Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto

Madara looked up when he heard the door slam open and then slam shut just as quickly. "Welcome..." he didn't finish as he saw his daughter streak across the room, completely ignore him in the kitchen as he molded sticky rice for onigiri. "Back..." he said a little weakly. He frowned, finished making the onigiri that was in his hand, before washing them and heading to the hall closet where the small family stored their futon. "Shiori?" Madara called, noting that there was a small crack between the wall and the door. "Shiori-chan, it's Papa," he squatted down and reached for the door but Shiori quickly slid it shut with a firm clack.

Madara frowned, even during the first days after they brought her back from the orphanage, Shiori never closed the close door when he or Hashirama tired to coax her out of the futon closet. "Shiori, what's the matter? You can tell me." Madara said, using his gentlest voice possible. It wouldn't do good to scare his fourteen-year-old daughter.

"Go away," Shiori said barely above a whisper.

"Shiori," Madara reached for the closet door.

"No!" she shrieked, sounding more like a cornered animal that a teenage girl, "Don't open the door! Go away!"

Madara sighed, not wanting to traumatize her even further. "When you decide to come out, you can talk to me or Daddy," he said. "We'll listen, you know we will." There was no reply as he stood up and went back to the kitchen to start dinner, grumbling about it being his week for the evening meal.

Yet, surprises seem to come in pairs for his adoptive sons were also standing in the kitchen. Both Izumi and Ryusuke were chowing down on the onigiri he made, though Izumi was sporting several bruises on his face. He was scowling for some reason, and Izumi never really scowled. Not like he use to when he was a boy convinced that Madara had sold the Uchiha to th Senju.

"What did you do?" he asked, eyes narrowing, wondering if this was how his mother felt when he and his brothers came back from getting into some sort of mischief.

"Izumi-nii—OW!" Ryusuke rubbed his shin.

"Izumi?" Madara arched a brow, staring down at the two Uchiha brothers.

"Nothing," Izumi replied with a huff.

"Nothing doesn't leave bruises on your face," Madara said, he folded his arms over his chest. "Spill. Now."

"Shiori asked us not to," Ryusuke said.

"Shiori?" Madara felt his body stiffened. "What does Shiori have to do with this?"

"She made us swear not to tell," Izumi replied. "I took care of it anyway."

"What happened to your sister?!" Madara snarled, Sharingan bleeding into his eyes. He wanted to know what happened to his daughter. The poor girl had enough trauma in her life, having witness her parents being cut down by members of his clan. She still couldn't look at his face when he had his Sharingan activated. She didn't like loud noises or strangers coming into the house without her meeting them first in a neutral location. He knew children were traumatized during the war, hell, he still had nightmares from time to time about the battles the killed his brothers. But he never seen such a lasting scar like it left on Shiori. Then again, she was only three when her parents were killed.

"We... Shiori made us promise," Ryusuke said. "Please."

"Father, I took care of it. Shiori is alright now, she's just shaken," Izumi said.

"Your sister is hiding in the futon closet!" Madara snarled, pointing to the hall. "She is not alright! Tell me what happened!"

"No," the boys replied together. They eyes turned blood red with their Sharingan. They knew they could never take on their father, but the intent was enough to cause Madara to back down. He has ways of making people talk.

"Fine. But if Shiori isn't out of the futon closet by midnight, you're telling me and Hashirama what happened, fair?"

"Fair," Izumi agreed and Ryusuke nodded. Madara looked over at the closet, sighed and went back to cooking.

"In the mean time both of you can help me make dinner."

"I... I have to go talk to Haruno Azami..." Ryusuke muttered.

"And I promised I'll see Naoko, take her out for noodles," Izumi got up and headed towards the door. Madara frowned and decided to let his chakra agitate just a little bit. He smirked when his sons suddenly changed their mind, saying their so-called prior engagements weren't so important anymore and that they'll be happy to help their father in the kitchen. Ryusuke went so far as to comment that he had a few streaks of silver in his normally black hair. Madara didn't like to be reminded that he was getting on in the years, and thus he was meticulous in dying his hair black at least every other week. As punishment, he made Ryusuke gut the chicken they were having for dinner that night.

"I'm home," Hashirama called as he walked in a fifteen minutes before dinner was ready. He took a deep breath and sighed happily at the smell of food. "Smells good, Madara."

"Welcome back," Madara called from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. He left Izumi to make sure the food didn't burn. "And?" Madara asked.

