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Peace, as it turned out, was completely and utterly boring.
He was aware of what an insane thing that was to say; so he didn't. He kept it to himself like the proper little slave of the hokage he was, never complaining, only obeying.
That was a lie of course, but one Hashirama wouldn't dare to dispute. Insulting the Uchiha clan, after they'd finally made peace, was the least smart thing to do, and Hashirama was surprisingly smart for being such an idiot.
He still had no idea what Madara ever saw in the guy.
Tobirama, on the other hand, had turned out to be very—well, different than he'd expected. Interesting, in a way. On the battlefield he was always ruthless, cold, deadly—he knew best, since Tobirama had almost succeeded in killing him as well once—but now that there was peace, he'd turned out to be a huge nerd. A calm, gentle, nice nerd.
What the fuck.
Izuna wasn't stupid, though. He was sure this was all just a ploy to win people over. A charade. The White Demon of the Senju, secretly a secretary with a knack for teaching kids? Surely not.
And he would be the one to prove it.
He slid one hand into his pocket, making sure the thing he'd brought was still there, carefully watching Tobirama’s every step. He'd worked late today again—officially, he'd been doing paperwork for the hokage, but unofficially? Yeah, Izuna was sure there was something they weren't telling people.
Tobirama briefly stopped at the inn, the owner greeting him gleefully. Inn? Or perhaps—brothel? Izuna noted this on his mental list of conspiracy theories, and silently slid the little gadget out of his pocket. With a click, he took a picture of the scene—proof. Of what, he wasn't sure yet, but he'd find something.
Izuna followed behind as Tobirama continued on his way. This was the fourth day he'd been following the man, and the route had been slightly different each day. He seemed to make visits to every clan and establishment, to check in on the people and see if they needed anything; so awfully nice of him. So obviously an act.
Izuna quietly huffed to himself, blinking when Tobirama stopped in the middle of the road. What now? Was Izuna finally about to catch him doing something shady? Or, at the very least, something embarrassing? He held up the camera, ready to snap a picture—but Tobirama just squatted down to pet a stray cat. That bastard. Izuna rolled his eyes, but still took a photo—just in case.
He retreated into the dark alley to check what he had so far. Another thing he'd noticed was that Tobirama looked—well—good in all of the pictures. In every single one, and Izuna had made sure to take some when he'd been in the middle of speaking or eating or even yawning. Still; he always just looked like an absolute fucking model.
Frankly, it pissed Izuna off. How did an ass like that get blessed with being this photogenic?
He was so busy staring at the new additions to his collection, that he almost didn't notice Tobirama had started moving again—faster this time, towards him, and when Izuna finally realized, the man was already behind him, pinning him to the wall with one hand, and holding a kunai to his throat with the other. He'd barely managed to slip the camera back into his pocket and grab the handle of the sword fixed to his back—but hadn't managed to actually pull it out in time.
Well, fuck.
“Why are you following me, Uchiha?”
Tobirama’s voice was so close to his ear, he could feel his breath tickling him. He flinched a bit, entirely unsatisfied by this development. Nobody had managed to come this close to him in quite a while. Damn that Senju.
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he replied, voice thick with fake sweetness, “Why would I be following you?”
“Don't answer my question with a question.” Tobirama sighed, making Izuna flinch again. “What's that thing in your pants?”
Izuna blinked, slightly turning his head so he could raise his eyebrows at Tobirama. “The thing in my—” he started, a bit shocked at the boldness of the question, but Tobirama cut him off before he could finish.
“Not that!” he hissed, and with an annoyed huff used the hand he'd pinned Izuna to the wall with to slide into his pocket instead. This felt—weirdly intimate. Izuna didn't know what to think, honestly. Maybe he had actually discovered something here, though he wasn't sure he liked it. “So? What's that?”
Tobirama held up—the camera.
Oh.
Riiiiight.
That thing.
Izuna could barely conceal his bemused grin; he'd really gone and suspected Tobirama of being some kind of pervert, when the guy probably didn't even know how to spell ‘sex’.
