A/N: This got much longer than I thought and I'm not sure if there was anything significant to it. I haven't read the manga so I apologize for possible inaccuracies in their personality. This was fun to write and hopefully it was fun for you guys to read. This hasn't been proofread yet and it isn't in chronological order in some places so please be careful.

Rain pattered against the roofs of homes under heavy clouds that shrouded the sky entirely. Chilly winds rushed past the alleys and blew umbrellas away. It seemed the skies were about to strike the earth with lightning any moment. Several kilometers to the east of the village were two figures collapsed on the ground, wheezing.

"Madara…" one of the men croaked. He turned his head to the side to see his best friend. Madara was lying face down with his head in the water, unresponsive. With panic wracking throughout his body, Hashirama sat up, ignoring the pain in his side. He crawled towards the man and picked him up, cradling Madara in his arms.

He gazed hard at the peaceful expression that covered Madara's face. Hashirama swept the man's dark strands that shadowed his forehead to the side, painting a trail of bright red on Madara's skin. Hashirama looked into the man's lifeless eyes and decided. He mustered all the strength he could and leapt away from the Valley of the End. Before him was the village of Konoha he founded with Madara, growing closer as he hopped from tree to tree.

Madara turned around, allowing him to see the ribbons on his back reflected in the full-length mirror. His hair was pushed to the side, resting against his right shoulder and purple navy yukata hung loosely on his hips. Madara took in his appearance in the mirror, running his eyes along the silver rings hooked into his skin and crimson silk weaved through the hoops. He smiled to himself, satisfied with the work done.

Sensing another presence approaching, Madara quickly pulled up his yukata over his shoulders. The paper door slid open, an angry white haired man holding a tray in his hands. When he saw Madara, he frowned and stepped inside the room.

"What do you want?" Madara asked. Contrary to the his mood, Tobirama placed the tray of steaming rice, fish and soup gently onto the floor.

"Your dinner," he said and glared at Madara.

"I don't need it."

Tobirama ignored the statement. "I still don't understand why Brother brought you back…But if you starve, I'll be in trouble." Madara went to sit on the window sill, gazing out at the night sky. Tobirama continued, seeing the other wasn't going to respond, "Why did he let you live? He should have—"

"Killed me," a soft voice answered. Tobirama sighed. Well, at least the both of them agreed on something.

"You should ask Hashirama for the reason the next time you see him if you're so curious," Madara said, his attention still on the shining dwarf stars outside. Tobirama sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"If it were that easy, I wouldn't be asking you." He headed for the door, his hand catching the edge of the frame before shooting a glance at Madara. "Just don't drag Brother into your sick hobbies." Tobirama disappeared leaving Madara to stare at the door. He chuckled.

Tobirama paced across the hallway, clenching his jaw as he attempted to rid his mind of the image of the Uchiha. His face scrunched in disgust and he stopped in his tracks. Recalling the ribbon crisscrossed back of Madara made him burn with fury.

"Tobirama, what are you doing?"

Tobirama lifted his head to see his brother's. "Nothing," he replied. Hashirama's gaze ran downwards and he followed it, wondering what his brother was looking at. Tobirama brought his right hand up to inspect the bruise on it.

Hashirama crossed his arms and looked thoughtful. "I heard a rather loud sound coming from here." He caught Tobirama's eyes with his. "What's wrong?" He could see his younger brother waver for a second.

"No, it's nothing," Tobirama said. He kept a straight expression on.

"Banging the wall hard enough to bruise your hand isn't nothing."

Tobirama contemplated on whether he should say anything about the Uchiha or not and decided that he would. "Brother. Madara, he…" He noticed his brother twitch at the mention of the man. "There's something on his back—a piercing."

Hashirama raised his brows, eyes widening slightly. "Oh? A piercing on his back. That's…surprising," he said.

For some reason, Hashirama's words made Tobirama want to avoid the other's gaze and return to his own room. He couldn't help but feel his heart sink at his brother's tone—he didn't understand what it meant. Tobirama swallowed.

"Yes…I saw it when I went to deliver his meal. He was inspecting himself in front of a mirror. Though I don't think he wanted me to see it because he rushed to cover his back." He checked Hashirama's face for any indication to what the man was thinking. "That man is insane," he spat.

Hashirama blinked. "How so?"

"His hobby of, of decorating himself like that with ribbons is insane!" Tobirama shouted. He hit the wall with his fist again, a sting of pain nagging him. "Ever since you brought him back to the village he's been…No, ever since the beginning, Madara has been bad news." He scowled.