Hashirama groaned. "I hate paperwork," Hashirama said as he hung up his Kage cloak and hat. "It's the worse enemy in history. And it never seems to be defeated! No matter how many petitions I sign or missions I approve! And Tobirama!" Hashirama turned to Madara with a desperate help-me look. "He's worse than an old woman! Nag, nag, nag, nag! And he's still pestering me about getting married!"

"Oh is he?" Madara arched a brow. "Did you remind him, again, for the umpteenth time that you are happily living with me and our adoptive children and that you have no desire to tie yourself down to a woman when he does the job just fine?"

Hashirama's shoulders slump, "I told him I'll think about it."

Madara slapped him. "Just for that, you can sleep in the living room." Madara snarled and headed back towards the kitchen.

"Oh, c'mon Madara! He always covers his ears whenever I bring up the fact that I'm with you!" Hashirama chased after his partner. "He only leaves me alone if I tell him I'll think about it! You know that!"

"He should just accept the fact that you have no interest in women!" Madara growled

"Hey now," Hashirama said as he walked up behind Madara, slipping his arms around his waist. "Don't be like this. He knows, and he... well he doesn't approve, but he deals with it." Hashirama whispered, placing a kiss on Madara's nape. "Don't banish me from our bed." Hashirama nuzzled Madara's neck and went in for a kiss on the cheek when Madara turned his head away.

"Not in public."

Hashirama looked over his shoulder to see Ryusuke and Izumi, who weren't paying any attention to their fathers. "This kids don't mind."

"I said, not in public!" Madara growled and pulled away from Hashirama. The Senju sighed, watching as Madara set the table.

"Boys, why don't you help your father."

"Okay," Izumi said and jerked his head at his brother, who followed. Hashirama looked around and noticed that Shiori wasn't present.

"Where's Shiori?" Hashirama asked.

"In the futon closet," Madara said softly. "I tried getting her out but she closed the door. Leave her be for now. She'll come out on her own, she always does."

"Right," Hashirama looked at the futon closet. "What spooked her this time?" he asked as he sat down.

"Don't know," Madara looked at their sons, "but the boys do. Claim Shiori made them swear not to tell."

"Boys?" Hashirama looked at his sons.

"Father said we have to tell at midnight if Shiori isn't out of the futon closet," Izumi said. "Until then we are keeping silent."

"Oh," Hashirama looked at Madara, who simply shrugged and dished out the meal. He made a plate for Shiori, in case she felt it was safe enough to come out of the closet, but he wasn't banking on it. Hashirama sighed sadly as half of the family sat down for dinner.

Shiori reached out and felt for the door, her fingers found the small notch and she slid it back. By the sounds in the house she guessed that dinner was over. She could feel both of her fathers' chakra now and her brothers were joking and laughing in the kitchen as they did the kitchen. It was safe. All was right in the world. Timidly, she wiggled out from between the futons, and exited the closet.

She was little bit taller than Madara but shorter than Hashirama, with pin-straight strawberry gold hair and her eyes were a blue-grey color, reminding people of rain water. Her fatigues hung loosely to her thin body. She wasn't at an unhealthy weight, as the healer assured her, she just wasn't very muscular. She looked frail and people often underestimated her.

Silently and in a daze, Shiori walked to the master bedroom. It was empty but the door to the veranda was open. She recognized her fathers, sitting there and play shogi, talking softly to each other about the time before the village system, when they were brats dreaming big and seemingly impossible dreams. She liked listening to them talk like this some times. It calmed her. She no longer remembered her birth parents, but she still remembered the terrible night her world was shattered forever. How she hid in the futon closet and ran when she felt it was safe. The orphanage didn't find her until she was four, and she bit the nun that tried to grab her.

Shiori smiled fondly as her eyes traced the outline of her fathers. It was these two men that brought her back to the light, that gave her warmth, safety and love when she needed it most. She was forever indebted to them and was proud to claim them as her parents. Silently, she walked up to them and sat just inside the room, watching as the shogi tiles clicked on the board.

Madara was the first to notice her. "Shiori," he smiled at her. "You came out," he patted her knee. Shiori inched closer to him, enjoying the warmth he radiated. "Do you want to tell us what happened?" Madara asked. Shiori looked into her father's dark grey eyes before looking into her other father's brown eyes then down at her feet.

"No disrespect Papa, but... you tend to overreact to things," Shiori said softly.

"I don't!" Madara scoffed. "I don't overreact do I Hashirama?"

