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Chapter Text

Izuna’s exhaustion is warring with the rush of stress and adrenaline in his veins. It was an ambush. Seventeen mid-to-high level shinobi had accosted him on his way back home from a mission. He’d already been tired and his chakra reserves weren’t full. Now, though, he has three opponents left, and he’ll be damned if he dies before he takes them all with him. He downs his next adversary with a white hot rush of fire as he attempts, unsuccessfully, to cut a grin in another’s throat. He ducks, knocking the feet out from under his third opponent and stabbing them through the heart with one of his last two kunai—he’d been relieved of his sword, broken shards scattered over the battlefield within the first seven foes. His last opponent eyes him warily, but he’s clearly unused to fighting Uchiha. The man mistimes a strike and Izuna locks eyes with him, drawing him into a nightmarish genjutsu. Using his last kunai, Izuna, relying on over a decade of muscle memory rather than his tunneling vision, releases a throw that sends his weapon through the man’s eye socket and straight into his brain. 

With his last opponent dead, Izuna can feel the adrenaline in his system fading rapidly. He can barely manage to limp over to the nearest tree as his vision continues to fade. Despite the sunny skies, large drops of rain begin to fall, soaking the charred earth of the clearing. He almost can’t believe he’s going to die here, in a goddamn ambush instead of on the battlefield against the White Demon. At least Tobirama would have done him the dignity of killing him in single combat. 

He hears the crunch of footsteps over the charcoaled ground of the clearing. As if summoned by his thoughts, Senju Tobirama stands before him, grim faced and dressed as if he were heading into battle. His white fur mantle ruffles in the non-existent breeze and the rain almost seems to avoid hitting him. The image is practically poetic. Izuna feels nearly sick at what he’s about to do. He knows these are his last breaths, but for the sake of his family he must attempt to appeal to his rival’s better nature—though he is loath to admit it exists. 

“Senju,” Izuna rasps, then coughs; blood coats his lips. 

“Izuna,” Tobirama’s voice is deep, almost rumbling. The tone is surprisingly respectful. There’s no pride, none of the smugness he might expect of his rival, seeing him brought so low.

He’s surprised when Tobirama allows him to make direct eye contact, “Tobi—” he coughs again, “Tobirama,” he says, he knows there is a plea in his voice. “I must make a selfish request,” Izuna’s request is interrupted by paroxysms of bloody wracking coughs. Tobirama does not take advantage, and Izuna is both angry and grateful. The humiliation of this position is painful. 

He reverts to the most polite and reverential speech he can, this is not a request one would normally make of an enemy, and he must give it all the gravity it deserves. “If the honorable Senju Tobirama has a shred of mercy for this unworthy Uchiha Izuna, this lowly one requests,” he can feel the blood burbling over his lips as he speaks. Tobirama watches him with an unreadable face, and Izuna must finish his plea before he can no longer speak. “This,” cough, “lowly Uchiha Izuna would request from his greatest opponent, heir presumptive, Senju Tobirama,” cough, “that at the time of this one’s passing, his body be returned eyes intact to his clan,” cough, “if this unworthy,” cough cough, “Uchiha Izuna’s request is impossible to fulfil, this one humbly requests his body and eyes be burnt here until nought but ash remains, and his clan be made aware of his place of rest.” He coughs harshly as he bows as best he can from his position propped up against a tree. Izuna finds it more difficult to breathe than it already is; when he raises his head, he can only assume another one of his ribs has punctured his lung. He watches his battlefield rival and does the only thing he can; Izuna waits.

When Tobirama feels the rapid depletion of Uchiha Izuna’s firestorm-lightningstrike-incense scented chakra, he knows he’s going to do something stupid. Turning his mind’s eye onto his battlefield rival, he finds him surrounded by no less than ten chakra signatures, all of whom feel absolutely vile to his senses. The signatures surrounding Izuna flicker out one-by-one, though more slowly than Tobirama would usually expect from the vicious and prodigiously talented Uchiha heir. 

He knows this could be a trap, that he could be walking into an ambush of his own, but he, despite his monikers, is not a monster. Izuna, for all the vitriol the man spits at him over the battlefield is the kind of man Tobirama can respect. With his gifts, Tobirama can feel Izuna’s love and protectiveness, his pride and wariness, and his determination to do his best by his family. And if nothing else, those are things that appeal to the side of him that agrees with Hashirama, the side of him that would rather not have to fell beautifully vibrant souls on an endless battlefront of cyclical hatred. So, he goes.

