Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pushing past the fatigue, side twitching from the forced deep breathing and muscles burning raw from chakra laced through them to enhance speed, always has its drawbacks. For one Tobirama knows with a certainty that the crash upon arriving at the Senju compound, once nestled safe in his bed, will leave him unable to function coherently until the fevered haze and trembling leaves his body mostly two to three days later. Two, it tends to enhance the withdrawal symptoms from denying his body its natural need of heat cycles by use of seals and artificial suppressants.

The formula is not quite right, sometimes it’s too weak causing a very sweet honeyed undertone to peak through his skin. It tends to confuse clan mates and strangers alike. Usually he can explain the sweetness, helping an omega adult through their heat or assisting an omega child in training, excuses that his brother will take at face value and not make any more inquiries to the sweet odor.

Sometimes the suppressants are too strong and those times Hashirama tends to question him and pester him for answers in a worried frenzy. There’s no lingering sweetness that clings to him during those times. It’s the smell of rot, of bitter apples browning, and of wrath that clings to him. It’s a smell usually associated with alphas who have completely lost their sense of self, feral and void of their humanity, or on the brink of death.

The explosive temper doesn’t help either, but rationally he knows that chemically changing one’s hormones, especially with untested formulas and doses, will have dire consequences. His moods are one of the many things he is willing to sacrifice in the name of the Senju.

Tobirama is no idiot, he hears enough stories whispered of him to know the smell of death helps the image he tries to portray as the White Demon. He can’t afford to be anything else for his clan. That is especially true for his brother Hashirama. He would do anything for his older brother even at the expense of his own health and sanity.

He’s winded on the jump to the next branch and falters as he lands sloppily by bracing a trembling hand on the rough bark. Not good enough, never strong or fast enough. Always a failure as his father had claimed. Useless runt his father would curse as Tobirama struggled to keep up while baring pointed canines from the sneer pulling at lips.

Even in death Senju Butsuma still haunts him, but he keeps those harsh lessons close to his heart as he forces himself to move. There is no point in blaming the dead. His father was right to be disgusted by him.

Being this exhausted has dulled his sensing capabilities and Tobirama is essentially traveling blind. He bemoans his stupidity in wanting to hurry home after completing his mission. Taming typhoons in Uzushio during the tropical storm season, as was agreed during Mito’s engagement to Hashirama due to his proficiency in suiton, is taxing not only on his body but his chakra system as well.

Bumping into foreign shinobi on his way out of Uzushio who were on their alpha rut didn’t help either. Tobirama wasted extra chakra disposing of the blood lust alphas eager to challenge him and suffice to say he’s ready to shower to wash away the disgusting smell of blood and fear.

He wonders detachedly how long before his heart gives out from the excessive abuse he puts his body through. The blood, soaked in his clothes, has dried uncomfortably against his body and just thinking of peeling it off is causing a headache.

He just wants to be home in his own room surrounded in comfort of soft bedding and drunk off his family’s happy chakra.

He tries hard not to think of the empty well of chakra he’s desperately scraping at to be able to force his muscles to move. A heavy trembling starts from his thighs, travels up his body to cramp his chest, paralyzing him in pain, while a bursting migraine takes root behind his eyes. He brings a shaky hand to his chest, putting slight pressure as the pain pulses and leaves him gasping.

Tobirama tries to call upon the soothing green glow to alleviate the pain. Pictures it in his mind forming around his hand, mint green lighting up the dark night like a candle, but the pain remains, and he looks down to only see his trembling hand against his heaving chest.

The chakra well has dried completely, and he is good as dead if he doesn’t hurry home to his brother. Hopefully he won’t come across any more adversaries on his trip back to the Senju compound because he has no strength to defend himself.

“Fuck,” he whispers, banging his head against the tree.

He’s careful sliding down the tree and he’s out of breath once he reaches the bottom. Thankfully he’s not too far gone yet to pass out and he heaves deeply as he pushes away from the tree to start walking.

The hairs on the back his neck rise and Tobirama instantly freezes mid step as his heart thuds out of rhythm.

It’s the lack of noise, those of chirping insects, woodland critters scuttling across bushes and of the whistling from the winter breeze that clue him something is amiss. The stillness of the night air, all void of its usually vibrancy in life is far too quiet and it makes him feel like cornered prey.

Tobirama pauses, right foot slowly touching down, knees bending to come closer to the ground to appear small and less threatening as omega instincts take hold of him. He hunches his shoulders, turning his head to swivel around to catch anything he’s missed in his exhaustion.

He swallows back a whimper as a body melts away from the shadows with glowing red eyes. There’s no mistaking Madara with his waterfall of dark hair and serious eyes, nor Izuna who flanks his side with a happy smirk. There are more glowing red eyes blinking from the shadows and Tobirama realizes too late his mistake in taking a short cut home. He’s wandered too close to Uchiha territory.

Clenching his fists help steady his trembling hands, but he falters when a spiking heat curls from his belly. The suppressants have apparently worn off from the blood loss and possibly the chakra depletion. Though now adding strong alphas to the mix might not be helping either. Tobirama has only himself to blame and he can only hope Madara will be too busy focused on murdering him for trespassing Uchiha lands to realize he’s an omega.

Hashirama can’t know and Tobirama would rather die before his instincts take a hold of him and expose him. His brother would grieve to lose a brother, but it would break him if he lost an omega being an alpha clan head. Better to die a supposed alpha than a hunted omega.

Portraying more confidence than he feels, he straightens up with shoulders held back, tipping his chin arrogantly to say tonelessly, “Uchiha.”

Tobirama hears Izuna snicker but doesn’t deign him a response as he’s too focused on Madara. Out of the two Uchiha brothers Madara is the only one who truly instills fear in his heart. He is as strong and as evenly matched as his brother.

Something very unpleasant settles deep in Tobirama’s body. It curls, dark and shameful, in every vein of his body, like roots underground taking hold in order to spread and consume. It doesn’t matter how many years he’s tried to deny his designation, ignoring it and presenting as something else, being an omega always tends to peek through in some way shape or form.

Izuna, ever the peacock, saunters closer flaring his chakra and leaking his alpha pheromones in clear challenge, “If it isn’t the White Demon! What a pleasant surprise. We had no clue you were coming over an—"

For a second he bares his neck in submission to Izuna. It must surprise Izuna because he stops mid-sentence and flinches back.

It’s a little too late to cover his mistake and Tobirama stamps the omega instincts down. He swallows a needy whine short and settles to bite his lip instead. The warm blood blooms in his mouth overtaking his sense of smell and taste of the powerful alphas in front of him leaking of tantalizing pheromones and heat.

