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Bloody Marionette	By : Snowway32 Category: Naruto AU/AR > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1744 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and any of the characters created there within. This is purely a pleasure to write on my part, I make no money from this. The rightful owner, Masashi Kishimoto has the sole rights to all Naruto characters.

Chapter List
- 1-Bloody Marrionette
- 1
This will be quite the disturbing fic, just a careful warning now. It’s been a while since I’ve written a Multi-chapter fic of this planned magnitude and content but there are some things that need to be remembered if you read this:

The main pairing is Madara/Tobirama but there will be some serious Senjucest between the two brothers, and not necessary consensual. There will be lots of blood, gore and even though this story is set in an AU there will be heavy references to the Anime and Manga.

There will also be footnotes to some of the Japanese words and items that are not expected common knowledge.

That’s all I can think of for now, I’ve always wanted to write a Tobirama centric fic to explore his character and I’m glad I started this. A few notes on the ages and shift of parentage:

Tobirama – 28

Hashirama – 32

Mito – 29

Tsunade – 9 (Daughter to Hashirama and Mito)

Jiraya – 7 (Son to Tobirama, mother still unknown)

That’s all the important pre-chapter notes for now. Please enjoy!

Senju Tobirama, widely known throughout Japan as younger brother to the last surviving heir of the once legendary Senju Clan, leader of Osaka's most established Bunraku(1*) troupe and celebrated as one of Japan's most accomplished puppeteers of his age; was nothing but a servant bound to the reality and perfection of performing the perfect play.

He had always had a rising desire to please and entertain his selective audiences. Calling upon the talents his father had detested in him as a child, Tobirama had used his skill in creating awe inspiring puppets and organising an unbeatable team of performers to create and completely transform the once forgotten genre. Sculpting and moulding it into something entirely astounding that hundreds of nobleman and statesmen would pay thousands of Ryo to see just one performance of. A surprising feat considering he had just entered into his twenty eighth winter, remained at the top of the Ningyō jōruri(2*) performances and had done it all in a span of only ten years.

The esteemed Master Genius of the arts, just as famous as his older brother, could within a single night, even within only one performance, completely lose himself to the story he was conveying. Becoming the character he controlled solely with his hands, where he possessed the strangest ability to feel his character's emotions stronger than any of his own. It was almost as if he became the incarnation of the puppet itself, stunning his audiences with the realistic conveyance of his brother's popular dramatic plays and turning them into to a startling reality.

His two assisting puppeteers, Uchiha Kagami his hidarazukai(3*) and Sarutobi Hiruzen his ashizukai(4*), both knew the Senju' subtle movements and whispered commands so well that when they worked together, it was in complete synchronization with the reality they sculpted on the stage that night. There was not a single movement out of place, there was not a prop amiss and not one word was forgotten in any sort of performance for they knew that Senju Tobirama would not tolerate unprofessional mistakes.

It was only under his leadership and patience that the troupe had flourished so, or so he believed. He modestly and constantly denied the kind words of strangers and admirers mercilessly praising his impeccable control as a Master Puppeteer. However, Tobirama valued the ability of his team to work in such synchronization with him, more than the spread of his own reputation. Chalking up all of their years of success to the people of his company and how they had come to know each other so well.

It was also how he believed that they had become so renowned across Osaka as one of the county's leading Bunraku Troupes.

He shifted his position suddenly, his wandering musings interrupted when the curtains were drawn away from the stage again and the audience's excited chatter quieted down. It was the start of the Second Act, the most difficult within this play and it was well underway the moment the stage unfolded to the play of soothing music and a haunting chantress' voice.

The grace of moving puppets, carefully controlled timing and haunting words sculpted a poignant story Tobirama found himself far too emotionally immersed within than he would have liked. His geta were deathly silent on the ground as he moved, the sound of the soft rustling from his ocean blue kimono and hakama the only indication he was moving carefully and with sharp maroon eyes, he gazed expectantly across the stage with seeming aloof disinterest.

Where in reality, his eyes missed not a single detail.

'Tobirama-sensei,' Kagami's soft but intrinsically distressed call of his name startled the Master Puppeteer somewhat, causing him to incline his head to the side as an indication that he was listening. He may have been irritated by the interruption but he knew that his student would not disrupt his concentration for nothing. 'Hiruzen...he...' Maroon eyes brightened and flickered with concern and thoughtfulness, briefly catching sight of several enraptured stares the audience trained on his un-hooded(5*) form. Even within the dull lighting of the stage, it was not difficult to see what Kagami was trying to tell him.

