This is the first time I have written such long ( by my standard at least) fan fiction. Please bear with me if there're inconsistencies. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
...
It was to be expected.
He was of the Senju, son of Butsuma.
It was a given that he would join the battles once he was old enough to hold a kunai. Initially he was scared, after all it was not the same as playing battles with his brothers.
No.
One single mistake, and he would join his dead relatives.
He recalled how terrified he had been, when he first killed a person.
The boy could not have been much older than he was. His widening eyes, the blood which spluttered from his lips, the enraged howl which may had been from his parents, Hashirama remembered them too well.
It was revolting. It was absolutely nauseating.
He vomited all that he ate the previous day. Surprisingly, he was not reprimanded for his display of weakness. The sympathising look in Butsuma's eyes felt so foreign, the man usually was very particular about toughening up.
Perhaps, he, Butsuma , as well, was initially similar.
Despite that, after more than a few years of prolonged wars, sometimes with the Uchiha, other times with other clans whose names he had ceased to remember, Hashirama had long forgotten fear and terror of battlefields, fighting to survive, surviving to fight, day to day, just like one would have his three meals per day. People were no longer people, only enemies and allies.
He lost count of how many lives fell by his blade. No, rather, he refused to count. Because with each slash, he lost a part of himself. With each stab, he lost more faith in the world.
But Hashirama would remember the scorching heat that was the battle, the heavy air that dripped with death, the pounding heart which was fuelled by adrenaline, and the brilliant eyes with the most beautiful shade of red.
"The only way is for enemies to expose their guts and drink like brothers."
How could a young boy, probably even younger than Hashirama himself, perhaps an Uchiha, supposedly his arch nemesis, understood his visions more than his own clansmen, his own brothers, his own father?
Truly he was a gift from the heavens. And Hashirama allowed his heart to be stolen the moment his eyes witnessed the transition in colour of the dark midnight eyes to vermillion.
But their relationship was not all rainbows and butterflies like most others. After all, they were enemies on battlefields. Long before they learnt to exchange kisses, they had been trading life threatening blows. Had not it been for their superior skills, they may had perished in the carnage orchestrated by hatred.
Lost was his childhood friend, in his presence was a blood thirsty adversary, with eyes blazing crimson, with fingers curled around the hilt of his kusarigama, with a feral war cry torn out of him. He hated that he had to respond with the same ferocity, for his life would had been forfeited had he hesitated even just for a moment. He loathed the reality that forced him to continuously endanger the life of a person who meant so much to him.
Hashirama loved him. Loved him with all his being. Loved his passion, loved his bloodlust, loved his anger, loved his frustrations, but most of all, he loved his concealed gentleness.
And his handsome features did not hurt either.
Hashirama would regard the day they finally lain down their weapons, opting for peace, as the day he truly believed that God was watching him, for He blessed Hashirama with the chance to be with his beloved, whom for his heart ached each time each time he went up against amidst the chaos. He truly believed that the heavens had finally rewarded him for all his kindness and humility the moment he shook hands with Uchiha Madara, validating their treaty.
It was irrelevant to him, if the other shared his sentiment or not.
"So Madara?"
It was during the celebration that followed. He was feeling a little bit more tipsy than he should had, and the overflowing euphoria did not help either.
"Hn?" He could see that the Uchiha patriarch was not as sober as he would had everybody to think, with the slight reddening of his pale cheeks.
"Are we cool now?"
"Huh?"
"Us? Are we cool now?"
Madara shrugged. He took another drink from his cup.
It was spring. Petals of sakura were finding themselves trapped in the dark mane. Several of them fell into his sake cup. Hashirama noted as he observed a small smile forming on the usually stern face.
However being amicable was one matter, being intimate was another, and thus the moment all the fundamental aspects of their newly formed village, i.e the construction of residences, liaising with the daimyo, electing the Hokage etc were settled, Hashirama embarked on an 'odyssey' to conquer Madara.
Not.
In all honesty, Hashirama was clueless about courting ladies, much less a man almost equally powerful as he was. It did not help that Madara was oblivious to all his subtle or not so subtle hints. It further aggravated the situation when almost everybody in the Uchiha and Senju alike were against the two of them engaging in a non platonic relationship, prompting backs to be shown when Hashirama tried to ask for advice. Even Tobirama, especially Tobirama, his brother who he thought would be emphatic with his situation was strongly in opposition to the idea.
Thus Hashirama was left to his own.
His first attempt was to present Madara with bouquets of flowers everyday. However as he watched from his hiding spot Madara breathing flames to burn the roses on the third consecutive day he placed them on Madara's door step, he decided that it was enough with the approach.
His mother was a great cook, and he fondly recalled how his father would smile each time she took the time from her busy kunoichi life to make his favourite food. Hashirama hired the best chef he could find to teach him to make the most delicious inarizushi for Madara. He had hoped to impress the Uchiha with his cooking skills. He even added some other 'special ingredients' to produce the 'perfect inarizushi'. To his disappointment, Madara wolfed down all the inarizushi after a curt 'thank you' without sparing him another glance.
Giving up was never one of Hashirama's strengths, so instead he began to look for other things which might interest Madara in him. No such luck. Rather, after almost three months of his 'courting', he was greeted by an infuriated Madara in his office.
"I don't know if this is your idea of harassing me, Senju, but I am at my limit!"
He was no stranger to Madara's piercing gaze, but instead of igniting his spirit for a good fight, he found himself fantasising how nice it would be to have him pinning himself down, with the smouldering stare focusing on him, oh yes that would be great..and he would rake his hands across Madara's front, focusing on the two little nubs.. and Madara would guide his hands and he would..