“I'll tell you if you put that kunai away,” Izuna bargained, wrestling the grin off his face, and Tobirama gave him a small grunt in return, before slowly, carefully lowering his hand, ultimately slipping the kunai back into its hiding spot.
“So?” Tobirama crossed his arms in front of his chest, but didn't back off. Izuna was still practically pinned between him and the wall, with barely enough space to weasel away if he so chose to. He wanted his camera back, though—otherwise, all his efforts had been for nothing. Maybe they had, anyways, but still. It was his camera. He'd rightfully stolen it from someone else.
“Well,” he started, trying to snatch the gadget out of Tobirama’s hand, “It's a camera. I wanted to take some photos of that cute cat, you see.” Yes, perfect excuse. Everyone knew Uchihas loved cats, and he was no exception. “That's now gone by the way, thanks to you.”
Tobirama lifted his arm up above their heads, the camera now out of Izuna's reach. “A camera, yes?” He squinted a bit, not fully buying the story, before slowly turning around and resuming on his way.
“Wha—Hey! That's mine, give it back!”
“Nope. I'm confiscating it.” Tobirama shrugged, not even sparing Izuna a single glance, instead tapping the various buttons to figure out how the thing worked.
“Confiscating?” Izuna huffed, stomping right after Tobirama. He'd follow him all the way home if need be—he'd planned to, anyways. “You can't do that! Who do you think you are?”
“Oh, well, you see, you might not be aware, but my brother is kinda important.” Tobirama now finally glanced at Izuna, with the nastiest smirk he'd ever seen on the man, and that was saying something. “In return, I'll let it slide that you've been following me around for four days.”
Izuna almost stumbled over a rock at that. So he'd noticed? And just—not said anything? Did that also mean he'd avoided doing any shady stuff because he'd known Izuna was trailing him? Damn. All his plans, ruined.
“I'm a sensor. Did you really expect me not to notice?”
“Well.” Izuna stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Of course he was aware of that. He'd just assumed—or perhaps, hoped—that Tobirama had gotten a little lazy, or maybe had just let his guard down a bit. He sighed, and, not sure how to properly answer that, said: “You know what, fuck you.”
He gave him a middle finger for good measure, before turning around and leaving. There was no point in following that guy around if he knew Izuna was there.
So fucking lame.
Izuna wasn't someone to go down without a fight.
Since following Tobirama was out of the question now, he'd come up with another plan to corner the guy.
Well, plan was a bit much maybe, but Izuna was definitely enjoying himself—
Spreading all kinds of weird rumors about Tobirama.
As things were now, Tobirama was a gay virgin, who was part Hatake and had approximately eight children from eight different women.
Were some of these contradictory? Perhaps. Did Izuna care? Absolutely not. He'd just thrown some shit at a wall and was now surprised to see that most of it had stuck.
He'd also noticed certain trends—women around their age most commonly believed the gay rumor, probably as an explanation as to why Tobirama wasn't interested in them. Perhaps because they were ugly and dumb, but Izuna wasn't about to say that out loud; women could be scary, and he didn't want to invoke their wrath.
The younger women believed Tobirama was still a virgin, and therefore shy—somehow they seemed to find that cute and adorable and he's probably just waiting for the right one. Of course they all thought that they could be the right one. Completely unhinged, the lot of them.
The Hatake clan knew that Tobirama definitely wasn't a bastard child of theirs, but they still chose to propagate that rumor. Apparently, they thought it would be a great honor, and the White Demon would fit in better with them anyways. They were right with that one, at least.
Lastly, the old ladies absolutely loved the idea of Tobirama having a bunch of children. They knew it probably wasn't true, but they wanted it to be. Personally, Izuna found the idea of a bunch of little Tobirama clones running around sickening, but alright.
Thinking about it now, Izuna noticed that, while spreading these rumors had been fun, they somehow had all missed the point. Everyone now seemed to love Tobirama even more. And somehow, for some reason, the guy didn't even bother disputing the rumors. Did he just not care what people thought about him?
