The Misconceived Son
~~~
Touka hated what the change of seasons was bringing forth. Winters in the Senju homelands throughout Touka’s childhood were always bitterly cold and, much to her chagrin, the wintery season fared no better further inland either. She loathed the cold days equivalent to the fiery passion of an Uchiha mid-battle, but not because the days were shorter nor the freezing temperatures. No, such hatred stemmed from the countless winters spent at an ailing Tobirama’s side, of having to watch her beloved cousin struggled to breath with fluid filled lungs, his face even more ashened than before as suiton-natured boy fought the newest sickness that had arrived with the season. Whilst they were young children, Touka had been forced to watch helplessly as Tobirama’s mother and her own spent countless hours at the sickly boy’s side, doing everything within their power to ensure that he made it through the night. Too many nights had she heard her aunt weeping over Tobirama’s unconscious near-corpse like body, settled on her knees whilst begging to the Kami to spare her son yet again.
It was those desperate nights that made Touka appreciate every moment she was given with her now youngest cousin, fueled her need to protect him from those who would hurt him. Tobirama was the only person that believed in her capabilities as a kunoichi from the very beginning, the only one who treated as an equal in every matter regardless of her gender. He was the one she went to for advice and comfort after a nightmare-fueled sleep, his cool chakra soothing to her doton-nature. When her mother eventually succumbed to an illness she had been battling since before Touka was born, it was Tobirama who comforted her, who let her beat his chest back and blue whilst she mourned for the only individual remaining in her immediate family.
She had been forced to watch as Butsuma beat the boy to the point of death countless times, as Tobirama dedicated his slumber to tend to Itama and Kawarama, to be the voice of reason for Hashirama even when the older of the two berated him for it. Touka glared at any person who spoke ill of her baby cousin and trounced the ones who dared lay a hand on him because, much to her utter frustration, Tobirama believed he deserved to be mistreated. Years upon years of physical, mental, and emotional abuse will do that to you, Touka bitterly surmised. Such abuse had forced her brilliant cousin to become the very monster the rumors spoke of him to be, the one who slaughtered Uchiha without a thought. Little did they know that Tobirama bore the weight of every life he took on his shoulders, a traumatized, young boy that only wanted to be loved hiding within the husk of the Senju Demon. She had seen that young boy retreat further inwards within her cousin with every harsh word dealt by their family and their fellow clansmen, with every hit of the back of Butsuma’s hand to his already bruised cheek, with every brutal and malicious assumption Hashirama made about his lone remaining brother. Now, at the age of seventeen years old, the sweet, bold, and thriving Tobirama she once knew had disappeared from all manners of the cousin she held dear, spirit shattered and heart fluttering just enough to keep him alive. Such a condition had only worsened with the addition of him to the already crumbling equation of Tobirama’s life and Touka would be damned if she let her baby cousin slip through her fingers.
Even if it meant jeopardizing the very dream he helped make reality. But first, she had to make sure the man wasn’t putting himself in the grave first.
“What in the hell are you doing outside without a hanten on?”
Touka glared at the snow-haired male moving before her, arms crossed in discontent whilst the cooling fall winds danced about her, leaves crackling pleasantly beneath her sandals.
Moving through another kata without pause at her indignation, Tobirama made no move to gift her with his attention nor his eyes, fluidly shifting his arms with the grace of a feline. “Hantens inhibit my movement and flexibility, both of which are necessary to successfully complete these specific katas. I will properly dress myself once I have finished.”
“That is exactly what you said last time before you caught pneumonia, baka,” Touka refused to give way to his frustratingly accurate logic, far too stubborn for her own good. “And if I remember correctly, said pneumonia nearly killed you.”
Tobirama paused in his movements, his unfocused vermillion eyes glaring at her frustration, a sight that always made Touka smile unknown to the seventeen year old boy. “The pneumonia was not that bad.”
“So being unconscious and internally drowning from fluids filling your lungs, wasn’t that bad?! We will have to agree to disagree, Tobi,” She stepped forward and took hold of a handful of the teen’s charcoal colored turtleneck, dragging the far too skinny teenager towards the engawa.
“Touka-nee!”
The young woman wasted not a second’s time in listening to her cousin’s objections, stepping onto the engawa with a single bound and thrusting the back door open to reveal a primly poised Mito nursing a cup of tea.
“I see you have managed to convince otouto to venture inside,” Never one to miss a beat (something Touka admired and resented about the Uzumaki woman), Mito looked to the pair of them with a face of indifference, settling her cup of patterned porcelain on the chabudai set before her. “I was planning on fetching him myself if remained out there too much longer.”
“Tobi’ here rarely acknowledges his own limitations so I took it upon myself years ago to be his keeper, seeing as how he cannot even dress himself properly for weather such as this.” Touka spoke before Tobirama could object, practically dropping the albino into the spot adjacent to his sister-in-law and taking the one across from Mito for herself.