"Pff.."

Tobirama looked at his brother, confused. Hashirama waved his hand and chuckled.

"Everyone has their own interests and no matter how strange it is, it doesn't mean Madara is insane," he said.

"But Brother," Tobirama protested and was silenced as Hashirama walked past him, patting his shoulder.

"Don't think too much of it or you'll grow more wrinkles," Hashirama joked and laughed, making his way to his bedroom.

Tobirama stood frozen in place then turned around to find his brother was gone.

Madara swung a leg back and forth, listlessly staring outside. He was sitting on the window sill as usual with nothing to do. Bit by bit, he could feel the seal placed on him weaken—his efforts of channelling chakra through it were paying off.

After the battle with Hashirama at the Valley of the End, he fell unconscious and awoke to this room—back in Konoha Village. He was bandaged and lying on a futon, Hashirama next to him.

"You're awake," the man said. Madara rolled his eyes to the side, blinking slowly at him.

"Where am I?" he asked. There was a pause.

"Konoha."

Underneath the blanket, Madara's fists clenched tightly. "This is outrageous," he managed to say calmly, suppressing his rage at the current situation.

"Madara," Hashirama spoke quietly. He reached under the blanket and pulled out Madara's hands. He uncurled the man's fingers from digging into himself. Hashirama looked sadly at the bloody palm.

"Stop with that look."

"I believe you," Hashirama said.

"Anyone who tries to harm my village, whether they are my friends, siblings or my own child I won't forgive them…" Madara glared at the man. "That's what you said, isn't that right Hashirama?" he scoffed.

Hashirama held Madara's open hand, rewrapping the bandages that came loose. "You're not a threat to the village," Hashirama answered.

"Stop being so naive. You and I both know that I'll come back and destroy Konoha if another chance presents itself." Madara rolled his head to the other side, refusing to look at Hashirama's melancholic expression any longer.

"You won't be able to," Hashirama said. Madara frowned and reluctantly faced the man to question him.

"What do you mean?" His childhood friend smiled brightly and Madara's frown deepened.

"There are seals in this room to prevent you from leaving and…" Hashirama slid his hand down to Madara's wrist and squeezed it. "You can't access your chakra."

Madara tested the newfound fact, moulding the two energies in his body into chakra. He flinched as the pressure he was building up snapped. Black patterns appeared coiling all over his body and he cried out in agony. His body arched off the futon, shaking then slumped back down.

"Madara!" Hashirama shouted. His arms flew to Madara's shoulders, rocking the man. When he settled down, Hashirama exhaled in relief. "It's just like you to be crazy and test it out."

"You might have been lying," Madara wheezed, panting as sweat began to form on his forehead.

"I wouldn't lie to you," Hashirama said. Only Madara's low pants and crickets' faint chirps filled the empty room. Hashirama sat in silence. Dark eyes focused on the dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"What are you planning, Hashirama?" he asked. He heard the other man shift into a new sitting position. Hashirama opened his mouth—pausing—and crossed his arms.

"I want you to stay here in the village," he said. Madara peeked at him and clicked his tongue.

"How many times do we have to go through the same—" His voice died in his throat. Hashirama beamed at him.

"I won't let you step a foot out of this room," he said, cocking his head to the side. He poked Madara's nose to which the man crinkled his face in distaste. "Don't worry, it's only until I know you won't try to leave Konoha on your own."

Hashirama yawned. He was in the middle of a routine meeting with the council and administrative staff members of Konoha Village. There were some Uchiha representatives as well. He paid no attention to the discussion, the matters trivial enough they didn't need his input. It seemed he was doing a poor job in hiding his disinterest as Tobirama kicked his leg from under the table.

"Ow!" Hashirama lifted his leg swiftly, banging his knee on the hard surface. He felt eyes on him and pushed his chair back. He coughed into his fist and excused himself to the bathroom.

Hashirama sighed, water dripping down his face and into the sink. He slicked his hair back and stared into the mirror. He swept the condensation off the glass with a hand, his image properly reflecting now. Hashirama took in the state he was in. Under his eyes were dark, ringed circles, his complexion ghostly and expression dry. He gripped the edges of the sink. With another look at his eyes in the mirror, he covered them with his forearm.

What was wrong?

Shuffled footsteps came to a standstill by the doorway. Tobirama knocked twice, getting Hashirama's attention. "Brother?"