Izuna does a double take at the sound recognizing for what it is then looks at his brother confused. It’s a cry from an omega that says, ‘help alpha, please comfort me alpha’. Madara squints at him with a frown pulling at his mouth.

Tobirama glares back, but Madara must see something, must recognize what he truly is because he relaxes his body and Izuna steps back.

“Senju, how are your chakra reserves?”

Tobirama doesn’t answer verbally. He pulls his lips back in a sneer baring his bloody, but obviously blunted omega teeth in a clear challenge to distract Madara. He doesn’t fall for it. The only response he receives is a chuckle.

He watches as Madara drops his gunbai, letting the handle’s chain rattle to the ground, and heaves metal armor off piece by piece handing each one to Izuna. He backs up in fear only to bump against the tree that stops his desperate retreat. Madara smiles darkly at him with glinting red eyes.

Tobirama swallows nervously, nails digging into the bark to steady himself, as he begins to slowly hyperventilate.

“Omega, how are your chakra reserves?”

He tries to answer, but the words die on his tongue. Madara waits patiently with arms at his side watching as he struggles. It feels like he’s swallowed cotton and logically he knows the signs of a panic attack, but he can’t seem to stop or slow down the symptoms.

“I…no—,“ he stammers.

Madara makes it a point to exaggerate his movements of removing the top layer of his outfit leaving him in a black skintight undershirt. It’s snugly tucked into his waist and he pulls a little at the fabric to dislodge the dagger strapped on his side, then slowly begins to remove the rest of the weapons hidden on his person to drop loudly next to his feet.

Toeing a shuriken in thought Izuna blinks up then smiles brightly at his brother, “Hmm, guess this will do for your peace. Have fun, niisan.”

Tobirama flees the scene with Izuna howling in laughter. Not bothering to silence his running, not like it will make a difference in his desperate and cowardly exit. He’s completely out of chakra, exhausted, and wounded. Not to mention Madara is a sensor, though not as proficient as Tobirama, he certainly won’t have any problems in finding him should he come across a hiding spot.

Hopefully his body will succumb to the dangers of chakra depletion before Madara can take his claim in this hunt.

There would be no gentleness in the claim. Tobirama is certain of that. If anything, he would be dragged back to the Uchiha compound kicking and screaming only to be sealed of his chakra and either forced into working the fields as a slave or on his back as a concubine. Neither sound very appealing. He has heard enough stories of omegas and from rescued omegas.

He’d rather slit his own throat to match his dead twin than to be taken as a prisoner.

The cold wind whipping against his face sting his cheeks. Each panicked breath brings a lungful of burning freezing air, yet he savors the feeling because it gives him something else to focus on instead of the prowling alpha.

“Like this?” she had asked quietly, blowing a piece of light blush hair out of her eyes concentrating as he adjusted her fingers.

“Yes,” he murmured quietly, careful to not wake the little body snuggled at his side.

His other hand went back to petting the snoring toddler. Itama had fallen asleep after lunch, tired from toddling after mother around who had been too busy in her duties as matriarch even so late in her pregnancy to pay him any mind.

Anija had been caught sneaking them sweets before their meal. His alpha instincts had urged him to provide for them regardless if it meant eating a proper meal. He just wanted to make them happy. As punishment he was sent to his room to practice his calligraphy alone while they were ushered away. He had thrown a fit up until mother had twisted his ear and he had watched them go with large brown tear-filled eyes whimpering like a puppy.

She leaned towards him, humming as she slowly moved her fingers to the next sign, then giggled when their heads bumped together. He felt a smile, could also feel the thrum of her chakra, happy and pleased, as she completed the set of signs for a water dragon. When her chakra reached for his he grinned brightly as it exploded in fireworks of blues and greens in his mind.

Tobirama didn’t mind being cooped up in the room. His twin, although just as happy and loud as Anija, could mellow down to focus in order to learn. Sakura loved learning and she was picking up hand signs and jutsu theories just as fast as he was consuming and creating them. Quiet moments like these were rare, but very much sought after if it meant he could intertwine their chakras together and feel whole.

The image of dimples and the sound of snorted little giggles flashes through his mind before he feels the impact of Madara’s body hitting him from the side. He crashes to the ground, but uses the momentum to roll on his feet, wincing in pain as the wound on his side tears more, and hops back as Madara advances slowly.

The warmth from the blood trails down, streams of red river mapping his legs, to fall on the grass. Black spots creep on the edge of his vision, a sign of his oncoming unconsciousness, but Tobirama just shakes his head hard to focus on Madara. Anymore more blood loss and more likely than not he will get his wish of not waking up to survive. Perhaps it will kill him before the chakra exhaustion does.

“Well,” Madara begins chuckling in mirth causing his eyes to crinkle, “I suppose you’re not a white demon after all.”

He slowly, careful not lose sight of his amused foe, turns to look at his surroundings. He needs to find an opening to escape from Madara. He mentally catalogues the weapon inventory still on hand. Only one shuriken left, powder for a flash bomb, and blank fuinjutsu paper. Not nearly enough to properly defend himself, but maybe enough to cause a distraction to run to the rapid waters of the Naka river he can vaguely hear. If he can make it to the water, then perhaps the current can take him away from the predator.

“Then what am I, Uchiha?” he snarls with a hand slipping into the inside pocket of his trousers to reach the powder, praying it’s not soaked in blood.

Madara is either confident in his victory or he’s slipping into an alpha haze. If Tobirama can now fully smell himself of hunted omega, sweet in rot and desperation, then there’s no telling how long before he’s forced on his knees to take his knot.

The scent of alpha musk that fills the clearing is enough to cause slick to coat his underwear and Madara’s eyes dilate and he growls, eager to claim.

But Madara is smart. He knows he won’t win any favors if he’s aggressive, so, he visibly calms down and relaxes his frame to show Tobirama he won’t be harmed. In all the years the Uchiha and Senju have wasted in a pointless war now they have a chance to make peace, but first Madara must catch his prized omega in order to properly commence any peace talks. Having a Senju omega as his partner will only help this daunting cause because the Senju clan, specifically Hashirama, would be reluctant in retaliating in order to avoid harming Tobirama.

And it would be such a sweet victory to have the Senju’s prized heir assimilated into the Uchiha clan and rearing Uchiha children.

Madara stops before him, smiling wider and gesturing to him. “You’re a moon rabbit,” the laugh is breathless, almost said in awe and he moves close to cup a cheek gently in a calloused hand. He is mesmerized as he thumbs the red scar, closing in to align their bodies together to breath the enticing omega.