By the time he arrives at the clearing where the, what must have been an ambush, is taking place, Izuna has killed all but three of his attackers. Though his Uchiha has clearly taken a lot of damage in the initial attack, he kills his final three foes with relative ease. That is when Tobirama notices Izuna’s terrible state. The man who always feels like a firestorm shot through with lightning, whose presence heralds undertones of shrine incense and static, limps pathetically to the nearest tree and slumps to the ground, only sitting by the grace of the tree’s support. 

He cannot watch from here, high in a tree, as this man dies a pitiful death. It is unconscionable; if he’s going to watch Izuna fade from this world, he will do it while the man knows he’s there. It’s the least grace he must offer. For all that this man has killed Tobirama’s kin, he is honorable. He does not hunt children as his father had, and he does not attack those who flee. Tobirama can only give him the same courtesy. 

He lands softly, but makes enough noise for Izuna to register his presence as he walks across the clearing. Izuna raises his head, and after a few silent moments, speaks. 

“Senju,” Izuna’s tone is lacking its usual acid, despite its raspy quality, it’s surprising in its oddly respectful tone. Then Izuna coughs and blood coats his lips. He must have a punctured lung. 

So, in honor of the moment,  Tobirama replies in kind, “Izuna.” Despite Izuna’s sharingan still being active, this is a moment of gravity and he allows himself to meet Izuna’s eyes for the first time in his life.

“Tobi—” he coughs again, “Tobirama,” he says, and Tobirama can hear the plea in his voice. “I must make a selfish request,” Interrupted by wracking coughs that bring more blood to his Uchiha’s lips, Tobirama waits. He will hear his rival’s request with due respect, as Izuna is humbling himself already.

“If the honorable Senju Tobirama has a shred of mercy for this unworthy Uchiha Izuna, this lowly one requests,” Izuna has to pause to catch his breath and Tobirama wonders if he’ll survive long enough to finish. “This,” cough, “lowly Uchiha Izuna would request from his greatest opponent, heir presumptive, Senju Tobirama,” cough, “that at the time of this one’s passing, his body be returned eyes intact to his clan,” cough, “if this unworthy,” cough cough, “Uchiha Izuna’s request is impossible to fulfil, this one humbly requests his body and eyes be burnt here until nought but ash remains, and his clan be made aware of his place of rest.” He does manage to finish, but the humble request is followed by a round of coughing that sounds as if it’s done more damage to Izuna’s already damaged lungs. The man doesn’t help himself by doing his best to bow, and Tobirama is almost unnerved by the resignation that shines in Izuna’s ruby-zoisite sharingan. 

Tobirama faces a quandary. While usually he would easily agree to a request like Izuna's, even from someone far less honorable, Izuna's death and his body's return or pyre at Tobirama’s hands could cause the skirmishes between their clans, which have diminished in number over the last few years, to resurge. Knowing Uchiha Madara's temperament, should Tobirama be the one to return his brother's body, there would be no reasoning with him as to the cause of Izuna's demise regardless of the truth of the matter.

Not only is that an obstacle, but Hashirama, for all that he is not like Tobirama who is an emissary of their god, has Inari-Okami’s favor, and Tobirama is loath to challenge him. And Hashirama's greatest wish has always been peace with the Uchiha. Should Tobirama allow Izuna to die, there will be no chance of peace. 

He contemplates the issue further, the request is Izuna's dying wish. Being what he is, it is anathema to him to ignore such a thing. On the other hand, should Izuna not die…well, it would no longer be a dying wish, now would it?

Decision made, he says, “In the spirit of Uchiha Izuna's wish, this Senju Tobirama will not allow Uchiha Izuna's body to be disrespected." It's the best promise he can make without binding himself to allow Izuna’s imminent death. 

Tobirama walks forward toward Izuna. He can feel Izuna's chakra waver, unsure and hopeful. Just as he reaches his now erstwhile rival, Izuna's breath stutters, he coughs blood again and slumps to the side. Tobirama darts forward just in time to catch the slighter man so he doesn't do himself more damage.

“Shit,” he mutters. He lifts Izuna into his arms, cradling him in a manner that avoids irritating his injuries. He's been reluctant to use his newest jutsu creation; Hiraishin is still in its final stages of testing and while it works, it's not as smooth of a ride as he'd prefer. But, in this moment he has few options. Tobirama hates allowing his divine given powers to become visible on the mortal plane, but if he wants Izuna to survive his Hiraishin, he has no other choice. 

