Yearning for your love

Tobirama wakes to a warmth that feels foreign and unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting. For a moment, he simply basks in the sensation, his mind foggy and content to linger in this rare peace. The weight of blankets and the soft hum of someone’s chakra nearby lull him into staying still, his body reluctant to leave the cocoon of safety.

Then he hears it—a soft, familiar voice gently calling his name.

“Tobirama…”

His eyes flutter open, drawn to the source of the sound. Izuna. His soulmate sits beside him, looking at him with an expression so tender it stirs something deep in Tobirama’s chest. For a moment, he simply stares, taking in the lines of Izuna’s face, the dark pools of his eyes, and the way his hair frames his features.

But the peace shatters as yesterday’s events come rushing back. The battle. The blood. The wound that nearly took Izuna’s life.

Tears well up in Tobirama’s eyes before he can stop them, blurring his vision. He blinks rapidly, trying to fight them back, but they spill over anyway, hot and uncontrollable.

Izuna reacts immediately, pulling him close and wrapping him in strong arms. His hand rubs slow, soothing circles on Tobirama’s back, grounding him.

Tobirama presses his face into Izuna’s shoulder, his sobs muffled but raw. “Why didn’t you dodge?” he chokes out between ragged breaths. “We trained for this, Izuna. Why didn’t you wear your armor?”

Izuna sighs, his voice heavy with regret. “I… I forgot my armor. In the heat of the moment, I didn’t put it on.”

Tobirama pulls back slightly, his eyes red and shimmering with tears as he looks at Izuna. “Then why didn’t you dodge?!” The words are almost a shout, filled with frustration and pain.

Izuna’s gaze drops, shame flickering across his face. “I froze,” he admits softly. “I’m sorry, Tobirama. I’m sorry for scaring you. Thank you for healing me… for saving me.”

Tobirama’s breath hitches, his tears slowing but not stopping. “I can’t lose you, Izuna,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

“You won’t,” Izuna says firmly, his eyes meeting Tobirama’s with unwavering resolve. “I swear to you, I’ll never do something so stupid again. I promise.”

Before Tobirama can respond, there’s a knock at the door. The sound barely registers before the door bursts open, and a tiny blur of energy storms inside.

“Tou-chan!” Haruto squeals, scrambling onto the futon and wedging himself firmly between Tobirama and Izuna. The boy beams up at him, his small hands clutching at Tobirama’s clothes. “You’re awake! Finally! Uncle Mada is so boring. He didn’t teach me anything, and he wouldn’t let me feed the fish in the pond!”

Madara steps into the room at a more measured pace, his expression somewhere between exasperated and amused. “Haruto,” he says patiently, “I’ve told you before, my koi are not a garbage can for leftover food. They can’t eat food mixed with sauces or spices. If you’d like, we can feed them some vegetables after lunch.”

Tobirama blinks, his mind still reeling from Haruto’s sudden arrival. He looks over Haruto’s head at Madara and mouths, “Uncle Mada?”

Madara catches his expression and shrugs, his tone pragmatic. “It’s easier if everyone knows Haruto is my nephew. That way, no one will dare to mess with him.”

Tobirama raises a skeptical eyebrow, but before he can say anything, Madara smoothly changes the subject. “Lunch will be ready soon. Dress and come downstairs,” he says briskly before turning and leaving the room.

Haruto watches his uncle go before puffing out his chest proudly. “I helped Uncle Mada cook! I washed the rice and set the table!”

Tobirama feels his lips twitch into a small smile despite himself. “You did a great job, Haruto,” he says, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Izuna, still sitting beside them, smiles softly. “It sounds like you’ve been busy,” he says, his voice warm.

Haruto beams at the praise before darting out of the room with the same energy he came in, calling out that he’ll wait for them downstairs.

Izuna chuckles quietly, watching the boy disappear. “He seems to be a handful,” he murmurs, his tone fond.

Tobirama sighs but can’t suppress the warmth blooming in his chest. “He’s your son, now, too” he mutters, a faint teasing lilt in his voice.

