Chapter Text
The burning chakra on his left flared like a warning torch, muffled and barely there before subsiding immediately back into the well-faked nothingness that had tricked Tobirama out of noticing it before he was well within striking range. He froze on the branch he’d been landing on to continue his run towards home, gaze snapping to the figure stepping out of the shadows of the forest floor. Uchiha Madara was not wearing armour, but his gunbai hung heavy at his back as he walked forward and into a small space between the trees. His shadowed black eyes never left Tobirama.
He considered making a break for it for all of a second, but knew even as the thought crossed his mind that there was no way he'd make it out. The mission had dragged on seemingly forever as he'd been chased by relentless patrols all the way through the desert, relying on his hiraishin to pull himself ahead again and again until he felt chakra exhaustion encroaching. They'd only stopped giving chase once he neared the edge of forest near the Senju lands, where he had managed to force a water dragon out of what had felt like the last remains of his chakra and taken some half of them out at once, before launching himself into a final hiraishin and disappearing in the edge of the familiar woods. After another few hours of keeping a steady pace, and calculating four hours of sleep as sufficient to bring him home in two days, this sudden interruption shocked his exhausted mind into blankness.
He could scarcely afford that kind of delay though, so Tobirama pulled all his wits around him and forced himself to focus on trying to sense out any other Uchiha that may be hiding in the trees. None could be felt, and Madara was uniquely able to sense others’ chakra and conceal his own, so it seemed the Uchiha patriarch was alone today. Tobirama jumped down from his tree to face the silent figure, there was no point in running and the height gave him no advantage - not that any advantage would have helped him stand a chance against Madara, and especially not in his current state. He braced himself and considered the other man while waiting for him to make his opening. This was quite obviously the intent here, as the Uchiha could have taken him out without ever making his presence known if this were a chance encounter.
Madara contemplated him for long seconds after Tobirama came down to face him, the silence stretching tense between the two men as they took each other in. Tobirama tried to read the shape of his expressive mouth, turned in an ever-present scowl, and the clench of his fists at his side. Madara´s mouth twisted into a rictus of annoyance before he finally opened it to say, “I presume you were off scouting your southern borders, prodding into whatever the desert dwellers are up to down there” in a tone of distaste. It made no sense, the Uchiha had little stakes in the Senju´s borders with the desert folk and the information Tobirama had collected could serve for little more than the modest benefit of having some awareness of the Senju´s border troubles. Not nearly valuable enough to have Madara intercept him in person - barely valuable enough to risk even a scout team.
The strange opening threw him, and he froze again trying to analyse what Madara could possibly be after. It irked him to realize he seemed to have subconsciously decided that this was not a plain assassination, that Hashirama's much-cried-over childhood friend would not simply decide to scope out an opportunity to take out one of the Senju’s most valuable assets and give himself a clear advantage in the next clan faceoff. It must have been his brother’s influence getting to him without him noticing, the constant talk of Madara’s fairness and heart and the fact that not once, in the field of battle, had Madara aimed for Tobirama. Their blades had never clashed, as Madara always went straight for Hashirama and left Tobirama to face his own younger brother - a balance struck on every battlefield they met on. If this balance were to be thrown out, if he were to die here right now, then he was painfully aware that Touka would have to face Izuna in his stead, and unbalance their battlefront, and the Senju would be down a field commander…
He carefully pulled back from thoughts of how his brother and cousin would fare after his death, how Hashirama had always watched over him during battles and awaited his return from missions with anxiety wavering in the usually so steady flow of his chakra, how Touka grasped him by the shoulders when she saw him safely home, as though to make sure he was really there and not just a vision. Thinking of their pain would just distract him now, and there might still be choices to make. There had to be a reason he was still alive to have this talk at all. If Madara thought he could be tortured for information, or taken prisoner to sell against some ridiculous concession from the Senju, then he may need to use the dregs of his chakra and ensure a clean death for himself at the least.
“I hadn't realized you were interested in our southern dealings. Is this a social call then? Were you waiting long for me, Uchiha?” Tobirama decided to ask instead of responding, hoping to stir the other´s famous temper and get him to give himself away, or at least gain some time to scout a potential loophole. He was not so optimistic as to hope he might escape from Uchiha Madara, not in the state he was in now, which the other had to have known. He could not posture past his exhaustion, and hadn't had time to clean out the diverse wounds and scratches he’d accumulated along the last three days. It must be obvious his chakra reserves were depleted and he could not rely on his usual speed. He didn't even try to run or pull a kunai yet, and for the shinobi across from him that must be evidence enough he knew it was over.