Gorgeous red.

"Oh, Tobirama. What is it?" Hashirama replied. Tobirama gaped at the monotonous tone and shook his head even though his brother couldn't see it. He soundlessly sputtered, mouth opening and closing, uncertain of what to say.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Hashirama's arm dropped to his side. He looked at Tobirama and smiled.

"I'm fine."

Woven silk.

"The meeting's over so…" Tobirama jerked a thumb behind him. "You should take the rest of the day off and sleep. Your face looks terrible to be honest."

Hashirama burst into laughter and Tobirama stiffened at the sound but also felt relief flood his senses. "You're straightforward as usual, Tobirama." Hashirama walked past his brother, patting Tobirama on the back lightly. "There's still much to be done today. I'll be in my office," he said.

A red headed woman was seated in an elegantly decorated wooden chair, sipping her tea. She breathed out and set the cup on its saucer.

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked.

"It's about Brother…"

Mito's lips pressed into a thin line. "He's changed, hasn't he?" Tobirama sighed and nodded.

"He's been acting strange ever since he returned to the village with Madara," he said. Mito stared into her tea, noting that no leaves stood upright.

"He's always cooped up in his office working non-stop the past week and never has time to eat our meals together. Tell me, has something happened that would increase his workload?" Mito looked at Tobirama with a stoic expression, though the worry was clear in her eyes. Tobirama looked away and she knew the answer.

"It's not you Mito-sama," he said. "Brother probably needs some time to sort out his thoughts. We know how difficult the topic regarding the Uchihas is for him." He was saying this for himself.

"I hope he will be fine…" Mito mumbled. Tobirama was about to respond when the door slammed open. Hashirama was panting and sweaty, his hair sticking to the side of his face. His eyes landed on Mito and he rushed to her.

"Mito, can I borrow your sewing kit?" he asked. He knelt on his knee, placing his hands to lay on top of Mito's. The woman blinked, not expecting her husband to barge into the room like that. She collected herself and gave a smile.

"Yes," Mito said. She made her way to the cabinet, Hashirama following her, his hand still connected to hers. She pulled out a round, tin box and handed it to her husband. "Remember to return it to me, okay?" The last time she lent the man something of hers, he had stepped on and broke accidentally. Now, she was wary when lending belongings to Hashirama.

Hashirama laughed aloud, rubbing his neck. "I will, I will, trust me." Mito arched an eyebrow and he cleared his throat. "Thank you for the kit. If you would excuse me for interrupting." He glanced at Tobirama and his wife. Hashirama blew a kiss to woman. "I love you, Mito!" He ran out of his wife's room as abrupt as he had entered.

The appearance of his brother startled Tobirama and left him confused. "Why did he need a sewing kit?"

Mito snickered. Of all things the younger could ask…"Well, I guess we don't have to worry about him anymore," she said and picked up her tea cup. Tobirama gazed at the door, the afterimage of his brother running out of it stuck in his mind.

"I guess…" He frowned.

Something was wrong.

The paper sliding door whipped open, a panting Hashirama leaning against the frame. Madara slowly turned his head to face him and smirked.

"That was fast. I guess your brother told you?" he said.

"Did you really…" Hashirama stepped into the room, locking the door behind him. Madara leaned into his palm, rested on his propped up knee.

"Do you want to see?" he asked, amused. Hashirama looked troubled.

"Why did you do it?" He took a deep breath and rephrased the question. "Why did you get a corset piercing?"

Madara laughed loudly, holding his stomach. His eyes teared up and he said, "Why? I thought I'd indulge you in your interests." He couldn't wipe the smirk off his face with the way Hashirama seemed uncomfortable. He had the upper hand for once.

"That doesn't answer my question, Madara," Hashirama said hard. Madara shrugged. "What do you gain from this? I don't understand why you…"

"You never do," Madara cut in.

"Then you should tell me and make me understand," Hashirama urged. Madara sighed, roughly messing his wild hair.

"Think of it as a little compensation for destroying Konoha," he said. Hashirama's jaw dropped and his brows furrowed. He took a sharp breath.

"Madara!" Hashirama shouted. He flung an arm in between them. "Stop saying that, please…"

Madara continued, ignoring Hashirama's plea, "If you're so sure I can't leave here, why are you angry?"

"I'm not mad, Madara."

"I did it for you, do you want to see it or not?" At Madara's offer, Hashirama felt his throat go dry and moisture gather in his palms. Not waiting for a response, Madara slipped his yukata from his shoulders, baring his naked skin. His yukata's cloth sagged at his hips.

