Summary: Sequel to "on top of the world, alone". Madara's dissatisfaction with the village grows. Also, love is in the air. Madara-centric, HashiMito. Severe case of third-wheeling.
Rating: T
AN: Special thanks to Gal Can't Help It! Your review encouraged me to write this story :)
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dinner for three
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After the day of Hokage election and everything that had transpired then between himself and Uzumaki Mito, Madara honestly didn't expect to see her again before the day of the wedding, which he had reluctantly agreed to attend, though not without a lot of pressure from both Hashirama and the Uchiha clan. His clansmen were disgustingly adamant about fostering good relations with the Senju-lead village administration. Madara couldn't stand how blinded they were, satisfied by scraps thrown their way and fooled by the pretense of equality. In his eyes, the Uchiha had forsaken their pride and squandered their potential and for what? An unsure promise of a peaceful life? They didn't even allow a thought that the village may fail them to enter their minds. Just recently, Madara's proposition to keep regular guard and maintenance in some of the old Uchiha strongholds in case the clan needed to evacuate quickly, was utterly disregarded by the majority in a display of astounding short-sightedness. With dismay, Madara accepted that there was no talking sense into them. They would learn in time to regret this mistake of their unquestioning faith in the village's ability to protect them.
In the beginning, Madara too had let himself believe, swayed by Hashirama's unwavering confidence and charisma, that the peace would last. The era of bloody, senseless wars would finally end and be forgotten. Instead, it seemed that creating the ninja village world system would only perpetuate and magnify the violence to levels seen never before. Even now, there were reports about suspicious activity in the Land of Earth, however Hashirama and the others remained unconcerned. Nothing could shake their conviction in the eternal peace, not until it would be too late. Madara could see it clearly and it filled him with inconceivable bitterness that only served to alienate him even more from the cheerful villagers, so absorbed in their ordinary lives they couldn't see anything beyond the next day.
That is why he chose the rooftops as the fastest and most private way to travel across the village. Madara had no patience to mingle with the mindless rabble in the streets. It was a pointless endeavor and sure to only bring him annoyance, so he didn't bother. However, his hawk-like eyesight immediately picked out from the crowd a splash of crimson so vivid, it could have been no one else but the Uzumaki princess. Without a second thought, Madara fell into a crouch silently and surveyed the scene.
Her back was turned to him, but there was no mistake of the person's identity, the usual buns and a regal hair-piece, not to mention the Uzumaki swirl on the back of her lavender yukata pointing that it was indeed Mito. She was animatedly talking to the shopkeeper who presented her with rolls of colourful, patterned fabrics. If Madara concentrated enough, he could hear the gentle cadence of her voice. It was comforting...
Mito's spine stiffened for a split second and her head tilted to the side, as if she was listening to something elusive. It seemed that she may have caught on that she had a hidden observer, so Madara decided to leave and escape her scrutiny. He jumped away across the rooftops when suddenly a lavender blur passed him. He abruptly stopped in his tracks as the person appeared right before him, barring his way.
"Hello, Madara-sama," Mito greeted pleasantly, but the slightly mocking undertone revealed her less than stellar mood. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Mito-hime," he replied cautiously, crossing his arms. "Is there something you want?"
"This is a question I should be asking you. Why were you spying on me?" she asked sharply.
Madara raised an eyebrow, refusing to let her dictate the pace of this confrontation. "I did nothing of the sort," he denied easily. It wasn't even a lie – he had just spotted her and remained in one place to think for a bit. He'd had no intention of spying on her mundane, daily activities, as there was no point to that.
Mito wasn't convinced, judging by the way she pursed her lips tightly before speaking again.
"I sensed you staring at me for ten minutes," she said emphatically. "If you have some business with me, you know you can come out and just tell me. Or are you too shy?" she speculated, a small smirk challenging him to rise up and defend himself from her claim.
"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "I have nothing to tell you," he added with the air of finality, as his dark eyes clashed with her own narrowed ones. For a moment, the tension mounted between them, as Mito determined whether he was telling the truth.
"Very well," she finally said, a soft exhale tumbling out of her lips. "I'm going." Mito spun around, intending to return to her shopping.
Madara also wordlessly turned to leave.
"Wait," she called over her shoulder.
"What is it?" Madara faced her, annoyed, but she didn't pay it any importance.