Tobirama tsked irritably, glancing over his left shoulder to find that true to his hidarazukai's words, one of his best performers was indeed swaying on his feet and seemed far too pale under his half-hidden hood. Considering that it was the middle of winter and the little Saru(5*) had wondered the Red Light district with Homura the night before, the Senju was not really that surprised at the revelation but annoyed by it all the same. This was the third time that year that something like this had happened, and despite him being able to control the current puppet with only one puppeteer by his side, Kagami was easily overwhelmed when having to take over the feet in Sarutobi's stead.

Biting back a frustrated groan of disappointment, Tobirama bowed his head downward to conceal his moving lips from the audience, issuing forth a simple order where he commanded Hiruzen off of the stage at the next curtain fall fifteen minutes away. It was only his stern glare and narrowed maroon eyes that kept the younger puppeteer from outright protesting against his command and causing a scene. However it would have turned out, Tobirama was just grateful when Hiruzen's squared shoulders slumped with begrudged acceptance in consideration to the substantial audience that had gathered in the theatre that night.

After the last scene was opened with a flourish, Tobirama easily took over from Kagami without another word. It only took a gentle reminder that he had faith in his student and that he believed in his considerable skill before the awkward movements of the puppet were corrected and the play continued as if nothing was amiss. After that though, it wasn't long until the lilting, soft tones drifting and swirling from the expertly played shamisen (6*) created a melange of beautiful harmonies and melodies that combined almost sensually with the chantress' voice. The beautiful sounds tugging and pulling Tobirama back into his state of utter bliss and perfected concentration.

The play that Hashirama had written especially for him of what had happened many, many years ago. Expressing the dark and desperate night when their clan was nearly wiped out, had somehow became a sort of escape from the world's harsh reality for him. Where the carefully composed music created by Koharu had combined with his Nii-sama's masterful writings to subtly retell their hidden life story that was always balanced upon the edge of harsh murder, revenge, redemption and triumph.

This specific play: The Tragic Tale of Hatred and Love of the Last Shinobi, was one where Tobirama could easily lose himself to intense, dark emotions and relive forbidden, locked away, memories that he had concealed from himself that night fifteen years ago. And it was never pleasant, not until someone forcibly snapped him from his trance like state. Just like now, as the lanterns were darkened around the stage and the soft, sad music tapered off to a conclusion; it took a full five minutes before Tobirama finally drifted back to himself.

Valiantly stilling his emotions and internal turmoil from reliving every moment of a sorrowful sadness that had once ruled over his life, was Kagami's gentle hand resting upon his shoulder. The young puppeteer had to tug in a harshly resisting breath and force himself to take a final bow of appreciation to his clapping audience before preparing leave.

Tobirama struggled internally to hide the definitive play of differing emotion present in his shimmering maroon eyes.

'Tobirama-sensei, thank you for the good work.' Kagami praised softly. A small smirk of satisfaction danced happily across pale, full, lips as Tobirama ignored the trembling in his student's hand out of courtesy to his surprisingly steady performance that night. His elated footsteps and sense of accomplishment carried the youngest Master Puppeteer in Japan towards the back of the theatre with warmth brewing in the pit of his stomach, in need of a sip of good plum wine and unaware of dark, dangerous eyes that followed his every move.

They had done well that night, he thought to himself.

However...there was something niggling at the back of his mind, something he was supposed to remember.

A few seconds later, almost out of nowhere, a delicate frown of irritation tugged Tobirama's lips downward in remembrance. Hashirama had mentioned earlier that there was an outstanding nobleman gracing his theatre with his presence that night. And he made such obvious mistakes too...but just who was that influential man again? Who was it...the name was on the tip of his tongue and yet —.

'Tou-chan?! Tou-chan?! Tou-chan!' Tobirama blinked once, twice and thrice. Maroon eyes widening in surprise as an excitable blue, green and white blur sped eagerly towards his thoughtful stance from seemingly out of nowhere. He barely had enough time to open his arms and catch Jiraya before, clumsy child that he was, he could tumble over his own geta and sprawl gracelessly on the cold floor.

'Easy there, Jiraya...remember what I told you about running in the theatre!' Tobirama scolded sternly. Watching with quiet prideful eyes as his son's dark eyes flashed intelligently and he nodded enthusiastically against his thigh in apology. Causing the older Senju to smile softly in remembrance of his deceased wife. She lived on in this energetic child of theirs, her dark eyes watching over the world with intelligence not found in many through his gentle eyes.