"Madara…" Hashirama whispered in awe. Madara smirked at his reaction.

"Come here, Hashirama," he said and stood up from the window sill he had been leaning on. He bunched his hair and pushed it aside. "What do you think?"

Hashirama remembered to breathe again and reached his hand out, stepping closer. Everything seemed like a dream. His fingers traced over the red silky ribbon crisscrossed on Madara's back. He trailed over to touch the pierced skin, fingering at the silver hoops. This was real. Hashirama's forehead touched Madara's neck.

"You're beautiful…" He breathed, hot breath prickling Madara's neck. Hashirama ran his hand lightly up and down the pierced area. His index finger hooked in one of the rings and he tugged, marvelling at the skin being stretched along.

Instead of the goosebumps Madara expected to rise, he shivered. Hashirama was kneading his back sensually and it was strange. He knew of the man's odd interests when he'd seen the look on Hashirama's face as Mito stitched his skin, sewing the wounds from their battle.

"Red really suits you…" Another whisper in his ear caused Madara to flush. He was beginning to rethink his decision about the corset piercing. The humility of having Hashirama admire his skin pierced by accessories shamed him. He tensed, feeling a wet tongue on him. It swept down his spine and Madara arched his back accordingly, a whine spilling from his mouth.

Hashirama chuckled harshly. He dragged his fingers, caressing Madara's sides, smiling when the man trembled.

"Your back's sensitive…Is this why you're always uncomfortable when someone stands behind you?" he asked. Madara clenched his teeth and shut his eyes.

"Shut up…"

Hashirama smirked and tugged on the ribbon. "Can I undo this?"

"…Just do it already," Madara said, his breathing speeding up. He should have had the piercing on his side or somewhere else other than his back if it was going to be this awkward. Hashirama smiled, toying with the captive hoop. He placed his index finger on the ball and pressed his thumb down, the ball popping out onto the tatami floor. Realization struck Madara that Hashirama knew how to take the piercings off. "Pervert. Your brother says you have a sick hobby," he rasped.

Hashirama pouted, the expression making Madara snicker when he glanced behind. "Bah, he needs to be more open-minded. But I am not a pervert," he said and bit Madara, sucking the skin. Madara gasped, twisting his body away. Hashirama held him still, making obscene noises with his licking. He removed the piercings one by one slowly, enjoying the sensation of them sliding out of Madara's skin.

By the time they were all out, the tight crisscross of ribbons sprawled across the man's back. Hashirama picked the red silk up and brought them to his mouth. A wide smile spread on his face and he pressed his hands down on Madara's back. He eyed the punctured holes in the skin, a tongue darting out to moisten his lips. Hashirama rubbed circles into the tiny holes, liking the slight protrusion. He stared.

"Done?" Madara sneered. Hashirama hummed.

"Almost," he said. He dug his fingernail into the piercing's hole, gradually applying more pressure. He continued until he saw red fluid drip from the hole. He heard Madara hiss.

"What are you doing?!" The man spat furiously. The sight satisfied Hashirama and he lapped up the blood before he backed away. Madara elbowed him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Hashirama coughed, one hand holding his throat and the other on the window sill to support him. "Serves you right, damn it," Madara said.

Hashirama laughed as oxygen reached his lungs again. "Don't be like that, Madara." Then he whispered, "You let me do this."

Madara didn't take his eyes off Hashirama, the man disappearing behind the sliding door. He slammed a fist against the wall, the light bulb on the ceiling crashing to the floor. He ground his teeth.

What went wrong?

Madara rested his head on his arms, leaning on the window sill. He didn't think he could remain sane while being locked inside the room for a week—or was it shorter than that? Maybe longer. He observed the people passing by the road below him. His thoughts reeled, remembering the time he and Hashirama shared their dreams, the time they founded the village, the time Hashirama's younger sibling said he wasn't to be trusted…

Madara bit his lower lip, seething. The wooden sill whined as he raked and crushed it into splinters with his fingers. No one understood the inevitable.

A walking figure caught his eye and he recognized the man to be one of the feudal lords who opposed Hashirama's ruling as Hokage. He could vaguely recall that this man was also the one who attempted to assassinate Hashirama in the past.