"Come over for dinner to the Hokage mansion tonight," she offered the invitation, catching him off guard for a second.
"Why should I?" he asked incredulously.
Mito bit her lip and continued with a small frown. "I know you haven't spoken to Hashirama ever since the election. He misses talking to you. It would mean a lot to him if you could come." Her sincere words pierced him unexpectedly and he struggled to conceal the emotions they unwittingly drudged up behind his usual cold armour of stoicism.
"I see," Madara answered shortly, giving no inkling whether he accepted the invitation.
"Is that a yes?" Mito shot him an unamused, hard look.
He looked away in thought, his gaze landing on the Hokage mountain, the first face sculpture already under construction. His expression darkened and he was just about to firmly decline the offer, when Mito threw him an incentive to reconsider.
"Also, there are some village matters to discuss, Madara-sama," she informed him. "If you don't wish to speak to Hashirama as a friend, then at least follow your duty to the village and speak with him as a clan leader and a co-founder. Your input would be invaluable to him."
The ensuing silence stretched as Madara contemplated his answer. Mito sighed quietly, giving up on ever getting one, and readied herself to take off, when the awaited response finally reached her ears.
"I'll come."
Madara's tone was inflectionless and he was staring into the distance, his face partially covered by his long hair, but Mito with her empathic aptitude deciphered the posture of indifference as a sign of the inner turmoil. The darkness didn't control him as much as she feared. She gave no indication she knew what might be going through his mind as she nodded with a serious expression, though her eyes smiled, expressing how pleased she was with this agreement.
"Be there at seven," she told him simply and jumped off the roof without any further ado.
Probably so he wouldn't have an opportunity to back out of it.
Madara scoffed. He wouldn't have agreed if he didn't plan to go through with it.
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He arrived on the mansion's doorstep exactly on time, as being too early would suggest that he was eager to come, even if he felt no such thing, while lateness would be insulting to both his hosts. Admittedly, Hashirama wouldn't have made much of a fuss over this, but Mito on the other hand... Simply put, Madara didn't wish to antagonize her without a good reason. As long as she didn't attempt to pry in his affairs, he would stay indifferent to her, a mere acquaintance.
He refused to think of that moment on the Hokage mountain. It had no significance and he had drunk too much, which was a cause of his error in judgement. He assured himself it wouldn't happen again.
A servant girl opened the door for him and led him to the dining room. Mito was the only one waiting in there. She was sitting demurely on a cushion, the folds of her expensive mint green kimono aesthetically arranged on her body. She gave off her customary, dignified aura.
"Good to see you so punctual, Madara-sama," she addressed him. "Please, take a seat. Hashirama will come soon and the dinner will be served shortly."
Madara sank on the cushion on the opposite side of a low table. There was only one prepared place left unoccupied.
"Tobirama won't be attending?" Madara asked.
Mito shook her head. "No, he has some clan matters to take care of. He usually eats with us on weekends."
This made sense. After Hashirama had become the Hokage, the Senju leadership fell onto his younger brother. Madara would have done the same in Hashirama's circumstances. Izuna had been well-liked within the clan before his death.
A shadow crossed his face at the reminder of his last brother.
"Is something the matter?" Mito picked up on it immediately. "Would it disturb you if Tobirama came to eat with us?"
"No. I expected him to be here, anyway. His absence doesn't change anything," Madara replied calmly.
Mito gave him a short, assessing look. "Well, that's good. Personally, I think the atmosphere of hostility makes the food taste sour," she remarked slowly, watching for his reaction. "All I want is for you and Hashirama to enjoy this dinner," she added to clarify her meaning.
Madara's gaze flickered to her face. He could easily distinguish the calculation hidden by the outward shield of serenity and politeness.
Before he could give her a response, most likely an empty assent to her wishes as he couldn't foresee where the conversation would take them and he was not in a habit of losing arguments on the behalf of something as insubstantial as good manners (not that Hashirama would ever take offense), the shoji door slid open, admitting a newcomer into the room.
Speak of the devil.
"I'm sorry, Mito, did you wait long?" Hashirama stepped inside, then did a doubletake. "Madara, you really came?" A warm smile spread on his honest face and in a few bounds he joined them at the table. "That's great, there are a few things I wanted to talk to you about..."
He would have started right away, but Mito coughed, interrupting him.