Tobirama sent a glare her way whilst creating his posture, settling into a perfect seiza with indignation and cheeks crimson in embarrassment. “I informed you why I am dressed the way I am! It would inhibit my movements-!”
“-and said movements will be even more inhibited if you are dying and bedridden simply because you failed to dress as you know you should, you germ magnet.” She paid her cousin’s small temper tantrum no mind, instead taking hold of the cup of tea Mito had poured for her and relishing in the taste of jasmine on her tongue.
Mito hummed in agreement, politely placing a cup of tea in Tobirama’s battered digits, his hands bearing full witness to the brutal treatment he had been inflicting on himself in his training. The godforsaken training regiment her cursed uncle had developed for the boy early into his training of becoming the heartless killer of a son that Senju Butsuma had craved to wield since the birth of Hashirama twenty years ago.
“Touka is simply keeping your best interests in mind, otouto, as am I. Such vigilant interference would not need to occur if you perhaps took care of yourself in the correct manner, yes? Now, drink your tea and enjoy the treats I have prepared.”
Knowing it to be safer to not argue with the redhead, Tobirama did as he was told, though he did it with a distinct air of childish disgruntlement that Touka and Mito quietly (and smugly) relished in. Having been forced to be solely independent from the young age of four, Tobirama had grown into an individual who nearly abhorred anything to do with dependence, something that caused additional strain on the relationship the younger boy had with his dependent elder brother. Tobirama was the eldest of the pair in all matters aside from chronology: far more mature, far more academically smart, far more independent, far more the one who bore the brunt of their father’s anger even when it was often Hashirama who was the target and instigator of Butsuma’s ire. Whilst Tobirama was painfully molded into the weapon their father desired, Hashirama was given the opportunity to daydream, to seek out passion-fueled activities rather than need-based ones like his younger brother. Such daydreams would later give way to the crumbling of the kinship between Hashirama and Tobirama, when the mokuton wielding heir had chosen that Uchiha menace over his own blood, the one who would give him anything and everything he had asked and longed for.
The arranged marriage of her cousin and Uchiha Madara had proven to be nothing but detrimental to the already struggling white-haired male and Touka could not help but loathe every time that Uchiha bastard came round. She was being forced to watch how the mental and emotional abuse the clan head dubbed as courting was tearing the little to non-existing self-confidence Tobirama possessed, to have watched the tears of confused anguish running down her cousin’s face upon returning from his failed gifting of the katana he had crafted for his intended.
Body soaked from the summer rain, Tobirama aimlessly sat between Mito and Touka, tears soaking his chilled, ashened cheeks whilst he stared ahead with abandon, as if all the life had been taken from his body-.
Her grip on her cup tightened dangerously at the memory. The very memory that had solidified Touka’s hatred for Uchiha Madara and continued to fan the flames of rage she felt whenever she was in the same room as him, let alone when Hashirama prattled on about how wonderful the man was while ignoring the abuse said man inflicted upon his little brother.
The sharp crack of the door meeting the end of its track thrust Touka out of her thoughts and into the moment, only to deflate in annoyance at the sight of Hashirama’s grinning visage.
“Ah, my sweet Mito, there you are!” The blundering hokage wasted no time in plopping himself at the Uzumaki’s vacant right side and kissing the back of her hand, his attention focused on Mito and only Mito like a lovesick puppy. “ How are you my darling?”
Ugh.
Mito fondly smiled at her adoring spouse, keeping her refined composure nonetheless. “I am well, dear husband. Touka, Tobirama, and I were simply enjoying one another’s company over some tea.”
Hashirama’s cheerful face morphed into a deep pout, the brunette latching himself onto the Uzumaki Princess’s arm. “You started tea time without me?”
“It would be ill of me to not offer our guests refreshments during their stay, would it not be my husband?” The well-tempered woman looked to Hashirama with a raised brow of questioning, luckily not being weak against the man’s puppy eyes.
His gaze shifted over to where Touka and Tobirama were positioned, the kunoichi offering a dry wave of greeting at the idiot of a leader, and in an instant, his loving demeanor faded into one of tolerance briefly before morphing into one of forced cheer.
“Touka-nee, what a surprise! When did you arrive back in Konoha?!”
“Three days ago, when I handed you my mission report at the desk,” Touka deadpanned, not willing to ignore how the man was deliberately not acknowledging Tobirama. “Tobirama was sitting beside you, as was Madara-sama.”
Finally, as if something unnatural was keeping the man from looking at his brother, Hashirama glanced at Tobirama with an even sadder excuse for a smile. “It’s nice to see you, otouto! How are your courting endeavors with Madara-chan fairing?!”
The mood of the room worsened instantaneously the moment those words plopped out of Hashirama’s careless mouth; Tobirama tensed in cautious discomfort, clearly on edge at the very topic of his future husband.
Mito was quick to do damage control, taking hold of Hashirama’s left hand with tender fondness. “Now husband, the matters between a couple is private information. It’s best not to stick our noses in their business.”
