Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto…
Author's Note: I am a Hashirama/Madara fan and will forever remain. Here's a little something to spread the love that is the ultimate Naruto pairing.
An Honest Act
There are such things as honest acts in the world. But sometimes…
People forget that.
"Stupid Senju! It was a mistake! Nothing was meant by it!" The young Madara of no more than ten crossed his arms and hid his face, which was burning in silent humiliation and frustration.
The Senju gave a perplexed stare and put his fingers to his lips, still trying to comprehend what it was that had just happened. He blinked, unsure of what to say.
The young Uchiha looked back at him, his unusually long hair covering his face. He saw the look of utter confusion on the young Hashirama's face and ran.
He ran far away.
So many years later, Madara and Hashirama stand on the battlefield together for the first time, watching in perfect silence as the fields around them burn. The fire is beautiful, but that's not what is most breathtaking of all.
Word has come that their employers have declared peace, and that the shinobi are to cease the war.
There is nothing left to fight for.
That's all there is to it. Madara turns to leave, bloody and covered in wounds, but a hand stops him. He immediately spins around to attack the assailant, but is met with the feel of warmth pressed tenderly to his lips and strong hands pulling him closer to the vibrant body.
It's the Uchiha's turn to be perplexed…
And it shows.
The Senju smiles at the expression.
There was no mistaking that.
Young Madara stands behind the taller, broader form of one of his high-ranking superiors, discreetly hiding from the Senju's unwavering gaze. He is silent and still, but he can still feel the heat in his face.
He hates the Senju.
He hates the Senju with all that he is and everything he possesses. Because ever since that day, he can always feel the older boy's eyes on him, watching him, as if he knows something forbidden.
Like he bears an important secret that only he knows about and must never tell anyone.
And Madara hates him for it.
Izuna is still so tiny. Only five months of age and giggling in his bed under the sheets the way only innocent babies can. He is so precious, so small.
Madara is afraid to touch him. He fears that if he picks him up and holds him close, he will break him with his already bloodstained hands.
So he leans down…
And presses his lips to the young Izuna's forehead.
The baby blinks at him, before reaching up to him in earnest, laughing and smiling at the only mother figure he'd ever known. Madara has to smile at this, because he can feel in the depths of his being that what he's done is okay.
But the other shinobi, the older ones, are not smiling.
Weakness…
They say Madara must never show it again, but he is not sure why he is told to do this. He does not understand why this is weakness…
When it causes his little brother so much happiness.
He does not understand.
He is only four.
He pulls away, and sneers at the older man. He glares darkly at the Senju, raising his head in arrogant reminder of just who he is.
Hashirama just smiles, a truly radiant smile, and shakes his head.
Madara's face is burning as he leaves the other standing alone, in a burning field, with a smile on his face.
Madara hates him for that smile.
For so many years, Madara had not understood why something so wonderful and pure, so right and innocent, so beautiful and honest…was weakness.
That is, until the day he'd run away from the Senju, unable to face the older boy.
Now, a mere two days later, he darts down the wide corridor, dodging servants and older shinobi as he flees to his room, away from the Senju's watchful stare. His face is burning and his pulse is deafening in his ears.
He understands now.
Madara picks up his jutsu scroll, re-rolling it to its formal state. He is frustrated and weary and just wants to sleep.
But he can't sleep with the Senju encampment right beside theirs.
Even as allies, he doesn't trust the Senju.
And he swears he never will.
A shadow appears on the broad side of his tent; outlined by the campfire he'd lit that afternoon. It is a shadow that does not resemble that of an Uchiha shinobi, and Madara's eyes slim at the indications.
It's undoubtedly a Senju.
Madara hides in his room, the disgrace and the guilt becoming too much for him to stand. Only then, in the darkness of his room, can he escape the Senju's gape.
But not the feelings it gave him.
He feels so weak and defenseless. It makes him unimaginably exhausted just remembering the cause for all this, but he's too stressed to sleep.
The one person he's ever truly respected…
He just can't deal with the shame he's brought down upon himself and his clan. He's never felt so worthless before.
And all this trouble…
Had been for a single kiss.
The tent flap opens, and in comes the one person Madara wishes he could forget.
He's smiling. "Hello Madara. I see you're still awake as well." He closes the tent flap and suddenly, Madara feels that he's been cornered into something he should have avoided.
The Uchiha glares suspiciously at the new arrival. "You should be preparing for the upcoming battle if you have so much time and do not intend to rest, Senju."
The Senju takes a step closer. "I thought we already laid out the battle plans, Madara." His brows rise in question. "Is it so wrong for me to want to reassert my ties?"
Madara sneers. "We won't be allies forever, Senju."
"I wasn't talking about that."
The Senju and Uchiha are face to face, and Madara can feel that ugly feeling resurfacing from the pits of his soul. And it angers him.
"Then what the hell are you talking about!" Madara is temped to bellow his frustration, but the late hour makes him reconsider.
"You should know." Madara feels his heart beginning to race as Hashirama brings them closer together, resting his forehead to Madara's brow. "After all, you're the one who started it."
Madara wishes, if only for a moment, that he'd die. He doesn't show it though.
Than he feels the pressure on his forehead, moving down, further and further until…
"You won't run away this time, will you?" Arms wrap around Madara's waist, and as when those eyes were upon him when he was younger, he feels helpless.
…But he doesn't run away.
Slowly, for the first time, their lips meet as a single act both of them can share. And for the first time in years it's not weakness Madara sees in this.
But simply an honest act…
Of love.
Author's Note
OH THE FLUFF, THE FLUFF! It's just too cute to look at. I should really write these more often because there's simply not enough Hashirama/Madara in the world for my taste. Please review…