Izuna smiles, reaching out to brush a stray tear from Tobirama’s cheek. “I know,” he says softly.

Tobirama and Izuna rise from the futon, their movements slow and deliberate as they ease into the day. Tobirama notices the lingering soreness in his limbs, a reminder of yesterday’s events, but he brushes it aside. Izuna glances at him, concern flickering in his eyes, but Tobirama offers a faint nod of reassurance. Together, they dress in simple yukata, Tobirama borrowing one from Izuna, the light fabric soft against his skin and a stark contrast to the heavy tension still coiled in his chest.

Izuna leads the way downstairs, his pace unhurried, as if sensing Tobirama’s need to process the morning in silence. The faint hum of Madara’s chakra reaches Tobirama before they enter the dining room, its steady strength an anchor. Haruto’s chakra is bright and unrestrained, like sunlight spilling into every corner of the space.

The dining room is simple yet inviting, and the table is already set with bowls of rice, miso soup, and perfectly grilled fish. Madara sits at one end, his imposing presence softened slightly as he listens to Haruto chatter animatedly about washing the rice. The boy’s enthusiasm is palpable, and Tobirama feels a small smile tug at his lips despite himself.

“Good timing,” Madara says as they enter, gesturing for them to join. “Haruto’s been asking when you’d come down.”

Haruto beams at them, waving his chopsticks in excitement, completely forgetting Tobirama also had been in the room and already knows. “Tou-chan! Uncle Mada said we can feed the koi after lunch!”

Tobirama chuckles softly, ruffling the boy’s hair as he sits beside him. “Is that so? I’m sure the koi will appreciate your generosity.”

The meal begins, and the conversation flows easily. Tobirama listens more than he speaks, letting the warmth of the moment settle over him. The food is simple but well-prepared, the flavors a comforting reminder of how life is supposed to be: nourishing, steady, and full of small joys.

Partway through the meal, Madara clears his throat, drawing their attention. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, his tone measured, “Haruto should join the Uchiha children in daycare starting tomorrow.”

Tobirama stills, his chopsticks hovering over his bowl.

“It’s a mix of short, simple lessons and plenty of time to play and make friends,” Madara continues, his dark eyes steady on Tobirama. “Considering Haruto just moved here, he’s in dire need of some friends his age. It’ll help him adjust.”

Tobirama’s immediate reaction is wariness. His gaze flickers to Haruto, who is focused intently on his fish, blissfully unaware of the potential challenges he might face. The Uchiha children… Will they truly welcome an outsider? A Senju child at that? The thought of Haruto being ostracized twists his gut, but he swallows his concerns. Haruto doesn’t need to hear his doubts.

Madara seems to sense his hesitation, because he continues before Tobirama can respond. “It’ll be fine,” he says firmly, his tone carrying the weight of certainty. “The Uchiha are used to people marrying into the clan. It’s common due to the Sharingan—marrying out isn’t an option. Half-blooded children aren’t unusual, and you’re not the first person to bring an already existing child into a marriage. Haruto will fit in just fine.”

Tobirama glances at Izuna, whose chakra hums with quiet support. His soulmate offers him a small, encouraging smile, and Tobirama feels some of his tension ease.

He looks back at Haruto, the boy’s bright eyes alight with curiosity and energy, and he knows Madara is right. Haruto needs friends. He needs to feel at home here, among the Uchiha.

Finally, Tobirama nods. “All right,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “Haruto may go to daycare.”

Haruto looks up, his face lighting up in delight. “I can go play with other kids?!”

“Yes,” Tobirama replies, his lips quirking into a rare smile. “But you have to listen to the teachers and behave, understood?”

Haruto nods enthusiastically, already babbling about what he’ll do and who he might meet. Tobirama watches him with a mix of trepidation and hope, silently vowing to ensure Haruto’s happiness in this new chapter of their lives.