"Well..." Hashirama grinned sheepishly. "Sometimes you do." He said, and Madara gave him a fierce frown.

"So... can I please talk to Daddy? Privately?" Shiori asked.

"Of course, princess," Madara nodded, noting by Shiori's tone that whatever happened still frightened her. "I'll be in the aviary." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before getting up and walking off. Hashirama waited a bit before gesturing towards the board.

"The game still isn't over," Hashirama said, "I know you know how to play."

"Of course," Shiori graciously inclined her head and took up Madara's empty seat across the shogi board.

While Shiori wasn't as skilled a player as Madara, Hashirama was impressed that she had just as sharp a mine. "Have you ever fought about focusing your skills on genjutsu?" he asked moving a piece.

"I don't have the Sharingan," Shiori replied, "so genjutsu would be pointless."

"No," Hashirama shook his head, "you don't need Sharingan for genjutsu. Lots of shinobi are very skilled in genjutsu and they lack Sharingan. Senju Toka, a cousin of mine, is one such example. She can teach you."

"I rather you or Papa teach me." Shiori set down a tile. "Papa's strict but you are fair. You two balance each other other."
"Thank you, Shiori-chan," Hashirama smiled. "Now," he said, "what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Shiori froze, she bit her lip and looked down at the board, then her hands. She curled her hands up in her lap, and she could feel her body tremble minutely. "I... I... Izumi..."

"Did Izumi do something?" Hashirama asked. He was baffled if it was true. Izumi adored Shiori and had sworn to protect her the moment they brought her home.

Shiori shook her head. "No," she forced out, her breathe escaping in short gasps. "It wasn't. It was... this boy I liked," she whispered.

"Boy?" Hashirama's brows nearly leapt into his hair. Since when did his precious little Shiori like boys!? Since when did she talk to strangers she knew longer than thirty minutes.

"Yes," Shiori nodded. "He's... on my team," she whispered. "Miyatoki Naojiki." She gave a little smile but quickly crushed that into a frown. "I hate him now..." she clenched her hands into fists, "for what he tried to do to me."

"And that is?"

"Well," Shiori looked up at Hashirama. "He... we went to the forest. It was harmless at first, just cuddling and holding hands as we watched the birds. Then... he wanted it to become more. I wouldn't allow it. He got angry," she plucked at her shirt. "He tore my shirt off... grabbed my... my..." she gulped in air, "my chest," she breathed. "Pushed me down and... tried to take my pants off..." Izumi shuddered.

"Shiori, you don't have to continue," Hashirama said. It was taking all of his fine control not to let his chakra shatter the foundations of his house. How dare that boy. How dare that boy try to hurt his daughter in such a fashion.

"No!" Shiori shook her head, "I must. He got them down past my hips when Izumi and Ryusuke showed up. They... taught him a lesson."

"I see."

"Please... I just wanted you to know. Don't tell Papa. He'll gut Naojiki."

"I won't. But I'm reassign you to a new team. It won't be good for you to be on the same team as Naojiki."


"No buts Shiori-chan," Hashirama said.

"Kimiko had nothing to do with it, she is innocent." Shiori said, and looked away, "Why don't you more Naojiki. I like Kimiko and her dog."

"Very well, I'll do that," Hashirama nodded. "Now, I want you to go to bed," he said.

"Yes Daddy," Shiori said. "Are you... you aren't going to gut him too?"

"Of course not," Hashirama smiled at her, "but tomorrow I am going to talk to him."

"Okay," Shiori smiled, before getting up and walking over to Hashirama. "Good night Daddy," she breathed and pressed a kiss to her father's cheek.

Hashirama crawled into bed sometime after midnight. Madara was away before he even got into bed. "Well?" Madara asked sleepily.

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

"So you are going to deal with it?"


"Okay," Madara snuggled into his pillow. "I have a mission tomorrow. It shouldn't take me too long, I'll be back in the evening. You need to make dinner."

"Fine," Hashirama sighed, rolling onto his side. He draped an arm over Madara's waist and pulled him closer. Madara hummed softly, rolled over and buried his face in Hashirama's neck. "I love you," Hashirama whispered only to yawn afterward.

"Stupid Senju," Madara replied. Hashirama smiled, knowing that it was just Madara's way of returning such feelings. Hashirama soon felt Madara's even breathing fan across his neck, while he stroked the Uchiha's thick unruly hair. It took him much longer to fall asleep, but sleep he did.

