The Forsaken Son
~~~
A part of Tobirama wonders what his mother and fallen brothers would say about his engagement to Madara if they were still amongst the living.
Born as an Hatake, his mother truly had very little interest in the Senju’s war with the Uchiha, nor in the nonsensical schemes and beliefs of Butsuma, and showed her indifference through passive aggressive silence and minor shows of rebellion. Senju Rouna was far more focused on pouring every possible free moment into teaching both himself and Hashirama various Hatake tracking and sensing techniques, some of which Tobirama had come to build upon even further to advance his already impressive sensor abilities. His mother truly had no spare time to deal with the Senju clan’s petty and bloody generational war against the Uchiha when she was raising four children and enduring the back breaking physical and verbal abuse Butsuma inflicted upon her from the moment their marriage was consummated to her last breath. As mother had always said:
“Your father has his priorities and I have mine, Tobirama. His decisions will only bring death, and I can only hope my actions do not do the same.”
By the time Kawarama and Itama were old enough to comprehend the lessons their mother had imparted on Hashirama and Tobirama, the Hatake woman had already been nearing her eventual death bed shortly after Itama’s traumatic birth, Kawarama hardly a year older than their youngest brother. The responsibility of teaching her lessons of survival fell almost solely onto Tobirama’s five-year-old shoulders, with Hashirama already caught up in what the albino had deemed as ignorant fantasies until the very moment the peace treaty between the Uchiha and Senju was signed at the Naka River front. Kawarama and Itama began their cruel training and brainwashing with Butsuma at the age of five, and much like Hashirama, neither of them had the personality nor the heart to bear the hefty weights of warfare. Many nights Tobirama had spent soothing the physical and mental wounds inflicted by Butsuma, of doing his damnedest to teach them that the world did not care whether they wanted to kill or not, that they needed to swallow the bittersweet fact that their survival depended on the death of another. Neither boy ever came even remotely close to developing Butsuma’s vehement level of hatred for the Uchiha, something that enraged the bastard to no end, to the point that their and Hashirama’s shortcomings as soldiers fell upon Tobirama’s quaking shoulders. They would have most likely rejoiced at knowing they would not be asked to kill another Uchiha; Kawarama could have tapped into his unmeasured talent in public relations and Itama could have worked alongside Hashirama in developing his burgeoning medical ninjutsu skills.
His two brothers should have made it past the age of seven years old.
Tobirama knows without an absolute doubt that Butsuma is thrashing about in his grave, charcoal colored eyes full of rage whilst his mouth froths with bubbling saliva. The man had been strictly insistent about two things when it came to this world: that the Uchiha were to be destroyed and that a freak such as Tobirama would never be capable of being more than a weapon to be wielded by the Senju. While his logic on the first point was riddled with a plethora of subjective biases, the man had been sound on his judgment of Tobirama’s ability to be seen as nothing but a weapon, even by the very man he was arranged to be married to.
“As you can see, construction is getting along well. The Senju and Uchiha districts should be completed before fall’s end.”
Tobirama shifted his gaze to the man walking beside him, heart aching in pained reluctance when obsidian irises met his own merlot, falsified content poorly covering the dread swimming in those dark, neverending depths.
A huff of discontent left Madara as he broke their visual connection, returning his attention to the path before them with chilling indifference. “I have ordered for the main house to have an additional room added for you to reside in. I already know that you will not be eager to room with me after we are married.”
The meaning behind his words was crystal clear to the Senju.
You’re only marrying me because of the peace treaty. We both know you will never become intimate with a filthy Uchiha, right?
Their courting had begun shortly after the peace treaty was finalized, Madara having sent Tobirama an elegantly ornate uchiwa fan and a small boon, a small letter of few words attached to the parcel.
To my future bride.
Seeing the words written on paper finally brought Tobirama to the surface of reality, said reality that left him trembling not out of disgust but out of fearful worry. Intimacy was not only expected but required for consummation, especially in regard to arranged marriages, and Tobirama dreaded the moment Madara discovered that he was marrying not only the enemy but one with a malformed body. His physical condition could destroy the fragile peace forged between the two clans before it would even have the chance to truly solidify, all because he was born with an extra set of genitals. What was he supposed to do now?
“Your consideration is much appreciated, Uchiha-sama,” The albino shifted his gaze to the Uchiha with calm objection. “However, I-.”
“Living outside the main house is not an option for you, I’m afraid, so I gave you what I could to give you space from the Uchiha. Hopefully such an arrangement will be adequate enough for you, Senju.” Madara met Tobirama’s eyes with a challenge, daring the younger man to say something in objection and in turn gift him with the chance to rip apart the arranged marriage right then and there.
The albino’s heart screamed in protest at the Uchiha’s assumptions, pain swelling faintly in his chest at the blatant and hostile accusation. Luckily, he was a man of the mind, its state crafted through countless years of survival on and off the battlefield and unbridled curiosity. His mind took control of his form as his heart waged war, roaring over the organ’s cries for retribution and comfort. Peace was important, this marriage working was essential, he had no right to fight back anymore. After all, he had slaughtered countless Uchiha in the name of his father and protecting what little family he had left, and he was viewed as the heartless demon many had described him to be. The seventeen year old forced his heart to calm, allowing his emotionless persona to take control.
Tobirama bowed his body in submission, keeping his voice steady and without emotion as he bent his person into an L-shaped bow. “Anything you give me is more than enough, Uchiha-sama. The Uchiha are to be my family and you my husband, after all.”
He continued forward without giving the shorter man a second glance, slipping into the role so many people expected him to be.
Cold.
Harsh.
Blood thirsty.
Monster.
White Ghost.
Senju Demon.
Abomination.
Butsuma’s Wraith.
Heartless.
A mistake.
They were supposed to be taking in the construction of the village of Hashirama and Madara’s childhood dream, it being one of many uncomfortable outings they had endured together since their engagement. Madara had been more than adamant in demanding an outing between the two of them at least once every week, even with both of their hectic schedules and clan duties, and he continuously presented Tobirama with a gift each time, much to the Senju’s utter discomfort. He was not an individual who deserved gifts, for a monster like him deserves nothing, yet despite his objections (which were weak in hopes of not upsetting the wild-haired Uchiha), Madara continued to give Tobirama an array of items. Tobirama himself tried to do it in kind; it would be rude not to return such kind gestures after all. He had found a fuming Madara Uchiha on the doorstep of his and Hashirama’s shared home only hours after his gift’s delivery, much to his anxious surprise. It was in that damning moment that the albino learned that not only was it Uchiha custom to present the intended bride with gifts to represent the gifting of their hand to their husband, it was taboo for the wife to gift their husband prior to their consummation of marriage.
The clan head had assumed unrighteously that Tobirama had done it on purpose, that he wanted to make Madara look like he was unable to provide objects of wealth and class to his future spouse. In the end, the man dropped the commissioned katana on the ground with a clatter and stormed off, leaving the suiton user standing in the doorway with a heavy heart and an even heavier mind. It was custom within the Senju to create one’s future spouse a weapon made by their own hands, showing that the individual was willing to put time, effort, and resources into their partner by supplying them with a means to protect themselves with. Tobirama had simply forced himself to believe that the katana hadn’t been of Madara’s taste and shoved it deep within one of the many cabinets in his laboratory, striving daily to forget he had ever crafted it in the first place. There were many things Tobirama forced himself to be and feel, for he was just a heartless demon, right?
Right?
~~~