Well...for those of you who know Mariko and Tobirama, this chapter's about them!
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, because if I did, Mito would have long since appeared... =3=
NOTE: This will probably be one of the few with my OC in it. If you don't want to read OC and Tobirama ( D: ) then skip to the next chapter...the rest will focus on the canon world. XD
Theme 2: Little Things
Who cooks: Surprisingly enough, Tobirama.
Who does the laundry and other chores: Probably Mariko. She likes folding clothes and the smell of clean linen.
How many children do they have: Two! And they finally have names. First is a boy, Takeshi. Then he has a sister, Kori.
Who's more dominate: That's a funny one. Tobirama ~
Favorite nonsexual activity: /tickle fights/ Watching the sunset, baking (Tobirama, lol), cuddling…uhhh.
Their favorite place to be together: At home, in the piano room, on the couch in front of the fireplace.
Any traditions: Tobirama throws a wet sponge at her face because she puts on that annoying Hurricane face paint every New Year's Eve. "Wipe it off!" AKA "I wanna see your face why are you so cute fffff". And pillow fights. And tickling.
Their "song": "Do You Hear the People Sing" (Les Mis) no wait…. Lol. Probably a random piano-shamisen duet (quite innovative)
What they do for each other on holidays: It's a competition to see who can kiss the other one by surprise first.
Where did they go for their honeymoon: A pretty resort in Kumo. (I think….)
Where did they first meet: Hashirama's party (no, seriously)
Any pets: Katrina the horse and Tenzou the cat.
What do they fight over: Mariko being adorable, Mariko being annoying, Tobirama being ignorant, whether or not to add craisins to the banana bread, etcetera…
Do they go on vacations, if so where: They went to Hurricane. It was a disaster. Well, the one time they went to Taki was kind of nice…. (what am I saying)
Automatically, he swatted her hand away from the stove. She hastily withdrew her hand and pursed her lips, sidling around him and wrapping her arms around his waist. When she played with the edge of his standard shinobi trousers, he grabbed her wrists and refused to let them go — she was stuck, face pressed into his back and arms still lightly folded around him.
"What are you doing?"
"Watching you cook."
"Don't touch the pot."
"You'll burn your hands."
"No I won't."
He brought her fingers to his lips, turning so that they were face to face.
"Yes, you will."
He kissed her hand; she smiled. Then:
"Tobirama, is something burning?!"
There was a strange comfort to the rhythm of folding clothes. The slight swish of fabric and a waft of clean linens refreshed her. Cleaning was rejuvenating, almost.
It didn't help that Takeshi invited his friends over, and because his friends came over Team Tobirama decided to come for a visit — despite the complete lack of connection between Hiruzen's group and Takeshi's classmates — thus making it impossible to sweep the floor, wash the dishes, or even throw clothes into the laundry.
They were just going to get dirty again, anyway.
"I swear I just saw you wash that shirt."
Mariko shrugged, then gestured to Takeshi, who was running away from Hiruzen in some bizarre game of tag.
"Do you clean everything twice?"
Mariko shook her head.
"Is that…a cat on your lap?"
Mariko nodded and petted the fluffy kitten, a child of Tenzou the tabby.
"So…is this why our laundry takes forever?"
"The answer is two," she insisted.
"No, it's four. My sensei said so." He folded his arms, huffily tucking his shaggy blue hair away from his face.
"Well, your sensei's wrong!"
"I can hear you, I'm right here." Slightly weary but mostly just sleepy, Mariko folded a few pairs of Tobirama's shinobi long-sleeved shirts, freshly ironed and crisp, into a neat pile on the table. "What's up?"
"If there are four enemies here, and two there, and three have gone on reconnaissance, while one is a decoy and another is a spy, and two cannot be spies while this one here must be used for attack, given that you are in AB formation, then how many—"
"Don't ask me, ask your father." Marital skill number 43: refer to the other spouse for further information. Actually, it was both skill 43 in marriage and skill number 12 in "how to deal with your arguing children", according to Mariko.
