". . .how angry should I be?" Madara said with surprising restraint, though he was tense, even his hair seemingly fluffed up with it, to Tobirama's amusement.

Tobirama reached up and wiped his cheek, nose wrinkling at the feel of sticky drying blood smearing over his skin. "It was a mess," Tobirama allowed, moving towards his lover with a smile tugging at his lips, "but this mess is mostly theirs."