'I'm sorry Tou-chan,' Jiraya apologized softly, small fingers curling against the fabric of his father's blue hakama in search of affection. The action prompted a pale hand and dextrous fingers to card through messy white locks in thought. How could Tobirama ignore that sweet smile that was just begging for forgiveness? How could he stay angry for long when his child's innocent face was beaming up at him like that?

'Aunt Mito sent me to come get you. She said our guest will be arriving at the estate soon.' With a gentle, rare smile at Jiraya's exited chatter, Tobirama reached down to pick up his seven year old child's excitable form and rest him against his hip. Revelling silently in the affectionate sensation as small arms wound around his neck for support and a soft forehead pressed against his chest.

So there had been a reason for his child's excitable running, Jiraya never could ignore one of Mito's requests...

'I knew I had forgotten something, thank you Jiraya.' Tobirama said absentmindedly; going through the motions of bidding his subordinates a good night and checking in on Kagami and Hiruzen one last time. After being assured that they would take care of themselves and the little Saru would survive his brewing fever, Tobirama placed Jiraya briefly on the floor to wind a warm scarf around his delicate neck and put on a thickly weaved haori that his uncle had bought for him not so long ago.

Jiraya just giggled and fought against his father's ministrations, enjoying the tickling fingers and playful tugs to his hair until Tobirama finally prevailed in his task and had his child dressed against the winter cold outside. He smiled softly, glad that for once his heavy heart seemed to lighten as the bright light in his life gifted him with endless laughter, joy and warm smiles.

'Now, are you ready, child?' Tobirama asked, picking up the seven-year-old Senju as he headed for the back door. 'It's going to be cold outside.' He felt a tiny forehead nodding against his neck in understanding, a soft nose pressing into his shoulder as Jiraya hid his face from the cold wind when Tobirama pushed open the door and slipped outside. With his geta clacking a steady rhythm on the dirt road towards their large home and the howling wind singing desperately in his ears, the twenty-eight year old father did his best to shield his child from the swirling snowflakes and harsh winds picking up around them.

'Ne, ne, ne! Tou-chan!' Jiraya called out against Tobirama's skin suddenly, peeking up from his hiding place and smiling brilliantly at his father. 'C-can I meet this special guest too? Aunt Mito said that he is a very powerful man...' The younger Senju trailed off, catching the frown of indecision colouring his father's brow darkly. Looking at his father with his most pleading gaze and pouting lips, he was disappointed when the elder Senju merely shook his head in a negative and steeled his features.

'No, no, Jiraya-chan. You are going to be fast asleep by the time he arrives.' Tobirama said sternly. 'You've stayed up late enough watching the play as it is. I think you need your rest since Kagami-nii promised to play with you tomorrow.' Little Jiraya whined against his father's chest not liking being denied his request, pouting his disappointment but decided not to argue any further. Kagami-nii and Saru-nii rarely got to play with him these days and since Tou-chan had said the theatre was closing for a two week break, he could finally see them again.