"Hashirama!"
"Yea?" His voice was thickly glazed with lust as he lost himself in his own imagination, which probably was not the smartest move one could make when faced with the one person who could stand on equal footing with the God of Shinobi, even if he was the God of Shinobi himself.
He was sent flying out of the room, breaking windows in the process by a powerful fist to his right cheek, which finally jerked him out of his musings.
The rest was quite blurry as he scrambled to his feet, with an angry Madara on on his trail. He could not remember what he actually cough out in the dire situation however he must had confessed his feelings or something, seeing he was not left dead, and one mad Uchiha Madara left as one embarrassed Uchiha Madara. Hashirama had forgotten that Madara was not a public person, a love confession in front of curious onlookers must have mortified him, and the tent Hashirama was pitching at his crotch may had exacerbated the situation.
Madara did not speak to him for two weeks after the incident. All affairs that required his attention were brought to Hashirama by his clan members. Hashirama understood his need for some space and so he did not try to pester the other.
Not.
In truth all of his free time were spent stalking Madara, nevertheless Madara had always had his clan members around him, eliminating any chance of privacy. Nonetheless, he was Senju Hashirama, and he was the Hokage, and all the assigning of missions were in his hands; both figuratively and literally.
Naturally after a week of doing mind numbing missions such as cleaning the backyard of an old lady's old house, babysitting Senju and Uchiha children and the likes, Madara burst into the Hokage office, demanding to view the list of missions requests received by the village, effectively ending his silent treatment towards Hashirama.
It took almost half a year and endless pestering by Hashirama until the other finally caved in to give them a chance.
"Just for some time Madara. If you decide that you hate my touches and I, you can end this anytime you want." He remembered pleading with the Uchiha, eyes conveying feelings to colossal to be expressed by words. He may had imagined it but he thought he saw a flicker of an emotion other than anger and the likes in those midnight eyes.
It took a further four months for Madara to allow him to have their first kiss, another two to consummate their relationship. Thus after more than a year of continuous efforts, Hashirama was eventually allowed to refer to both of them as a couple, much to the joy of the whole village, who were initially antagonistic towards the notion, but gave in after seeing how desperate the mighty shinobi was. Well, the whole village except for dear brother Tobirama anyways, not that Hashirama felt the need to gain his approval. The former would rather see him mate with a dung beetle than Madara.
"What's wrong?" He stilled his musings.
Madara raised his head to face Hashirama.
It was after he returned from a long and exhausting mission. Madara had also gone for his mission, returning a day earlier than Hashirama. They were laying in bed, Madara's head resting on Hashirama's lap, fingers tracing random patterns on Hashirama's thigh. Hashirama was lost in his thoughts that he stopped petting Madara's hair, which brought forward the question.
Hahirama resumed with running his fingers through the thick mane. He smiled lovingly at his companion, said companion dropped his head back onto his lap, the tips of his fingers somehow were suddenly more interested in Hahirama's flat abdomen than his thigh .
"I was thinking about us."
"Hn." came the reply. After two years of living together, Hashirama learnt that even though Madara by no means was a man of few words, there would be times when he preferred not to give lengthy answers.
"Have you ever thought about us, Madara? If our meeting was arranged by heavens? If we were lovers or enemies in our past lives? "
The other shrugged.
"I always wonder, if our fates are entwined from the very beginning, if I am destined to fall for you."
He glanced down. Madara seemed to be far more engrossed in the hem of his tunic than himself.
"Madara~" He whined, tugging at the dark strands. "Pay attention to me~~…"
Madara was still in his own world.
"Madara~~."
Long, pale fingers travelled up to his nape, their master pulling himself up until he was eye levels with Hashirama, sitting across his lap. Hashirama stared into the endless abyss that was Madara's gaze. Oh how he was lost in those bottomless onyx eyes. Madara brought his palms to each side of side of Hashirama's face, cupping it. He moved closer to Hashirama, until his forehead touched his. Lips less than inch apart, the latter could feel Madara's hot breath upon his skin.
"Why, I am paying you attention." He whispered , a hint of smirk could be heard in his voice, before Hashirama felt his lips captured by the other's. Hashirama's eyelids dropped. No matter how many times he felt the softness, the other was still more intoxicating the the most potent of drugs he had ever known.
A heartbeat.
He felt the warm lips left him, and the sensation of Madara withdrawing from him. He opened his eyes, running his thumb along Madara's right jaw line. Madara leaned into his touch before pulling him close again.
A light peck, before the hot tongue glided over the slight opening of his mouth, from corner to corner. A playful bite on his lower lip, and the tongue delved itself into his mouth. He allowed Madara to take control, without even attempting to battle for it. Hashirama wrapped one arm around Madara's waist, his other palm cradled Madara's head, pulling him even closer.
It was rare for Madara to initiate any form of contact, much less an intimate one.
Perhaps he should start going for more long missions, Madara seemed to miss him each time he did.
"Too much in fact." Hashirama shuddered as he felt Madara's fingers ran themselves all over his neck, before descending to his collarbones. His mouth soon followed his fingers , and Hashirama let out a moan when the sharp canines bit into his sensitive skin. He brought his hands to Madara's front, parting the Uchiha patterned kimono before pushing them down to allow it to slid of his lover's arms.
It did not matter if he had seen Madara's naked flesh countless times before, it never felt to take his breath away, albeit only his shoulders and a part of his collarbone were visible to Hashirama since the other was still intent on leaving his marks upon Hashirama's skin.
