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“Give me back my clan member,” Madara shouted, flipping over Tobirama’s water jutsu. The water splashed against the mud with a loud plop, further wrecking the forest floor and leaving it a mess of watery, muddy leaves.
Tobirama didn’t respond. No, instead the damned idiot sent another jutsu flying at him. Madara dodged, again. Behind him, Izuna spluttered—if Izuna hadn’t dodged, then Madara silently promised that once they made it home Izuna’d be running dodging drills until he couldn’t stand.
See, Tobirama had them at a disadvantage. While he was free to attack with the intent to injure, maim, and kill, they couldn’t do the same. Tobirama—in some fit of braindead idiocy Madara couldn’t even begin to fathom—had an Uchiha child hanging from his neck like a damned monkey. And he wouldn’t give him back!
Madara didn’t understand where he’d gotten him, considering they were nowhere near the Uchiha lands. Heck, they wouldn’t have even run into Tobirama—and his child stealing ways—if he and Izuna hadn’t finished their mission early and taken a more circuitous route home, instead of beelining it back like planned.
Tobirama wasn’t a bloodline thief. Nor a child hunter. He’d even assisted them once in tracking a pair of them down. Though Hashirama had been with him that day, too. Before, Madara wouldn’t have thought it made that much a difference, but apparently Tobirama with Hashirama and Tobirama without Hashirama were two entirely different people.
“Give him back,” Madara shouted again.
“No,” Tobirama said. Izuna lunged for him. Tobirama dodged and slammed him into the mud, before dancing back and fleeing to a tree branch overhead. He stared down at them with his cold, dead red eyes—nothing like the beautiful Sharingan red.
Madara had to stop himself from snickering, it wasn’t like Izuna would be able to see Tobirama’s eyes with the way he was facedown in the mud. This was divine retribution for Izuna throwing Madara into the pond last week.
And great, he could already imagine Izuna’s endless complaints of his dirty, muddy clothes.
Maybe Madara should be more focused, not letting little thoughts distract him, but honestly he was too baffled. What did Tobirama even want with the kid anyway? Did he even like kids?
Madara strode forward and helped Izuna stand.
“This is disgusting,” Izuna said disgusted, wiping his muddy face with an equally muddy sleeve before giving up on that and bracing an arm on Madara as he shook out his long, mud encrusted sleeves. It did nothing to remove the mud, if anything all it accomplished was getting mud on Madara. Madara grunted. Then louder, Izuna said, “You’re the worst, Senju!”
“I refuse to surrender this child to you,” Tobirama said. The child in question peaked around Tobirama’s back and gave them a smile. He had a mess of short, curly brown hair. Not the usual Uchiha looks, but an Uchiha all the same.
“You refuse—” Izuna sputtered. “That’s our kinsman!”
“No. He’s not.”
“Yes, he is!”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Sensing this could go on for a while and unwilling to lose this chance since Tobirama was finally talking to them instead of hurling jutsus and running, Madara shoved Izuna out of the way. Izuna lost his balance and fell into the mud again. This time on his backside, so both sides were equally covered in mud. Madara would be hearing about this later. “What gave you the idiotic idea that he isn’t an Uchiha?”
“Simple,” Tobirama said, “what’s his name?”
…Uh oh.
Madara darted a glance at Izuna. From his spot in the mud, he met Madara’s eyes with a wild, wide eyed look. Madara imagined his own was similar. Somehow, the entire time they’d been fighting to retrieve the kid, neither of them had said his name. Neither of them had even noticed. He was an Uchiha, right?
As clan head, Madara’s responsibilities were vast and vitally important. None of which involved knowing the name of every single Uchiha child. Which wasn’t to say, that Madara didn’t know this kid’s name—he did, he really, really did—he just couldn’t remember it right now.
“It’s Uchiha.”
“Imhm.”
No, Madara knew the kid, he’d seen him often enough around the compound. He was an Uchiha, no matter what Tobirama implied. Okay, think, what did he know about this kid?
The kid wasn’t in the teenage training classes Madara sometimes supervised, so younger than that, though he could have guessed that just by looking at him. He had a younger sister…who’s name Madara also couldn’t remember, and—
“He’s an orphan!” Madara shouted.
“Hm, Uchiha numbers getting a little low that you need to kidnap fresh blood? How interesting. I thought you abhorred bloodline thieves.”