"He's not even here, stupid!" She stuck out her tongue.
"I'm not stupid!"
"Kori, don't call your brother names," Tobirama sighed, kicking off his shoes as he walked in the back door. "Takeshi, don't worry about it, I'll help you both."
"The answer is two."
"No, it's four!"
"Two, you idiot!"
She ran at full speed across the courtyard and tackled him head on. He hardly moved an inch, causing her to grumble at the harsh impact.
"It's your fault," he said simply.
"You're awful," she hissed. "Why can't you sweep me up like those people in the movies and do something fun?"
"I'm lots of fun," he deadpanned dryly.
"You're not fun at all."
"You can't argue with me. You'll lose."
"I never lose."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." Her eyes narrowed and she tried to prove her point by punching him in the gut. This was probably the most ridiculous thing she'd ever tried since attempting to kiss-attack him and ending up smashing their noses together — plus, they were by a pond, and they fell into the pond — because his abdomen was rock hard. He also stiffened and glared at her; she made something that sounded like a strangled whimper, and then a pout.
He pinched her cheek.
"DON'T DO THAT."
He grandly swooped her up in his arms and took off at a run, an armful of squealing blunette.
"PUT ME DOWN."
"Put. Me. Down."
In seconds, they were in his room, and he unceremoniously tossed her onto his bed. She folded her arms and glowered at him.
He smiled — mischievously.
She never got too close to the rock ledge — her back was pressed against the uneven rock wall, half in shadow half in light — but just the right distance to see the lip of the cliff fall away to a deep green forest and the light smattering of color that was the village. Knees tucked to her chest, Mariko waited for the sun to set.
"You can come farther out, you know." He offered a hand.
"No thanks," she replied, completely comfortable where she was.
"Just once," he prompted. Tobirama kneeled and took one of her hands in both of his. She reluctantly allowed him to pull her to her feet, relenting as he wrapped a secure arm around her waist. He guided his little blunette closer to the edge, but paused when her fingers clenched around his sleeve anxiously. "We'll stop here; you can see more."
And she really could see more. From the sweep of the streets down to the Hokage Tower, past the Hyuuga compound and the Inuzuka place, the Naka River stretching its sleek length beside the village, and the sun tucking itself beside the face of the mountain.
"It never gets less beautiful," she said.
"No, it doesn't." He looked down at her and kissed her forehead, tucking her just a little bit closer to his body. She fit like a puzzle piece; carefully slipped into place alongside him.
2. Banana Bread
The pack of craisins was tipped precariously over the batter; he swatted it away with ease.
"Don't touch," he warned, bumping her out of the way with his hip. She stumbled aside and sulked, planting herself in a chair and watching him make his famous Senju-style banana bread. It was among the list of "Tobirama's talents" that were supposed to be written somewhere. The first was probably his ninjutsu, of course, but Mariko thought that his greatest talent was "being a grump". Second was playing the shamisen, and third maybe baking.
And he was wearing a ridiculously frilled apron — Mito forced it on him — that made him look like a fluffy pink bunny. The bunny part was Mariko's own imagination. She could easily place a pair of rabbit ears on his head at the moment; he looked the part.
"What are you smiling at?"
He didn't protest when she pulled his head to her chest and they just laid that way for quite some time, motionless. She was soft and warm and smelled like red tea — he could hear her heartbeat through the fabric of her top, steady and comforting. He supposed that he didn't always have to be the one holding her; he didn't mind being held once in a while, completely comfortable in his position.
Wrapped in her delicate arms and tucked firmly against her side, he fell asleep for some time, dreaming that the wavy wisps of blue in the corner of his eyesight were waves of water lapping the shore lightly. A hand cupped his face, gently stroking his cheek with a thumb, and he closed his eyes.
It was an unusually cold winter for Konoha, and the horrendous ice storm outside drove everyone indoors. Typically, the resident blunette of the Senju clan would have leapt into her bed without a moment's hesitation, but the presence of a friendly flame in the living room fireplace kept her near Tobirama, who was currently lounging on the couch beside the piano.