Not that Hashirama minded.
Every part of him that was touched felt on fire.
Every inch of him was jolted awake.
He closed his eyes, savouring the sensation.
Madara pulled back, and although Hahsirama had his eyes shut, he could almost picture Madara, with his face as flushed as one could be.
His lips wet and parted.
His pupils dilated as he stared at Hashirama.
Hashirama opened his eyes. Sure enough, he was met with a pair of wild Sharingan staring at him.
Like a predator stalking its prey.
And he was the prey, helplessly entrapped in the splendour that was his predator.
"Strip, Senju."
Hashirama hastily pulled his tunic above his head, before taking off his pants, allowing them to join Madara's crumpled kimono on the wooden floor. When he raised his face, Madara was on his knees, straddling him, his thighs parted to reveal his family jewel, which was , as Hashirama stared at it, getting stiffer by the second.
Oh how he would love to run his hands all over Madara. He roamed his eyes all over the perfect body, lingering more than a moment around the two perked nubs, before trailing at the taut muscles,before returning to the place just beneath his abdomen.
He could feel his mouth water.
As if understanding his intention, the other traced his front with his fingers, his movements deliberate and teasing.
"Lay back."
"Huh?"
"On your back , Hashirama."
"I cannot touch you then."
"You are not allowed to touch me."
"Why? I want to touch you."
"Just do as I say , Hashirama."
"But Madara-"
"Either you do as I say, or we stop with this."
What the hell, he was already used to Madara running every aspect of his life, he could get used a bossy bedroom Madara as well, he thought as he proceeded to follow the other's instruction.
"Be thankful that I am about to do this."
He watched as Madara licked his own lips before bending down, fingers caressing his hard stomach, lips placing featherlike kisses all over him in random patterns before moving lower just above his crotch, lingering there.
"Madara~" Madara knew that it was close enough to his weak spot, yet the former deliberately avoided the spot, circling it instead. Hashirama never thought , until that particular moment, that he could get any stiffer, however he was proven wrong. With each tease to the sensitive region, he felt himself harden, with sticky liquid starting to drop from his rod.
After a few harrowing moments, Madara finally proceeded south to take Hashirama into his mouth, his palms hesitantly curled around the was taken aback, he had never in his wildest dream imagined that Madara would perform such a, as Madara put it, shameful and degrading act.
Still he concluded that it was best to not say anything, lest the other change his mind, which of course, would result in Hashirama's loss.
Madara had never done that before, and although he was clumsy, the merest feel of the inside of his mouth was enough to make Hashirama almost spill his seeds, which took all of his willpower not to. He gripped at the bedsheets, his knuckles turning white as Madara took himself in, bit by agonising bit, lapping in awkward but adorable, which was a word he would never thought to associate the Uchiha with before, motions.
"Madara.."He moaned. The taste of his lover' name rolling off his tongue intensified the pleasure. He grabbed a fistful of the wild lock, battling the urges to buckle his hips upwards.
Oh, how wonderful the feeling was. It was as though he was elevated to the most resplendent of heavens.
With the angel Madara showering him with his feather like touches.
While both of them are basked in the warmest of light.
As expected, Madara could not take all of him, but it did not matter anyway, as he lost control the moment Madara hollowed his cheeks, releasing into his mouth without warning, accompanied by a loud exclamation of his lover's name.
Madara pulled back immediately, coughing hard.
"Fuck Hashirama, since when are you premature?!" That was rude. If there was anything Hashirama was certain of, apart from his battle prowess and medical skills, it was his stamina.
However pointing that out would not tally with his recent release.
"I'm sorry! It just .. I thought that it felt so good-"
"That was no excuse. Give me a bloody warning next time!"
"So the will be a next time." He cursed his insolent mouth the moment the words escaped his lips.
"Hashirama!"
Hashirama cringed as his lover raised his voice, bracing for the worst.
However Madara did not hit him, nor did he stomp off the room. No, he only proceeded to wipe off most of the pearly liquid off his face, before smirking devilishly.
"Someone needs to be punished, don't you think?" Hashirama merely nodded, too weak so form any word, too enthralled by the sight of Madara's face smeared with his seeds, red lips forming the most beautiful mocking smile, black eyes gleaming with mischief.
Oh, he deactivated his Sharingan.
When the other loomed upon him, his body moving with a rhythm so sensual Hashirama could die, he made up his mind.
Yes, he decided to take on more long missions that particular moment.
…...
He would liken to the first few years of their relationships to a honeymoon . He would relive each memory with affection, with love, just like any man would. Although there was no blushing bride. Although there was no ceremony. Although he knew some villagers would speak ill of their relationship.
Although he was the only one professing his love.
Although Madara would only reply with a 'hn', never telling Hashirama he loved him back.
Even if he felt insecure most of the times.
Even if he had to do his utmost best to ensure Madara's interests in him.
Even when he knew, their relationship was only as strong as Madara's regards in it.
He treasured every moment he spent with Madara; walking around the village, just overseeing the village from the top of the Hokage Rock, or skipping stones for their childhood memories' sake, or waking up next to Madara, or just having the privilege to be referred to as an item with Madara.
He would keep the memories locked in the deepest part of him, so that nothing could touch them.
He would go through them slowly during the long conflicts which succeeded the period.
The hitch in their relationship that came in the form of one Uzumaki Mito.
Hashirama would never forget the day Tobirama brought in the marriage proposal. His marriage proposal.
