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Two. She can create and maintain a maximum of two at a time without hitting a dangerous level of chakra drain.—But only a single one for a long period of time, if the layer of sweat soaking her body was any indicator.
Still catching her breath, Tobirama wiped some of the moisture from her face with her sleeve. This was a productive session, if she did say so herself. And to be honest, had she been a less thorough person, she’d have already considered this jutsu “perfected”. But she was not a less thorough person.
Finally winding down from experimentation, she threw herself into her lab chair and opened up her book to record today’s notes.
‘Chakra cost still very high, 2 now possible, 1 remains optimal.’
And in the serene act of writing her findings, she found her thoughts drifting to that little—her little Uchiha.
When he’d blurted out that “I love you so much” after the Fire Festival, she was at a bit of a loss. Her first thought was he was just saying things due to the heat of the moment (also the pain delirium, also the oxygen deprivation). But then her brother came crying to her the next day, blubbering joyously about how he’d approved Izuna’s courtship request.
‘Durability has improved, speed nearly matched, independent jutsu usage achieved.’
And what a courtship it's been! She will admit, even with direct tutelage on their customs from Hashirama himself, she didn’t expect much from Izuna. Why would she?—Over the whole span of her life, she’s known him as: a concerning chakra signature, a threat to her brother’s life, her sole opponent when fighting against the Uchiha, a respectable rival, a handsome nuisance that made it his life goal to bother her, and an un-closetted pervert that had been getting off on her beating the shit out of him for years. Not really a good rap sheet when setting the bar on romantics.
Yet somehow, he’s gone above and beyond to an almost scary degree! So much effort, so much enthusiasm… She almost didn't allow herself to believe it, but it would seem that he really did want her.—All of her, not just her body (or kicks, or punches, or stabs).
Call her crazy, but this might actually end in a marriage.
‘Endurance needs improvement’
A soft smile crossed her face.
That Izuna, her Izuna… Not only has his courting exceeded what was expected of him, it’s been way beyond what she’d ever thought she’d receive from anyone, if at all. It felt…nice. So nice, that she’s been starting to feel ashamed for not returning the favors. The gifts, the public gestures, the romantic outings.— Even though customs dictate that she doesn’t have to, how can she be expected to not feel bad about it?
Tobirama set down her pen to glance through her notes. And she paused at the last thing she wrote,
‘Endurance needs improvement’
“Endurance”...yes.
That’s it! It didn’t matter that their customs didn’t demand it, she was well within her right to reward her suitor as she pleased! And as a plus, this way, she can feed two dogs with one bone.
So the next day, late in the afternoon, Tobirama bid her sister in law farewell after a quick lesson on tonight’s chosen “item”. Granted, this “item” was something she’d used plenty of times before, just not in this specific scenario. Still, it never hurts to be collaborative.
Hashirama had already stood up from his spot on the porch when she walked out the house, leaving the door open for him. The twins cooed lovingly in his arms, waving with uncoordinated hands at her retreating form.
“You know how to signal me if Madara is causing you problems!” He called out to her before shutting the door with his foot.
She made a noise of acknowledgement.
Tonight she was headed to her suitor’s house again. As expected of him, he was to have her over for dinner once a week throughout the duration of their courting, cooking everything himself. (As an aside, if her observations were correct, he seemed to be enjoying carrying out these acts of service more than she did receiving them.)
The food had started off pretty rough, she will admit. But thankfully he learned quick (of course he learned quick, she wouldn’t be entertaining his suit if he wasn’t the type to learn quick). Now though, these dinner dates were her favorite parts of the week!
That being said, she has a feeling that what she’s got planned for after dinner will far exceed the meal’s status.
Soon enough, she was strolling her way through the entrance to the Uchiha brothers’ property. There waiting at the front door was Madara, notably lacking in bruises. And despite seeming to be very deep into a smoke session, he was noticably tense.
“YOU!” He called out as she approached. “W-What was your brother doing when you left?!”
Her brother has been really putting his heart into being a supportive father, now that they have three children. He knew Mito would have her hands full trying to care for the two newborns and a toddler that’s near the walking stage on her own (and by “on her own” she meant, “with a small team consisting of a live-in nurse, a live-in nanny, and their two retired aunts who might as well be live-in too”). So, any day where he didn’t have a meeting, he took his work home.
Oddly enough, he’s been far more productive than he's ever been since he’d started this (Tobirama will not forget to ask him why he couldn’t have been so productive this whole time when he’s finally back on his regular schedule).
That is all to say, with such a big change to his routine, Hashirama was no longer able to be consistent in his ass-beating campaign against the Uchiha clan head.
But that, very apparently, didn’t seem to stop Madara from anticipating an attack at any moment. One would think he’d take this opportunity to relax a bit, but as you can see, he just became paranoid.
“He was caring for his children as usual, Uchiha-sama.” The Heiress deadpanned.
His tension did not settle.
Then the front door flew open. “My sweet Senju-sama!” Squealed Izuna. “Everything is ready, my love, please come in!”