It wasn't a particularly comfortable couch, but it was closest to the fire and pleasantly warm. He'd herded a flock of pillows and blankets to the area, and was now comfortably tucked in the mess with a little sapphire-topped girl sharing in the warmth.
This is nice, he thought, taking pleasure in the little alone time he had with her when he was working through a pile of mission requirements. His team had gone on ten missions in the last seven days, some of them in-village and some of them all the way out by the ocean. Whatever the request, they trudged through the weather rather grumpily, trying to return as fast as possible.
Tobirama's pleasant thoughts were interrupted when their little cove of comfort was discovered by what seemed like the entire Senju clan.
Hashirama and Mito jumped into the bundle, bringing an ocean of blankets to cuddle up in. The long-haired God of Shinobi wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and they ended up in a tangled mess of people — Mito's head on Mariko's lap, Mariko tucked into the crook of Tobirama's body, Tobirama leaning on Hashirama, Hashirama leaning on the couch with Mito's legs across his own, and so on and so forth.
To make things worse, Toka, Arata, Etsuko, Kell, and maybe five more people found this to be the best place for a group cuddle party and stormed the room. There had to be at least thirty pillows in the room now, as one piled on top of the other. Etsuko and Kell claimed the couch behind Hashirama, Toka made herself comfortable beside Mariko — the usually fierce woman looked like a peaceful black cat, folding herself up to nap — and everyone else miraculously fit themselves around the Senju puzzle.
"Hey, don't leave me out! I'm the cuddle master!" someone yelled.
Team Tobirama sort of crushed the main Senju party, with Hiruzen folding himself between Tobirama and Hashirama, Koharu sitting next to Mito, and Homura curling up at the end of the couch with a book.
Somehow, Team Toka followed, and the addition of a human marshmallow, a human fireball, and a human ice cube — his lack of heat was negated, fortunately — made the group all the more crowded.
Tobirama groaned. So much for "alone time".
He was rude. Very rude.
The sponge to her face was only further proof that he had no respect whatsoever for outside traditions, and was, in fact, a prejudiced bigot who did not appreciate the beauty of other cultures.
At least, this was the rant that she spouted at him for five minutes straight, accusing him of hating the Uchiha and a bunch of other nasty things that no one expected to come out of her sweet little mouth.
In the background, Kagami and Hiruzen snorted.
Meanwhile, Mariko attempted to wipe her face clean of the now-smudged paints, before angrily chucking the sponge back at Tobirama. And then, just to prove that she would not be subjugated to his "selfish, idiotic requests", Mariko ran to her room and reapplied all her Hurricaned face paints with a vengeance.
"I dare you to throw another sponge at me," she hissed.
He dipped the sponge in some water and held it up, the edge of his mouth twitching in anticipation of a grin.
"Happy New Year," he said.
He plucked his shamisen with ease and grace, while her fingers danced nimbly across the piano keys.
"You two are a disaster in the making," groaned Mito, for they were playing completely different tunes and were clashing at every chance possible.
"I think it sounds lovely," Tobirama muttered.
"You're tone deaf," replied Mariko.
He threw a pillow at her.
Mito sighed and left the room, ready to tell her husband that this musical duo was not fit for a performance at the Fire Daimyo's palace. She'd rather they stayed home and called in sick than make a fool out of all the Senju — and of Konoha — in front of the Fire Country's leaders.
"You don't know the difference between this"— he plucked a sequence —"and this!" He plucked a difference series of notes. "Can you even name what I just played?"
"Well why don't you tell me the difference between—"
Mito closed the door, because she wasn't about to listen to this conversation.
Mito had a mouthful of moon cake, and she wished that she'd been somewhere else. She nearly spit out the baked goods, red bean paste and all, when Mariko launched herself into the room and threw herself on Tobirama. He deftly wiggled out of her grip and ran out the door.
