Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.
Note: I couldn't use italics so please bear with me till I get a chance to update.
"A message from the Senju, Madara-sama." a teen whispered, pulling a scroll out of his sleeve. Scrolls from the Senju usually caused a lot of panic, it was always better to be discrete.
"Hn." Madara plucked the scroll out of the extended hand. "Thank you, you may go now." He added when he saw the messenger's expectant expression. He broke the seal and unrolled the wound parchment. Noticing the signature at the bottom, he snorted.
Hashirama.
Like all letters from the Senju leader, there was always another message encrypted somewhere. A message only for Madara's eyes. They both came up with a jutsu together when they were kids, hoping to use it for confidential communication once their 'dream village' had been founded. So stupid they were then!
"Those dogs sent a message?" Hikaku sneered, sliding into the tent with Izuna.
"Don't insult dogs." Izuna laughed peering over to read what was written. "Hn. He's asking us to try convincing our clients to settle?! That bastard, let me reply-"
Madara caught him by wrist before he could reach for the quill. "Maybe we should try convincing our clients? It would save resources… and lives." It wasn't a suggestion, really.
"They'll say no, obviously! Why the hell would they settle?" Hikaku nodded in agreement.
The Uchiha leader only shrugged, "You could draft a letter to the daimyo, though…", he grinned mischievously, offering an official scroll. Writing letters to noblemen was never fun.
"Hikaku, for you-" Izuna tugged his cousin's short ponytail.
"No way, kid! This is your job now!" With that, the two younger Uchiha began wrestling, leaving Madara alone with Hashirama's message.
Madara shifted uneasily, Izuna was right to be suspicious of Senju scrolls. Not only because of the fact that their clans were mortal enemies but also because Senju scrolls, especially those from Hashirama, followed a rather remarkable pattern. Apart from the scrolls that actually had something fruitful to convey, a scroll would arrive during the festival season every spring and another in winter- on Madara's birthday. The first such letter he ever received was many years ago, soon after Hashirama was promoted to a position which allowed him to authorise official communication. Hashirama would go on for paragraphs, about his life, about how he wished they could meet, about how he wished they were still friends- senseless things! Then he would wish for Madara's health and happiness... Which shinobi would wish that for his enemy!
Obviously, these letters were never replied to. However, this one was rather curious. First of all, it was pointless to discuss settling something that had been decided on so firmly by their clients. Not to mention it would cost them both a contract if cancelled, though business always came second to avoiding conflict. So if it wasn't an important message, then it had to be one of those mails meant to cover up something the Senju wanted to tell Madara. However, it was neither spring nor winter now.
'Dear Madara,' Madara cringed as he read the line, why did he always have to address him like that?
'I realise you probably didn't expect a message from me this time of the year- this is a special one… For the last few years, I've been sending you wishes on your birthday, I wish I could have given you more than just a few strokes of ink on paper-' technically that wasn't how the encryption jutsu worked, trust that bastard to disregard details to make it sound more poetic- 'but I can't. In a few weeks, I'll be turning 25. You've never wished me all these years, you've never replied to any of my letters… If you could, please, just once- write something for me? As my birthday present? Thank you in advance.'
Madara's eyebrow crawled up his forehead, this guy had the nerve to assume he'd get a reply!
'Your friend, Hashirama'
Madara scoffed and was about to toss the scroll away- but something got in the way. Stupid guilt! Stupid memories! Stupid Senju! He cursed and quickly scanned his surroundings to ensure no one was around. Izuna, being a sharp nosy youth, was already suspicious and had been inspecting previous scrolls rather closely. Fortunately Madara always snatched them away before any anything was exposed.
He prepared his chakra for the jutsu.
'Senju Hashirama', hell, he wouldn't write 'dear' anyone in a million years!
'I'd suggest you stop wasting ink, paper and your clan's resources on sending me these notes, I barely ever read them.', he would have written 'never' but that would be easily disproved, 'I don't see the point in this meaningless correspondence. However, since there is no way you'll comprehend the fact until someone tells you- here, I'm writing to you- do not send such childish messages to me any more.'
Shouldn't he wish him a happy birthday? He never celebrated birthdays, even when he was a child. Their childhood had been too depressing for such frivolity. So, no wishing this idiot then…
'Leader of the Uchiha Clan, Uchiha Madara', he signed, rolled the scroll and attached it to one of his falcons- not the younger ones, he didn't want to risk their precious lives on something like this.