"Maybe we could eat first, Hashirama? You've just got out of the office, the business can wait," she admonished him lightly.
"Oh, right," he chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.
The servant brought them wet towels to clean their hands, then the meal was set on the table, the aroma of fried vegetables and meat further whetting their appetites. With a murmur of thanks, they began the dinner.
While they ate, Mito initiated a small talk, asking Hashirama about his day, to which he responded with a humourous tale of organizing files and looking for the official Hokage stamp. Madara took the opportunity to discreetly observe his hosts. They were both relaxed and unguarded, and if he didn't know better, they could have passed as just another couple eating together. Except he was all too aware of the shurikens hidden in Hashirama's sleeves and a small blade tucked in the folds of Mito's obi. These were just the most obvious weapons in their arsenals, not counting anything sophisticated like chakra or the possibility of chopsticks and tableware being turned into makeshift projectiles at a moment's notice.
But that was something he could tell even without looking at them, a simple knowledge of a shinobi life. What truly caught his eye was the interaction between these two – the subtle leaning towards one another in interest, the play of emotions in their body language as they exchanged words, the unashamed, tender adoration they had for one another expressed by every look and touch.
"Hashirama, could you pass me the salt?" Mito asked sweetly.
The man reached out with his long arm and plucked the requested item off the far side of the table, then gave it to her with a beaming smile.
"Here, Mito-chan," he said in his deep voice as their fingers touched when she took the salt from him. Madara spied a small blush on Mito's cheeks. Was she to blame for it, when Hashirama made this look like he was handing out his heart instead of a simple condiment?
"Thank you," she replied with a grateful tilt of her head.
After salting her meal to her satisfaction, Mito resumed eating in a cultured manner she had been most probably taught since the age she could lift chopsticks on her own. Madara's gaze was drawn to the precise movements of her slim wrist as she elegantly picked a piece of meat and dabbed it in a sauce before putting it in her mouth and picking another one. Even the way she chewed was well-mannered. It would make anyone self-conscious, to be honest.
Not that he felt self-conscious, Madara thought as he discreetly deactivated the Sharingan and proceeded to eat again, correcting the hold on his chopsticks to a perfect degree. He sensed a lingering look directed at him and glanced up, meeting Mito's knowing gaze. He held it unblinkingly, then nonchalantly lifted a bit of rice to his mouth. Her lips curled into an amused smirk and she diverted her attention back to Hashirama.
"Did you have time to review those vest designs I sent to the office?" she inquired.
Hashirama rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't. But I wanted to look through them tonight."
"What are you talking about?" Madara interjected, his interest piqued.
"Well, remember when we talked how we should name the village?" Hashirama asked and Madara nodded, feeling a tad impatient. How could he forget? After all, he was the one to propose the name Konoha for their new village and a leaf to become its symbol. Hashirama continued, "I was thinking that all the clans need something more to unite them and I mentioned it to Mito. She came up with the idea of the same shinobi uniform for the whole village." He gave a dazzling smile to the woman, who returned it, blushing lightly.
"It's not that revolutionary, you know. The clans had their own standard shinobi armours, now village should take over and do the same, it's only natural," she added.
"Right, but you are the one who said it first, so all the credit goes to you, Mito-chan," Hashirama replied gallantly, taking her hand in his two and squeezing it affectionately.
"Can I see those designs? Do you have them on you?" Madara cut in, purposefully breaking the moment between the couple. He wasn't in a mood to watch more of their amorous foolishness than it was required. What had that woman even done to Hashirama? Had she bewitched him with her beauty? Seeing him acting like this, a person Madara honestly considered the only one worthy of being his equal, was an embarrassment.
Somehow, it didn't occur to him that he had bore witness to much worse antics from Hashirama in the past. And he had even participated in some of them.
Hashirama coughed awkwardly and released Mito's hand. "I don't have them on hand. Maybe I can bring them later?" he offered.
Madara inclined his head and focused back on his plate. For a while, the chatting went down, until Mito tried to ask him how the Uchiha clan was doing. The question reminded him of the frustration and bitterness that he started to associate in his mind with the clan and that he couldn't rid himself of. After his clipped response, Mito must have sensed how prickly a subject this was and didn't pursue it any further.
"Ahh, this was great!" Hashirama sighed contentedly and rubbed his stomach.
Mito covered up a small laugh with her sleeve. "I'll be sure to tell the cooks you liked the dinner. They'll be ecstatic."
