Tobirama
Tobirama slams down the document he is holding, letting out a groan of frustration. The document is far from complex, yet he struggles with keeping his concentration. As much as he revels in his contributions to the village, the constant stream of paperwork is nothing short of a headache at times. Minor requests for minor work, demands for land allocation, letters from the Daimyo regarding the village’s development. Hashirama, on the other hand, appears to be just fine, humming to himself as he happily grants stamps of approval to various villagers’ requests. If only his brother were to stop with the unnecessary noise, perhaps he would be able to thoughtfully draft out a response to send to the Daimyo for further project funding.
Madara has yet to make an appearance this late morning. Discussion of clan matters were mentioned offhandedly the previous day, although it was never confirmed as to what exactly those matters are. Judging from his previous ramblings, there are a number of issues that could be discussed. Tobirama lands his head within his hands, rubbing the pads of his fingers against his temples in a futile attempt to ease tension. He’d much rather deal with clan matters like Madara than file through an endless number of documents.
“Have you spoken to Shion recently?” Hashirama suddenly asks, trading his content hums with a direct question. Tobirama, still with his head in his hands, slowly turns it to convey his attention. Through his fingers, he sees that the once high stack of papers has dwindled significantly. At least someone has made good use of the morning.
He has not. Nor does he believe she wishes to speak to him. A fortnight ago, she inquired about his feelings regarding the arrangement, and he responded diplomatically. I want what is best for the village. If that is our marriage, then so be it. In the pursuit of proper answer, he coddled himself, and she so evidently told him that she hated his reasoning through an impenetrable wall of stiff body language. Unable to form an accurate conjecture of her emotions, Tobirama surmised that it would be best to not push forward. That method of circumvention will prove to be futile within the next seasons, though, and he will be forced to confront their predicament head-on.
“I have not.”
“Why not?” Hashirama pushes.
Tobirama sighs, now choosing to violently throw his head back, only to punctuate his obvious disgruntlement with a groan. “I do not wish to have this conversation.”
“But I do.” The Hokage is rather irritating in moments like this. He needs an answer and won’t settle until he gets one. “And I believe a short conversation may be more exciting than that.” His elder brother nods at the untouched stack he has yet to think about attending to. “Entertain me, you never seemed to harbor ill will towards Shion, and now she seems entirely untouchable. Not even Madara could speak about her in passing without your snapping. What did you say to upset her?”
“I did not say anything.”
“You must have. It was obvious to everyone those few nights ago. Shion in heavily guarded on the subject, too. Mito has been unable to relay even a hint of the cause of the conundrum because Soran can’t pry a single detail about of her and—”
“Because nothing of significance was discussed.” Tobirama is sharp with his words. He’s lying straight through his teeth, of course. He’s never wanted to reveal a weakness that will surely be exploited by his only living brother. If he told Hashirama the truth, the man would run the newfound information into the ground trying to create a solution. He’s always been a peacemaker, however successful or unsuccessful. “We are simply incompatible, that is all. Did it possibly occur to any of you gossiping about my relationship with my future wife that we are not a good match? I can hardly stand her at times, you know.”
“That’s not true, Tobirama.”
Hashirama is right, but he refuses to succumb to a fate of rolling over in battle. There are many truths about his relationship with Lady Shion. They are distant, though not unknown to one another. They share many beliefs, although he can’t be so certain of this fact anymore, it was at least true five years past. “You expect me to be a perfect partner for a person more stubborn than I?”
Tobirama cannot convince himself of the things he is saying, but he hopes that his conviction is enough to make Hashirama believe him. Hashirama merely leans against the desk and crosses his arms, facing away from him. A thick cloud of tension fills the room. It’s suffocating, and the sunlight that peaks out through the windows is not enough to ease the pace his heart has reached. He can anticipate what his brother will say to him in response. ‘She’s definitely not more stubborn than you.’ Something along the lines of that. And he would be right. Shion had her hotheaded moments, sometimes she’d snap at him in the way any stressed young woman would. She was certainly stubborn with him, although the circumstances were charged in a far more delightful way for a man to experience for the first time in his youth. Her approach now is far different, taciturn even.
His hands hit the solid wood of the desk with a loud thud. Hashirama stays put as he rises.
“I’m going to take a walk. I’ll be back later.”
The village center is bustling. Rows of stalls selling a range of items boast healthy lines and pairs walk side by side with the sole goal of seeing everything Konoha has to offer these days.
There she is, of course. A dango stall shares a small seating area with the ramen stall directly on the opposite side. Older men slurp up noodles and kids with their parents enjoy the deliciously sweet rice flour snack. And there sits Shion across from her sister, both women with their own skewers of dango and cups of tea.
Soran must be beginning to show these days; her obi appears looser than Shion’s and a slight curve forms at her abdomen under the thick fabric of her kimono. He’s heard plenty of her pregnancy through Mito when he visits her household, and even more so through Hashirama because Mito has informed him of every detail given to her by Mito. It’s good for you to know, too. When you and Shion eventually have children of your own. She may experience the same as her sister. He shakes his head, hoping to rid it of his elder brother’s voice. Marriage is at the edge of the table as it is, threatening to fall off and shatter at any second, let alone children.
