Yoo, here I am with something new.
As the summary already tells you, this story is a sorta "happy AU" in which Madara remained in the village, but the odds are still not exactly in his favor, so things don't quite work out the way he wants them to. This is part one of what was supposed to be a One Shot :I
Enjoy, and feedback would be appreciated!
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They had been debating over the documents in front of them for several hours now; ever since other clans had representatives in these meetings, they stretched on for far longer than they ever used to with pointless discussions and complaints, but even then no topic had been as controversial as this one in the last few years.
Madara's head began to throb a while ago, a dull ache that spreads through his skull in torturous waves, the pressure ever increasing. He wishes he didn't have to attend this meeting, in this stifling and too hot room, wishes he didn't have to deal with the other clans and discuss the same points over and over again, but he can't afford to be missing.
He knows that everything is already worked out, almost down to the detail. He knows because he himself had grudgingly sacrificed his nights to supervise Tobirama's scheming, slaving over plans and documents and resisting the urge to strangle the other, he's familiar with every step of the proposition, but who knows? Who knows if not maybe Tobirama slipped in another catch, something to turn against his clan? That is a man who cannot be allowed to work without somebody watching his every move.
He rejected Tobirama's idea when he first forwarded it months ago.
How could he not? Allowing the existence of an institution of the village that would see to the education of shinobi, taking over the responsibility of the individual clans? That went against the established rules, that there would be no involvement in internal clan affairs. A right Madara himself had fought for and triumphantly secured. Claiming the right to educate and train the children of these clans was audacious, but Tobirama kept pushing, relentless.
And Hashirama naturally loved the idea. Loved the idea of an open school in which the children of the different clans came together, overlooking the sheer audacity of what he was supporting in his short-sightedness. Typical, and yet Madara managed to be disappointed nonetheless.
They wouldn't have his arguments. He was being paranoid, Tobirama said one evening as they pored over the plans for the construction of a possible academy.
The institution would not be leaning in anyone's favor; teachers would be taken from each clan. The schedules and education methods and content would be worked out in close cooperation; there would be no space for domination of one clan over another. No propaganda against a clan, Madara should embrace this step of bringing the clans closer together.
"Take what you can get" was what Tobirama's eyes said, "take it, or do you want to be the one to be in the way of progress?"
It was a disgusting trap. Madara had never had the place to say no in the first place.
He watches Shimura and Inuzuka quarrel, the heated argument barely registering in his fatigued mind, words just drifting through but never to stay. They'll eventually agree anyway, why listen to their complaints?
He feels the glare of Tobirama resting on him from time to time, an unspoken accusation for abandoning him in this debate, the only source of some cheap amusement in this stagnant meeting. Madara turns his head slightly and presents Tobirama his fakest and friendliest smile, satisfied when wine-red eyes narrow in irritation. It's your plan, Senju. Go and defend it on your own.
The discussions drag on, Hashirama finally springs to Tobirama's defense and the opposition wilts under the brightness of Hashirama's promises and smiles, clan representatives blinded and placated as if tranquilized. Akimichi makes one last valiant attempt, but Hashirama has the right words for everything.
"There is only so much generalized training the children can receive in this… academy you are proposing. Their skills would remain stunted. What comes after that?" Hyuuga speaks up suddenly, voice sharp as the edge of a knife, the man's milky white eyes fixed at Tobirama with unconcealed suspicion. Madara almost recoils at the sight. Byakugan. Too much like blind eyes.
What is more concerning however is the strangely satisfied look on Tobirama's face.
"As detailed in the papers I have provided at the beginning of this meeting, after passing a standardized exam, the students would be put into reasonably sized units and will be taking on low-ranked missions together under a higher ranking adult shinobi. Whereas I considered Chunin for instructors at the academy, this role would be taken on by Jounin, provided again by the clans. And of course, the individual clans may still give additional training to their children" Tobirama adds with a surprisingly calm tone, considering that this point has certainly come up before, some time. When Madara pushes through the fog of his mind through the pounding headache and concentrates, he can feel Tobirama's chakra swirling and ready to spike. Agitated, but he's not snapping yet.
"Ah yes. How long will these teams stay together?" the Hyuuga inquires further, still sounding snide and arrogant as ever, the natural tone of the stuck-up noble clan. Madara never liked them. The only reason he accepted them as an ally was because they had bowed to Konoha's superiority and came crawling to them.
He tunes out again as Tobirama again rattles down the list of requirements to reach the level of what they established would be classed "Chunin", a speech Madara has heard and given countless of times back in the day when the new system was first introduced. Some people could never quite get enough of it.
His interest is only piqued when Tobirama smirks. He knows this expression, has observed it many times in the last 8 years. He's scheming, he's scheming and at this stage of the debate, this can only mean that he's got an ace up his sleeve.