So sweet and so very scared.

Madara drags his thumb slowly across bloody lips, intent on pulling them apart from teeth, and Tobirama’s gut clenches in want. The omega part of him is crooning in Tobirama’s mind. Such a powerful alpha, must please alpha. It’s trying to sway him into baring his neck, to allow the alpha to sink his teeth on the tender flesh, to claim, and ultimately to be mounted.

Yet instead of succumbing to his instincts Tobirama throws a handful of black powder to Madara’s eyes.

He ducks on impulse. The roar that bellows from Madara’s mouth heightens his sense of survival on max and allows Tobirama to avoid another harsh swipe to his head. The impact of the fist to the tree behind him incinerates it as Madara pushes katon chakra in anger. The tree burns from the inside out crackling and smoking.

Tobirama dashes around Madara, scrambling to put distance between them mindful of his still leaking wound. Putting pressure isn’t stopping the blood flow, but it’s enough to sting and keep him aware as he maneuvers out the reach of the fire blazing and catching the foliage around him on fire as Madara uses katon jutsus.

He manages to run ahead while Madara swipes blindly at the air angrily, but stumbles when Madara flares his chakra intensely and pumps pheromones aggressively into the air. He falls hard to the ground slamming his head and splitting his forehead open on a sharp rock. Belly cramping and pulsing, he gasps for breath as he lays in a fetal position. Slick soaks through his underwear and pants mingling with blood.

“Naughty, naughty little moon rabbit,” Madara rasps. A glimmering shield materializes around him encompassing him in a skeletal frame as he rubs his eyes raw.

Tobirama looks over his shoulder from the ground and blanches as a red rimmed mangekyou eye peeks between fingers.

“I was hoping we could do this the easy way,” he says rubbing his eye hard, “I chase, you submit, we fuck, I knot you to kingdom come,” he grunts when the burning intensifies in his eyes. “…and we head back to the Uchiha compound to commence peace talks between our clans and plan a proper wedding. Fuck!”

A few tears leak creating a clean path on his blackened cheeks.

Hysterically Tobirama can only think that Madara is more deserving of the tittle demon with his red spinning eyes, soot face, wild hair blending into the night as the blazing fire grazes everything in its way. He sees Madara’s lips moving, but he can’t hear what he’s saying amidst the frantic thudding of his heart.

Letting out a yelp of fear Tobirama crawls on his belly, heaving against the strain of his omega dynamics. No matter how much he yells at his legs to work they don’t move, and he cries through the pain of heat cramps and open wounds.

The sheer presence of Madara being very near and the heat of the fire, so hot and so unforgiving, bring unwanted memories to his mind as he slowly and desperately crawls away.

Hunted.

Just like his younger siblings.

Kawarama and Itama with their little chakra crying out please save me I’m scared niisan it hurts.

God, he had tried so hard to reach them in time only to feel the flicker of chakra before it completely vanished. Fear and anguish and pain, so much pain was felt through his sensing as they were cornered, tortured, then ultimately murdered by an Uchiha child-killing squad.

Tobirama trembles harder as he feels Madara advancing closer.

And the worst was Sakura. It was his fault she was dead, and father never forgave him.

Sakura had been having nightmares after father had lost his temper, spewing and reeking of alpha rage after catching Hashirama playing instead of training. She took to sneaking into his room to sleep waiting only until their parents left to their own quarters to rest.

She was starting to smell more like an omega, and he worried the sweetness would only intensify as she shed the milky undertone of child. Mother had commented that it was unusual that she was presenting so early.

Hashirama was anomaly because of the mokuton, which had sped up his designation as alpha. Hence why father was quick to lose his temper as Hashirama rebelled at every turn.

But children truly didn’t truly present as alpha, omega, or beta until they were adolescent. Presenting as omega just spoke of Sakura’s future as a breeding member of the clan or also the possibilities of her manifesting the mokuton like their brother. He hoped father wouldn’t send her away to be married once she reached of age.

He woke to a gurgle in the room. Tobirama squinted in the darkness slow in blinking sleepy eyes awake. There was a cold breeze coming from the opened window and he shifted to move the bedding off himself to tuck Sakura in, but she was still making noises.

Dazed he looked down at his hand slowly noticing the wetness clinging between his fingers. It was warm.

He hadn’t realized the screaming was coming from his own mouth. Mother was the first to reach them, crashing through the door with a gleaming tanto as the assailant, distracted from her entrance, slipped the blade on the bedding between the twins instead of Tobirama’s ribs.

He quickly backed away as mother advanced and slipped out through the opened window. Father was waiting for him eager to cut his head off.

Tobirama laid gasping on bloody sheets holding onto a little twitching hand watching as all the color drained from Sakura. The pink of her hair seeped out through the slit across her throat staining the bedding bloody red and turning her hair white.

She died choking on blood, scared and in agony, tormented chakra intertwined together as it seared him from the inside out. A part of him died with her.

The knee pressing on the middle of his back aggravates his wounds, but it does what Madara intends. It keeps him pinned and immobilized as the alpha adjusts his weight to settle flush on top of him while reeking of satisfaction and lust.

He’s tearing at the snaps on the armor, yanking when they snag on the tightly knotted laces. There’s a kunai lining the inside of the back piece of his armor and he uses it to quickly cut through the rest of the problematic ties. The armor falls off and immediately Madara is assaulted with the smell of omega. It’s clinging to Tobirama’s skin, soaking his clothes, and permeating the forest even as it burns.

Madara is rough in his eagerness and he’s fully aware that it’s hurting Tobirama. He can’t quite bring himself to care at the moment; annoyed that he let himself be carried away by instincts like a juvenile alpha getting his dick wet for the first time, only to leave himself vulnerable to an attack. Rightfully deserving of the attack as Tobirama was quite brilliant in his own moment of weakness, but still his eyes sting from the black powder that was thrown at his face earlier.

It seems Tobirama is still fighting his omega side, face on the ground and biting a knuckle to hide whimpers, and Madara is not too pleased.

After nosing the dirtied fur collar away, he nips at the pulsing gland on Tobirama’s neck and growls low. It’s a sound normally used to demand obedience and entice omegas, but it has the opposite effect. Tobirama clams up underneath him reeking of rot and Madara is quickly becoming frustrated.

Not knowing what else to do to have Tobirama react as a proper omega he proceeds to stick his hand into Tobirama’s pants fully sliding his fingers into wet heat. He stops short, not moving at the feeling of smooth skin, bewildered and a little irritated at the turn of events. It’s enough for his eyes to return to their normal onyx.