An alliance with the Uzumakis would certainly benefit the village. They specialised in sealing jutsus, and they have strong chakra.
But it did not interest Hashirama one bit.
"I don't need this Tobirama, I have Madara."
"Anija! You cannot do this! You have a duty to continue the clan's line!" Tobirama slammed his fist upon the hardwood table. His red, albino eyes glared hard. Hashirama could see that he was pissed, probably at him, most likely at his lover.
"How long do you think such thing would last , Anija?! Grow up! You have a village to lead, a clan to guide! How long would you allow a deranged person like him to control you?!"
Hashirama sighed. This was not the first time Tobirama tried to talk him into leaving Madara. What did he brother know? He loved the Uchiha too much to care about something as trivial as an heir, and he knew that frustrated Tobirama.
"Look Tobirama-"
"Unless he suddenly becomes a woman, you cannot hope to have anything out of the relationship! Even if he becomes a woman, would you want a child carried by a devil's spawn?! Just leave him! A slut like him would find somebody else fast enough to spread his legs for."
"Tobirama!" He rarely raised his voice, for he was a man with a mild temper. That being said, he would not sit idle when his lover was being unjustly accused, even if the accuser was of his own blood. "That is enough." His eyes were cold, like the hardest of steels.
For once, Tobirama was wise enough not to enrage him any further. He however refused to back down as he started towards the door.
"This is not over Anija." He glanced over his shoulder before slamming the door shut.
Hashirama cradled his head in his palms. For once he was glad that Madara was away. He could not imagine the chaos that would ensue if the news reach Madara's ears.
Hashirama however had underestimated his younger brother's tenacity.
A week after the proposal was mentioned to him, a red haired lady who went by the name Uzumaki Mito appeared at his office, chaperoned by his stern faced brother.
With a bloody marriage proposal in hand, signed by Senju Tobirama. Agreed upon by Uzumaki Mito's father.
He really should had been more, far more stern with his beloved brother.
He knew he had been had when Tobirama left it to him to see for the lady's comfort. When he tried to rebuff the idea, Tobirama casually reminded him that he was the Hokage. The goddamned Hokage. Of course Tobirama proceeded to drone on with his responsibilities and all, away from the Uzumaki girl's sight of course, thank the the Hokage, he was obliged to find the young lady a decent accommodation, to ensure her safety, kunoichi or not.
Hashirama was merely being the clueless, good natured Hashirama when he offered a place in his clan's compound. Although, as insensitive as he was, he could still see the misunderstanding which might arise from the gesture, nonetheless, he believed that it would not pose too much of a problem since he planned to invalidate the proposal, sending the lady back to her village and ending the problem before Madara returned from his mission. Simple.
Luck, unfortunately, decided to forsake him.
The following night, Madara returned from his mission. For the first time in his life he felt other than excitement in the prospect of the other returning. He sighed when he Madara's hawk brought back his message. He would early by a few days, and Hashirama did not expect him to be back so soon. As he scrambled around his office to make it look presentable (he had always been the messier of the two, with Madara being a perfectionist and all), he noticed the wretched marriage proposal laying out in all it's glory in the open on his desk. He quickly shoved it into one of the drawers, knocking down several books in the process.
The door swung open that exact moment. Bushy hair and tired eyes greeted Hashirama at the door step. The floor creaked when he released his gunbai on top of it.
Uchiha Madara stood tall, his eyes hard and emotionless, scanning the room until he met Hashirama's. Hashirama observed as he lost the cold exterior and broke into a barely noticeable smile with warmth entering his features. For a moment he forgot about the proposal , Tobirama, and Mito, his mind filled with his lover.
"Messy as always I see." He cocked one eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing upon his lips. He sauntered into the room, shutting the door with a quiet motion, his gunbai leaning on the was in the middle of the night. Most of the villagers had retired for the day. Hashirama knew he was being considerate, as the action was very unlike his Madara, who usually slammed everything he could.
Hashirama's eyes widened as Madara plopped onto the Hokage seat. He moved closer towards the table, silently praying that it was not one of those days when Madara became interested in the village's affairs. Not when the agreement from Uzushio is only a drawer away.
"You're quite early." Not that he minded, no, if it had been other occasions he would be beside himself with joy.
"Hmph. You think those Iwa shinobi can stall me more than a week?'
"Tsk tsk. Arrogance would be your undoing Madara."
"It is not arrogance when I am merely stating the facts."
"Exaggerated facts, I must say."
"Oh?"
"You can't even sling rocks properly when you were thirteen."
"Well, what does that have to do with this?"
"Maybe Iwa shinobis can sling rocks better than you do. You know since they are of Iwa(rock)."
"What is with you today?"
"What is with me?"
"You're very unlike your usual self" Madara crossed his arms.
He half sat on the table, palms planted on both of his sides, leaning slightly to his Uchiha partner, his long hair falling off his broad shoulders.
"What am I usually like?"
"You are usually more all over m-" The other cut himself short, and Hashirama noticed the slight pink that was starting to appear on his high cheekbones.
"All over what?" How he loved it when Madara was lost for words. While the latter had no qualms to carry out various erotic actions after almost five years of being together, he was still too shy to admit his needs for affections.
And Hashirama found that particular trait of his as very endearing.
"Nothing." Madara tried to get up, but Hashirama was faster, trapping him between his arms.
"What are you doing Hashirama?"
"What indeed."
"Get off, I am tired. I'll deal with your antics tomorrow."
Hashirama slipped his right hand in Madara's hair, before tilting his face up. Madara still refused to look at him. He rubbed his thumb in an unhurried motion on the other's cheeks, before leaning for a kiss.