He was wearing the same frilly pink gingham apron he’s been wearing to these dinners for the past two months. Madara originally had gotten it to mock Izuna for how subserviently he was behaving. But he didn’t anticipate that a simple giggle and an “I think it suits you” from the Senju Heiress would inspire his little brother to wear it with pride.
Tobirama smiled at his goofy ass and followed him inside, trailed by Madara.
Just as the Heiress had become accustomed to, the spread was impressive, Izuna surely has come a long way from burnt sushi and dry soup. Yes, burnt sushi and dry soup. But no need to rag on him for his past shortcomings (that’s for when they’re alone). Now, it was time for deliciousness!—And for Madara to suffer.
The older Uchiha cringed at the sight before him.
When this all started, Madara had realized that he’d never seen Tobirama eat before. She’d always gone off to be alone for lunch instead of joining them (Hashirama, Izuna, and himself). But now that Izuna’s cooking has gotten so good (he never bothered getting better at cooking for him all these years, but he does for the Senju bitch? Fucking little shithead), he can see why she'd never stuck around to eat. Because, watching her now, the only word that pops up in his head is,
“Pig.”
For a “princess”, Tobirama didn’t seem to have much decorum at the dinner table. It was a miracle that the messes she makes never seemed to reach her clothes, but the floor certainly wasn’t spared.
Oh, and Izuna… Don’t get him started on Izuna.
The sick little bastard barely ever nibbled at his food because he was too busy fawning over the sloppy image she made. Shameful! How can he be so entranced by the sight of the Senju licking and slurping and sucking and swallowing and—
Oh! Oh… Madara now understood why his brother was so…enamored with watching her pig out… Still though!
“Disgusting…”
Eventually, the white cow had her fill and settled into some polite conversation (can any conversation be “polite” after the gross display she just put on?) with his brother. Whatever. He was just waiting for Izuna to bring out that mochi he made for dessert so he could fuck off back his room and go to bed early at this point.
“But on another note, there is something I wanted to show you.” Tobirama said.
Izuna simply responded with an interested hum, with that stupid dreamy expression still on his face.
With no further fanfare, she did a series of hand signs and, poof, another Tobirama appeared at her side.
“Ah,” Izuna sighed, “It’s always nice to see your image in double.”
Tobirama blushed lightly and tried to hide her smile. Shaking her head, she replied, “No, you moron! Not just an image, look with your sharingan!”
Her suitor blushed at her insult, and eagerly followed her orders, and—WAIT, W-WHAT?!
“I-It… It’s not an illusion?!” He stammered.
“What?!” Madara startled, and he activated his sharingan as well to confirm. And sure enough, the image of that second Tobirama remained, unchanged, as if it was actually there.
Because it was.—It wasn’t a genjutsu, there was an actual, physical second Tobirama. Almost like it was a…
“A clone. I call it Shadow Clone Jutsu.” The original Senju said in the wake of their speechlessness. “And I believe I’ve nearly perfected it… I just need to make some improvements in…endurance…” Her tiny smile suddenly morphed into something more suggestive. “Will you help me train its endurance, pet?”
Izuna all but melted. His whole body was trembling in anticipation. Two Tobiramas, TWO TOBIRAMAS! What has he done to deserve such a gift?—Please tell him, so he can do it more!
“No! NO!” Madara suddenly yelled, ruining their moment. “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” The clan head roughly snatched up their guest (the real one) by the arm and started tugging her toward the exit. “You two have kept me up every other night for the last month with your horrible moaning! I will NOT suffer whatever sounds this shit will produce!
But then he froze… He…sensed something.
“Senju…W-Why are you pulsing your chakra like tha—”
He suddenly found his mouth gagged by a bouquet of flowers, and his limbs restrained by thorny vines. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was dragged into a hole that had opened underneath him, and closed back up as soon as he was out of sight.
“Would you look at that? We have the house all to ourselves now, pet.” Tobirama smirked, taking out her chosen “item” — rope.
“Now clear the table, worm!” The clone Tobirama demanded.
Soon enough, Izuna found himself tied down to the cleaned table, booty butt ass naked, blindfolded with his cutesy apron, shaking in anticipation as his two White Demons circled him like hungry sharks. They ran hungry hands all over his body, well-manicured nails digging in at random intervals for extra stimulation.
“Your my good little dog, right?” One of them asked.
He desperately nodded.
“So you’ll be able to keep yourself from ejaculating before I give you permission to, without the help of our favorite item, right?”
He hesitated. Did he have it in him to keep himself from cumming too soon? Honestly, this whole situation already had him edging.—So he really might not hold out this time!
But his sadistic princess was counting on him! He can tough this out, for her!
He nodded.
“Good, obedient little dog.”
And with no warning, he felt the heavenly sensation of wet, hot, velvety nether lips engulfing half of his rod in one go. He wailed out a moan and it took what little mental presence he had left to stop himself from bucking ravishingly into her previously un-breached slit. He clenched his hands into tight fists, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood.