Madara seemed to brace himself with the question, taking a breath and looking to the ground before his eyes returned to Tobirama with their unerring focus. “Not long enough to talk myself out of this, obviously” he spat out, his voice still harsh but not accusatory. It was odd to see him hesitate, the Uchiha clan head was always a decisive figure cutting a straight line through the battlefield. Now he seemed to have to force himself to speak, and it brought Tobirama no comfort to know Madara was not pleased with what he was about to do. The other continued, “I came to bring you into the Uchiha clan”, and tipped his chin up as if awaiting Tobirama´s reply. He tensed, there it was, a forward declaration, but the wording seemed odd and Madara was not the kind of man who would go for imprecision. “You want a prisoner of war, or just a body to offer my clan in return for concessions?” he decided to ask, trying again to incense that famous temper and see if he could goad Madara into revealing his plan before he could get close enough to Tobirama to set it into motion regardless.
With a deep breath, Madara answered “Neither one of those. I´m here to call a Hunt, after which I intend to bring you back into my clan as my lawful husband”. His voice was almost soft, deep and slow, as though he didn't mean the words to freeze Tobirama to the spot like a struck winter rabbit. He must have flinched badly, must have acted out somehow but he had no idea what he did because it took him a moment to process that one. A hunt had not been called by any of the Senju this or the previous generation, and while he knew other clans did it, the Uchiha were among the rarest to engage. They had their bloodline to preserve. His brain would not stop running through the word, hunt hunt hunt . A Hunt, and he had no strength to run, nowhere to run to. Madara was talking again all of a sudden, “You know as well as I do that the Yamanaka have decided to cut us off from the Small East Sea and what that will mean for our supplies this winter. Your clan must have been speculating on what that might bring you in future fights, and though it won't kill the Uchiha, it will cost us more lives than I am willing to spend. This is my answer.”
He spoke as though that might make sense of the ridiculous notion, but somehow the politics of it brought Tobirama back into the moment, into something he could actually think about clearly. “You plan to use this to force the Senju to back away for the winter,” he brought out through numb lips. “Your brother will never raise his forces against a clan with you in its ranks,” Madara countered, still in the odd, restrained and low tone of voice. “Nor will he allow for an assassin to take you out once you’re in the Uchiha. I plan to use the Hunt as a basis for a peace agreement,” he continued, as though he was not proposing the most outrageous measure to top Hashirama’s many plans for peace.
“Do you think I'm a fool!” Tobirama spat out, finally finding his voice behind the shock, “your clan will never enter into peace talks from a weak position, not with a hostage on their hands to survive this winter.” This, somehow, was what managed to rile Madara up and he yelled back, “You clearly are a fool if you believe my husband, won on a Hunt called under the moon and trees, would be named a hostage in my own clan’s walls!” and his voice was not calm at all anymore, loud and bellowing like the forge in his lungs. The woods grew quiet about them and the air seemed heavy as the word husband hung between them like a noose. It was ridiculous, it was a trap and it should have been easy to spit in Madara's face, but… It was Hashirama's face that flashed before his eyes then, and the word peace rang in his mind in Madara's voice overlapping with that of his brother. Hashirama’s endless hope, his saddened eyes when he faced another battle, buried another clansman and reached out again and again towards Madara’s fiery presence only to be rebuffed by the Uchiha, never losing his dream of peace.
Tobirama took a breath, trying to shake off the tension, clear his head. He was not going anywhere, this much he knew, nothing had changed to make him better able to face Madara in the field. Husband, he thought again, a cold feeling crawling up his spine and tensing the tired muscles in his back even further. But he did not think Madara was lying,the man had no reason to pretend when he could have easily overpowered his target by now, taken whatever he wanted to have. And if there was really a possibility, here and now, to reach out a hand for his brother’s dream, who was Tobirama to pull away from it? He took another breath and forced his rational planning brain into the forefront. He could work with this, somehow, and he would turn it in his brother’s favour. This was what his duty told him and it was what he would do, regardless of his own feelings, as he had always done. Before all else, Tobirama was a weapon molded to fit in the hands of his clan head.