Madara caught his hand , stopping him mid way.
" I'm too tired for this now, Hashirama." He now looked straight into Hashirama's eyes.
"Is that why you come straight to my office in the middle of the night, instead of going home?"
" I just wanted to see you!" Hashirama could see that Madara was fuming."Not screw you!"
"But Madara~." It was not as though Hashirama intended to engage in sexual activities with Madara from the very beginning, however a few weeks without the man next to him had thrown all his reasonings out of the window. He knew how lethargic a person would be after a long mission, after all he used to take them at one point as well, but the problems that had been weighing on his minds had mentally worn him out, and for that he decided to indulge in his selfish desires, if Madara would be kind enough to comply that is. Hashirama was aware that despite his cold facade, Madara was a good natured man.
Apparently it was not one of the days when Madara was feeling charitable. Hashirama was pushed away the next moment. Madara stood up. "I am seriously tired, Hashirama. i just wanted to see your face." Hashirama heard him sigh. A cloud of depression hung over Hashirama. Dejected, he moved away from the table, turning his back to Madara.
Hashirama heard him let out even a heavier sigh. He fought the urge to smile.
"Ok, fine, just let me get showered first yeah? We'll continue at home." He felt a bit guilty of taking advantage of the Uchiha's inability to vehemently refuse him, nonetheless, the idea of losing himself in venereal pleasure with his lover quickly swallowed the feeling.
"Sure!" As fast as his depression appeared, it disappeared. He followed the other's figure as he walked towards the door.
"And they call me manipulative." Madara picked his gunbai up, slinging it over his back. "You slave driver." However the soft smile at his lips did not escape Hashirama's notice.
"Madara." He called out.
"Hn?" Madara stilled his hand at the doorknob.
"I love you, you know?" Madara turned towards him. Hashirama gave him the most affectionate smile he could manage. 'I really do, Madara'. His eyes conveyed what may be insufficient to be delivered with words. After all eyes are the windows to one's soul, are they not?
"Hn." And Madara disappeared along with the click of the door.
Hashirama slumped onto his chair. He shut his eyes. Chanting Madara's name in his heart , while he pictured the recently exited man. He fished out Tobirama's proposal from his drawer. As he stared at it, he allowed himself to wonder.
What was he afraid of?
Madara's rage if he knew about Tobirama's bold actions?
Or was it the possible indifference on his part? Which would be the most blatant proof of Madara's absence of love for him?
He returned the proposal to it's place, getting up from his position. As he turned off the lights in preparation to head home, he reached a conclusion.
It would be ideal if some things were left unknown.
The few weeks that followed Madara's return ensued without any incidents. Somehow Hashirama managed to keep Mito's arrival a secret from Madara. If Madara noticed the presence of a rather unusual guest in Senju's compound, he after all frequented the complex as Hashirama sometimes spent his nights at his clan's if he did not return to their shared house, he did not say anything. And for that Hashirama was relieved.
In the hindsight, he should have known that it was the calm before the storm.
It was one cloudy late afternoon, with occasional thunders could be heard, signalling impending heavy rainfalls. Hashirama was completing the last of his paperworks for the day, with Madara by his side supervising his job, interjecting as needed. Madara was dressed in his high collared Uchiha garment, while Hashirama was in his Hokage robe, with his clan's hakama underneath. Both were absorbed in their respective activities when a knock grabbed their attention.
Sure enough, Uzumaki Mito appeared from the crack of the door.
"Hokage-sama?"
If one was observing Hashirama's face during that particular moment, the change in his demeanour would be so obvious, it changed by the second. His tanned skin turned almost as pale as an Uchiha's. His eyes became larger in shock, and he immediately looked at Madara.
Madara appeared unperturbed by the lady's presence, his concentration trained on the same scroll he held. Hasirama shifted his focus to Mito.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
MIto closed the door behind her. Her steps were light, befitting of a kunoichi her status, as she tentatively made her way in to the middle of the room.
"I will have to return to Uzushio tomorrow. I just received some news that there's a small problem that requires my attention." She was very polite in her speech, occasionally meeting Hashirama's eyes as she explained her predicament, while demurely clasping her hands in front of her.
Madara still had not looked up even once from his scroll.
"I see, that is too bad.. We would love for you to stay longer in the village." Hashirama smiled. If she could leave the office without saying anything which would disclose the nature of her visit, he would be able to elude suspicions from Madara with some fabricated truth.
"Yes. I believe I should also inform you that my father would be coming to Konoha to discuss about.." She trailed away, perhaps a tad embarrassed, not that Hashirama cared, he was more worried about a certain ravenette.
"Or I can go to Uzushio, to formally talk about our future association." The further away from Madara, the better.
"Oh no, you are too kind, Hokage-sama. Thank you very much. I'll inform him when I get back. I will be taking my leave now, Hokage-sama, and err.." She glanced to his left.
"Oh, this is Uchiha Madara. He is like the co-founder of the village. I don't believe you have been acquaintanced before." Madara lifted his head, his movement slow and deliberate. He had a strange look in his eyes which Hashirama was not able to decipher.
"Nice to meet you, Madara-sama." Mito bowed, a smile plastered on her face.
"The pleasure's mine. Nice to finally meet you, Uzumaki Mito." Madara drawled sending shivers to Hashirama's spine. The sarcasm. Mito however, perhaps too innocent to understand sarcasm, seemed unaffected any Madara's tone.