The white-haired shinobi stands ram-rod straight, and with a deliberate slowness pulls a small stack of papers from seemingly thin air. All of these are creaseless, fresh documents, the proof of betrayal. An ice-cold fury burns through Madara's veins at the sight of these deceptively innocent looking papers, throbbing with each new wave of pain crashing in his head and his hands instinctively curl into fists.
But he remains silent and wills his chakra to quiet and ebb down, he will not let Tobirama have this gratification, this knowledge that he caught him off-guard. He is too proud to be defeated in this cowardly manner. Madara accepts the paper handed to him with silence, ignoring the reassuring glance Hashirama sends his way, already busy scanning the careful and precise letters written on the page, soaking up the treacherous words with a stoic expression.
His eyes eventually pick up his own name among the sea of letters, and he pauses.
Slowly, he lets his gaze travel across the section, taking in the information with a sudden calm as the thoughts quieten. The world shifts into focus, the fibers of the paper, the dust motes dancing in the glaring light, the fabric of his robes, the screeching sound of chairs scraping over the floor. Ink on paper.
[Uchiha Madara
Senju Kenma, Uchiha Amaterasu, Uchiha Seiichi]
Tobirama starts talking, and the world becomes a little more blurry.
"In order to test this system, I have put together provisional teams, each of these consist of three students and one Jounin to increase efficiency. I myself will be taking on one of these teams, as well as Madara Uchiha and other previously chosen candidates" the Senju explains and there is a terribly smug tone to his voice, one Madara has become attuned to and he feels ready to strangle Tobirama. He refrains to not let Tobirama have his way.
The other representatives are agreeable, terribly so, cutting each other off to compliment Tobirama (grudgingly, in some cases) on his foresight.
They agree because Madara Uchiha is included. They agree because they think "If Madara Uchiha has agreed to this, it cannot be a trap. If that man is agreeable for once, it must be good." Tobirama knew this, he calculated this.
And Madara cannot correct them, can't point out that this was done without his consent, because then it's him against the rest again. And then Uchiha would once again be isolated, and wouldn't that be just the perfect basis for limiting their influence even further, the chance Tobirama has been lying in wait for since the beginning?
It's sickening.
In the aftermath of this senseless debating, Madara allows himself to look at Hashirama to his left. He's let Tobirama take the stage today for the most part, and Madara's suspicion reaches a new high when Hashirama doesn't meet his eye.
"Hashirama."
The Senju blinks, and finally dares to look at him. His massive chakra is restless, twisting in guilt, Madara can sense it with ease by now. He's been betrayed, he's been betrayed—
"Did you know that Tobirama involved me in this without my knowledge?"
Hashirama smiles, the curve of his mouth somewhere bordering between apologetic and fearful, and Madara knows.
Weeks passed.
But Madara will still not speak to him.
The letters on the scroll blur before Hashirama's eyes and in a fit of rare frustration, he props his head up by with his arms, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. The pain from the pressure against his eyeballs helps him regain his focus, turning off all the other silly and distracting functions of his brain. He can worry about Madara later.
When he removes the hands from his face, it takes a second for the world around him to turn sharp again, little bright spots dance in his vision, but he feels calmer now. With a sigh he averts his attention back to the contents of the scroll, trying his best to keep his thoughts from straying because once they do, he fears he'll never get this done before the end of the day. An endless cycle of losing focus and trying to get it back.
He forces himself through the scroll, then another one, and then the stack of paperwork Tobirama must've placed there some time ago.
But even then, some part of his mind is going rogue and the unease is ever just beneath the surface, an uncomfortable prickling beneath the skin and a strange hollow feeling in his ribcage and his bones, limbs heavy and too light all at once.
Hashirama rubs his temples and places his signature under the last mission report, his usually neat handwriting a bit of scrawl today. But it's done.
So now his mind can dedicate all its energy to worrying once more.
It's not that Hashirama is bad at arguing, particularly not with Madara. He's seen Madara at his worst, has endured injury and near-death for this man, he can handle Madara as the demon others see him as, all of that rage.
But this? This is different.
Madara won't even look at him ever since Tobirama's plan was officially approved; there was no shouting, no punches, no raging. Just cold silence. He'd just gone silent and obediently put his signature under Tobirama's appeal, not sparing his partner another glance.
And that, Hashirama doesn't know how to handle.
When he'd come home that day, Madara had already been there. All the personal belongings that he had carried there over the years had disappeared at once. Even the little bowls he had set out for the cats.
It was a sobering sight, and the anxiety knotting his insides stopped whispering to him, because then he no longer had to worry that Madara had left. He had confirmation then.
Hashirama had almost sighed in a bone-deep relief when he spotted Madara later on the streets, even if the Uchiha would not acknowledge his presence. There was a small part of him, a small part he had tried to stifle many times over the years but which would never quite die, that still doubted Madara. That expected Madara to declare he no longer believed in this dream and would leave everything behind, any day.