Just when he thought he’d regained some mental traction, another set of lower lips parked themselves on his mouth. “I noticed you hardly touched your food, so I'm sure you have enough of an appetite to eat some of this!” The one sitting on his face ground out.
This. Is. HEAVEN!
And for the next however the fuck long amount of time, Izuna enthusiastically endured the wonderful, tortuous task of pleasing both of his beloved Senju’s most sensitive spots while also keeping himself from reaching his peak before their say-so. It was sweaty. It was hot. It was excruciating. It was euphoric.
It was perfect.
Nothing will ever be better than this: following orders given to him by his White Demon, happily accepting the effortless insults she leveled against him, attentively bringing her through the throes of pleasure while putting his own on the back burner.
It feels like he's been asking this question a lot lately; but seriously, what did he do to deserve all this?!
Right when he felt like he needed to signal the one riding his pole to slow down her assault, lest he fail his mission, the already vice-like grip of her wet passage suddenly became impossibly tighter. She screamed her release as her fluids shot out, completely soaking his pelvis and the table underneath. GODS, he wished he could let go and cum with her at that moment, but he doesn’t have permission! And he will not disappoint her!
But out of nowhere, with a loud ‘poof’, he felt the sensation of the WAP-inator 1200™ disappear from around his fatigued hardon. Izuna almost wanted to weep at the loss.
Then just a second later, the Tobirama riding his tongue — the real one, as it turned out — had a series of full body convulsions. So much so, that he was afraid that she’d actually gotten hurt, and was tempted to break his restraints to help.
But his coherent thoughts dissipated immediately when her shaking fingers tangled themselves into his hair and pulled.
That was it, he couldn’t keep it together anymore. With an almost pained groan, the tight coil low in his stomach unfurled and he shot thick white ropes of semen everywhere. Izuna’s mind was so gone, he didn’t even register that he was basically drowning in the flood of his sweetheart’s release. Yet somehow, his obedient mouth was able to unconsciously slurp up every jet of squirt coming from her juicy honey pot.
Eventually, their dual climaxes passed, and they both sat in a daze, catching their breaths. Tobirama somehow regained control of her legs and stood up, shaking. She lazily went about untying her lover from the dinner table, and as she did so, made sure to mumble sweet words to him, telling him how good of a job he did, and how greatly satisfied she was.
“B-But,” Izuna stammered, “I came without your permission! I-I’m so sorry, Senju-sama!” His voice sounded close to tears.
Tobirama just laughed. “Aw, you sweet, pathetic tool. You didn't truly have to worry about that. Surprise, this whole exercise was actually just a reward for you!”
Izuna’s unfocused eyes widened, his expression conveyed nothing but confused awe.
“B-But why, Senju-sama?”
“Because of your excellent courting, you dumb oaf!”
The Uchiha bit his lip longingly at the insult. And he opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted at the sound of the front door being thrown open.
Madara was three steps in before his brain processed what his eyes were looking at, and he froze mid-limp. His little brother, fully bare, half-tied to the table; his potential future sister-in-law (please, Gods, don't let this courtship follow through, please!) stripped down to just her favorite black turtle neck bunched up over her uncovered tits (mother-fucker, he’d only just corrected his bad habit of unconsciously ogling them thangs); the remaining food from their dinner dumped all over the floor (farewell leftovers for lunch), and cum everywhere.
The older Uchiha’s dirty, beaten, battered, hunched-over form remained still as the life incrementally drained from his eyes.
Clearly, he was not in any condition to…well, do anything.
So Izuna, as swiftly as possible, helped his lover make herself presentable enough for her walk home. Seeing as he was going to wash himself as soon as she left, he’d only bothered to put his fundoshi back on.
By the time the woman was gone, Madara still hadn’t moved. Izuna had a short internal debate with himself, and he decided it would be best to just go clean himself up and let his brother come back to reality on his own time.
After thoroughly washing his ass and changing into a fresh jinbei set, the younger brother begrudgingly dragged his feet back to the dining area to clean up the mess he’d left behind.
But the strangest thing had happened. The dining table, it was gone! And so was Madara!
All the mess was still there, but there was no trace of their table! What in the world…?
But then, through the darkness of the currently unlit room, the man noticed a flickering light shining through the front window. Curious, he crept up to it…and quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at the sight he saw.
There is their table — or rather, there goes their table, as it was currently engulfed in flames and slowly being reduced to ash.
Dammit Aniki, that shit was expensive!
Speaking of his brother, he was sitting in an exhausted heap in front of the flame, just watching it burn on… Perhaps he should go out there and talk to him…?
Nah, he’ll be fine. Besides, just as he considered it, Hikaku (visibly concerned) appeared right next to Madara. He’ll handle it.
Izuna yawned, deciding to deal with the mess on the floor in the morning, and he retreated back to his room. He looked forward to what his dream world would conjure up for him after the night he’d just had!
The next day, Hikaku slugged the Uchiha Heir in the head in the middle of town so hard, it dented the ground upon impact. The aunties had a long talk with him.