.Amaranth
Hashirama seriously didn't know what he'd do without Madara. It wasn't just because the Uchiha was the only other person aside from Tobirama who could hit him upside the head in the middle of a diplomatic meeting and get away with it – Hashirama was known to slack sometimes when the work of the Hokage overwhelmed him. Tobirama and Madara were his assistants, so to speak, ready to berate him if his in-tray grew larger than normal, or drag him back to Hokage Tower if he wanted to sneak off for a game of mahjong or cards with the shinobi of his village.
Tobirama was irreplaceable with the job of maintaining the organizational activities of the village that Hashirama couldn't tend to himself.
Madara simply took care of the rest, those little insignificant things for the Hokage, like making sure Hashirama didn't skip lunch.
Madara told him he was the perfect person for the job, when Konoha had decided to pick its first official leader between the two of them. Hashirama had been surprised; he had expected a temper onslaught or even a wild tirade, but Madara contented himself with a soul-searing, Sharingan powered glare before letting out the long sigh, and telling Hashirama that he was the better one for the job.
Hashirama remembered asking why Madara thought that was so.
Shrugging, the Uchiha leader smirked in that lopsided manner Hashirama loved, and said that he didn't think he could handle being inside an office for four days a week, unable to even do missions to stretch his legs. Madara wasn't known for his patience with trivial things, and Hashirama knew that the Uchiha would probably go nuts first week into the job.
They were looking out at the Nakano River that particular afternoon when Madara told him.
He could remember how the orange sunlight lit up Madara's features, highlighting his profile and his deep-set eyes, and Hashirama was glad that they formed the village after so many trials and battles; the opportunity of standing with Madara like this was worth anything in his book.
Madara was still talking, and told him that he was the more approachable one, and the villagers needed a leader they could freely tell their grievances to, not someone they'd be afraid to talk to, someone who'd listen.
Madara wasn't also known for his listening or emphatic abilities, but Hashirama knew the Uchiha could listen when he wanted to, it was just that Madara was picky with people he deemed worthy enough of his attention.
He'd had first hand experience with that, way, way back, when they were but boys.
He asked Madara what he'd do.
Madara answered he would still lead the Uchiha as always, and make sure Tobirama wouldn't be trying anything fishy with his clan.
The comment made Hashirama sigh; the distrust was still there between his brother and his significant other, and nothing he could do it seemed, would dispel it.
You could help me, Hashirama said after a while. I mean, this village is the first of its kind, and I would need all the help I could get, he said.
Madara only looked at him wordlessly, smirked again, and went off on his own, presumably to return to their clan compound. Hashirama watched him go with a smile.
Madara came and went by Hokage Tower practically as if he had been the one chosen for the position. He barged in Hashirama's new office like none of anybody's business, bringing a fresh load of paperwork or sometimes, bringing tea and food.
Hashirama never failed to smile whenever Madara came and went in his imperious manner, even if the Uchiha never really talked to him about how the work was. The darker-haired man simply raised eyebrows at him, scowled at work he hadn't yet finished, or scowled at him if he was caught red-handed and slacking off.
Sometimes, if Madara could be bothered about it, he would stay long enough to sort Hashirama's folders for him, and even pour tea and lay out the snacks on small plates.
But the best time of every work day was come evening, when Hashirama was finished with everything and hungry for dinner. Unfailing every day unless he had a mission or was busy with Tobirama setting-up the ANBU headquarters, Madara would arrive with dinner, delicious bentos that Hashirama seriously hoped the Uchiha cooked himself.
He'd asked, and Madara told him they were take-out, since he didn't cook for anyone, especially a Senju.
But Hashirama kept his hopes up.
He would insist that Madara share the food, but ninety percent of the time the Uchiha would refuse and just pour him tea, saying he'd already eaten or he was full.
Hashirama ate his dinner feeling conscious, as Madara would sit down on a chair across him and watch him eat.
You sure you won't eat?
I'm fine.
This bento has inarizushi, in case you're interested.
Go ahead.
Sometimes, sometimes when Madara would relent, Hashirama would let him pick whatever food he wanted. He'd pushed his luck further and asked if he could feed Madara, but what he got in return was a sharp glare and a scowl, and Madara said he wasn't handicapped and he could feed himself properly.