So maybe going to sleep was not so bad.

~~~~

Tobirama gasped audibly as he slipped into the family's traditional home. The cold flurry outside was literally chasing him into the house as his body shuddered alarmingly from the snow that clung to his hair and melted icy cold against the warmth of his skin. The winter frost and pilling snow was worse than the previous winter and any he could recall throughout his life. It was almost as if the spirits of the dead were restless in the ancient house, desperate for their long forgotten revenge.

The home that he had grown up in, walked side by side with his family, was also where more than a hundred of his clansmen had been murdered in a single, dark night bathed in unforgettable, bloody violence fifteen years ago. Maroon eyes glanced cautiously at the wide, tapering hallways that flickering, almost invitingly, with the dancing flames of burning oil candles placed at set intervals to light up the darkness that clung to the house like painful regret. Jiraya shifted restlessly in his arms, his smaller body shivering against his chest and causing Tobirama's sudden rush of uncontrollable fear to flicker away into calm control as he sighed softly. His feet following the path the candles laid out for him, most likely one of the servants doing in preparation for their guest.

'I-it's c-cold, Tou-chan.' Jiraya whined almost painfully against his chest and Tobirama sighed softly, hiking the child higher against his hip as he subtly increased his pace towards the interconnected tearoom and guest quarters. The path of interweaving, flickering lights led him exactly to his wanted destination as he hurriedly stepped into the surprisingly warm, open space.

'I know.' He said softly, eyes darting gratefully to the burning hearth that was providing and spreading the warmth that their bodies sought so naturally. On the low table, carefully arranged in a tray, was two bottles of heated sake, a cup of warm, sweet tea for Jiraya and a long kiseru(7*) with perfectly shredded kizami(8*) beside it. Three floor cushions were laid on the tatami mats in a perfect pattern, and folded by one of them, was a warm blanket that would provide more warmth should they seek it.

With a soft grunt he detached his shivering child from his side, pulling the warm blue scarf tighter around Jiraya's neck before nudging him towards the side of the fire so that he could regain some of his lost warmth. His own footsteps were somewhat disconcertedly uncoordinated as he headed for the table, kneeling by its side to pour himself a cup of warm sake, test the warmth of his son's tea in his hand before offer it Jiraya as he claimed one of the cushions for himself and plopped himself there informally. His fingers delicate, almost sensual, in their movements as they set about performing the calming, knowing pattern of lighting his kiseru.

'You can't stay long Jiraya, you know that.' Tobirama warned softly as a head of spiky white hair rested against his side and small fingers pulled the warm blanket across a small body. Small, clumsy fingers, clasped around a steaming cup of tea as dark eyes eagerly and enviously watched his father light his silver and black kiseru with awe. With the soft hitch and curl of a bright orange flame, dancing only briefly in its short existence, sparked a miasma of silvery smoke and sweet smelling tobacco that drifting lazily into the air before the flame's brightness died out again.

His father's usually stoic features flickered beautifully blissful for a short while, telling Jiraya that he was finally entering his state of tranquillity after a long, exhausting performance on the stage. Jiraya just loved to watch his father as he was now, almost untouchable by others in his pragmatic distance. His family knew better though, Jiraya knew better. Whenever his father performed that specific play written by his uncle, Senju Tobirama became distant because he was reliving something terribly painful that no one knew about and he refused to speak of.

Slipping into a trance like state where he was barely aware of the passing of time, where briefly, if you were looking for it, a deep sorrow assailed beautiful maroon eyes almost hauntingly. This was the time when Tobirama's past threatened to overwhelm him with both fear and uncertainty, rebuilding his resolve to protect his family with everything that he could and slip into his calm, distant persona that had protected him so well from hurt over the years. Warm fingers, well known to the seven-year-old child, carded through messy, soft white hair gently. Expressing an easy affection that always passed between them when it became like this, where Jiraya was assured through his father's actions of what he wanted to say but couldn't force past his past his lips just quite yet.

'Tou-chan?' Jiraya asked slightly bewildered, dark eyes widening with uncertainty when he watched a single tear trace a dark path across a stoic cheek. 'Are you alright?' Nuzzling into his father's side, his own throat painfully tight as his father's expression never faltered a second, nor did he move to acknowledge Jiraya's question. It hurt to see his Tou-chan like this, where he could only breathe a whine of protest when the hand that had been carding through his hair, briefly retracted to brush away the offending drop of emotion gracing his cheek.

Jiraya's panic was quickly quelled though, when that same warm hand rested upon his shoulders and guided his head into his father's warm lap as he brought them closer together.

'Go to sleep, Jiraya.' Tobirama urged softly, his features turned away from his child's pained gaze as he calmly tugged in another breath of sweet, numbing smoke into his lungs. What was wrong with him? He wasn't usually like this. It had been years since he had been so emotionally affected by the incessant flashes of darkened images bathed in his clan's blood, years since he even vaguely recalled images from that night in such startling clarity.

There was something uneasy inside of him...a dark foreboding brewing within the pit of his stomach.

He shivered, suddenly. Fingers stilling their gentle caresses in soft hair much like his own when Jiraya's breathing deepened and his body finally succumbed to his internal exhaustion. Where was Hashirama? He would usually be here by now, bustling about the tea room, laughing obnoxiously before carrying Jiraya off to his shared room with Tsunade and preparing for their important guest to arrive. And yet, the sole companion of the youngest Senju and his son was the wind that rattled against the shutters yearningly, howling around the corners of the large traditional home almost mournfully. The world seemed suddenly empty and devoid of any life, only a creeping darkness that caused the uneasiness within him to continue to simmer.