Bright white light envelopes the two men. When it dissipates, neither man remains.

Chapter Text

Tobirama’s Hiraishin deposits them in an old, but well maintained Inari Shrine in a civilian town that is far enough from both Senju and Uchiha lands that they are unlikely to be found, but close enough that should there be an emergency, Tobirama will be near enough to acquire or provide assistance. This shrine is part of a network that he and others of his kind keep stocked with necessities. His kami-given attributes have manifested at the release of his divine chakra, but he spares them no heed. For all that he prefers to appear mortal, he is just as comfortable in this form, and he has no time to dally.

Tobirama creates a water clone with a flex of his chakra and has it prepare one of the sealed futons for Izuna, then grab what he thought at the time was an overstocked scroll full of medical supplies. Now Tobirama wishes he had more than one. Regardless, time is of the essence. He lies his patient on the futon, has his clone carefully strip him of his overclothes and prepare him for treatment while Tobirama changes out of his mission gear and into something more practical for healing. The only thing currently stashed in the shrine are Kannushi robes. However there are enough koshihimo and munehimo left that he will have no trouble tying the sleeves back, so it’s better, at least, than his bulky battle armour. Tobirama doesn’t allow himself to be distracted for more than a minute. For every moment's delay, Izuna slides closer to Izanami-no-Mikoto’s realm. 

Tobirama kneels over Izuna’s still form, his breaths come in rough gurgles and gasps. His clone had propped the futon up on two other rolled futons to allow Izuna to breathe more easily. He allows green healing chakra to coat his hands in an incredibly precise diagnostic jutsu, and focuses his sensing through that chakra so as to best feel all of Izuna’s wounds. As he runs his hands down Izuna’s body he finds himself awed that the man still lives. 

Now, if only he can keep him alive. He has several large lacerations, which are all bleeding freely, and a stab wound in his stomach, which despite missing any vital organs, has torn his intestines, which will inevitably lead to sepsis if not treated immediately. Izuna also has several broken ribs, two of which have punctured his left lung, and are clearly the cause of the accumulating blood and difficulty breathing. He likely only still lives because Uchiha train lung capacity from an incredibly young age and his right lung is managing, just barely, to provide him enough oxygen to avoid succumbing to hypoxia. 

“Fuck,” Tobirama can’t help but release the curse, he rubs his hands up and down his face. He releases his clone. Tobirama only has one option that will give Izuna a chance to survive long enough for Tobirama to heal him. It’s not one he can choose lightly either. 

He glances out the open side of the shrine into the poorly maintained garden, assessing the weather. The conditions are met. He allows his divine chakra to emanate from his being. His hair sways in non-existent wind and he tugs on his connection to his kami. He feels the joyous ringing in his soul in return and he knows that he has Inari-Okami’s blessing. As rays of sun shine through the rain and alight on he and Izuna, he can feel the warmth of Amaterasu-Omikami’s blessing as well, and he knows that his choice is made.

Tobirama reaches within himself, deep into his heart chakra and manifests his Hoshi no Tama. The glowing white-blue ball hovers between his hands. Tobirama does not allow himself to hesitate. Any moment could be Izuna’s last and he cannot allow that to happen. With a twist of chakra and a flex of divine energy, the ball separates into two identical glowing spheres of swirling white and blue energy.

With all due care, Tobirama gently straddles Izuna’s hips. Wreathed in Amaterasu-Omikami’s sunbeams, Tobirama announces to Izuna’s too-still form, “By the Grace of Inari-Okami and the Divine Light of Amaterasu-Omikami, with this Divine Gift shared between us, my Life is Yours as Yours is Mine,” his voice rings with the Kami’s Authority, “Your Kin are My Kin, and My Kin are Your Kin. Never shall Our Life be Separated, for this Wedding is Ordained by The Kami.” 

The Orb hovering above his left hand shines blue, its native color gaining strength. The Orb above his right gains glowing crimson swirls, and he knows what he must do. He places the blue orb between his lips and leans down. With his left hand, he gently pries Izuna’s jaws open. Tobirama slowly, carefully leans down. And with a gentle kiss, he deposits the blue-white Hoshi no Tama into Izuna’s mouth. He slides it as far back as he can with his tongue before closing the man’s mouth and massaging his throat with iryo-chakra coated fingers to make him swallow. As he coaxes Izuna to swallow, Tobirama takes the blue-red-white Hoshi no Tama into his own mouth and drinks its divinity, allowing it to settle back behind his heart chakra. 