This changes everything. Either the Senju are practicing some really fucked up traditions or Hashirama has no damn clue.

With a hand still rammed down Tobirama’s pants he maneuvers them on their sides careful when the smell of blood finally registers. Annoyed, he sighs against the back of his omega’s head and resumes his petting. It takes him a couple of minutes to shake from the haze of being so near an omega, but he manages to move slicked fingers away to fully wrap his arms around Tobirama to cage in an embrace.

He needs to take Tobirama back to the compound to be healed of his wounds and fed, because those were not muscles but bones he was embracing, and then perhaps they can resume the much needed fucking and knotting on his part….and also commence peace talks.

He feels Tobirama softening inside his embrace as he submits reluctantly. A large exhale leaves him boneless, rattling his chest, and his breath evens out as the exhaustion finally claims him.

“Fire’s balls,” he groans as Tobirama’s scent changes to a milder rot of apples and sea salt that instantly makes him hard enough it’s painful.

Izuna, bless the moron, comes to the clearing laughing and tripping over his feet, maneuvering around the dying fire, eyes covered with hands. He peeks between fingers, “Did you knot him? Please tell me you got him good!”

Mentally coming to terms with this odd turn of events leaves Madara a little stressed out, so, he looks over his shoulder to stress someone else.

“She. And no, I did not.”

“…what?” Izuna asks dropping his hands from his face to blink owlishly at his brother. “WHAT?!”

While Izuna is having an existential crisis, gripping and pulling at his hair while reviewing through all the memories of encounters he has of Tobirama thanks to the sharingan’s capabilities of memorizing, Madara glances back to Tobirama. The red of Tobirama’s scaring is slowly seeping of its color. He wonders where it is going only to blanch as her white hair regains a little color. It’s a very faded blush pink.

“…fire’s balls,” Madara groans again.

Chapter Text

Tobirama wakes to the softest bedding of silks in all colors and animal pelts in different sizes, and sunshine peeking through wooden blinds. Though disoriented, he does feels rested, almost like coming out of hibernation, and utterly comfortable. The window is open letting sounds from the outside in. It’s enough to keep him lazy as he listens to the chirps of the birds and the laughter of children, but as he slowly listens more it starts to dawn on him that something isn’t quite right.

He flings upright throwing the covers off to find Izuna calmly peeling apples in the room. Tobirama’s slow blink is mirrored by Izuna who doesn’t stop his movements of sliding the blade across the green skinned apple in his hand.

“…”

“Good morning, Tobi-chan,” Izuna says. He leaves the mess of peeled skin on the table to scoot closer to offer a slice of apple. Not wanting to encroach Tobirama’s nest Izuna pokes the slice of apple with the blade and extends his arm. Tobirama watches and waits but Izuna only smiles and waves the slice at him.

“Not poisoned promise,” his wide smile makes corner of his eyes crinkle just like his brother and his chakra matches his expression. There’s no malice or challenge and he smells of calm alpha. Tobirama takes the slice to slowly munch on and Izuna hums in content.

“You gave us a scare,” he goes back to peeling apples. Tobirama wonders the necessity of having peeled apples since Izuna doesn’t seem like he’s going to eat them, but his question is soon answered when a mousey brown-haired maid comes in to collect the large plate of fruit.

“Our healers couldn’t figure out how to heal your wounds since our medicine wasn’t working,” he shrugs, “Something to the effect of all the shit you put in your body or something like that.”

“…I see.”

Izuna doesn’t take offense to Tobirama’s frosty reply. If anything, it amuses him. “Really glad you’re fine now. Niisan is a menace when he worries.”

What an odd turn of events to be chatting with an enemy, his personal rival, while still sitting in a nest intended for an omega.

“He probably would have given himself a heart attack had your brother not come to personally heal you.”

Tobirama feels ice crawl down his spine, “What?”

Izuna shrugs again, ignoring Tobirama’s spiked scent of shame and fear, calmly pouring tea out into little blue teacups with white rabbits and sakura blossoms. He motions for Tobirama to sit with him to drink tea.

“Hm, well, yes. Our healers couldn’t heal you and Madara wanted to make sure you would be taken care of with the highest care available needed of your station.”

“My station? I’m your enemy!” Tobirama flings the teacup against the wall and it shatters into tiny pieces like scattered blossoms.

“Well, you were, but now we’re going to be family,” he calmly says. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be your brother than your murderer.”

Tobirama snorts at that and Izuna lets out annoyed huff, nose going up and arms crossing, like a spoiled child, but it doesn’t last long because Izuna starts to snicker. It’s enough to relax Tobirama and he eases from the tense posture to relax his sore muscles. He settles with a cup of steaming tea Izuna hands him, this one in shades of red and plum blossoms, and sits in silence.

It’s not long before they have visitors. Madara is followed by Hashirama and Tobirama quickly stands up to greet him, but Madara is quicker. He drags him down to sit, huffing and tutting as he checks him over by patting him down, and goes to the nest to gather soft blankets and pillows to arrange around Tobirama. Once satisfied he sits close, thigh to thigh, in order to drink from the same teacup that was given by Izuna.

Tobirama feels his face flush uncomfortably hot. Not one for much grandeur actions of affection he shies away when Madara lays his heavy hand on the small of his back. He’s having a hard time separating the two images he has of Madara. One is of a psycho, fire breathing Uchiha clan head who revels in killing Senju and the other is of this man, calm and pleasant as he quietly talks to Izuna.

He turns to look at his brother and Hashirama is smiling sadly at him. “Anija, what the hell is going on?”

A few tears leak from dark brown eyes and Tobirama panics as his brother cries into his own teacup. “Anija is so sorry. I almost lost you again and I didn’t even know. I should have done a better job as your brother and clan head.”

“Wh—, no stop! Anija, it’s fine,” he says, but his brother continues to blubber into his teacup with fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“No, it’s not fine,” he says, “You’re so brilliant and had it not been for Madara I would have never realized what you were doing to yourself or what you were hiding.”

Tobirama flushes in embarrassment, hunching his shoulders to hide his eyes from his brother. His scent must match what he is feeling because Madara flares his chakra, not abrasively so but to warmly envelope him in a calm wash of energy.

“None of that,” he grunts, “Your brother didn’t mean he’s ashamed of your designation as omega. He just means he’s thankful that you’re physically well and going to recover.”

Hashirama turns to Madara crying, “That’s why you’re my best friend!”