"Nii-san! Can you believe this?" Izuna shrieked, waving a new scroll in his brother's face.
"No, I can't…" Madara meant it, how dare that Senju reply? Fucking brainless oaf!
"I am replying this time, he has the guts to tell us to try harder!" Madara smirked at Izuna's imitation of Hashirama.
"Trust me, I can write a good enough reply."
"No, you won't! Tell me- what are you going to say?" Izuna interrogated him for about fifteen minutes before he was convinced the response was scathing enough.
Madara huffed and returned to the offensive object, preparing to examine it's real contents.
'Dear "Leader of the Uchiha Clan",' He's dead, Hashirama is so fucking dead.
'This is really unfortunate, you do seem to lack creativity. Can you not think of what to give your best friend to compensate for ignoring him for so many years? Not to mention, when you finally do reply- you use such hurtful phrases? Fear not, I will suggest something… How about you spend one day with me, or night, since you're so busy? Don't hate me for just one night, let us be friends again- if only for a while. Near the abandoned shrine? Please, Madara, please- it would mean a lot to me.'
'Your dearest friend, Hashirama.'
Madara was too shocked to breathe. Did Senju Hashirama just ask -no, he didn't ask, it was a demand- Uchiha Madara to meet him as a friend? At first, the black haired man thought it was a joke; however, in later sentences, a hint of desperation could be detected. Why did Hashirama think he hated him? Sure, he tried to kill him- not too hard, but still… Madara didn't hate Hashirama, at least not yet, it was just that he couldn't not-hate him either. That was what their clans demanded.
This is nonsense! Madara shouldn't be reading this mail, he shouldn't be conversing with this man, he shouldn't be justifying why meeting him is acceptable! There weren't any missions that needed his attention now, the Uchiha were not short on money, food or any supplies. The weather wasn't too bad. The elders always came up with some problem or the other to bicker about at their weekly meetings- but none of that was serious. Maybe he could just take over Izuna's scouting mission, start a day or two earlier in order to fit in a diversion to the shrine… Izuna could manage his duties -though convincing him would be an entirely different matter- he'd sort out as much as possible in advance before leaving.
He'd go... maybe he could gather some useful intel. Or maybe even capture Hashirama! Yes, he could use this situation to benefit the Uchiha. Not, of course, simply because he wanted to meet his dear old friend.
Madara made sure that all his men were sound asleep, and that there were no enemies around, before picking up his pack and heading into the dark forest. After sprinting for about an hour, the shrine was visible. He had reached there a little earlier than planned. Reclining on the cool stone slabs, he studied the moonlit surroundings for any signs of movement.
A few minutes later, a sole cloaked figure emerged from another portion of the woods. Madara stood up, he could sense the chakra, it was Hashirama and there was no one with him. He didn't expect a trap- that was not Hashirama's style, but knowing his sly white-haired brother, being cautious was a smart decision.
Hashirama paused for a moment and then picked up his pace till he was almost running towards the other. His hood fell back and his smooth hair streamed behind him, reflecting the light. He halted just before the Uchiha, a smile stretched across his face, eyes glistening.
Half of Madara wanted to strangle the man... the other half wanted to punch his face in. Somehow he managed to ignore both halves and stood there frozen. "Hashirama. I am here." he murmured mechanically. He was actually standing right next to his enemy and greeting him.
"Thank you, Madara." his voice was laden with emotions, he stepped forward, extending brown arms- and did something Madara never thought he would…
This was so unlike any of the embraces Madara ever received before from his friends and cousins. Definitely not like the near-debilitating 'hug' his brother would give him. This was tender and slow. He could hear Hashirama's laboured breathing and his thumping heart.
"Are we going to stay like this all night?" Madara grumbled after twice the normal duration of an embrace.
"Maybe…" Hashirama whispered but he pulled back, smiling softly. It was so hard to punch him like this.
"So, what do you want to do? I brought some cards." Madara reached into his pack. He had the sense to bring a deck of cards- lest things became awkwardly silent.
"I brought sake!" Hashirama laughed. Madara was wrong, awkward silence could not exist around this man.
Using their Mokuton and Katon abilities, they started a small fire inside the shrine. After which, they played several variants of card games; punctuated by a round of sake shots. Madara had been hesitant to partake of the drink but ultimately gave in, seeing how his companion had no such restrictions. The Senju lost most games, so Madara was a little surprised when -just before the last game- Hashirama suggested they bet.