"I will be taking my leave now, Hokage-sama, Madara-sama." She bowed again, before exiting the room as quietly as she returned to his seat, turning towards Madara. Surprisingly, the other was looking at him, the strange look had not quite left his eyes.
"So that was Uzumaki Mito." Madara broke the way he placed it finally made sense to Hashirama. How could he be so naive. Of course Madara had known. He was Uchiha Madara, he would have eyes and ears all around the village. He understood then , Madara unusual calmness, and his lack of enquiry.
"How long have you known?"
"About what?"
"About Mito?"
"So she is just Mito now?"
"Shinobi do not refer one another with last names. So how long have you known?"
"Since your brother presented the idea to you."
Hashirama was astonished. That long?
"Were you not away during that time?"
"Really Hashirama?"
" Sorry." Oh the wonders of messenger hawks and pigeons and spies.
Madara huffed, returning to his scroll, however it was evident that his focus was no longer there, to Hashirama at least. He made his way to Madara's desk, stopping right in front of it, facing his inamorato.
"Look, this was all Tobirama's idea."
"When did you plan on telling me, Hashirama?"
"Well.. umm, I uhh, you see.." He stuttered. What was he supposed to say? After all he was not sure on whether Madara was upset about Mito or not.
"Well, whatever. It has nothing to do with me anyway." Madara rolled his scroll, closing it. He stood up. "I am going home, Hashirama, I have to go to Iwa again tomorrow, remember?" He swerved past Hashirma, however before he managed to move away, Hashirama caught his left wrist.
"What do you mean it has nothing to do with you?" His voice was low, as an unfamiliar feeling crept up his heart. Something that resembled hurt.
"Hm? I meant exactly what I said." Madara looked genuinely confused. Hashirama stared into his eyes, looking for any traces of..he was unsure of what he was looking for.
Was he reading too much into Madara's words?
Was Madara joking?
Was Madara pulling his leg?
Was that his attempt to hide his jealousy?
"Hashirama! It hurts." Madara's voice snapped him back to reality. He noticed then that the Uchiha's hand was almost white wrist up. He loosened his grip.
"Is that so." He let go of Madara's hand, turning away from him towards his table. Even though he was not looking at Madara, he knew that the other man's gaze trailed after him.
"Is everything alright, Hashirama?"
He nodded.
"I'll be stopping by eateries on my way back. Do you want anything?" He heard the sound of Madara nearing the door. How could Madara be so calm? Normally lovers would be out of their minds if their partners are presented with the prospect of marrying other people. Was it because he did not love Hashirama at all? Just as hat he had been fearing, Madara did not reciprocate his feelings. It was not mutual. He was the only one deluding himself in the notion that maybe, Madara, too had romantic sentiments towards him, and he was only being shy by not displaying it.
Oh how he was a fool, trapped in his own deception.
He shook his head. He did not trust himself enough to form a verbal answer without betraying his emotions. He turned towards Madara, giving him the most natural smile he could manage. Madara tilted his head to the right, shrugging before exiting the room.
After the door clicked, Hashirama slumped upon his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair. Get a grip. It was not as though he did not know that Madara was not in love with him. So why was Madara in their relationship then? Was it to satisfy his sexual desires? Was that it? Because Hashirama was ever willing and ready to comply with his urges? Was that his only worth in Madara's eyes? Or was it because Madara just wanted him to stop with his pestering? Because he was unashamedly professing his love for the other, and Madara only wanted him to stop? How could he be so blind? He had been imposing his feelings upon Madara.
Was Madara only tolerating him then?
Had Madara been disgusted by his touches then?
No, that cannot be.. Madara assuredly enjoyed every moment making love with him. After all, there had been a few instances when Madara himself initiated such encounters.
Unless if he was just playing along with Hashirama.
What if he was imagining someone else as he did?
His recently frequent trips to Iwa, what if he had a secret lover?
Oh his thoughts were starting to resemble those of a young maiden's.
He pulled hard at his hair, the roots beginning to hurt as he did. He sighed. He was the Hokage. What was he doing, mulling over his love matters like a sixteen year old who would still be wet behind the ears?
When Hashirama reached home, the sun had long since set. He slid the front door open, carefully taking off his shoes. He did not want to disturb Madara who would probably lost in dreamland by then.
"You're quite late."
Perhaps he should start sharpening his senses like Tobirama since Madara was able to sneak up on him.
"There was a lot of paperworks to do." Truthfully, he did not want to see Marara. Yet. Not when his thoughts were in jumbles, conjuring up implausible situations, which somehow involved Madara and a nameless Iwa shinobi.
"Bullshit, there were barely a few of them left when I left the office."
"Tobirama brought a truckload more after you left."
Tobirama was particularly too busy with the village's defence on that day to return with paperworks , but neither seemed inclined to point out the fact.
"Whatever, are you hungry?"
Whatever. It seemed to be in Madara's vocabulary more often recently. Hashirama sighed for the umph-teenth time. Had Madara lost his interest in their relationship at last?
"I'm not." His stomach growled.
"I don't know why you are so stubborn." He heard the shuffling of Madara's feet towards the kitchen. "I'm heating some food up. There is also some inarizushi if you are too hungry."
Hashirama bored his stare upon Madara's disappearing figure. He followed after Madara into the kitchen, plopping down on the tatami mat. He rested one elbow on the chabudai, while another one reached for an inarizushi. The sweet taste of aburage brought back nostalgic memories. Like how hard he studied how to turn a simple dish that was inarizushi into a delicacy. Had it been that long since he presented his Madara with his homemade inarizushi? It felt like it was just yesterday that he relentlessly courted Madara. A wry smile graced him as he recalled how much effort he put to make Madara see that they were meant to be together.