This marriage, this Divine Wedding has only given Tobirama time. Izuna is no longer on the brink of death now that he shares Tobirama’s divine blessing, just as Tobirama now shares his. It, however, does not change the fact that Izuna is critically injured, and if Tobirama wants his new wife in good health, he must work quickly and with due care.

Chapter Text

Izuna wakes.

Which is something he was not expecting. 

He’s clearly not dead. 

He hurts too much to be dead. 

But, Izuna is a shinobi. He’s a good shinobi. He will not let on that he has regained consciousness. Izuna lets his eyes remain closed, and he takes stock of his body and what he can make of his surroundings. 

His chest still hurts, but he’s breathing clearly. His chakra levels have recovered well. They’re not full, but he’s fought on the Uchiha-Senju battlefront with less. Where he’d been stabbed in the stomach hurts, but it no longer feels raw. It feels as though he’s been through several rounds of high level healing. The deep slice in his thigh, which he was certain had nicked an artery, seems nearly completely healed but for some lingering soreness. Same for the other blade wounds he remembers accumulating in the ambush. 

The room he’s in smells of antiseptic herbs and recent cleaning as well as the lingering scent of shrine incense. He’s propped up in a reclined, but not prone position, on what feels like a futon. The flooring underneath seems to be tatami. He can feel the air moving gently, and he can only assume he’s in a traditional-style building that opens to the outdoors. The only building like this in the Uchiha compound is the Naka Shrine, but it smells wrong and if he were home he’d be in the healers halls which are fully insulated from the outdoors except for the windows.

Izuna wracks his brain for a possible explanation for his continued survival. 

After several agonizing seconds, it comes to him. 

Senju Tobirama. He had pleaded for his rival to return his body to his clan, or if not his body, then at least let them know where his ashes lie. It appears Tobirama has chosen door number three. And while Izuna is grateful for his life, he can’t help but wonder what it’s going to cost him. 

He hears footsteps approaching, and he knows that Tobirama must be aware he’s awake if he’s making that much noise. The other man is more silent than the ninneko that pose as strays in the compound. When he can feel the tatami near his hip compress under his rival’s weight, he allows himself a carefully deeper breath. It makes his ribs ache, but his lungs are inflating as they should. 

A cool hand hovers over Izuna’s forehead, and he can feel the tell-tale shiver of iryo-chakra as the hand gently sweeps down his body. Izuna doesn’t know if he wants to speak, or if he wants to open his eyes, or if he wants to just go back to sleep. But even if Tobirama had brought him to safety and healed him, he can’t make himself believe that he’s truly out of danger, so—

His thoughts are interrupted by Tobirama’s deep, smooth baritone, “Izuna, if you wish to open your eyes, it is evening. There is one dim oil lamp lit, but please open your eyes slowly to adjust to the light.” 

Izuna debates how wise it is to do as Tobirama says, but the advice seems sound. And if Tobirama is using iryo-jutsu to check his condition, the likelihood is that his rival healed him himself. He can hear no one else, this is no healing hall. So he’s probably not in the Senju complex either. 

“Hn,” Izuna grunts in acknowledgment of Tobirama’s instruction. He gingerly pries his eyelids open and blinks blearily. As soon as his vision clears, he turns his eyes to his rival. He blinks again. And again. The image in front of him isn’t changing. On instinct, his sharingan whirl to life in order to make sure he’s not caught in some sort of bizarre genjutsu. Though why anyone would show him this is beyond him. 

But, no. The scene before his eyes remains the same, if not all the more clear for being enhanced by his sharingan. 

Tobirama sits in seiza at Izuna’s hip, dressed in the robes and hakama of a Kannushi. Sans hat, because furry white fox ears, tipped in red, sit atop his head and five large, fluffy tails of the same color scheme emerge from under the back of his red-trimmed, white overrobe, and fan out over light blue hakama. The three crimson marks on his face are joined by sharp markings at the corners of his eyes, enhancing their fox-like tilt. The swirling mark that resides on his forehead and stretches into his hairline resembles a flame and a whirlpool both. The look is oddly flattering, and Izuna doesn’t know how to feel about the strange flare of warmth in his stomach. 

“What, in the name o—” Izuna rasps, and his entirely too rude question is aborted by Tobirama holding a cup of what must be water in his face. 