Of course not, he'd never cared. But without him disputing anything—without reacting to the rumors—Izuna had absolutely no chance of figuring out if maybe he'd been on the right track about some of the things, either. Infuriating, really.
So, one unnecessarily nice day out on a mission, he'd come up with yet another idea.
Well, technically, it was just more rumors, but different ones this time, and presented differently, so all in all obviously completely different. Yes.
He was about to put up one of the posters he'd drawn himself—stating that Tobirama was just wearing this happuri-thing to hide severe acne, complete with pictures—when someone tapped on his shoulder. He jumped, almost letting out an embarrassing screech, when his eyes landed on Madara.
Madara, with his arms crossed in front of his chest, and a big old frown on his face.
Izuna gave him a sheepish smile, and hid the posters behind his back—not very subtle, but he'd probably been caught already anyways.
“What are you doing, Izuna?” Madara asked, slowly raising one eyebrow at him. He knew full well that Izuna had been up to shenanigans, but had never once actually said something about it. Why now, of all times?
“Nothing,” Izuna replied, voice cheerful and eyes big and innocent, hoping his brother would just go and leave him to it. Madara let out a sigh, then extended a hand. Izuna blinked at him, then looked at his hand—and pouted. “Okay, okay.”
He reluctantly handed him the posters—two of them, to be exact—and watched as Madara inspected them. Very briefly, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, as his eyes took in the drawing—of Tobirama’s extremely hairy body hidden under those flowy clothes—and without further comment, he folded the papers and slid them into his pocket.
Izuna raised an eyebrow. He knew Madara well enough to be able to tell that he found this fucking hilarious. Maybe he wasn't here to scold him, after all. “You need to stop this. Hashirama's been on my ass about it for days now.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Izuna smirked. There was absolutely no power behind Madara's words; he did find it funny. He wouldn't be surprised if he himself would sneak into Tobirama’s office to plant the posters there. Maybe he would drop by a bit later to see if he was correct. “By the way, have you asked the Akimichis for the recipe yet?”
“Recipe?” Madara turned to make his way to the hokage tower, offering Izuna an arm. He gladly accepted—he had to drop off his mission report at Hashirama's office anyways. “You mean for the cat food?”
“Yes, that one,” Izuna said, and nodded. Those damned Akimichis had come up with a recipe for treats the cats loved so much, they were starting to flock to them instead of the Uchihas. Izuna definitely wouldn't have that—but the bastards hadn't been willing to share. Not with him, anyways—Madara had always been the more intimidating of the two, so hopefully he'd been more lucky.
“They refused. Said it's a family secret. Why do you care so much?”
Izuna gasped. Why did he care? Why did he care?
“Who are you and what did you do to my brother?”
“Oh, shut up, Izuna.” Madara rolled his eyes at him. The audacity. “There's enough cats for everyone. You gotta learn to share.”
Now it was Izuna's turn to roll his eyes. “You shouldn't spend so much time with that blockhead Hashirama. He's starting to rub off on you.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Sharing. Tsk,” he then muttered, still appalled by the idea, even though he was the one who demanded the Akimichis share in the first place. What could he say? He didn't know how to spell hypocrisy.
“If you didn't spend so much time stalking Tobirama, maybe you could have come up with your own recipe by now, you know.” Madara smirked, and Izuna let out yet another gasp, finally letting go of Madara's arm. He didn't want to be escorted by someone spewing such blasphemy.
“If what I'm doing is stalking, then what you and that blockhead are doing is dating. Checkmate.”
“Oh, so you admit you're stalking him, then?”
“Wait, what?” Izuna's jaw dropped open, as Madara turned on his heels and left him standing there, all the while having a big, nasty smirk on his face.
Had Madara just—admitted to dating Hashirama?
Surely Hashirama had seduced him, right? There was no other way. Madara used to have taste; he wouldn't go for an idiot like that in a million years. Right? But then again—being seduced by Hashirama blockhead Senju?
Loud, overly dramatic retching sounds followed Madara all the way into the hokage tower.
“Heh.”