Madara also set his chopsticks down. "It was good," he said for the sake of politeness. The truth was that he could eat anything, short of garbage, and not care about the taste. As long as the food wasn't spoiled, it didn't make much of a difference to him what exactly it was.
No one needed to know that he had a weakness for inarizushi. If asked, he would deny it.
The same servant who brought the dinner cleaned the table from the empty dishes and left the sake cups in their place. Mito poured the alcohol for the men, then Hashirama also served her. Madara eyed his cup distrustfully. The reason wasn't a fear of poison, but simply the remembrance of the consequences the last time he had indulged himself in alcohol. Desiring to keep a cool head, he resolved to drink as little as possible without being impolite to his hosts.
Hashirama didn't have this kind of inhibitions, because he swallowed the contents of his first cup in one go, smiling at the bitter taste. On the other hand, he'd always had a high tolerance for alcohol. Mito wordlessly refilled his cup.
Madara took a small sip and looked expectantly at the Senju. "Mito-hime mentioned you had something to discuss with me."
Hashirama slightly tensed, his expression losing the earlier jubilation and becoming serious. "Yes. I think you heard about unrest among the clans in the Land of Earth?" At Madara's nod, he continued. "I've got a message from there. They apparently also formed a Hidden Village with a Tsuchikage as a head, and they want to talk with me."
Madara quickly absorbed this news. The formation of other villages wasn't that shocking, all things considered. It was just a matter of time before foreign clans also united, fearing the might of Konoha and the threat it could represent for them. Madara knew all too well how a mutual goal of survival could push two former enemies into an alliance.
"And what is your response, Hashirama? Will you talk with them?"
"First, I'd like to know your advice. What would you do in my position?"
Madara contemplated the question, running his finger over the rim of the cup back and forth. " First, I would gather intelligence on them, obviously," he responded. "Where they are located, which clans, how many shinobi they have, inner politics, sources of income, affiliations among civilians. I would need to know all of this and more before coming to the table of negotiations." After a pause he added, "And who are their spies in Konoha, if there are any."
Hashirama smiled. "You're impressively thorough, Madara, however we are not going to war with this new village. They asked for a peace treaty and settling the borders between our villages."
Irritation welled in the Uchiha, though he kept it from erupting. "And you believe them? It could be a trap to lure you away from Konoha and assassinate you."
"Or it could be a genuine request for peace," Hashirama countered. "But I concur, we need more information. I'm going to send infiltrators and I'd like someone from the Uchiha clan to go, too. Any recommendations?"
While Madara didn't agree with this optimistic outlook (in his experience, in the world of shinobi even behind the most innocuous action there was an underlying self-serving intention), he was pleased that Hashirama didn't forget to exercise caution. When his friend proposed a toast, Madara didn't object. This time.
"To the peaceful future," Hashirama intoned cheerfully.
The burn of the drink in his throat felt satisfying. With the topic of the Land of Earth concluded for now, the discussion moved on to the new shinobi uniform design. In the moment when Hashirama stepped out to get the sketches, Madara focused his sights on Mito, who was snacking on small sweet treats.
"He doesn't know about our last meeting," Madara stated with some curiosity leaking into his voice.
Mito shook her head. "No, he does. I told him how it went."
"But you didn't tell him everything."
She didn't say anything, letting him figure it out.
"You didn't tell him what I did. Why?"
Mito smiled pleasantly. "I don't remember you doing anything in particular, Madara-sama. And even if something did happen, I would just let bygones be bygones."
The disguised warning in her tone only made him want to push the issue harder.
"Is that how a faithful fiancee acts?" Madara insinuated sarcastically, but Mito didn't get angry. She studied him unblinkingly, then sighed.
"Do you want to intentionally destroy the trust between you and Hashirama over a stupid mistake that didn't even happen? Do you actually want to drive him away?" she asked with exasperation. "Because I don't want it."
Madara was prepared to retort in a most scalding manner, but Hashirama's speedy return prevented him from doing that, so instead he adopted a heavy frown, which was expertly ignored by the conceited woman. How dared she presume to know what he wanted? She was no oracle and their acquaintance was so short, they could've been strangers as well, with Hashirama as an only link between them.