The plan was that having a team of students Madara could care about would tie him down, that it would finally be enough to calm Hashirama's misplaced insecurity, a feeling he likes to think he's not familiar with. Maybe that is why he hadn't told Madara of Tobirama's plans.
Well, now he has ruined it.
If not between Madara and the village, then between Madara and himself. That is, if he doesn't manage to get Madara to talk to him.
Hashirama gets up from his seat and walked towards the window of his office that oversees the village. He touches the cool glass with the tips of his fingers, the chill dancing across his skin, and frowns at his fear. It isn't like him to avoid a confrontation, is it? He had given Madara space to not chase him away entirely, but this was obviously not doing any good! Perhaps he has to make the first step after all.
With this resolution he sheds his Hokage robes and redresses in his casual clothes, as he doubts Madara would appreciate it if Hashirama approached him as Hokage rather than lover.
When he leaves the tower, the air has already considerably cooled down and the sun has begun to set, setting an almost foreboding atmosphere for his endeavor, but Hashirama ignores it as best as he can and decisively heads down the path towards the Uchiha district where they had first settled down.
After the modernization that came with the new civilian population and the subsequent rebuilding, not too many Uchiha had left their little district. Madara's own house was still where it had first been built, on the outskirts on a small hill from where he can look over this part of the village.
When the small house in traditional style comes into view, Hashirama shivers. He knows Madara is home because even with his rather rudimentary sensing skills, he can tell that Madara's chakra signature is strongest here. There'll be no room for stalling.
The door opens before Hashirama is even close enough to knock and reveals Madara. His facial expression is indifferent, but the bags under his eyes are more pronounced and his hair hasn't been combed in a long time. Hashirama is oddly happy to see that Madara looks worse for wear too.
"Is there something you need, Hokage?" Madara greets him, his tone flat as it had been the few times they had been forced to interact due to their duties to the village. Strictly business. Just business.
"Would you take a walk with me?" Hashirama inquires quietly, because he knows if they talk across the threshold, nothing will come of this. He needs to lure Madara outside, take him somewhere they could be alone. If Madara gets angry, they can fight it out.
Madara ponders the proposition for a moment, before he nods just barely. Hashirama's heart beats furiously in anxious expectation as Madara slips on his sandals and joins him, walking just a little bit ahead of him. He'll be deciding where they go, not Hashirama.
The Senju can live with that, he knows he'd let Madara lead him anywhere. Tobirama says that this is the problem with him.
He's about to open his mouth to talk when they reach a small clearing in the surrounding woods, but before he can get a word out, Madara already cuts him off.
"What is it? Get it out already" he says, however Hashirama perks his ears as the sharp undertone of these words. The anger is there after all, not just this cold and dead resentment, but the burning anger Hashirama is used to. Should he be relieved?
"I've wanted to talk to you, about Tobirama's plans."
Madara tilts his head to the side slightly, and a gust of wind blows back the hair covering the right side of the Uchiha's face, leaving him looking strangely young and vulnerable for a precious second. The moment is fleeting however, the wind subsides and the hair falls back, now wilder than ever, and Madara's expression darkens. There's a spark in the tense atmosphere.
Hashirama has only a moment to appreciate the way the Sharingan glows in the dim light of the early evening, the next second Madara is already charging at him with a raised fist.
"You let him do that! You've let him force me into this!" he shouts, and this time Madara's fist connects with Hashirama's jaw, his speed still outmatching Hashirama's. The pain registers, but this is Hashirama's greatest advantage to balance Madara out; his endurance. He doesn't lose his footing, even when Madara throws himself at him with his full weight, he holds against it like a strong oak, to bend but not to break.
Madara screams in frustration and jumps back a few feet, just to gain more momentum for his next onslaught. One of the blows hits Hashirama right in the chest and he gasps for air, oxygen suddenly hard to come by as his ribs ache from the chakra-fueled attack.
Once he catches his breath in a moment of inattentiveness on Madara's part, he makes his decision. Instead of further trying to dodge and tire Madara out gradually, he steels himself for a counterattack, striking the second Madara comes close again. There's no way this could have caught Madara by surprise, and yet, the hit hits its mark with ease. Blood splatters, red staining the light fabric of Hashirama's haori and running out of Madara's nostril.
"Fucking finally!" Madara hisses as he wipes the blood away and smears it across his cheek, "I thought you'd try to avoid this confrontation as well!"
"I wanted to give you space, isn't that what you always ask for?" Hashirama responds, lunging at Madara who just barely manages to twist out of his hold and instead receives Madara's elbow to the back of his head within the next second, and his vision blurs for a moment.