Tobirama bit his lip, dark eyes searching for a reason to explain the dangerous feeling creeping across his skin, his ears straining against any sound that would give it away.

Maroon eyes gazed distractedly at the closed fusuma(9*), its beautiful watercolour painted scene of the outside garden graced the room with a familiar, in not longing warmth. He was waiting for something to happen, the memories to come rushing back with crystal clarity as he recalled every death in every room within this house. That annoying sense of dread was crawling across his skin like a thousand needles warning of imminent danger.

Tobirama's shoulders tensed. Muscles coiling in readiness as definitive footsteps, whose gait he did not recognize, became clearer and clearer as they trekked down the winding hallways towards the tearoom. Careful measured steps, assured of their gait and otherworldly confidence...no one in his family walked like that.

He frowned as a shadow of fear transversed his skin, the door sliding open with careful grace and slow and deliberate teasing movements. Tobirama's fingers tensed automatically on Jiraya's shoulder, resting his hand upon his child in protectiveness to what was to come. Sharp eyes gazed uncertainly at the suddenly overwhelming presence that flitted into the room like a dark, uncontained shadow before its owner could even step inside.

But when the stranger finally showed himself, Tobirama was stunned by fierce and astoundingly beautiful features that swam into hazy focus through the curl of smoke from his kiseru. The unknown figure confidently strode into the room as if he owned the world beneath his feet. He was tall, Tobirama noted, taller than him and pale. His ragged, hip length black hair that hid his right eye from the world was glimmering coal black in the light of the hearth. A single visible eye was of a colour that Tobirama had glimpsed only once in his life but where he did, he couldn't recall.

It was a brilliant shade of blood red, a strange pattern of black dancing around the pupil as he was drawn towards that haunting gaze. He wanted to move closer to this ethereal being, to touch to make sure he was real...his body was moving on his own as he made to stand and go to him, this man had not even spoken yet and already it was as if a siren was calling to him. However, a simple wave of an elegant left hand and an amused smirk kept him firmly seated exactly where he was. Too stunned to move again.

Was this man even human?

'Sit, please. I do not wish to disturb your child's rest.' He spoke for the first and Tobirama shuddered unashamedly. His tone was rich, like silk caressing his ears. Almost instantly soothing away his concerns as he was almost completely mesmerised.

'I apologize,' Tobirama said softly, suddenly shaking off his sense of awe as he turned his eyes away from that penetrating gaze, afraid of what it did to him and could make him do. 'My brother should be home soon, I can offer you some sake—.' Tobirama trailed off, jerking suddenly as soft fingers, unexpected and cold, tickled his cheek teasingly. Cupping it in the palm of an icy hand with a strangely intimate show of affection.

Tobirama blinked several times in confusion, glancing upwards into that haunting eye again. How could he not feel this man's presence moving? How could not even sense how close he had gotten to him until he had already touched him? That single red eye was mesmerising him completely, pulling him into another world as the hand on his cheek tipped his head into a more comfortable position so that their locked gaze could not be broken.

'I have not come to see you brother, Senju Tobirama. I've come looking for you.' The man said reassuringly, making it sound like Tobirama was the most important person he had seen in a while.

'Me?' He breathed uncomfortably.

'Yes you, little Senju. It has been many years since I've walked the plane of this existence, but after awakening from my slumber you can imagine my horror to find that my brother was dead, yes? My little Izuna, as strong as me on any battlefield and all because he got hasty and took on the Senju clan all on his own fifteen years ago. Foolish of him to try, even more foolish of him to be killed that night.' The man breathed, leaning closer to Tobirama until their noses were almost touching.

'But, little Tobirama, I would never have guessed that you would awaken before your brother. Reawakening old powers bestowed upon your clan so long ago...Silly, foolish little brother of mine. But I just cannot let this go, Senju. I've come looking for my perfect little marionette. The longing and sorrowful companion to Lord Uchiha Madara, Lord of the Night and Blood Wanderer.'



The warm cheek in his palm shifted softly, his glowing red eye staring deeply into eyes almost the same colour as his. Madara couldn't stop the small smirk of triumph pulling at his cold lips. He had been asleep for so long, caught in a genjutsu of his own making for more than two centuries. Sealing away all his powers and insatiable hunger for blood then before he had unlocked it all again the moment his consciousness was reawakened. However, he had awakened with terrible news whispering across his skin and numbing his soul.

His brother's warm presence that was supposed to have burned brighter than the sun was gone...vanished into thin air. For one of his clan to disappear so completely and utterly from this world meant only one thing. He was dead. He licked his lips suddenly, recalling the torturous screams and the taste of innocent blood as he had torn through the country in search of the culprit. Leaving in his wake burning villages, broken and shattered homes and destroyed lives. It had been so intrinsically sweet, the taste of blood upon his tongue after so many years in self imposed isolation.

It had also been so easy to let go of his ragging anger, sorrow and frustrations like that. And his path, though more than half a year old now and with his anger and blind lust satiated, he had accidentally come across this seemingly innocent child before him now. So beautiful with his stern defiance, long and dark lineage descended from the Rikūdo Sennin and snowy white hair that he knew had killed his beloved Izuna. He was the only living human that Madara could feel with active chakra racing beneath his skin, humming powerfully calm like raging waters of the ocean.

This Senju was the only one with the ability to have stopped Izuna when he went on a rampage but how he had awakened it, he did not know.