"Madara, what do you think?" The question pulled him out of his resentful thoughts and Madara looked down at the papers spread on the table. He took one and examined the drawing. It was a long, zipped up vest with many pockets in the front, high collar to protect the neck, long shoulderpads and tassets.
"What is the difference from the old armour?" Madara asked.
Mito pushed another paper to him. "How about this version?"
Another drawing was better in his opinion. The shoulderpads and tassets were removed and while it decreased the protection, it also helped with maneuverability, speed and stealthiness, which were essential in the shinobi profession. On the other hand, the front pockets were still there.
In any case, Madara approved of the design.
"So, what's with the pockets?" he questioned, confused with the purpose of their placement.
"They're for scrolls and other miscellaneous items. With all the clans cooperating, the arsenal of an individual shinobi is going to get bigger and more versatile. And breast pockets are easy to reach," Mito explained.
"But there's something missing here..." Hashirama spoke up, staring thoughtfully at the drawing.
"There's no crest," Madara supplied. The Uchiha eyes were good for spotting detail.
"Well, Konoha symbol could be sewn in the back," Mito said.
"I have a better idea," her fiance declared. "We should put there Uzumaki symbol."
Madara looked at him dubiously. There were no Uzumaki living in Konoha apart from Mito, so it didn't really make any sense to use their clan crest on uniforms meant for everyone. What was Hashirama thinking?
Mito must have shared Madara's incredulity, because she didn't shy away from criticizing the idea. "Hashirama, this isn't right. It should be the village symbol. How wearing a symbol of the Uzumaki clan will show unity of the Konoha shinobi?"
"No, no, it's perfect. Maybe I wasn't clear enough – this symbol won't represent just Uzumaki. It's yours." Hashirama cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch, listening with wide eyes as he explained the reasoning behind his idea. "You are the link between Konoha and Uzushio, you represent the cooperation between clans and you made this design. You deserve this honour from Konoha, I assure you." He affectionately stroked her nape, shifting closer as he peered into her eyes deeply, entrancing her. "You are going to become my wife, Mito-chan," Hashirama said in a whisper, his mouth a breath away from Mito's parted coral lips. And, after a second of hesitation, he crossed the minuscule distance and claimed them in a sweet kiss.
Madara felt like an intruder, yet he was unable to leave without drawing their attention to himself and breaking the moment between the couple. So he stayed in his place, hopelessly paralyzed, both wishing to be far away and getting irritated that Hashirama had the gall to rub his lovelife with Mito in his face. His hands clenched spasmodically, but it didn't do much to relieve the tension in his gut.
Thankfully, Mito was more in tune with her surroundings than her lover.
"Madara-sama is here," she reminded him softly, after breaking away from the kiss.
"I don't care," Hashirama rumbled, guiding her closer by the nape so they could continue.
Mito simply put two fingers against his lips and slipped away from his grasp. "But I do."
He didn't insist anymore, recognizing the futility of such attempts.
"Madara-sama, I wish to apolo..." Mito addressed the Uchiha but he already stood up.
"Spare me," he cut her off. "I see my input is no longer needed here. You two can return to your frivolous activities." The last words were said in the most derogatory manner, making Mito purse her lips unhappily at the overreactive scorn they carried. "Later."
Madara swept out of the room, anxious to get away from the Hokage residence. He hated seeing such displays of affection, but witnessing Hashirama succumbing to his weakness so carelessly in front of an audience was even more disgusting. Madara swallowed his bitter resentment for the woman who had the power to turn the same man that he regarded as his equal into a weak fool.
What was it about Uzumaki Mito that made her so dangerous? Madara couldn't put his finger on this elusive quality she possessed. And he acutely remembered how she had almost succeeded in luring him into her syrupy trap. It was both embarrassing and humbling how close he'd come to defeat that one time on the mountaintop, how little had been needed to make him almost fall like Hashirama.
Never again, he told himself, turning a corner leading to his street. He would not waste another thought on this woman.
He was Uchiha Madara, not Senju Hashirama. He had more strength than that.
This is what he wanted to believe, even when he laid his head on the pillow and sank into an uneasy sleep. In his dreams he was haunted by flashing chocolate-brown eyes and secretive smiles hidden under the fiery sunsets. Desire and reality were weaved together so tightly in the fabric of the oneiric fantasies, that he lost himself in them until the first lights of a morning.
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The End
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AN: Thanks for reading. If you can spare a minute, please leave a review :)