“Drink first,” Tobirama says, holding the cup to Izuna’s lips, “your brother will be arriving in the next two and a half minutes, if he maintains his current speed. It will be more efficient if I only have to explain once.” Izuna allows Tobirama to help him drink. If he’s gone so far as to heal him and contact Madara, then the likelihood that he’s about to be poisoned is acceptably low. 

After he’s drained his cup, Tobirama places it to the side, and helps him sit forward, propping the futon into a more upright position, before allowing Izuna to relax back into it. 

Izuna can’t help but ask, “You sent for Madara?” 

“I can’t, in good conscience, allow either you or your Clan Head to remain ignorant of our current circumstances. Neither can I allow it for Hashirama, but informing my brother is significantly less urgent.” 

“That tells me nothing,” Izuna huffs. 

The look Tobirama graces him with is both sly and oddly affectionate, and Izuna doesn’t know how he feels about it, though the warm sensation in his stomach flutters. Then Tobirama replies, “Madara-sama has arrived, I have sent a water clone to lead him here. I’m sure you can wait another few seconds for an explanation.”

Izuna knows a pout is forming on his face, but he can’t bring himself to care. He hurts, he’s confused, and his brother will be here soon, so hopefully Tobirama will finally give them answers.

Madara slams open the shoji door, only barely not knocking it off its track. He completely ignores the clone (which has no animal features or new markings, Izuna notes) to scan the room for Izuna. The moment Madara’s gaze alights upon him, his eyes widen and he all but shouts, “Izuna! You’re alive! Thank all the kami, we found the site where you were ambushed and the remains of your sword, but you weren’t there!” As he speaks Madara scrambles to Izuna’s side and just about slides the last two shaku across the tatami on his knees. He leans over Izuna, arms hovering awkwardly. He looks like he wants to do nothing more than wrap Izuna in his arms and never let go. Izuna can tell Madara is only resisting in deference to his wounded state, clearly not wanting to make matters worse. 

Izuna reaches out and takes one of Madara’s gloved hands in his own, “I’m alive, Aniki. I’m alive.”

“Thank the Myriad Kamigami,” Madara mutters, taking Izuna's hand between both of his own, and holding it to his face. One of his thumbs rests on the pulse point in Izuna’s wrist, and Izuna knows it’s to reassure himself of Izuna’s continued survival. 

Izuna clears his throat, “Actually, we must thank our gracious host. Isn’t that right, Senju Tobirama-san?”

At last, Madara turns his gaze to Tobirama. Izuna wants to make sure he’s not hallucinating regardless of what his sharingan tells him. In this moment Madara proves he’s very much Izuna’s brother by having a nearly identical reaction to the sight of Tobirama in all his kitsune-fied glory sitting in perfect seiza at Izuna’s side. 

With his sharingan spinning Madara blurts, “What in the name of—!” 

“In point of fact,” Tobirama, who looks strangely amused, interjects before Madara can finish what is sure to be just as rude a question as Izuna’s aborted query, “neither of you is completely incorrect.”

Madara’s jaw flaps for a moment, as he’s clearly unable to string his thoughts together. Izuna’s wit is quicker. “Are you implying that divine intervention is involved in my continued survival?”

“You’re quick on the draw as usual. Yes, Izuna, that is what I was implying. While I spent several long, extremely intense hours making sure you would return to peak health and several days afterward giving you supplemental care, you would not have survived without the Blessing of She Whose Soul Provides Sustenance and the Grace of She, the One Above, Who Illuminates the Heavens.”

“Are you saying,” asks Madara with slow, deliberate words, “that Izuna’s continued survival relies on his obeisance to two gods now?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Tobirama replies lightly, “But as just as I am a child of Inari-Okami, Izuna is a Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Omikami, so I needed the blessing of both to do what I did to ensure I had enough time to heal Izuna.”

“And what exactly did you do?” Izuna asks with caution in his voice. Cheating death is a dangerous game and never without consequence. He wants to know what those are, because although he is glad to be alive, he needs to know where he stands. 

Tobirama makes direct eye contact with him for the second time in their lives, “I married you,” the white-haired probably-kitsune says with zero trace of guile. “From now on, I will be in your care, yome.” He bows shortly but deeply over his knees before returning to his perfect seiza.

Izuna is speechless, but apparently, Madara has regained his tongue, “You WHAT!?”

“Married Izuna,” Tobirama says bluntly.

“What could have possibly possessed you to marry me?” Izuna manages to choke out. 