“Yeah, gonna be best brothers too,” Izuna snarks under his breath.

“I still don’t understand,” Tobirama says.

He hates not knowing, hated not knowing as a child hence why he devoured knowledge from texts, from anything he could get his hands on, eager to learn to show father he was capable. Training with older members of his clan, who were bigger and faster, until his hands and feet bled to prove his worth. Watching Hashirama and Madara, two strong alphas, interact together makes him feel small and insignificant. It’s a feeling he’s thought he’s overcome after father’s death, but now that his brother knows he’s an omega what will his worth be? What will it be worth to the Senju clan?

It’s not until Hashirama presses a glowing green hand, steady and cool, on his heaving chest that Tobirama realizes he’s having a panic attack. Madara is at his side, rubbing soothing circles on his back, murmuring quietly to ‘breath’.

“Oh, Sakura-chan,” he says at his front while sobbing. It’s enough to shock Tobirama and he growls, baring his teeth to his brother.

“Don’t fucking say her name!”

The green glow dims, but Hashirama doesn’t pull his hand away, “I’ll make this right. I promise. Anija will make it right and you won’t ever have to be afraid.” He pulls his hand away to place on Tobirama’s cheek, red scars faded into porcelain skin. “For now, you will stay with the Uchiha clan. Madara has expressed an interest and I have given my blessings for him to court you.”

“What?”

“No one,” he says seriously, “is going to force you. It is your choice and your choice only. If you decide he is not worthy I will personally come for you and take you home.”

Feeling fear bubbling up, Tobirama grasps his brother’s sleeve, eyes wild. “Why can’t I come home now? I am still a competent warrior regardless of this…setback. Why go through this farce?!”

Hashirama looks older, as if his panicked questioning ages him in a matter of seconds. “There was a coup at the Senju compound, and this point in time you are not safe amongst our people. You also need time heal and Madara has offered himself and his clan to help.”

“Heal?” Tobirama nervously asks. “Heal what? You’ve healed me already. Izuna told me so.”

Hashirama gives him with a smile that doesn’t fully reach his eyes like it normally does. Being this close up to him makes him see the bruised skin under his brother’s eyes against the tan of his skin.

“Give yourself time. Madara has promised me to watch over you and I trust him. Trust me…please.”

Tobirama’s lips quiver, ashamed that he feels the need to cry like a child, something he hasn’t done since his little siblings’ deaths but nods instead to swallow the lump he feels in his throat.

“Yes, Anija.”

Hashirama leaves the following day with Touka before the sun rises, stars still twinkling in the dark sky. He can’t fully sense them as they walk away. Mito was tasked by his brother in creating seals to prevent the ability to sense chakra. Harmless enough since they don’t hurt, adorned in brilliant red around his wrists and ankles, but Tobirama feels odd not having all his senses open to receive the onslaught of information from the environment. He can still see, but he can’t ‘see’. Hashirama thought it best without the constant feed of information from sensing to be able to heal properly.

Tobirama feels very exhausted the moment his brother and cousin fade into the forest.

Madara maneuvers him carefully to the gardens, still quite beautiful even with the cooler weather, and he is ushered to a cushioned seat around a bon fire. Lethargic from the cold and from the stress of being left behind, Tobirama fails to notice the figures already seated.

Madara, fully in alpha mode, wraps him up in his haori, nuzzles his head, and sits next to him. He reaches over to the cast-iron pot of spiced tea to pour everyone a cup.

“Good morning,” he grunts.

Izuna grunts back, but it’s followed by a screech when his hair is pulled sharply. “Ouch! What the hell old man?”

Tobirama looks up but freezes when he notices the third figure leaning comfortably in his cushion, snugly wrapped in a large thick haori. Izuna for the most part pouts with his arms crossed, but still leans over to be cuddled by their father. Tajima sighs fondly at his son, letting him have his moment of childish antics, and pats his cheek.

“Good morning, little moon rabbit,” he rumbles, “What is your preferred name?”

“Tobirama,” he mumbles back confused.

“I call him Tobi-chan!” At this Madara rolls his eyes at his younger brother who merely sticks his tongue out from their father’s embrace.

“Ah, well met, little one,” he says. “I hope your stay in our home and with our family brings you the much-needed peace your heart desires.”

Instead of feeling troubled or panicked, Tobirama feels himself seep in relative calmness, and almost melts into his seat with the help from the heat radiating from Madara. He notices both Madara and Izuna are not only relaxed in their posture, but they are also very open with their affection. Their father, Tajima, is also receptive as well, but the more Tobirama focuses on it, the more he can note a sweetness of spiced fruit not only coming from the tea.

It seems Uchiha Tajima is an omega.

His father, who was an alpha and had a horrible fuse, always argued and fought with Hashirama. And mother, well, mother was a means to an end in their political marriage. She was only meant to sire strong alpha sons.

“Hn, thank you.”

The next few days pass in a painful blur. Without the constant dose from his experimental drugs, fully stocked back at the Senju compound or carried on hand in a sealed scroll, which Hashirama confiscated, he finds himself experiencing withdrawals. He vomits all over dinner, fatty roasted fish and fried sweet root vegetables over a bed of sticky rice sprinkled in an assortment of expensive spices, and instead of anger or disgust there is only an exclamation of worry.

Izuna, the loudest of the three men, cries and jumps up to quickly move to Tobirama’s side. He brings a serving bowl, one that plated duck dumplings and were promptly chucked on the floor, to lower under his mouth to catch the rest of the vomit.

While Tajima is directing maids to clear the food and mess away Madara is calmly wiping his face and holding him steady. When the last of the queasiness settles, he finds himself fully resting in Madara’s arms, head listing to the side and body trembling.

He hears a soft purring near his ear, warm breath blowing against the skin of his face and it instantly sooths him.

The room is spinning when Tajima lays a hand on his forehead, frowning at the fever he undeniably feels, and turns to his son, “Best you take Tobira-kun to bed. No more rich foods for a while. I’ll have the cooks make milder meals from now on.”

He gives his son a look and Madara holds his stare until Tajima lifts an eyebrow. The blush spreads to his ears and the top of his cheeks, but Madara doesn’t say anything too embarrassed to argue with his father, so he just nods and heads out with Tobirama shivering in his arms.

“Damn, niisan has it bad,” Izuna says. “We only get those dumplings on New Year’s Eve.”

Tajima agrees, smirking as an older maid comes in baring tea and crackers tittering about ‘little Dara’ in love, and says, “I don’t think he thought this quite trough. Our little moon rabbit is still very ill.”