“We do.”
“And I should believe you? What type of headsman doesn’t know his clansmen’s names?”
“Come off it, like you know every kid's name in your clan.”
“I do.”
Madara shared another glance with Izuna. He’d managed to get himself out of the mud, though it hadn’t made much of a difference with how much of it he was wearing. Izuna rolled his eyes and quietly said, “Freak.”
“I heard that.”
“You were meant to!”
Madara put a hand over his mouth and coughed. Don’t laugh, don’t laugh. Once he’d gotten control of himself, he whispered, “Great, now what?”
“Now what, my ass,” Izuna said loudly. “Give us back the kid, Senju!”
“No.”
Madara didn’t want to fight Tobirama. Not with the kid—whatever his name was—stuck to his back. Especially since Madara didn’t think his intentions were malicious—anymore. If anything, he sounded a little self righteous about it. “What’s your grand plan then, Tobirama? Will you bring him back to his home?”
“Yes. As soon as he tells me where it is.”
“He hasn’t told you yet because it’s the Uchiha compound!” Izuna shouted.
Madara waved him off. “We’ll escort you home then.”
“What,” Izuna said.
“I don’t require an escort,” Tobirama said.
“Yes,” Madara said, warming up to the idea the more he thought about it. His kinsman didn’t want to come home? Fine, see how he liked living among their enemies. See how fast he wanted to come home then. “After all, you yourself admitted to saving him from, what was it—child snatchers?” Just about the only info he’d managed to pry from Tobirama during their fight. Oh and once Madara finally got the kid home, the conversations they’d have about what he was even doing out here in the first place, oh boy.
Tobirama nodded.
“See, obviously these woods are dangerous,” Madara said.
“Senju’s dangerous,” Izuna said.
“Quiet, Izuna. As I was saying, it’s simply too dangerous for a lone man and kid to be wandering around. I’d, no, we’d,” he gestured magnanimously to include Izuna, “feel much better if we could escort you to the loving embrace of your family.” And give the Uchiha brat time to fess up and end this charade.
“I refuse.”
“No, no I insist. After all, if something happened to you both after our little scuffle in the woods here, we’d simply feel terrible. What if you ran into more child snatchers?”
Tobirama narrowed his eyes.
“Plus,” Marada hurriedly went on, clapping his hands, “we’re very fast, so it’s not like you could lose us anyway, right Izuna?”
“Oh, so now I can talk?”
“Nevermind, shut up. Tobirama, we’re escorting you back whether you like it or not. He’s our kinsman and I refuse to let him come to harm under my watch.”
“And such a close watch that’s been.”
“Yes, yes, whatever. We’ve got about,” Madara checked the sun’s position, “five hours of light left and we’re six hours away from the Senju lands. If we hurry, we can make it before dark. We’ll lead.” He smacked Izuna’s hands and hissed, “Stop fussing with your clothes.”
Izuna smacked him back. Madara smacked him again on principle.
Madara and Izuna sprung apart when Tobirama cleared his throat. “No. So you can ambush me, I think not. You’ll both stay far back if you insist on this farce.”
“Oh, we insist.”
“Yeah,” Izuna said, not actually adding anything productive to the conversation. He shook himself. Mud went flying, hitting Madara in the face. Lovely. He wiped at it with his sleeve.
“Very well.” Tobirama nodded and took off tree running.
Before he got too far, the kid turned, hanging on by only one arm, wiggled his fingers in front of his nose and stuck out his tongue.
Well, at least someone looked like they were having a good time.
Madara jumped into the trees following Tobirama. Izuna hurried to catch up.
“Shouldn’t we let Tobirana get further ahead? It didn’t sound like he wanted us to be that close,” Izuna said, running alongside him from branch to branch.
“And risk him outpacing us and disappearing the first chance he gets? No, when I said we’re escorting Tobirama I meant we’re escorting Tobirama. He can’t ditch us that easily.”
The kid—who’s name he still couldn’t remember—seemed happy enough hanging off Tobirama. Madara could maybe allow that Tobirama wasn’t as terrible of a human being as he thought, but, no matter, Madara had his headsman duties, which included ensuring the safety of the clan’s children, including—no, especially—when they annoyed him.
This brat better not like living with the Senju.