A grin made its way to his face. Madara took a chopstick from his tray of breakfast into his finger and threw it at the lord, grazing the man's sleeve. The man hadn't noticed until the chopstick stuck into the ground by his feet. He turned around and his eyes landed on Madara. He gasped, pointing a shaking finger at him and tripped onto the floor. Madara's grin widened and he activated his sharingan to torture the feudal lord.

He glanced at the door. When was Hashirama going to come and entertain him?

Hashirama hummed on his way to Madara's room, the man's dinner in his hands. He slid the door open with his feet.

"Madara, dinner!" he called, grinning. He saw his best friend sitting on the window sill like he always had and his fatigue blew away.

"Oh…okay," Madara said and smiled. Hashirama's spirits lifted—Madara was smiling and responding more often. Perhaps he was beginning to soften up. Madara ate his meal in less silence than previous meals. He would nod and reply with short phrases at Hashirama's banter and rambling on mundane topics.

"Madara," Hashirama's voice came out strained and Madara looked up. He blinked.

"It's fine. What do you want to do?" He scowled when Hashirama fidgeted. "Hurry up," he said. Hashirama put a tin box on his lap and took the lid off. Madara looked at the contents, narrowing his eyes at them. He glanced at Hashirama and the nervous body language told him there was something to this.

"I want to…Can I?" Hashirama showed him a sewing needle. Madara's eyes flashed. He put forward his arms to the man. Hashirama smiled widely.

"Brother, please kill that Uchiha in the room once and for all," Tobirama pleaded. They trudged down the hallway to where Madara was being kept. "He almost wiped out our village with the nine tails, and he would try again when he escapes."

"I know Madara the best, he won't," Hashirama said. Tobirama moved in front of him, stopping Hashirama from advancing.

"Brother, stop being naive and drop the act. You know how the Uchihas are—a cursed clan. Why don't you understand?"

Hashirama sighed in exasperation. "Don't say that, not all of them are like that," he replied. Tobirama threw his hands out.

"What proof do you have?!" he yelled. He was frustrated with his elder brother. The number of times they went through the same argument was countless.

"Do you not trust my judgement?" Hashirama gazed at him.

"This and that are different," Tobirama spoke in a lower volume. Hashirama pushed past him and slid the door open.

"They are not different."

The two brothers were greeted by Madara facing them from his usual spot. He was leaning back on his arms.

"We need to talk," Hashirama said, putting out a hand to prevent his brother from stepping into the room.

"What a coincidence, I have something to say as well." Madara smirked. He glanced at Tobirama and then to Hashirama.

"Wait outside, Tobirama," Hashirama ordered, leaving no room for his younger brother to protest. After the man left them alone, they stared at each other. Madara stood on the sill, crouching, his hands holding onto the window frame.

"You didn't believe a seal could bind me forever did you?" he scoffed. Hashirama gaze lowered into a glare.

"No, I didn't," he said. "Please—"

"You'll have to kill me to stop me."

"No, I don't."

"We have the same goals, Hashirama. Our methods are different and they clash."

"But we can work our way through that!" Hashirama shouted, his expression excruciatingly painful.

"I won't let anyone…even you Hashirama, stop me." Madara inched further to the edge and was ready to leap out the window. Hashirama lunged forward, catching the other man by the waist and flung him to the floor with a boom. Before Madara could get up, Hashirama pinned his hand to the tatami board with a kunai. Madara grit his teeth and grunted. His hands went into spasm, blood trickling over his wrist. His other hand went into his clothes and pressed the cool metal against Hashirama's neck.

"Madara…" Hashirama murmured softly. He leaned closer to Madara, the kunai biting into his neck. Madara closed his eyes, panting. Hashirama pat his cheek and touched the zig zag pattern of red thread on Madara's arm. "You're beautiful," he said. He reached to the side and swiftly jammed a kunai into the man's gut.

"Guh!" Madara choked, hacking blood out of his mouth. He watched Hashirama take the kunai from his hand. Hashirama smiled at him—a smile that he hadn't seen in many years, one he saw when they were still children playing in the river. Hashirama brought his hand to the side and slashed his abdomen. Red fluid spilled from the wound onto Madara below. Blood trickled down his chin and he wanted to laugh at the face the other was making right then.

"I…diot…moron, bastard, Hashirama…" Madara wheezed, his eyes welling, blurring his vision.

"One…too ma-ny," was the retort. Hashirama panted, sweat dripping onto Madara. He groaned and rolled over the lie beside him. His hand crawled towards Madara's and placed it on top.

"I would die for you," he said, answering a silent question. Madara snorted, though blood choked him instead.