Izuna’s smile dampens, “Oh…I hope Tobi-chan gets better.”

“Me too, son, me too. Now, help me take down all the mirrors in the house before the tea gets cold.”

———-

Between the awful body aches and the fevered shivering, also not to mention the projectile vomiting, Tobirama manages to eat a full meal several days later of warm congee adorned with pieces of dried boar. It settles a little heavy, but it’s warm and filling, and it reminds him of the salted pork the Senju maids would sneak in their bowls.

Madara notices and smiles widely, setting a small plate of spiced apple fritter and jasmine tea before him. His scent changes as does his chakra. He’s extremely proud, but it’s not suffocating, and something inside Tobirama flutters.

Being around and interacting with the Uchiha is slowly changing his views of them. The screaming and condescending voice of his father condemning him and the Uchiha clan is gradually turning into Tajima’s soft rumbling of praises and quiet conversations. The walks he shares with either Madara or Izuna around the compound is lively as they interact with members of their clan. Each more interested in speaking to him than the clan head or heir and it never bothers either one.

There are tokens of Madara’s affection waiting for him when he wakes up. Heavy texts in different subjects, from philosophy to medicine to even fabled lore of old, and Tobirama is never without something to read. He’s adorned in rich blues and greens in all shades and of the softest materials he’s ever owned. The most telling though is being easily flustered when Madara is near, and he is always near purring like a giant house cat, as his omega dynamics establishes on a healthier spectrum.

His brother sends him presents, sometimes wooden figurines, other times dried blueberries and apples. He seeks others and starts conversations, spends time lazing around, goes bird watching with Madara who soaks up his attention, trains with Izuna who spends more time tripping over his feet trying to execute complicated moves, and Tobirama feels happy for the first time in many years. And he notices it gets easier each day, little by little, though sometimes still fraught with sickness and doubt, it doesn’t leave him ashamed like before.

On one such afternoon, spent hunched over a medical text and scribbling away on a little notebook, Tajima sits across from him pushing a warm bowl of sweet syrupy baked apple chunks. The apple pieces steam sweetly in the air tangling with Tajima’s content omega scent, while the sugar crackles and melts with the juices of the fruit.

Tajima folds his arms and places his hands in the long sleeves of his haori, “Tobira-kun, have I ever told you the reason why the Uchiha clan are said to be cursed?”

“…No, sir,” he answers, setting his text and notebook aside to focus on Tajima. Noticing the cast-iron pot of tea by the baked apples makes use of his hands as he pours tea for the both of them.

Tajima smiles, thanking him, and tells him softly, “As you’ve noticed the Uchiha clan, as a whole, do not discriminate. We love with every fiber of our bodies, will conquer and fight in order to save those we hold dear. But, most of all, we encourage the love of our clan without conditions or prejudice. We let omega and beta members take positions of leadership while also letting alpha members stay home to care for our children. They are also free to love whoever they choose regardless of dynamics or gender.”

“Oh…”

Tobirama can’t think of a time after the deaths his younger siblings that father didn’t grace him with a fist or a scornful word. Mother, an omega, stayed home as she was not allowed to participate in anything that didn’t pertain to the household or civilian clan matters. Omega members of his clan were expected to stay behind to care for households and children while beta members were usually the cannon fodder in their military.

Tajima taps Tobirama gently on the forehead noticing when he spirals deep in thoughts.

“And through this love we foster we are able to stay connected through chakra, but it comes with a price.”

He takes a sip, closing his onyx eyes as the sweetness of the tea envelopes his mouth, and turns back to gaze at Tobirama. “Sensing is a gift and a curse. The Uchiha know this too well and for that we will do our best to care for you.”

The older man gives him a softer smile and wipes the tears Tobirama didn’t realize were rolling down his cheeks. He goes to scrub his face clean, but Tajima tuts, and Tobirama settles to let him clean his face using the end of his large sleeve.

“Sometimes, when we love too deeply, our chakras seek each other out and tangle together, becoming one,” he says, careful in wiping under Tobirama’s eyes. “When tragedy falls, not only do we lose that person, but a part of you dies with them. All there is left is the little chakra left behind reminding you of the loss. Uchiha can’t function after such tragedy and that is our curse.”

Something shatters inside Tobirama and he grasps at his throat from the phantom pain.

———-

He celebrates his birthday the Uchiha way. Pinched on the cheeks by the aunties, who fuss over him and hand him candied apple pieces, and the uncles who yell for his attention to drag as a referee in their glass blowing competitions. The little ones bombard him with hugs and singing eager to shower him with birthday wishes while the older cousins bump their heads together to thump at his back. His belly is full, the spiced tea hot on his tongue while the sugar from the candied apples sweet on his lips, and he thinks drunkenly that he’s never felt more included ever in his life.

Madara is singing horribly off key and dancing off beat to the music and Izuna is plastered to his side trying to shut him up. He catches Madara’s eye unintentionally and he feels heat on his cheeks when Madara smiles at him. Tobirama quickly has to look away.

Thankfully he is saved from having to think about Madara or his smile by Tajima who steers him by the middle of his back to a table adorned with flowers, little blueberry tarts, and wrapped gifts. The flush on his cheeks from being pinched returns tenfold as he becomes shy at the physical proof of the love the Uchiha have for him.

He wonders idly what father would say if he were still alive today of his son being essentially courted by an entire clan, and an enemy clan at that, because Tobirama now fully realizes that the Uchiha support each other in their endeavors especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

The moment he sits down Izuna is flinging himself across his lap screaming his name. “Tobi-chaaan!”

Tajima looks over from his conversation with a cousin to frown at Izuna settling on Tobirama’s lap. He’s about to scold him, but he sees his other son stop mid song, face turning purple and hair flaring up.

He’s purring obnoxiously loud, arms circled around Tobirama’s waist, when Madara stomps up fuming. It makes Izuna cling stronger, laughing manically as Madara pulls him so hard by the ankles he loses a shoe.

“Save me Tobi-chan!” He laughs, “Niisan is a demon.”

Tobirama holds still, arms raised up from wanting to avoid accidentally elbowing Izuna on the face when he dove on his lap, and blinks.

“YEAH, a demon that’s going to skin you alive, BRAT!”

Tajima, wholly unimpressed and just done with his sons’ antics (not to mention embarrassed on Tobirama’s behalf), jams his fingers on Izuna’s exposed neck. He squeals, letting go of Tobirama, and goes flying from the force of his brother pulling. They crash on the ground with loud curses.