"You've been losing! Why do you want to bet?"
"Why do you not want to bet, then?" Hashirama smirked, he was evidently more cunning than his appearance suggested.
"Ok, I don't have much money on me now."
"That's alright…"
"Hn. If I win, you need to tie your hair in two plaits before every battle."
Hashirama's jaw dropped, "Tobirama will chop off my hair if I do that!"
Madara shrugged mercilessly.
"Fine, if I win, you have to play the flute for me."
Madara snorted, clearly the Senju intel collection methods only got them useless information, like one's hobbies. "Where's the flute?"
Drawing chakra, Hashirama produced an elegant wooden instrument. "Here."
"You are such an idiot. Come, let's play."
The taller man clearly had been holding back during the previous games, this match would be very close. While contemplating his next move, Madara noticed the man opposite intensely focused on the cards and twirling silky brown strands around his fingers. Hair like that really shouldn't be tied…
He shifted his attention from a particular card to another random card, revealing that one instead. Hashirama's face lit up as he declared himself the winner. He cheekily handed over the flute and the Mokuton cards table was moved out of the way.
They both reclined against adjacent walls and pulled warm blankets up to their waists. Madara wet his lips before pressing the flute to them. He then took a deep breath and let his slender white fingers dance along the perforated tube. His eyelids lowered, seemingly so that he could lose himself in the melody he was weaving.
It wasn't something original nor was it as good as the music professionals would play. Yet, Hashirama never relaxed quicker to anything before. Seeing his friend sway ever so slightly and knowing that he wasn't stressing himself all day over clan matters, filled the Senju with no small amount of joy.
When Madara finally concluded the song, he opened his eyes to see Hashirama staring at him with some profound expression. "Song's over, here-" he tossed the flute back at it's creator.
"Madara, that was beautiful."
"Hn. It's past midnight, isn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose…"
"Then happy birthday, Hashirama."
Hashirama smile and reseated himself right next to his friend. This time when he folded the Uchiha into his arms, the action was -grudgingly- reciprocated. "Thank you, thank you so much."
They sat there, leaning against the wall- and each other- talking for hours. About the places they visited, the food they ate, the people they met… Politics was an unspoken taboo- at least for tonight. Madara realised how close he was to the other, he knew he shouldn't be but he didn't have the will to move. Hashirama's arms were so warm, his scent so soothing, his voice so…
A few hours before day break, after Madara's responses had reduced to mere 'mmm's, did Hashirama realise the paler man had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He shifted so that the head of his dozing friend was now resting comfortably in his lap. He stroked the raven locks that were spilling over his thighs. Madara falling asleep disappointed him a little, the time they had together was rare and he wanted to spend ever instant reestablishing the connection he feared they had lost.
Though the fact that his old friend could fall asleep, in the presence of the man he fought with so bitterly, spoke volumes. Also this way, he could stare at his face to his heart's content, watching the light from the fire tangle with shadows upon Madara's golden skin.
Hashirama wished he could feel his lips with his own, fill the spaces between his slim fingers with his tanned ones. He wished they could be together forever, far from the things that wanted to tear them apart, far from the things that could rip open an individual too. It was funny that he should want Madara to be disjoint from all these machinations, when he fell in love with the man primarily because of Madara's desire to revolutionise the system.
The first few rays of sun light began to filter through the vines growing over the shrine walls. Never before had the Senju resented the sun. Soon, he'd have to return and so would Madara.
"Wake up, Madara."
Madara groaned and twisted away, Hashirama couldn't help but laugh.
"Come on, wake up!" this time, he shook him a little by the shoulder.
Madara cracked open an eye. The next instant, he shot up, terror gripping him when he realised it was Hashirama who was leaning over him. It faded soon, however. "You little fool… I almost killed you."
"Good morning to you too, Madara."
They packed, put on their cloaks and left the shrine. "Happy birthday again, Hashirama."
"Thank you for coming, this was the best birthday present! Well, except for my mom giving birth to me- of course!" He added goofily.
"Hn, idiot." Madara chided lightly, yet he mirrored Hashirama's gentle embrace.
"I hope we share a vision again, some day…" Hashirama murmured, finally mustering the courage to bring this up.
"It'll be quite a while before we see eye-to-eye again, but I hope so too, Hashirama."
This time, neither of them pulled away from the embrace any earlier than the other.