***

After lunch, they settle on the engawa, the wood is warmed by the midday sun. Haruto kneels at the edge of the pond, his small hands carefully tossing slices of vegetables to the koi. The fish dart through the water in flashes of red, gold, and white, eagerly snapping up the offerings. Tobirama watches his every move with an eagle eye, ready to intervene if the boy leans too far forward or stumbles toward the water.

Izuna sits beside him, relaxed but attentive, his dark eyes flickering between Haruto and the peaceful ripple of the pond. On Tobirama’s other side, Madara lounges with an air of practiced ease, though Tobirama senses the sharp edge of his chakra, steady and ever-watchful.

The quiet moment is soothing, but it doesn’t last. As Haruto giggles at the koi fighting over a particularly large piece of carrot, Madara breaks the silence.

“I promised Izuna that his soulmate could work as a shinobi and researcher if he chose to,” Madara begins, his tone as even as his chakra. “I keep my word. Once the medics clear you for active duty, I’ll add your name to the shinobi register. Considering who you are, I see no need for a formal test of your abilities.”

Tobirama’s hand stills on his lap, his brow furrowing. Madara’s chakra holds no deceit, only blunt truth. He hadn’t expected this.

“It will take some time,” Madara continues, his gaze flicking to Tobirama. “Your condition is poor, and we’ll prioritize your recovery. Once you’re ready, I’ll see to it that you have proper missions. In the meantime, Hashirama should send your belongings soon. When they arrive, we’ll set up your lab here. I imagine you’d prefer to stay busy.”

The words surprise him more than he cares to admit. Tobirama had braced himself for a different conversation entirely, one where his shinobi life would be stripped away, replaced by the confining expectations of a housewife bound to the Uchiha clan. His crimson eyes narrow slightly as he scrutinizes Madara’s expression and chakra. There’s no condescension, no expectation of submission—only pragmatism and, beneath it, a subtle thread of respect.

“You seem surprised,” Madara says, his lips quirking into a faint smirk.

“I assumed…” Tobirama hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “I assumed I’d be expected to give up my career entirely, to remain in the compound and take care of Izuna.”

Madara snorts softly, his dark eyes glinting. “Many omegas who marry into the Uchiha do become homemakers, yes. But it’s not because we force them. The majority of them come from civilian families with no shinobi training. Some find work in trading, farming, or crafts instead.”

Madara leans forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. “We encourage our omegas to avoid dangerous professions, but we don’t forbid it. You’re no ordinary omega, Tobirama. If anyone in the clan gives you trouble—be it for your profession or Haruto—tell Izuna or me. We’ll deal with it.”

Tobirama tilts his head, his sharp mind catching the slight pause before Haruto’s name. Then, realization strikes like lightning. Madara believes Haruto is his biological son, likely from a past relationship. A flicker of annoyance rises in him, but he pushes it aside.

“Haruto isn’t my biological son,” Tobirama clarifies, his voice calm but firm. “I adopted him. His mother passed without leaving word of his father’s identity, and no one else stepped up to take responsibility. He’s not my blood, but he’s my son in every way that matters.”

Madara blinks, momentarily taken aback. “Oh,” he says, and his chakra shifts, a ripple of mild embarrassment cutting through his usually composed presence. “I assumed… Well, my apologies for the misunderstanding.”

Tobirama studies him carefully. “Will this be a problem?”

Madara’s expression hardens, his response immediate. “No. It doesn’t matter if Haruto is yours by blood or choice. He’s family now. I’ll update the paperwork to reflect that. No one will question his place here.”

The sincerity in Madara’s voice steadies something in Tobirama, a quiet reassurance that takes root despite his lingering doubts. He glances at Haruto, who turns to wave at them, his face alight with innocent joy. Tobirama feels a pang of protectiveness but also a budding hope.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, the weight of his gratitude conveyed in his tone rather than his words.

Madara grunts in response, his smirk returning. “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you see what our elders have to say about all this. It’s always entertaining. And annoying.”

Tobirama snorts softly, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. As Haruto giggles and tosses another vegetable into the pond, he allows himself a rare moment of peace, the warmth of his new family beginning to soothe the scars of his past.