There’s a chorus of laughter around him who notice the commotion, and yet no one is annoyed or angry. Everyone’s scent is a mixture of happy or amused and Tobirama watches almost in an out of body experience.

He thinks back to his brother, Hashirama, who as a child preached love and peace, but was ridiculed by their clan. It never progressed past the ridicule as their tunes changed once he grew into himself, intimidatingly tall and broad and so very strong, but he wonders if his brother were not an alpha or had not manifested the mokuton what would have happened to him. If someone as powerful and compassionate as his brother had to deal with a coup within the Senju clan, then Tobirama’s thinks that is not family.

How odd, to be welcomed happily to another clan, with such ease. His uncles would have suggested a lashing or even his sword arm for even breathing a word of leaving the Senju clan as an alpha to become an omega citizen of another clan.

It leaves him breathless even after so many months living with them. There are no underlining conditions to his stay nor any seedy missions he must complete to prove his worth. Whether he accepts Madara’s suit or not, though majority of the Uchiha clan wish for it to happen, he knows with a certainty that Madara will let him go if he so chooses no questions asked.

Hands clammy from sudden nerves, Tobirama realizes he doesn’t want to go back to the Senju clan. He wants to stay here with the Uchiha clan, surrounded by their warmth and laughter…and wants to be beside Madara for as long as he wants him.

It’s a sobering realization and Tobirama feels his ears burn to match the rest of his face as he watches Madara push Izuna face first to the ground. Tajima sighs beside him and hands him a cup of warm spiced apple tea.

———-

He’s accosted by a child on his way to buy sweets from one of the older known aunts. He had put the order in immediately once finding out of Tajima’s birthday. Both Madara and Izuna had lamented days prior about what to get him and their father had simply requested a quiet dinner with no alcohol and no wrestling. Tobirama thought it best to provide extra sweets for the dinner since he noticed Tajima indulged in quite a few during mealtimes.

“Tobi!” the little body crashes into him, clinging to the fabric of his pants, and squeezes his legs to show his excitement.

“Ah, Kagami-chan,” Tobirama says. The curls of his dark hair bounce when he looks up to blind him with a smile, front tooth missing, and cheeks flushed in happiness.

“I finally finished your birthday present,” he starts, “I worked real hard with ojiichan and made it all by myself!”

Surprise turns to joy and Tobirama bends down to Kagami’s level to speak to him, “That is very thoughtful of you. Thank you for all your hard work.”

He beams and shoves the hastily wrapped gift into his hands. Before Tobirama can thank him again Kagami is flying into his arms for a quick hug then dashes away to play with a horde of kids waiting for him down the road.

The note attached has little smiley faces and hearts drawn while underneath in neater writing, probably from his mother, explains the reasoning behind the gift. It explains the Uchiha’s history of hand mirrors, each one more unique than the last, all made with care and love by blowing glass pieces or precious metals together to complete the piece. He blushes when the note goes on to say that it’s typically given to a love interest who wishes to confess. Something along the lines of “the love in my heart is for the one you see reflected”.

He wonders if Madara will present him a hand mirror. Would it have silver or gold fused into the reflecting glass? Or would he create designs with colored glass? There are so many possibilities and Tobirama hopes the one he receives is exclusively an Uchiha tradition. Marriage hunts are adequate and are acknowledged by many clans, but as he learns to be an omega and breaks harmful habits he thinks ‘hunting’ of any kind is out of the picture for him. He wasn’t a fan when he was caught the first time and Madara has apologized profusely many times.

As he slowly makes his way to the sweets shop, he pulls the paper wrapping away, folding it two to place under the box. He stops before entering the shop, excited to see the gift, and pulls it out. There’s blue and green twisting crudely around the handle and he makes out a messy pink heart of glass on the back. Turning it over shows him more pink, but he’s confused.

It’s not decorations he sees, but his reflection.

The red scars are no more, faded into his skin, and his hair is no longer white as snow, it’s now a very faded blush pink. Outlined in thick pink lashes are green eyes not garnet.

He feels a phantom pain across his throat, and drops the box to grab at the delicate skin, digging his nails until it pierces half-moon cuts.

For a moment all he hears is static, buzzing quietly then slowly becoming louder and louder with every beat of his frantic heart. He’s having trouble breathing.

There was a cool breeze coming from the window and Sakura turned in her sleep, wrapping herself more comfortably in the bedding, but a noise kept her from falling back to dreamland.

Disoriented from woken up so suddenly she shifted again to seek Tobirama. She wanted to be enfolded in his arms and sleep under the covers together. He had a habit of moving around during the night and would kick them off almost as if he was dreaming of training.

As she settled beside him, she looked down at her hand, warm and sticky red clung between her fingers.

She screamed, flinging herself on Tobirama as he choked on his own blood, and grasped one of his twitching hands. She cried at all the blood that poured from the cut along his white neck, seeping through her fingers as she tried to stop the river of blood.

Mother crashed through the door with a gleaming tanto. Father rushed into the room and upon the smell of blood and fear let out a roar.

“My boy!”

He flinches when a hand lands on his shoulder.

“Tobi-chan?” Izuna asks, brows furrowed and mouth pinching in worry. He sees the hand mirror in Tobirama’s hand and blanches.

Tobirama doesn’t deign him with a verbal response. Instead he sucker punches him in the eye, hears a crunch, and bolts down the road aiming to leave the Uchiha compound as fast as he can. He doesn’t know how long he’s run, but he recognizes the growing new sprouts in place of the burnt dead trees from when Madara chased him down.

There’s yelling from behind, and he pushes faster to reach the Naka River. The water is cold on his feet, lapping at his shins as it draws him nearer. He thinks of the current, powerful rapids as it travels between the Uchiha and Senju clans, separating them physically. Was the river the reason why they never encroached peace? Too scared to make the trip across.

But as he gazes at the shifting blue water, he can’t help to think of how the water calls to him.

He’s waist deep when Madara finds him. The air reeks of anxious fear, whether it’s Madara or Tobirama he can’t tell. Making a placating gesture with his hands Madara tries to gentle his turbulent chakra as he approaches. He stops, heart in his throat, when Tobirama makes a move further into the water.

“Please come here, moon rabbit, I beg of you,” he pleads not moving any closer for fear that Tobirama would dive into the rapids.

“I’ve never noticed until now that you don’t use my name,” he says quietly, green eyes glazed over, sightless, almost as he wasn’t really looking at Madara but looking through him. “It’s pet names. All of you…”

“Tell me what you want!” Madara yells, “What you need, please.”

“…what I need,” he says with a sneer, “is my sensing back!”