And how he longed for his revenge. It was burning through his veins, reawakening his desire to possess, to kill to shatter... But killing this Senju quickly would never be enough for him. No, no. This one was a toy that he could play with for years. Mould him into the perfect puppet that the child seemed to control so perfectly with his own hands. And then, when he finally shattered beneath his fingers and surrendered body and soul to the Lord of the Night, this child of the sun would be turned into his consort.

Just so that Madara could torture him for centuries to come and make him a broken marionette that would never leave his side or dance for anyone but him.

It was so sweet, he could taste it, feel it whisper across his lips in a desired need. He shivered softly when Tobirama's shallow breaths brushed against his skin softly, skittering across his lips as maroon eyes looked upon him with genuine curiosity and slight trepidation. He wasn't pulling away in fear though, not like many of the stupid humans he had come across. No, this one was definitely brave, a hard soul to break but one he would enjoy breaking anyway.

'W-who are you, really?' Madara breathed deeply then, Sharingan eyes spinning lazily as he took in the sweet scent drifting from pale skin and the rushing blood beneath. It was sweet like honey, rich like fresh cream and spiced inevitably with burning cinnamon that could very well scorch him should he be too hasty. It was a heady combination that spoke lengths of what power brewed underneath pale skin, power that Tobirama was not even aware of yet. It was such a shame that there were no more trained ninjutsu users in this century, this man would have made a formidable enemy and a great ally if persuaded to Madara's ideals.

But, oh well. This was just the beginning, Madara smirked. The dangerously sharp tip of a fang resting on his bottom lip peeked out as the light of the burning fire illuminated the room with a sudden flash of his unrestrained chakra. It caused the puppeteer to flinch back from him in surprise, frightened by what he had seen and trying to pull back from him.

But Madara would not let go of his cheek, nor would he allow him to pull away. Not when the heat from Tobirama's skin was seeping so deliciously warm into his fingers and shooting through his veins with want. Trailing weapon-calloused fingertips across soft flesh before he rested his forefinger across parted lips that were panting for breath from the press of his chakra, he could see a flash of shamed desire whispering across deep maroon coloured eyes.

He should probably stop teasing, they were both winding the other up too much. Madara pulled back reluctantly, tracking over to the low table to pour himself a cup of the warm sake he had previously been offered so generously. Seating himself across from his stunned host, he eagerly observed the multitude of emotions warring for a place across stoic features. Madara could only smile, those lips were floundering for a response, seeking anything to grab a hold of but he could see the war of logic behind those lust darkened eyes.

Tobirama was stunned, afraid of what he had experienced and probably having no idea what to do or believe from what he had just seen.

'Who are you?' Tobirama asked for the second time that night, his unsteady voice finally rid of its stutter as he fully faced Madara with uncertain bravery. His actions caused the older man to sigh softly to himself. A malicious smile brushed against his lips as he deliberately took his time in finishing his cup of sake, Sharingan eyes staring at Tobirama's tensed shoulders and protective hand resting across his son's body. It was lucky that the child was so susceptible to his easily weaved genjutsu, he wouldn't be waking 'till morning and thus Madara had the opportunity to toy with his prey for just a little bit more until the older brother showed up at the doorstep.

He chuckled around his second cup of sake, it was good. He had to admit, it was a good choice of alcohol even though it was only like ash across his tongue with the prospect of tasting the one across from him's sweet smelling blood. Tobirama shifted in his seat uncomfortably, clearly discomforted by Madara's piercing gaze and crazed laughter but the otherworldly being did not make a move to relieve him of his discomfort and answer his brewing questions.

With a disappointed sigh at his fun being interrupted, Madara nodded once to those searching maroon eyes and stood from his seat.

Closing the small space between them, he saw the Senju tense at his close proximity again. Ready to defend his child against attack, but Madara was not interested in him. No, his eyes were only trained on the white haired father who looked so proud, grounded, logical but falling apart at the seams at the same time as well. He stepped into Tobirama's personal space again, this time ready for the hand pressing against his chest to keep him away but still it did not try to shove him away, interisting.

'Uchiha Madara, Senju.' He finally answered after his cryptic words before. 'You better remember that, brat.' He growled against the shell of a delicate ear. His lips caressing the soft flesh of his prey's neck just for a taste before he rested his forehead against the other's in a very intimate touch. He could see those maroon eyes dulling and drooping as he slipped into the man's mind and sought out the memories that he had locked away from himself so perfectly.

'Sleep now, little child. Dream horrible nightmares of that night and when you wake, don't forget to come looking for me. I'll be waiting for you here, in your theatre in the streets, everywhere. You'll see me everywhere so don't run. It'll be so much fun acquainting you with the pleasures of flesh and blood.' Madara pulled back, lips brushing gently against a sweaty forehead as his delirium jutsu began to take effect. With a simple flick against the Senju's forehead, his marionette fell to the floor unresisting and completely lost within the mazes of his mind.

Tobirama's back hit the ground mere seconds before the screaming and pleading began, his body unconsciously curling around itself to protect against the pain as the rising and falling melodies of his cries became like an enchanting call to Madara. He chuckled in unheeded mirth, slipping through the lonely house and out into the open just as several human presences made themselves known outside of the compound.

Sure enough, just as predicted, up ahead in the snow covered road, trekked the rest of the Senju family. Walking ever closer to their brother's pain without knowing what was causing it. In a flash of flickering flame as black as night he was gone. Leaving only the lingering shadows and a whimpering Senju as any indication that he had been there in the first place.

Yes, revenge was going to be sweet.