Izuna looked at his newest endeavor to foil Tobirama’s growing popularity:
Chocolate cake.
On his chair.
So that he would sit on it and everyone would think the guy shat himself.
God, he was so incredibly funny.
With a proud nod, he finally threw the mission report he'd been carrying around for a week now on Tobirama’s table—he could just give it to his brother himself. Izuna wasn't in the mood to go and find the guy, and potentially have his mood ruined by that pathetic face of his. Tobirama was probably the one taking care of the reports anyways, so he was just saving them time. Yeah, definitely.
He let his gaze wander over the office one last time; everything was so—orderly. So clean. Sterile, almost. He squinted—then pulled open all the desk’s drawers, shoved the perfectly aligned pile of files on the floor and threw a few of the less menacing looking scrolls across the room. Yeah, that'd show him.
Quietly snickering so himself, he made his way back to the window, already halfway out when suddenly the door flung open.
“Tobirama, I—”
Izuna blinked—Hashirama blinked back.
Ah, shit.
He was about to just jump out the window, but Hashirama grabbed his arm to pull him back in. “Wait! I need to talk to you!”
“I don't want to talk to you, though,” Izuna snapped back, wiggling around a bit to get out of Hashirama's grip, but the guy was unnecessarily bulky and strong. Annoying.
“Just one minute! Please! It's important,” Hashirama pleaded, wrapping his arms around Izuna now, pulling him into something like—a hug. Gross.
“Shit, goddamn, let me go, that's nasty!” Izuna shoved Hashirama's face away with one hand, the other still clinging to the window frame. “Okay, okay, I'll listen! Now let go already!”
Hashirama immediately retracted his arms, a stupid, dumb looking, fake-innocent smile on his face. “Thank you,” he said, leaning back against the table. “So, uhm. The thing is this—I know our idea of bonding with someone is very different, and I'm not telling you yours is bad or anything, but please stop it with the rumors about Tobirama, okay?”
Izuna scrunched up his face. What the fuck was this guy talking about? Bonding? Who was bonding here? He was trying to expose Tobirama, not bond with him. This guy was so fucking out of the loop. “Why, is your family homophobic or what?”
“Huh? No, why?”
“Well, that was—one of the rumors?” Izuna frowned. Was that not what he'd meant? Which one bothered him, then? He'd assumed the gay rumor was probably the most believable, and therefore the most potentially damaging. Or something. Not for the Senju specifically, he'd actually assumed as much—but there were at least a handful of clans who were strictly against homosexuality.
Somehow, though, Hashirama just stared at him in confusion. Wasn't he gonna dispute it at all? Did he also not care what people thought of his brother?
Or was it perhaps—
True?
Hashirama cleared his throat. “Yes, yes. That, too, I guess.” Not very convincing. “I'm talking specifically about him being part Hatake. You have no idea how many clans have suddenly come forward to claim him, or even me, as their long lost son or sibling. It's—tiring.”
Izuna was barely listening; he was still completely hung up on the gay thing. So Tobirama was potentially actually gay? Somehow, this made him feel emotions. He wasn't sure what kind, but definitely some of them.
“That reminds me, the Akimichi clan head asked me to tell you that if you want their family recipe so bad, you're free to join their clan via marriage.”
“Oh hell no!” Now he had Izuna's attention, but in the worst way possible. There was no way he would marry any of those fatasses. Not even if it meant endless heaps of cats.
“Figured,” Hashirama chuckled, cocking his head to the side a bit. “We did enjoy the posters, by the way. Very funny. You're good at drawing.”
Izuna looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. Enjoyed them? That was—absolutely not what he'd intended with them. Were these guys just stupid or what?
Ah, well. The answer to that was yes.
“Whatever,” he just mumbled, shaking his head lightly. He would find a way to piss Tobirama off enough to make a mistake. “Anyways, since we're here already—can you stop wanting to fuck my brother please?”
“What?” Izuna watched with unbridled joy as Hashirama completely lost control of his face, turning bright red at the same time. “I—That's not—he was the one who—I mean, I just—” he stuttered, like an absolute fucking idiot. God, Izuna was enjoying this. Most fun he'd had in years.