On free days Hashirama loved going around Konoha for his usual walks, checking on the citizens that were the village's lifeblood. During late afternoons he would look for Madara in the forests surrounding their village, sure that Madara would be training or would be out and about being the falconer that he was. Hashirama would always find him a little way's out of the village, and he would always bring a bottle of sake and they would find a quiet place with a view, and they would sit down and drink, and talk about politics first, then about Konoha's day to day, and finally what they could tell each other about their families.
Madara would almost always take out some kunai or senbon for cleaning during those talks in the forest, and Hashirama would enjoy watching his silent precision as he wiped his kunai until the sharpened edges almost glowed.
Even if they found the time and the place to lie together, Madara never said the three words. Hashirama supposed that had to mean something, but this was Uchiha Madara, and he had known him since they were boys, and Madara never said those words, even after everything. For Hashirama's part he never needed any verbal assurance; the little things Madara did for him every day were louder than any declaration of love the Uchiha could ever manage, and that was enough for him.
I must be the first one to go.
They had just lain with each other that hot summer evening when Madara suddenly spoke, breaking Hashirama's reverie, as his mind was still light-headed with the pleasure he just had with his lover. He'd opened his eyes and found Madara sitting up and peering down on him, his Sharingan eyes bright red in the darkness of their bedroom.
What are you talking about…?
Hashirama reached up a hand and caressed Madara's cheek with it, twining his fingers with the Uchiha's darker locks of hair.
I will go before you do.
He'd stared at Madara then, but he knew what the other man was trying to get across. Madara had barely recovered from Izuna's passing, and that had been the darkest time of their time together. Hashirama knew the Uchiha clan took loss harder than anyone else, and he understood what Madara was saying even though no further words were spoken between them.
Madara had to die first. If Hashirama went ahead then there was no telling if Madara would survive another great loss, and if that did come to pass, then not even Konoha, their dreams of peace and an end to all the wars, would be safe.
The peace of Konoha lasted a good string of winters and summers before the stability and security Hashirama and Madara had forged together became threatened again with the danger of the tailed beasts.
It had been years, Hashirama thought to himself as he readjusted his forehead protector and readied the great scroll he was going to take to battle. He passed Tobirama outside by the halls, and they exchanged acknowledging nods.
At least, there would be someone left behind to look after Konoha if he met his end here.
Outside the village gates, he wasn't really surprised to see Madara already waiting, wearing the armor he had put down years prior, and the familiar sight of the gunbai strapped to his back almost made Hashirama smile in reminiscence.
What are you doing? I thought I gave you instructions.
Tobirama can be Hokage if we die.
That was it, no room for further protestations. They went to the front together, leaving behind the rest of the shinobi of Konoha ready to defend their village and their future.
He would be the only failure in Hashirama's fight against death as a medical ninja.
Hashirama could remember being the one in a panic, his hands red with blood even as his jutsu glowed, fighting to keep death at bay, fighting even though one look at the wound he knew his longest companion was a lost cause.
He assured him that he'd be all right, that he'd manage, that they'd go home to Konoha when the day was over, that he would get a good rest once they get home and that there was no more being a shinobi for him if they did.
But Madara was calm, even as he neared his end. As Hashirama cursed the blood that wouldn't stop flowing and the wound that wouldn't heal, even then, Madara reached with the last ounce of his strength made Hashirama look at him.
It's all right.
It's not all right, you'll be better, you'll see, we'll get home.
You're a medic, Hashirama. You should know if there's no hope.
There's always hope!
Madara managed a weak laugh, and he held Hashirama's gaze until the end, until the Sharingan red faded from his eyes and reverted into unseeing black.
In the whirlwind of grief that enveloped Hashirama as he held Madara's unmoving form to his chest, his one thought was that Madara got what he wanted in the end – to go first.
The second Hokage surveyed the grave markers and his team behind him kept their respectful silence a few steps behind him. This was the only place in Konoha where globe amaranths grew, and nowhere else. The bushes and their small purple flowers covered the ground, and with the breeze the flowers swayed mildly, their color a contrast with the gray marble of the two pillars that stood in their midst.
Tobirama brought his hands together and prayed for a minute. That done, he nodded to the grave markers, and turned to the six-man team behind him.
We go, he told them, and they went, like the wind.
A/N: First time trying to write these two together. It's been a while since I wrote anything under Naruto. Hashirama and Madara made me want to write again. This work is dedicated to ckret2,coincident and Cloud Traveler, great HashiMada writers, who have inspired me to write again under the fandom, though my work is nothing compared to theirs.