~~~~~

Hashirama frowned suddenly, hyper aware of his surroundings as the large towering home of the Senju clan came into view. Something dangerously dark was creeping across his skin, settling a painful pit of dread in his gut and causing him to shiver with the clear sensation of 'out-of-place' and 'disturbed'. Even with Mito's calming presence next to him and his daughter, Tsunade's hand, tugging at his playfully as she walked beside him, could not disperse the sensations and terror racing through his veins.

He shuddered darkly. The last time he had felt something like this, he had come home from visiting a friend to find his entire clan compound almost raised to the ground with flames and his entire family dead, murdered mercilessly in the dark of the night. Hashirama could still recall that fear, he had been absolutely terrified that he was all alone with not a single person left by his side. His beloved brothers were dead, his mother and father long gone to the afterlife. But, even as he had heaved up the contents of his stomach and shivered violently with every step he had taken within the blood drenched home, it was within a pool of his parents blood that he had found Tobirama alive.

But his sweet little brother had not been himself, those beautiful maroon eyes that he had inherited from their father were so dull and glazed over that Hashirama had been sure his Otouto had snapped internally as well as externally.

Covered in blood, the thirteen year old had no visible wounds upon him but the moment Hashirama had touched him and pulled him into a relived embrace, Tobirama had started screaming and wailing desperately. He had been alive but it had taken his precious little brother nearly two months to recover enough from his trance like state, still not able to tell Hashirama what had happened and how he was still alive or even snap out of his six year old mentality. Despite all that, Hashirama was still grateful that he had his little brother, his sweet little brother who seemed so changed after that day.

Haunted by what he had seen, tight lipped about what he should have shared with another in search of comfort.

They were the only two left alive of their powerful clan now, their entire family had disappeared into nothingness but they still had each other. So it was only natural that when his sense of foreboding increased and darkness tickled the edges of his vision, Hashirama stilled suddenly. For once glad that their guest had eventually declined their previous invitation, the older of the Senju slid open the front door and almost immediately recoiled. His feet frozen in the doorway as desperate, wailing cries echoed through the house's thin walls. Clawing at his ears and setting his heart beating against his chest in sheer panic.

'Stay here.' He commanded, his voice rough and unrestrained as he turned towards his wife and child to usher them into the foyer. His feet then carrying him away through the winding hallways that he knew so well. Sprinting towards the direction the sounds were travelling in as he barely even noticed that the oil candles that had been lit as a guide to guests, were all extinguished as if a shadow had stolen their light.