Hashirama knocked on the door to the Miyatoki house. A plump, kind face woman answered it. Hashirama knew that these people weren't shinobi born and bred, and that there son had talent as a ninja and thus they sent him to the ninja academy, oppose to the academy they had set up for civilian children. "Hokage-sama!" the woman greeted warmly.

"Hello, Miyatoki-san," Hashirama gave a little bow.

"What brings you here?" she asked after returning the bow.

"I'd like to speak with your son," Hashirama said.

"What do you want with me?" came a cocky voice behind Hashirama. The Senju leader stiffened, his eyes narrowing.

"You," he growled, chakra bubbling and causing the ground to shudder. "You will address me as Hokage-sama! And you will show me the respect I deserve!" His eyes narrowed.

"Y-Yes... Hokage-sama!" Naojiki squeaked. Hashirama stalked towards the boy, his presence seeming larger than life due to the effects of his unbridled chakra.

"What did you do to my daughter?" Hashirama asked.

"That bitch?" Naojiki snorted. "She didn't want to put out for me and—"

Hashirama roared and wrapped the teenager in a thick coil of wood. "What did you just call my daughter!?"

Naojiki squeaked and struggled against the wooden bonds. "A...b-bitch?"

"You do not disrespect my daughter!" Hashirama snarled squeezing tighter each time he felt the boy take in a shuddering breath. He'd crush this insolent little worm like a snake crushes a mouse. "How dare you try and hurt her like that! She's a war orphan! She lost her parents at the age of three!" Hashirama shouted, though the last part of his sentence was drown out as the earth gave a mighty crack. "And you dare try to pull something like that with her? Your were her teammate!" Hashirama screamed, "She trusted you!"

"I... I'm... s-s-sorry!" Naojiki gasped out.

"Hashirama!" two voices called his name at the same time and he recognized both of them. The Senju looked over at his brother and lover. Madara's eyes were wide with shock. He had fought Hashirama several times over the years, he knew how he fought and his strength, but he never felt such unchecked... hate, oozing from his kindhearted lover.

The other was Tobirama, who had dealt with Hashirama's fits of rage. "Oniisan, please calm down."

"NO!" Hashriama snarled. "I won't! Not until every bone in this brat's body is dust!"

"Please, Hokage-sama... don't hurt my son."

"Shut up, you old woman!" Hashirama lashed out at Naojiki's mother.

"Hashirama get a hold of yourself!" Madara moved to go towards him, but Tobirama grabbed his arm.

"Don't go near him right now. He could kill you," Tobirama warned as Madara jerked his arm out of his grip.

"If he hit me, I'd hit back," Madara spat and leapt at Hashirama, scythe swinging. "Hashirama, stop!" he screamed. A tree root rose up and blocked the attack. Madara landed on it skillfully. "Hashirama stop this! I think he's got the message!"

"He tried to force himself on Shiori!" Hashirama snarled. "Our little girl!"

Madara felt his blood run cold and his eyes shift as he looked at the boy held prisoner by his lover's mokuton. "Make him look into my eyes," Madara snarled. Hashirama snorted and did so. Naojiki's eyes grew wide as they locked with Madara's Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan. He whimpered before going slack. Hashirama undid his mokuton, watching the boy drop to the ground in a heap. Madara cracked his neck from side to side, before looking at Naojiki's mother. "He'll wake up in three days, keep him bed bound for another three," Madara said and walked off with Hashirama in tow.

This... wasn't how I wanted it to turn out. But oh well.

Hashirama got pissed off at least!

And Madara joined in a little bit, once he learned what happened to his Shiori-chan. And the genjutsu the boy is under features Hashirama.

Shiori is the youngest adoptive child of Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama. A war orphan. She lost her parents in a raid by Uchiha shinobi at the age of three. She survived in a city for a year by herself before she was taken in by an orphanage ran by nuns. Which is where Hashirama and Madara found her at the age of five. She was mute for five years before finally speaking again at ten. Shiori calls Madara "Papa" and Hashirama "Daddy".

Uchiha Izumi and Uchiha Ryusuke are the eldest and middle adoptive children of Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama. Their father was a dear friend of Izuna and deserted the Uchiha clan after the peace treaty was confirmed between Uchiha and Senju. Their parents were later killed and they ended up at the same orphanage as Shiori. Madara and Hashirama adopted them first, and Madara refused to divide the two brothers. Izumi refers to Madara as "Father" and Hashirama as "Dad", Ryusuke does the same as well.


Sanguinary Toxicity.