“You just what? Like to watch him piss? Yeah, that's right. I know all about your nasty little secret.” He smirked, and Hashirama's dying wish became almost palpable. “Don't worry, for the low price of one paid week off, I won't tell anyone.”
Hashirama looked at him through the fingers he'd hidden his face behind, then slowly nodded.
Hell yeah.
“Right, I'm off then. See you in a week,” Izuna said in a cheerful voice, finally pulling his anbu mask over his face and making his exit through the window.
Truly a successful evening for him.
Izuna grumbled, yanking at a knot in his hair. He'd looked forward to his week off, but somehow he was just endlessly bored. The cats had mostly fucked off to the Akimichi compound, he couldn't come up with any new, fun rumors about Tobirama, and new posters—well, those had backfired. And now he didn't even have missions to keep his mind busy. Not that they usually did for long.
He sighed, finally putting the comb away, and left the bathroom. Maybe he'd go out tomorrow and pester Tobirama in person. So far, he'd only done so from a distance, but maybe breathing done his neck would yield better results. At least it wouldn't be as boring—probably.
He grabbed the haori he'd prepared, and pulled it over his still damp shoulders, making his way down the hall and to his room. He slid the door open, and was confronted by a shinobi in his window.
He immediately assumed battle stance, summoning a sword from the seal in his palm, before even taking in the scene and noticing—the guy was an anbu.
Well, he was wearing the anbu uniform, but he'd never seen him before. A Hatake, maybe? The hair would fit, but did they have someone with that, well—build? Izuna would probably remember a guy like that, so chances were this was an impostor.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he hissed, activating his sharingan for good measure. If the guy had the gall to attack him in his own home, he must be strong. Or stupid. Perhaps even both.
The man, on the other hand, seemed amused—he let out a small huff, then took off the mask.
Izuna blinked.
“Tobirama?!”
Shit, what was Tobirama doing here, and in an anbu uniform no less? And oh no, why did he kind of look—
No, he couldn't, he shouldn't; mustn't admit that he looked kinda hot in it.
Ah shit, now he'd done it.
But he would rather die than admit that out loud.
“I heard you talking about that Akimichi recipe. Do you still want it?”
Izuna squinted at the man; he'd heard him talking? Had he spied on him? And also, so what if he did? What was it to him?
“Yes? Why do you ask?”
Tobirama smirked, then pulled out the camera he'd confiscated—stolen—from Izuna a while ago and threw it towards him. “Up for some blackmailing?”
Izuna blinked, and easily caught the gadget, turning it on to have a look at the pictures. Was that—the Akimichi clan head? Stealing from Hashirama's private garden?
He'd heard of something like that, just briefly; he hadn't cared enough about Hashirama's stupid garden to really listen, though.
“Check the next one.”
So he did; the Akimichi clan head taking a piss on Hashirama's beloved herbs.
“Fuck, that's so hot,” Izuna let out, unable to contain himself any longer.
“What, the Akimichi guy pissing?”
“What? No!” Izuna's head snapped back up just in time to catch the expression on Tobirama’s face that somehow very distinctly said ‘not you too’, and frankly, agreed—but fucking wrong. “No, what the fuck, Tobirama.” He shook his head in disgust, then lowered the camera. “I mean—you, inviting me to blackmail someone. I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me.”
He blinked and suddenly, Tobirama was gone—reappearing behind him instead, so quick he could have easily killed him then and there, if he'd so desired. Hot.
Fuck.
“What are you waiting for, then? Put something on and let's go, Uchiha.” His breath danced over Izuna's neck with every word, and he shivered. When had he learned to be so smooth? And also—
“Did you put a hiraishin on me, Senju?” He turned his head just enough to be able to stare at Tobirama’s lips that were slightly upturned into a smirk.
“Took you long enough to notice.”
“Shit, which one of us is the stalker now?”
He let out a laugh, and Tobirama didn't even protest.
Fuck.
He was so fucked.
Or at least he would be, he hoped.