Ah, if only he had known.
"It's done." A bowl of steaming mushroom soup was placed in front of him, followed after by a bowl of rice and some side dishes. Hahsirama was hungry. That he knew. But what did people say about a broken heart? That it fills you with despair, to the point it nauseates?
Broken heart?
Was his heart broken?
"Hashirama?" Madara looked at him inquiringly, his eyes alternating between the meal and Hashirama's face. "Are you alright? Is something the matter?"
Hashirama shook his head. He was Senju Hashirama, where had all his optimism gone to? He picked up his chopsticks, dipping them into his rice, before bringing the sticky grains to his mouth, forcing himself to swallow.
Later that night, when he ran his hands all over Madara, he allowed himself to forget. As he felt the other arch beneath him, as he muffled the other's moan with deep kisses, as he felt Madara's warmth around him, as Madara's eyes roam themselves all over him, as the other lock his legs around his waist, permitting him to bury himself deep in him, he closed his eyes, lulling himself in a false sense of security. Live the present, for the future is uncertain. However, when he collapsed on top of Madara in the afterglow, as he felt the other's breathing evened out, a wave of fear crashed upon him.
Just for how much longer can he enjoy the comfort of his other half?Their relationship was like a time bomb, when would it go off? He pulled Madara into his arms,as he forced the thoughts out of him, forcing himself to forget.
Still sleep eluded him.
"You look like shit." Of course he did, he did not sleep even for a second the night before.
It was the morning after. Madara was doing a last minute check on his equipments and documents at their doorstep. Hashirama watched as he tied his wild hair into a high ponytail. He was going to miss Madara. Sometimes, he resented the fact that He was the Hokage and Madara had to complete all their diplomatic affairs. He leaned upon the wall, taking in the sight of Madara slinging his gunbai, picking up his rucksack. Just Madara.
He thought he could go on with just looking at Madara.
For eternity.
But eternity would only last until Madara changed his mind.
"Is something wrong?" Madara looked upon him, with, what , concern , in his eyes? Was Madara concerned about him? Hashirama forced the most laid-back grin he could manage. "Nothing, sweetheart." He knew that Madara was uncomfortable with such endearing terms, but he wanted to refer to him as such. Because who knows for how long he would have the privilege. "Have a safe trip." If they were a normal, married couple, that would be the time for both of them to lean in for a kiss. Or maybe just a hug. Anything for them to remember the other by when they were apart.
However they were Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara. Thus, after giving Hashirama an unconvinced look, Madara slid the door close, disappearing from his sight.
Outside, rain began to fall.
….
Alcohol is the root of all evil.
Hashirma had long since forgotten from whom he heard it from. After all he rarely drank. He was the Hokage. Before that he was the leader of the Senju. Before that he was too young. In addition, alcohol was one of the three prohibitions for shinobi, was it not?
Nevertheless, eleven days into Madara's absence, he found himself in a local pub, drowning himself in the pleasure of alcohol. It was unbeknownst to Tobirama of course, since if he did he would surely have dragged Hashirama home. But Tobirama was busy with his own affairs, and Hashirama took the full advantage of that.
It was unfitting of a Hokage to be seen like he was, but he could not care less.
In the retrospect, he should have known that he was overthinking, and the pictures he made in his head were preposterous. But he did not know then, and so he chose to drink his sorrow, one bottle at a time.
"Hokage-sama, I don't think you should be doing this." The bartender tentatively tried to persuade him to stop. It was probably, one? or two? in the morning. Hashirama stopped caring after his third bottle. "You're going to have a massive hangover, Hokage-sama."
"Whatever." He slurred. "Huh, whatever you say?! How could you not care!" He brought the cup back to his lips. He, however had run out of sake.
"You! Another bottle!" He slammed some cash onto the counter top.
"Uhm, Hokage-sama I really think you should stop."
"Are you going to deny me as well?! Yeah, the whole world doesn't love me! " He started wailing, to the point it attracted a few glances. The bartender quickly placed a bottle of sake in front of him.
This time Hashirama did not bother to use his cup. Instead he took a swig from the bottle.
How could Madara!
He thought the Uchihas are supposed to feel strong love.
He even awakened his sharingan because of Hashirama!
Who cares about Madara now!
He took another sip, this time small. As he stared at the porcelain bottle, loneliness started to well up inside him.
How could Madara..
When Hashirama loved him so much..
How could he not love Hashirama..
If Madara was the one in his place, Hashirama would have gone nuts.
Well, Hashirama loved Madara after all.
He took another sip, slamming the bottle so hard it cracked.
Well who cares about Madara now!
He and his Iwa lover can go to hell!
Hashirama did not know how much sake he drank that night, but in the morning he woke up with a feeling like a mountain dropped onto his head. Placing one hand on his head, he willed himself to gather his healing chakra, alleviating the after effects of alcohol little by little. After a few minutes, the headache, at least ,significantly lessened. Being talented in medical ninjutsu was really convenient.
The first thing that he noticed was the dull curtain. Next, it was the old bedside lampshade. After that. his state of undress. Finally the unfamiliar bed. It struck Hashirama hard.
He was not in his room. And judging by the sparse furniture, he was not in Tobirama's bedroom or guest room either.
What happened last night?
His shinobi senses now fully alert, he concluded that he was in a room of one of the lodgings around Konoha. The fact did not bother him much, apart from the fact that there was a sleeping figure, well nestled into the bedsheets next to him.