“It was the only way you’d survive long enough for me to heal you. Inari-Okami and Amaterasu-Omikami both gave their blessing, so the decision was made.” Tobirama shrugs elegantly. Izuna hadn’t known it was possible to shrug elegantly until now. 

“What does marrying my baby brother have to do with keeping him alive!?” Madara all but shrieks. 

Tobirama’s face takes on a familiar look, it’s the one that says ‘How can you possibly be this stupid? Why am I cursed to have to deal with you?’ Izuna has seen it directed at both himself and Tobirama’s own brother many many times over the years they’ve clashed on the battlefield.

The tone of Tobirama’s voice as he says, “Madara-sama,” implies just how much he thinks of Madara’s ability to use the brains their kami granted him, “I am obviously not human. In Wedding Izuna, he was granted half of my divine power, and by the Grace of She, the One Above, Who Illuminates the Heavens, I have been granted some of the Divine Power she grants her children in return. It is a marriage Ordained and Officiated in the Eyes of the Kami.” 

Izuna’s eyes blow wide. Of course, he knows that the Uchiha are considered the children of Amaterasu-Omikami. The clan pays Her obeisance and does as She bids. If She has Blessed his marriage to Tobirama…Well, apparently, he has a husband now, no matter how much more fucked this is going to make their relations with the Senju.

“So something in your kami-given powers keeps Izuna alive?” 

It seems Tobirama can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes at Madara this time. “Madara-sama, I am an emissary of Inari-Okami. I am all but immortal. By virtue of our marriage, Izuna now shares My Life, as I share His Life.”  Izuna can hear the otherworldly timbre in Tobirama’s voice when he mentions their Lives. “By sharing my Life, Izuna will not die from old age, and actively killing him will be quite a bit more difficult. But as he was mortally wounded and quite near entering Izanami-no-Mikoto’s realm, I still had much work to do in order to make sure he would stay alive even after we Wed.” 

Madara works his jaw. That is his brother’s stubborn face, Izuna would know it anywhere. “You’re kitsune, how do I know this isn’t a trick? That you aren’t doing this to get a foothold in the Uchiha so you can take us down from the inside?” Izuna wants to palm his face; his brother is a moron when he’s being an overprotective ass. Even Izuna knows better than to question something like this.

Tobirama’s ears lie flat against his hair, pushing down some of his unruly spikes, and his tails bristle in offense, “I’m a Zenko, you absolute moron! A Kiko to be precise! What could I possibly do!? Kinslaying is an offense against my Kami! I am now as much a child of Amaterasu-Omikami as I am a messenger of Inari-Okami! Your skull is thicker than my Anija’s!! You are getting the peace that the two of you dreamt up as children, and all you can think to do is accuse me of plotting to slay my own kin!?” Tobirama heaves a deep sigh and forces himself calm, “By the will of the Kami, you and Anija deserve each other.” 

Izuna is very glad he’s not Madara right now. Except, “What do you mean he’s getting the peace he and your mutant stranglevine brother dreamt of as children?” Izuna asks.

It’s Izuna’s turn to face the ‘How much idiocy must I deal with?’ look, “Obviously, now that we’re Wed by the Grace of both our clans’ Kami, we can no longer face each other on the battlefield. It would be pointless. More to the point, I can’t slay Uchiha because they are My Kin, and you can’t slay Senju because they are Your Kin, so by default, all Uchiha and all Senju are now Kin in the Eyes of Our Kami, and therefore all armed and unarmed conflict which could lead to the destruction of either clan must come to an end.” 

Izuna blinks. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words don’t come. Madara, at his side, uses one of his gloved fingers to close Izuna’s hanging jaw, and allows himself to calm. “Send a message to Hashirama. We shall treat for ceasefire then peace,” he says. Then, after a moment, it seems Izuna’s brother can’t hold back his sure-to-be idiotic question, “If you’re a kitsune, what is Hashirama? A Jubokko?”

“Inari-Okami grant me patience,” Tobirama pleads to the ceiling. “No. Do you ever rub two brain cells together or did the one you were granted die from loneliness?” Izuna’s new husband absolutely roasts Madara and it takes all he has to suppress his grin, “Anija is a Chosen Child of Inari-Okami, which grants him certain powers. Feel free to ask him about them, I’m certain he’ll be eager to share now that it won’t endanger the clan.”

Izuna can no longer suppress his mirth, and though it hurts his still-healing ribs, he laughs until he can't breathe.