"You'll never get me like that!"
"I hate you!"
Hashirama was not sure what was going on. The two were skirting the Hokage Tower, hiding from one another yet seeking one another all at once. Tobirama would catch her by the arm, but she would run away.
"You're supposed to surprise me!"
"You're always surprised!"
"You don't really hate me, though. Right?"
A whisper beneath the covers.
At once, he dropped from out of nowhere, hiding on the roof like the shinobi he was, and pressed his lips to hers.
"I got you."
The Cloud's coastal cities were known for their lovely resorts and fabulous weather. However, Tobirama had this strange feeling that a familiar chakra was following them.
"You'll leave us alone, right?" he'd asked his brother.
"I trust you," Hashirama answered simply.
He was trusted to take his wife on a honeymoon and not do anything stupid, that is.
But the presence was consistently following them, and he discreetly checked the surroundings when Mariko was not looking.
No, there were two presences.
Somewhere behind the newlyweds, two people bumped into one another.
"What the hell, that hurt!" hissed the woman, straightening the scarf that was wrapped around her hair. She glared fiercely at the strange, hooded man that had bumped into her. He wore an overly potent cologne that made her want to gag. It was a familiar smell that she negatively associated with a certain Kiri nin. "Ew, it's you."
"I'm thoroughly offended, Lady Princess," he said in mock horror, rubbing his wispy mustache as his mouth turned downwards in a frown.
"What are you doing here?"
"I could say the same to you."
"I'm watching out for my sister."
"So you're here to keep from having fun, no?"
"Tobirama? Is something wrong?"
"No…not really." What the hell is that.
A Kiri nin waved at him and winked, while a woman with blue hair strangled him and they disappeared from sight before Mariko could turn around and see them.
He didn't look at her once, and she felt completely rejected from this society. She didn't belong here, and she didn't want to be here.
Well, at least the food was good.
Tobirama sometimes got tired of Mariko's fondness for her animal companions. She could spend hours at a time sitting in a horse's stall, talking to a creature that could not answer.
"Katrina and I spend quality time together," Mariko defended, while petting Tenzou the cat.
Why can't we have quality time together? Tobirama accused silently.
"I told you, don't touch the bread!"
"But I need to add craisins!"
He seriously wanted her to shut up and stop interfering with the delicate process that was baking banana bread. Was it really that hard to listen to him, sit down, and not move? Then again, this was Mariko — she couldn't just not move.
"You made me knock it over!"
Tobirama shoved the batch into the oven and slammed it shut, before she began wriggling again.
"I'm going to—"
They scrabbled around the kitchen, and somehow ended with Tobirama shoving her against the fridge and then coming to a standstill. Mariko angrily blew a strand of hair out of her face, huffing in frustration. She was completely and utterly adorable, and he wanted to pinch her cheeks.
Being so adorable.
He gave her a quick peck on the lips, and she shut up.
"TOBIRAMA, ARE YOU BURNING SOMETHING AGAIN?!"
"Bring us with you," wailed Hiruzen, clutching at his teacher's sleeve. "Please, Tobirama-sensei, don't leave us here!"
"I leave you here all the time."
"DON'T LEAVE," cried Hiruzen, crumbling to the ground and rolling about in agony, grabbing the edge of Tobirama's trousers in an attempt to convince him not to go to Takigakure. "HEART-EATING MONSTERS WILL GET YOU OUT THERE."
"I'm sure they will," deadpanned Tobirama, kicking the teen off his leg. "Now. If you'll excuse me, I have to finish packing."
"DON'T LEAVE ME," hollered the monkey.
"Oh shut up," hissed Koharu. Homura never once looked up from his book.
"You done packin—what the hell is this?!"
"I'm packing everything."
"Take that out," groaned Tobirama, rolling his eyes. "You don't need all that stuff."
She made a face.
"Yes I do."
Tobirama doesn't understand the fact that women can't just bring a few shirts, some underwear, some shorts and simple things, and be done.
No. Just no.