Shion takes small, delicate bites of dango in between conversation with her sister. He isn’t close enough to begin to make out what they could be saying, he can barely even hear over the excited voices of villagers perusing the various offerings the center possesses. Her expression remains stagnant throughout, though, but not in such a way that she appears disinterested in what Soran is saying. What do women speak about these days? Perhaps their talk mirrors that of five years ago. Discussion of a marriage to be had, except the attention is on the younger sister this time. Nagging from the elder sibling, much like he had just experienced. He can only imagine the parallels, where she’s interrogated about why she avoids him despite the engagement.
Tobirama’s brows lace together when Soran’s calm expression is painted over by wide eyes and a smile which appears wholly unnatural on her features. It’s an exclamation that catches Shion’s attention and forces her to turn in her seat, dropping the dango skewer into the bowl in front of her. Her brows raise, but her mouth remains neutral. Her lips then begin to move, forming words he cannot articulate.
It is a moment later he understands their sudden change in demeanor, when a man of approaches the table and stands between the sisters. He’s of a similar age, it seems, and the familiarity of body language suggests they may know him. He must be another Uchiha. And while they initially performed pleasantries, both Shion and Soran no longer appear to be perturbed by his presence. They speak animatedly. He acknowledges Soran as the elder and more superior in rank as he faithfully answers what she says to him, but the second Shion engages it’s as though Soran had not existed at all. Soran, however, does not appear to be offended by this. Rather, she hides an entertained smile behind her hand.
Tobirama crosses him arms and leans against a nearby post as he observes the scene. The man is enamored by Shion in every aspect, while she gives little to him. When she responds to him with neutral body language, he gives far more to her. It is evident to Tobirama, minutes into this conversation, that this may have been one of the many men Madara described as being “unchosen candidates” for Shion’s affection. The man often complained of his younger sister outright refusing most men who advanced on her despite her claims of desiring the Uchiha’s traditional ways. “She wants to be in love but does not want to love anyone herself” he would say with a roll of his eyes.
It is amusing to witness. Behind her stretched lips is not authenticity, but rather, it is pleasantries. Her brows scrunch upwards and there’s mild concern deep in her dark eyes. Perhaps this is not the first time this man has approached her. Still, clear as it is that she does not care for him the way he so obviously does for her, Tobirama’s jaw clenches.
It gets to a point, he believes, where it is obvious to anyone who witnesses this interaction would know this man should forfeit his advances. If not for Shion’s actions, then it would be the length of the conversation that leads absolutely nowhere. Shion is quite the expert of it. Memories of her reciting the lessons of the ideal demeanor of a lady come to mind, ones where she often made fun of the fickle nature of it all. She’d often tell him that while this diplomatic manner of address is in fashion during their time, she truly wishes for it to cease. She never had an issue of speaking plainly with him.
Niceties can only take one so far, at least that’s what he believes. That man is certain to grow bored of her, Shion will become increasingly irritated, and Soran will eventually get annoyed at her exclusion. It’s only a matter of time. So why won’t he leave them be? Tobirama wonders, his fingers curling inward to his palm.
Then, there is a sudden change in her demeanor. A fatigued expression rapidly evolves into glee. Whether sincere or insincere, her lips curl outward into a wide, open smile which engulfs her expression. Laughter erupts, although he can’t hear it—he merely assumes it. Soran joins. Perhaps this means that man is welcomed to hold a longer conversation. A gesture of a hand to an open seat suggests so, but he refuses. Tobirama’s brows scrunch together in utter bewilderment. The man who took minutes of Shion’s time is invited to indulge in it further and he refuses the offer. A waste of effort, that’s what it is. Or, after finally executing his desire of bringing a smile to the Uchiha princess’s face, he’s decided he’s had enough of her. Regardless of reason, it’s an insult to her.
The sisters return to normal shortly after the man leaves. Shion holds the dango skewer delicately, a perfect daintiness to the poise of her hand. Conversation carries on between them as though he were never there to begin with. There is genuine laughter, intense exchanges, and brief pauses.
Shion’s eyes pierce his.
Her dark eyes bore a growing hole in his head. He wants to move but is compelled to stay in place. He’s been caught with nowhere to run. No plausible deniability. If she were to confront him of the incident, he knows very well she’s too quick to fall for a lie. I was passing by through town. That is true. I wasn’t watching you. That is a lie. She’d raise an eyebrow and respond in flatly feigned belief.
“Tobirama.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Tobirama,” the voice echoes. The seeming urgence is what forces him to break from Shion, although she’s moved on. Soran didn’t even so much as glance his way.
“Yes?” he answers in an irritated tone.
It’s the Nara clan head. Perhaps annoyance wasn’t a good look for Tobirama.
“I wanted to ask you a favor.”