He had heard those desperate cries before, had known what they meant but his heart was unwilling to accept them. He didn't want to see his brother in pain again, didn't want to see him as he suffered through something Hashirama could not understand or even comprehend.

The door clacked deafeningly against its frame as he rushed into the tearoom. His dark eyes quickly taking in the sight spread out before him in fear. He couldn't hold back, his eyes roamed across the floor that his beloved little brother was sprawled upon. Dextrous and often times sensual fingers clutching desperately at his temples as he tugged at his white hair in search of relief. His unconsciously furrowed brow indicated a great amount of pain was chasing through his body. Jiraya, seemingly fast asleep and undisturbed by his father's painful cries, was awkwardly sprawled on the floor next to Tobirama but not nearly in as much pain as his little brother.

He couldn't just leave him to suffer, not his sweet Otouto. Reigning in his fear and boiling anger at not being able to much more, Hashirama carefully knelt next to Tobirama, his hand cool and gentle as he rested it upon Tobirama's feverish and sweating brow. His other hand pulling away his brother's destructive fingers and clenching their wrists between his palm. He carefully uncurled Tobirama's form and tried to hush the cries with soft, soothing noises that oftentimes calmed frightened children. After several painful minutes of calling out to Tobirama, his hand carding through soft white hair as he tried to soothe away the obvious pain he was in, Tobirama began whimpering and whining instead.

His breathing no longer too erratic and the wildly fluttering pulse that he could see dancing along a graceful neck was slowing gradually into acceptance. However, his nightmare, it seemed, did not end.

When Mito, defying his instruction, entered the tearoom with Tsunade hiding behind her in fear, he looked up sorrowfully and helplessly, still not sure of what to do.

'P-please take Jiraya to his room and let Tsunade stay with him, Mito. I'm going to need a fresh futon, a bowl of cold water and some flannels.' His own voice was shaking, far away from his own ears as he fought valiantly with his own fear crawling through his body. The burning fever beneath his palm was telling enough of Tobirama's suffering, but what brought it on he could not tell. He did not know what had happened as his brother's performance that night was flawless as always, not a single indication that he had been sick.

The least he could do was get Jiraya out of the rapidly cooling room and away from his suffering father before he too awoke in a panic as he tended to his father's fever induced delirium.

He saw his beautiful wife nod in the corner of his eye, easily picking up the seven-year old child and leading Tsunade out behind her. It was not going to be an easy night.

'What happened to you, Tobirama?' He asked softly, his ears were still ringing from his brother's screams but he was quieter now. Much quieter, as if he was somehow responding and calming to Hashirama's presence. Tobirama had stopped struggling against his hold as well, instead leaning into his touch comforting touches as the pain upon his brow seemed to lessen a bit.

Hashirama did not like this, this sensation that something was off and his brother was suffering for it. But, he hated it even more that he was left helpless in this situation again. It was exactly like he remembered it all those years ago and he could do nothing but stay by his side, sooth away the fever and hope for the best.

'Hush now, Otouto. I'm here, I'm not leaving you.' And he spoke the truth, Hashirama would not leave again. Never again would he leave his brother to suffer whilst he remained unscathed. That was not the type of person he was...

Chapter Footnotes:

1* Bunraku – Japanese Puppet Theatre
2* Ningyō jōruri – Another way to refer to the Puppet Theatre genre.
3* Hidarazukai – When Japanese puppets perform on stage they have a group of three puppeteers to control different parts of the puppet. The Hidarazukai is the one which controls the left hand with his or her left.
4* Ashizukai – The puppeteer who controls the feet.
5* Un-hooded – The main puppeteer, the one who controls the right hand and the group of puppeteers is usually left un-hooded to show his face to the crowd.
6* Shamisen – Is a traditional Japanese stringed instrument.
7*Kiseru – A traditional Japanese smoking pipe, in the Manga and Anima Jiraya was shown to smoke one and
Gamabunta.
8* Kizami – Shredded tobacco that is smoke within the kiseru.
9* Fusuma – The sliding doors/partitions within a traditional Japanese home that are usually beautifully painted with many varying scenes.

I think I got everything, I did not explain in much detail, I’m sorry but I don’t want to make my notes too long and tedious. Google is always a good way to find information about it. Any questions that you wish to ask, please do and I’ll answer them as best I can in the next chapter.

Thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate it and if I may ask for a review of your enjoyment that would make me grateful too.

Yours Forever

SSP
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Bloody Marionette