warm cup of tea in his hands. I have a soulmate, he thought, careful, tentative, I have a soulmate and he’s here and he’s wrapped around me and he is Senju Tobirama the demon-ghost of the battlefield and-
And he’d come to Madara, uncertain and . . . hopeful? He’d let Madara break down on him and hold him and offered only soft words and hesitant touches.
And that one explosive, brilliant kiss that had made so many promises Madara had thought he would never have.
“Tobirama?” Madara said, tilting his head up.
Tobirama hummed, blinking slowly, squeezing the nape of his neck.
“. . .happy birthday.”
Tobirama stilled for a moment, then laughed, hugging Madara closer to himself - warmth bloomed in Madara’s chest; whatever the surprise he still had to deal with, whatever the strangeness to adjust to, he knew what he wanted - and resting their heads together for a moment. “It is. Thank you.”
Madara grinned, eyes dropping to Tobirama’s smiling mouth, but he didn’t try for another kiss. Yet.