Hashirama sighed and sat back in his chair, staring at the large stack of paper that sat on the desk. He had known that taking on the title of Hokage would give him quite a bit of paperwork, but he hadn't expected quite this much. He supposed that it was brought on by the recent additions of clans like the Hyuuga, the Nara, and (surprisingly enough) the Aburame. Registering all their ninja, building their compounds, and negotiations had done nothing but add to the already copious amounts of paperwork that he had to do.

(But it was so wonderful all the same. There was no more fighting, no more children running out to slaughter or family members waiting at home for news of those who had fallen. There was no more crying after hearing that yet another sibling was dead, no more funerals to plan and attend. No more bodies to be burned in a pyre. His dream had come true. They were at peace at last)

Knocking sounded from the door just a moment before it opened. Madara walked in, carrying yet another stack of paperwork for Hashirama to sign.

"Awww, come on!" Hashirama whined, dead tired after a long day of meetings and signing the endless piles of scrolls, "There's more?"

"Of course there is, Idiot Senju," Madara told him, looking annoyed at the complaint, "Did you think that running a ninja village would be easy?"

"Of course not! I knew that making this place would be hard work, I had just hope there would be less paperwork involved."

Madara set the stack on Hashirama's desk, "Well it needs to be done. Administration is just as important as everything else that is involved with running this village, and you're the one who wanted to build this place so badly you offered to commit suicide."

Hashirama huffed at Madara, "Tell me something I don't know."

"I hated my father."

(There was something dark in Madara's eyes in the moment when those words left his lips. The set of his face, the soft expression with which he spoke those words, they hid something that spoke of sadness and anger in equal measure- of days spent crying under soft covers and well crafted masks hiding bloodthirsty smiles)

It took a moment for Hashirama to register exactly what Madara had said, but when it did he stared at the Uchiha in shock, "What?"

"Be sure to get the paperwork done by tonight. And don't forget that there is a meeting with the Inuzuka tomorrow to discuss a treaty with them as well," Madara told him, his expression holding no hints to the emotion it had displayed just a moment before.

"Wait! Madara!" Hashirama quickly stood from his chair and went over to the door, catching it just before Madara closed it behind him, "You can't just leave after saying something like that!"

Madara just gave Hashirama a long-suffering look, "Just get your work done, Hashirama. Don't get lazy just because it's boring."

Madara shut the door despite Hashirama's protests and left before Hashirama could say much more.

…

The sunset was beautiful from the clifftop. The dying sun filled the sky with spectacular color, seeming to set the horizon on fire.

Izuna would have loved the view.

("Nii-san!" A younger Uchiha Izuna grinned up at Madara and swung his legs from where he sat on the veranda, "Isn't the sunset so pretty?")

Madara sat in silence on the clifftop, legs dangling over the edge and leaning back on his hands. He could feel the exhaustion brought on from dealing with the clan elders weighing heavily on his shoulders. Dealing with Hashirama hadn't helped any, especially after the incident in the afternoon.

Why had he said that?

("I hated my father.")

He had been thinking of the man far too often in recent days. The elder's pestering had reminded him of his father and the man had been a constant thought ever since. He kept thinking back to him and his childhood, to the days when the majority of his family had still been alive.

(He was the last one left. All the others were lost in the Shinigami's hold)

A familiar chakra walked up behind Madara before settling down next to him. Madara didn't bother to look at Hashirama, who had no doubt come to question him regarding his earlier statement.

Madara half expected Hashirama to start interrogating him the instant that he sat down. After all, Hashirama had a looked rather shocked earlier that afternoon. But he didn't, and the two ended up sitting on the cliff tops in continued silence, doing nothing more than watching the sun slowly set.

"It's a beautiful view from up here, isn't it?" Hashirama finally spoke.

"It is," Madara responded easily.

"You can see the whole village… We've come quite a ways, haven't we? Once upon a time we were just two children with impossible dreams, and yet here we are now, living in a village built by our two clans."

"Hn."

"… Madara? You shocked me earlier, when you said what you did. If you want to tell me, then I'll listen."

Madara glanced over at Hashirama only to find that Hashirama wasn't looking at him. No, the Senju was staring out at the village, his expression solemn as he did so.

Madara looked back to the view and thought for a moment, the memories of his childhood swarming like agitated bees in his mind. Should he tell? Or should he keep quiet and keep it to himself?

Did it even matter?

("We are shinobi, Madara. Take that to heart and never forget it it.")

"I loved my mother," (Such a kind smile, no matter how short her life had lasted in comparison to his own) "She cared for me and my siblings. She doted in Izuna especially, always showering him with comfort and praise. But she wasn't very strong, physically speaking."

Madara spoke with a quiet voice, his tiredness evident in his tone. Hashirama didn't interrupt, either, and for that Madara was grateful.

"When I was young, the elders pushed for her to have another child. The healers of the clan had said that she wasn't ready, that she likely wouldn't survive another birth, but my father went along with it anyways."

(He remembered the way that his mother had withered in her last weeks alive. She had always been so bright, so very different from the rest of the clan. And yet, the woman who had stood in her place during the last few weeks hadn't been like that at all)

"She died during the birth and the baby didn't live either. My father blamed my mother for the deaths."

("Nii-san? Where's Kaa-san?" A tiny Izuna stared up at Madara, tears gathering in his eyes, "Tou-san said she's dead. But she can't be dead, can she? Nii-san?")

"From then on, I've hated my father."

The sun chose then to completely disappear over the horizon, leaving the only light to be those from the village below and the stars above. Hashirama didn't say anything and Madara felt no need to say anything more, so they fell into silence again.

It seemed to Madara that forever had passed before Hashirama stood.

"Madara."

Madara looked up at Hashirama, "What?"

"Do you want to go drinking with me?"

Madara blinked at Hashirama before letting out a soft laugh, "Sure."

(It wasn't perfect. Nothing was perfect.

But Hashirama had listened and he had heard. And when Madara and Hashirama sat in the bar, an empty bottle of sake between them and another soon to join it, Hashirama had raised his cup in a toast and said a single line, "A toast to Madara's mother; one of the greatest Uchiha to have ever lived"

Madara had stared at Hashirama for a moment. Then he grinned a bitter sort of grin and raised his cup as well, "Too my mother, one of the greatest Uchiha to have ever lived."

No. It was far from perfect. But it was far better than before.)

AN: I wrote this in response to a prompt on Tumblr forever and an age ago. I had intended to post it here, but ended up forgetting until now. I've finally posted it, so yay! I hope you enjoyed.

Edit: Tobireus was kind enough to translate this into Spanish! You can find it as "Padres, Madres, y las Cicatrices de sus Hijos". Thank you so much, Tobireus!