“Of course it’s our business, my love! The peace we’ve created hinges on the success of their courting and marriage!” His gaze never left Tobirama’s emotionless one, voice void of malicious intent but his words dripping in demeaning venom. “Madara-chan says you’ve been quite distant, Tobi! I know being emotional and touchy doesn’t come easy to you but you need to at least try to get along with him!”
How fucking dare he-!
Tobirama recoiled as if his brother hit him, head hanging in submission just like every time the older of the two demeaned or spoke down to him.
“Hai, I will do better, anija.”
Blood boiling, Touka glared daggers at her older cousin, fingers digging into the thick material of her sleeves, tongue sharpened and ready to cut the idiot a new one because this was just unfucking acceptable-! “Courting is a two way street, you know. Perhaps Madara-sama should remove the stick from his ass first and then everything will go far more smoothly!”
“Madara-chan has done everything he can to ensure this entire arranged marriage goes smoothly, Touka-nee! He’s given courting gifts, taking Tobi’ on supervised outings, heck he’s even paid the dowry! What has Tobi’ done aside from remaining passive?” This man was an idiot, a full-fledged, unfeeling idiot!
“Hashirama, you are being quite unfair,” Mito gave her asshole of a bastard a steely look of warning, retracting her hands into the sleeves of her kimono. “Tobirama has made just as many attempts in their courting as Madara-sama. It is not your place to judge their actions and reactions.”
Hashirama foolishly decided to argue with his tsunami of a wife, adamant in his stance in protecting that damn Uchiha. “Tobi’s attempts have only led to insulting Madara-chan though, especially with the katana fiasco! He has to make a good impression before their wedding night when Madara-chan finds out about his deform-!”
“ENOUGH!”
Touka slammed her fist against the wood of the table, cracking the surface and damn near breaking it in two in her rage.
“Tobirama has done nothing but sacrifice and concede in this ridiculous and abusive dance you call an arranged marriage and that bastard of an Uchiha has repeatedly rejected or demeaned him in return! Is all that you care about is this blasted peace?! What of your last living brother sitting right before you?! Does his well-being mean nothing to you, you conceited ass-?!”
A hand paler than snow halted Touka in her rant, the kunoichi’s fiery gaze drifting to the very cousin she was defending and would do absolutely anything for.
“It is alright, Touka-nee, anija is right. If we wish to maintain the peace we have created through this arranged marriage, I need to improve my attitude and actions to lessen the blow my deformity will have on my marriage,” Tobirama looked to her in saddened acceptance, vermillion irises sad and tired from guilt and shame that had no business being there.
The albino turned his attention to his brother with a stoic face, bowing his head in an unnecessary submission. “I apologize for my failures, anija. It will not happen again.”
“Now, I believe I should take my leave. There is paperwork I need to complete before the day is over,” Before any of them could object, Tobirama stood to his feet and bowed to Mito. “Thank you for the refreshments, Mito-nee. Excuse me.”
Touka stood to her feet in objection, grabbing her precious cousin’s arm in a useless attempt to stop the teenager. “Tobirama-.”
A weak, loving smile formed on Tobirama’s lips, his mask of indifference, of being the heartless monster nearly everyone believed him to be, slid back into place, “It is fine, Touka-nee. Anija is only looking out for all of our best interests. I will see you at a later time, yes?”
She wanted to object, to swear, to beat the ever loving shit out of Senju Hashirama because how dare he-, but the kunoichi knew there was no stopping Tobirama when his mind was made up.
Giving a brief nod, Touka released the albino’s arm in reluctant defeat. “We will discuss this later. No ifs or buts.”
Tobirama smiled a tiny, honest smile at her response. “I would expect nothing different.”
Then, in a flurry of leaves, Tobirama was gone and the three of them remaining in the room were silent.
Hashirama shifted his gaze from his brother once stood to that of his wife, utter, arrogant confusion on his tanned face. “Was it something I said?”
He should have stayed fucking silent because the next Touka knew, that bastard was sent flying into the wall behind with a resounding crack of her knuckles meeting his jaw.
The twenty-year-old female wasted no time in pointing an accusatory finger at the shocked man, practically frothing in anger as she did her damndest to not castrate her cousin right then and there.
“You are a filthy bastard! How dare you come in here and ridicule him! Tobirama has done nothing but try to make this arranged marriage work and you tell him that he is the root of all the problems when it is the Uchiha who is creating discourse! FUCK YOU!”
Touka did not give Hashirama time to give a rebuttal, turning to her cousin-in-law who wore a look of pristine calmness. “My apologies Mito, but I should to leave before I do something that would count as an act of terrorism.”
The woman gave her a dismissive wave, her dark violet eyes heavy with displeasure and her voice tinted with disapproval. “No need to apologize, Touka-nee. Our plans for lunch tomorrow are still on, I presume?”
“There is no place I would rather be,” Touka shifted her attention back to her foolish cousin, glaring at Hashirama with the heat of a thousand suns before shunshinning away.
She had a younger cousin to console.
~~~