From the outline, there was no way that it would be a man, much less Madara.
Hashirama's heart begin to pound. Oh no.. He had always been a terrible drunk.. the last time he was drunk, he made Madara do all sorts of embarrassing sexual actions, and remembered none of them, which prompted a silent treatment for almost a month.
As if on cue, the figure stirred, revealing a dishevelled, and very much naked Uzumaki Mito.
"Morning."
Hashirama was stunned. He felt a big lump in his throat. No. No-no. No no no no nonononononononono! This could not be happening.
Did he sleep with a person other than Madara?
"Morning, Mito." His voice was small, and he had to fight the urge to throw out. Perhaps from the alcohol, most likely from self-disgust. "May I ask why you're here?"
"Oh Hashirama-sama, did you forget? I arrived in Konoha yesterday morning." Mito was surprisingly calm. "Don't worry, we are engaged anyway. Ah, but my father would probably want to hasten the marriage." Engaged? Marriage? Since when was he engaged to the woman? Hasten the marriage? What did she mean? Marriage to whom?
It could not be..to Hashirama?
Oh no…
Hashirama hastily got out of bed. He picked up his discarded clothes on the floor before dressing in a speed he did not think he was capable of. Before exiting the room, he glanced at Mito.
"I'm sorry but I seem to have too much to drink last night. My apologies, Mito but I would appreciate if you don't tell a soul about what happened."
Mito laughed. Hashirama was dumbfounded. Why was she laughing? Was there any humour that he did not manage to find in the situation? " Don't worry Hashirama-sama, I don't telltale. And besides, it was not my first time either.. so don't fret too much." Hashirama-sama? Why was she not referring to him as Hokage-sama? What if this reached Madara's ears? Wasn't he going to be suspicious?
Madara..
Oh no.. He had his spies all over the village.. What if one of them saw Hashirama with Mito last night?
He was not going to care, was he?
He felt a pang of familiar hurt, but for the first time he decided not to wallow in self pity. He was about to dash out of the room, while being under Henge no Jutsu in order to avoid suspicion, when he realised how unreal it felt. After all the whole village was aware of the essence of his associations with Madara. Just one rumour, and he did not even dare to imagine the consequences.
No wonder alcohol was one of the three prohibitions for shinobi. He jumped from one building to another towards his shared home with Madara. After slamming the door of their bedroom shut, he fell onto his knees.
What happened?
Did he cheat on Madara?
It was only a drunk encounter, but still..
Did he betray Madara?
He, who vowed undying love for the Uchiha?
He, who Madara cared, to a certain extent at least, for?
"Hashirama?"
He honestly did not know whether he was hallucinating or not. Madara was supposed to be in Iwa… at least for another two or three days. Was Hashirama's mind playing tricks on him?But the voice sounded too real for him no had imagined it.
He turned towards the bedroom entrance.
A tired Marada greeted him. When did he come into the house? Was he becoming more stealth, or had Hashirama's keen censoring skills dulled with the peace that they enjoyed?
"Why are you in that form? Why are you not at the office?" Hashirama noticed then that Madara's breathing was ragged. There were speckles of dirts all over his face and armour. His hair was even more unruly than usual. His eye bags were more pronounced. His lips were chapped. He looked as though he was swallowed by a typhoon on his way back.
Hashirama released his Henge, returning to his usual form. The last piece of puzzle finally was in place. How could he been so blind? He stared at Madara, his voice lost of its strength.
Every time Madara was assigned long missions, international or domestic, he was sure to return earlier than expected, with appearances so dishevelled it was very unlike the Uchiha patriarch. He would always appear more tired. However, he would always look for Hahirama first, before even tending to his other needs. Even though he knew, Hashirama would demand affections from him. How was Hashirama so stupid? Madara must had sped up each time, perhaps with rest so minimal the rest of his team members could not follow. Madara must had missed him, as much as he missed Madara, each time the other went away.
Madara, who lost his most beloved brother at the hand of Hashirama's younger brother, but still accepted Hashirama's feelings.
Madara who allowed Hashirama to be the leader, even though Hashirama knew it was killing him.
Madara, who endured insults for being in a relationship considered abnormal in Konoha.
Madara who accepted the facts that he would never have any heir he could call his own by being with Hashirama.
Weren't all of them the proofs which Hashirama had been looking for to confirm Madara's love for him?
For the first time since he came of age, Hashirama cried. Not the quiet sobs one would would expect from a man of his age and status, but streaming tears accompanied by loud wails. As he cupped his face with his palms, shoulder shaking so badly his whole body trembled, he felt a pair of very warm arms encircling themselves around him, before he was gently rocked back and forth in very comforting motions by the shorter male.
"Shh, its ok. Its ok." Madara did not ask him why, nor did he consider his tears as a sign of weakness. Although his understanding should had made Hashirama calm down, it instead bombarded him with boulders of guilt. How could he been so greedy? The only thing Madara did not do was to proclaim his love, verbally, but no, Haahshirama had to desire all that was Madara. To the extent his insecurities caused him to betray his beloved. For the first time in his life, Hashirama admitted that he was a fool indeed. Trapped in his own imaginations, until he failed to see reality.
Madara, Madara…What would you do if you know what I have done? Would you leave me? I don't want to lose you… Madara..Tell me Madara!
However, being the coward he was, he could not muster the courage to tell Madara all which was haunting him. Instead he cried hard, as Madara slipped his fingers in his his long hair while Hashirama clutched at his armour as hard as he could.
...
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