Tobirama looks down at his hands, green eyes tracing the grooves on his palms and following the path along his fingers. They’re smaller than what he imagined, much smaller, and he despairs as he notices all the differences he’s ignored throughout the years. It’s all been a lie.

Madara flares his chakra loudly, corrosive and hot, edged in sorrow. “Alright, I can do that, but first you have to come to me. I’ll take you back to the Senju compound and your brother will unseal you…I give you my word.”

Neither move, and Madara swears he will jump into the rapids to follow Tobirama if he so much as makes a little move.

“…will Tobi-niisan come back?”

Green eyes look up, desperately seeking the answer, and Madara smiles sadly, “No, I’m afraid not. Tobirama deserves to rest, don’t you think, Sakura?”

She startles at the name and looks down, back at her hands, trying to find a part of her brother, but there is no sign. There is no echoing chakra of calm waters flowing through her system nor any scents of sea salt clinging on her skin. Sakura crumbles onto herself and Madara manages to catch her in time before she is claimed by the rapids of the Naka River.

———-

The twins look in wonder, eyes wide and mouths gasping as their uncle recounts the fabled story of the enchanted mirror. Between switching voices and flailing his limbs, all in exaggeration to entertain the children, Izuna happily continues, watching as their little faces morph into different expressions.

“Izu-ojii, is it a true story?”

He stops mid voice to answer his little niece, “Well, of course it is! What do you brats take me for? A liar?”

“He’s a liar, don’t listen to him,” Madara says as he walks in the room. The chorus of papa brings a smile to his face and he bends down to catch them in his arms, smooching them loudly all over their faces as they giggle and scream.

They scream louder when they notice their grandfather entering the room and Madara is reluctant in releasing his hold, but sighs dramatically as they wiggle to be let down. He just wanted a few more extra snuzzles and smooches but knows he won’t win at least not against his father who carries treats in his pockets for the twins.

They crowd their grandfather, talking over each other excitedly and each holding one of his large hands. He smiles down at them, “Come along my little moon rabbits, I have a surprise for you in the garden.”

Madara watches his father as he guides the twins out, their white hair gleaming from the sun shining through the window, almost looking like stardust. His father’s scent peaks, robust in sweetness of baked spiced fruit, as the twins scream in delight when they reach outside to see their gifts.

Madara suspects the twins will present as omega once they reach adolescence. There are signs, little tells that show him of that possibility. Underneath the milky scent of child that clings to them is an underlining of sweetness, very faint, but it’s there if he focuses hard enough. He’s not too worried, they are Uchiha after all and they take care of each other, but he knows Sakura worries especially now with the Senju clan being nearer since the creation of the village.

He finds her resting in her nest, leaning against a large cushion, elevated to allow easier breathing. The pressure from the baby pressing on her organs has caused some discomfort, nothing serious, though it’s mostly annoying for her having to deal with shortness of breath or the constant urination. Madara suspects it might be twins again, she’s big enough just like before, but Hashirama swears it’s not twins this time.

The shoji door is open to their room and he can see the twins playing in the garden while his father watches them drinking tea. He sees little furred bodies along his children’s legs.

“How do you feel about cats, my love?”

She looks up from her book, frowning as he saunters towards the nest, laying against her side to watch her belly. Placing a hand on her extended belly causes a reaction as the baby kicks at the pressure and he chuckles.

“What did you do?” she snarks ignoring his offended spluttering as he sits up to loom over her.

“What makes you think I did anything?” he counters, pecking her on the lips each time she tries to answer. She giggles at the stubble tickling her face and proceeds to rub his cheeks all over her face. Sakura giggles louder. Madara never gets tired of hearing her laughter.

“Izuna?”

Madara shakes his head, smiling as she sighs.

“Otousan?”

His smile widens, crinkling the corner of his eyes as he nods, and she sighs dramatically bumping her head against the cushion. He settles comfortably beside her, careful of her belly, and lays an arm across her lap after tossing the book she had resting there.

“Be prepared to have cats roaming the house. Their grandfather has brought them each a pet,” he purrs when her fingers tangle in his hair to scratch his scalp.

He feels his eyes closing, dozing as sleep claims, but a whisper from Sakura breaks him from the haze of dreamland. She’s looking out the door, tracing the little bodies of their children as they play with their cats, then focuses on the white of their hair. She looks down at her wrists, still adorned in seals to dampen her ability as a sensor, a blooming red against porcelain skin.

“Tobi-niisan loved cats,” she murmurs quietly.

“Oh darling,” he sooths and moves up to lay a kiss on her temple. “Hashirama has made sure no harm will ever come to an omega child, any child, in our village ever. The Uchiha police will make sure of it as well.”

It breaks his heart to see her so sad, sometimes she drifts into dazes and must be gently reminded of the present, and she still sometimes struggles with her omega dynamics. He thanks the heavens for allowing his father to survive the last battle against Sakura’s alpha father, Senju Butsuma. He’s been a tremendous help in her adjustment as an omega.

He panics when tears roll down her cheeks and he blurts out, “Tell me what you want…what you need.”

She smiles amidst the tears, nose red, and scarring on her cheeks more pronounced from the flush. “Nap with me, please? The babies have settled.”

“Of course,” he says. The sudden stress of her sadness evaporates as he watches her get comfortable in her nest, smiling shyly at him and making his heart burst. There’s still giggling coming from the garden and he feels his inner alpha preen in delight.

He goes in for a kiss, but suddenly stops when her words register, “Babies?”

It startles a laugh out of her, and she squirms in delight, wrapping herself in his arms as he gives a slow blink.

“Triplets,” she says between giggles, large belly jumping along, and gives him an open mouth kiss.

It takes a while to digest the good news, enough time to allow Sakura to cocoon them in a rainbow of blankets and helps her adjust cushions against her back for support. He purrs loudly, chest vibrating in happiness, and receives a chirp in reply.

——

AN: Just to clarify, Tobirama was murdered with Sakura present. She’s confused due to Tobi’s chakra swimming in her system as they were prone to share chakra or communicate through chakra. Anything he’s experienced beforehand is felt by her and it’s confusing her. She believe she’s Tobirama and her clan takes advantage of it. Sakura spends her time in a daze and with Hashirama putting seals on her it prevents the remnants of Tobi’s chakra from interfering.

What I didn’t write was the Senju coup, which I might just doodle comics for because it covered a lot more of Sakura being manipulated by clan members. Tobirama was Butsuma’s favored child and his death tipped his decent to madness as an alpha father.

Big shocker ===> Tobirama was also an omega.