"I've told you a million times that Tobirama is targeting me, but you never listened! And then you go and support him, meddling with my life again! Just so you can fucking use me to trick the other clans into agreeing with that little plan!" Madara's voice is steadily rising in volume, all of the pent-up rage and frustration spilling out finally, after weeks of nothing but silence and keeping his distance. Hashirama's skin tingles as the air around them heats up under the influence of Madara's chakra that is sweeping out of his every pore and Hashirama could laugh, that is how grateful he is. It's messed up, he thinks, that this terrifying view makes him happy. But it is how it is.
This Madara he knows. This Madara he can handle.
The roar that rips from Madara's throat is primal and Hashirama braces himself for the impact.
Hashirama's brain turns on autopilot as he relies on his more animalistic instincts, his movements mirroring his opponent. It's a familiar dance, one he has danced on hundreds of different battlefields and when he's honest with himself, his body has been aching for this. The movements are all still etched into his body's memory, no step unlearned and forgotten, and even if his muscles scream at him to bring an end to this, he keeps going, egged on by the violent elegance of Madara.
This always worked so much better as communication for them, and it's what Madara needs.
The wind is knocked out of him when eventually, Madara manages to throw him to the ground and immediately straddles him, panting and sweating, but triumphant. The ground around them is scorched and the fresh night air has become arid and bites in Hashirama's exhausted lungs, and yet he eagerly sucks it in.
"How could you do that to me?" Madara asks, his voice hoarse after all the screams and accusations, and Hashirama smiles when he realizes how softly Madara speaks.
"I thought it's the right thing" he replies after another gasp as Madara shifts over him. He reaches up to touch the slightly bleeding cheek of his lover, relishing in the touch he has yearned for and in the fact that Madara doesn't pull away.
"You never think it through. But this is the last time I will tolerate it" Madara spits, without any real venom left, and Hashirama eagerly nods. He knows he needs to improve on this, and he knows he never wants to endure this silence again.
Madara sighs, his breathing having calmed, and he settles more comfortably across Hashirama's lap. He grimaces, and droplet of blood drips from his chin onto Hashirama below him. "You're a disgusting pig."
Hashirama merely laughs, against the pain and the exhaustion, and grabs Madara's hips to pull him closer against him. "I've missed you, is that a crime? Besides", he moves his hips deliberately and watches Madara's facial expression twist into one in quickly suppressed pleasure, "you're no better than I."
Madara comes home with him after this.
None of his clothes are left there, so he has to live with Hashirama's too big sleepwear, but it's manageable. Hashirama loves the sight and is just happy to have Madara back.
"Come on, there's still something left" he calls to his lover and grins when Madara automatically lifts his hand to cover the side of his neck. Laughing quietly, he moves the hand away and places his own there to heal the love bite to retain some discretion the next day. When he pulls away, the skin is pale and adorned only with old scars.
Madara shoots him a half-hearted glare and brushes his hair across his shoulder to hide his neck from view.
"You should've held back, Senju. Or do you want to embarrass us so terribly?" he scolds with irritation plain in his movements, but nothing comparable to the terseness earlier this day, so Hashirama is not too worried.
With a sigh, Madara lets himself fall back onto the bed and crosses his arms in front of his eyes.
"I'm still angry at you."
"I know."
"I'll meet my students tomorrow for the first time."
Hashirama pushes his lethargy aside to sit up straight and peer curiously at Madara who moves his arms only to glare at him. "So you will train them?"
"Not like I have much of a choice" Madara bites back and for a moment his gaze darkens, "I will not let Tobirama use this to frame me is uncooperative and a threat to internal peace. Not again."
"I'm sure you'll do great" Hashirama assures him, even if doubts pop up in his mind as he recalls their battle from earlier. It was tame, but if anything it showed just how deeply this had wounded Madara and that this would not heal so quickly.
"Who are your students, anyway?" he questions when Madara doesn't reply, and the Uchiha snorts. "Haven't you read the handout? I thought you'd be all over it. A Senju, a girl who is possibly a bastard, and a traitor."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know the Senju brat" Madara answers, and his mouth turns to a scowl as if he had tasted something bitter, "but I know the families of the two Uchiha. The girl might be a bastard and has no place playing ninja, and the boy Seiichi is the offspring of one of the men who defected during the war. Cowardice and a lack of loyalty are in his blood."
Hashirama bites his lips as he takes this information in and the doubts grow like weeds, through the cracks of his confidence and his love.
There was a deep resentment hidden in these words, older than this whole mess. Madara has not even trained them once and he already hates them.
"You'll turn them into formidable shinobi, I am convinced" Hashirama lies easily, bows over Madara and kisses him.
He's filled with apprehension when he thinks of the next day, but he cannot lose faith in Madara now. He knows if this goes wrong, the responsibility lies with him, and he'd have nobody else to blame.
So he hopes. That's what he needs.