Part IV
Madara finds herself growling, wondering why she thought that this village was ever a good idea as even more paperwork is added to the precariously balanced stack of it on her desk. It has only been just over two weeks and already Madara is eyeing up her sword and kama every time somebody else walks into the office of the small building Hashirama had created for the purposes of administration. Idly, she wonders what the Senju is doing today as she signs off on several more papers, and if she can hunt down the taller woman and stuff some of these scrolls down her throat for dumping all the paperwork on her. And then the object of her ire comes bouncing into the office, a wide grin on her face, and dirt smudged across her nose. Madara raises an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat.
"You have dirt on your face," she says, and Hashirama pauses, eyes crossing for a moment as she tries to find it, rubbing at it with her sleeve until it's gone, before grinning again.
"We got a reply from the Daimyo!" she says happily, holding out the scroll bedecked in the seal of the Fire Daimyo for Madara to take, which she does, unrolling it to read what's been written on it. Lots of formal and flowery words later and she is done, letting the scroll snap back.
"He's agreed to support the village, in exchange for the ability to ask some shinobi if they'd like to be part of his guard for at least five years," she says, and Hashirama nods eagerly, before Madara continues, "He'd also like to meet with us, next week," she murmurs, before sighing and rubbing the bridge of her nose. Gods above but she hated politics.
"We'll go then, I'm sure that our brother's are capable of holding the village together for a few days while we're gone," she says cheerfully, and Madara snorts.
"So long as they aren't trying to kill each other, you mean," her voice is dry, but she is already sorting through papers, tugging a few blank ones out of drawers, wetting her brush with ink and beginning to write on them, already making preparations for their absence. She pauses when Hashirama drapes herself over her, chin digging into her shoulder and a warm cheek pressed against her unscarred one.
"They'll be just fine, you worry too much," the Senju's voice was still happy, and Madara rolls her eyes.
"And you don't worry enough," she retorts, and feels the other pout, before shooting up suddenly. Madara finishes writing on the last page, setting it aside to dry, before turning to face Hashirama, who's eyes are blazing with some inane idea or another already.
"What is it?" Madara asks cautiously.
"A name!" Hashirama nearly shouts, and Madara's brow furrows, her head tilting slightly to the side, "Our village needs a name still!" Madara blinks, before realizing that yes, they hadn't actually named it yet. She protests when Hashirama grabs at her hand, yanking her up from behind her desk and out of the building, through the rows of houses and shops being built, and up to the top of the cliff they had sat on as children, all the while chattering on about possible names.
They sit on the top of the cliff, much like they had all those years ago, Hashirama grinning over at her and Madara grinning back. A leaf flutters by and Madara, without really thinking about it, reaches out to grab it, twisting it around in her hands.
"Do you remember?" Hashirama says suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen.
"Hm?" she asks, cutting her eyes to the side to look at the other. Hashirama is smiling fondly out at the budding village.
"Talking here when we were kids," she clarifies, and Madara hums in assent, nodding slightly.
"It was just us being stupid kids back then," she murmurs, and Hashirama laughs.
"But now it's come true. Our dream is turning into a reality," she says quietly, and they are silent again for a few moments.
"Hokage," Hashirama says suddenly, and Madara turns to look up at her with a raised eyebrow, and Hashirama grins at her, "Someone to lead the village, be the face of it and make decisions for the best of everyone living in it." Madara blinks. It is a good idea (she's not too sure about the name though).
"I think you would be the best choice for Hokage!" she says next, and Madara just stares at her, before one eyebrow slowly rises. Hashirama continues on.
"You would do a great job at it, watching over everyone," she says, still grinning, and Madara's lips twist faintly.
"But you'll be Hokage, Hashirama," she says quietly, and Hashirama frowns, both at her friend's words, and at being cut off.
"Nu-uh," she says, and Madara can remember a twelve-year old Hashirama saying just that, with the exact same pout on her face, arms crossed, and rolls her eyes.
"My own clan barely listens to me because I'm a woman, there's no way an entire village would listen to me, especially because I'm the "demon-lady"," she mocks the ridiculous name that so many call her behind her back, "No one wants to follow me, they'd all much rather follow the "God of Shinobi"," she says bluntly and Hashirama winces a little at the truth in Madara's words.
"That's not true-" she tries to protest, but Madara just shoots her a look and she wilts, and then Madara grins wickedly.
"And once you're Hokage, you'll have to stop making me do all the paperwork," she teases, and Hashirama's horrified look makes her laugh.
"But you're so much better at it," she whines, and Madara gives into the need to stick her tongue out at the other.
"Nope! You're gonna have to do your own paperwork, and I'll be off doing missions while you sit in your office all day," she says, grinning, and Hashirama sulks for a bit, and then she straightens up and grins, a glint in her eyes.
"Yeah well when you become Hokage, I'll get people to carve your face in this side of this cliff, although we'll probably have to get them to soften it a bit, you have a face only a mother could love," Hashirama laughs, and Madara rolls her eyes.
"Are you seriously going to curse everyone to have to stare at your ugly mug everyday when you become Hokage?" she snarks back at the other, and they continue on for a bit, and Madara realizes that it is so incredibly easy to fall back into habits long forgotten with Hashirama. She hasn't teased and been teased like this in years. It's kind of nice, she muses silently to herself, before turning back to hear Hashirama changing the subject.
"The village still needs a name!" she gasps, tilting her head as she looks at Madara, "Do you have any ideas?"
Madara frowns, thinking to herself, before looking down at the leaf she has been twirling through her hands. There is an almost perfect circle straight through it, and without really thinking about it, she lifts it in order to look through the hole. She can see the village through it, and the trees that surround it, and she speaks without thinking.
"Konoha... The Village Hidden in the Leaves..." she murmurs. Hashirama looks like she's about to protest the simplicity of it, but Madara just raises an eyebrow and mouths 'Hokage?' at her, and her shoulders slump, her lower lip sticking out in a pout once more.
Madara rolls her eyes at the brunette, "I can't believe you still sulk so much," she says, twirling the leaf through her fingers again, before tossing it into the breeze and watching as it floats out through the village.
"And I can't believe that you're still so grumpy," Hashirama shoots back and Madara's eye twitches.
"Just because I'm not as happy-go-lucky as you are, doesn't make me grumpy," she shoots back, and Hashirama laughs.
"And you still have that temper, it's a good thing you're cute," the Senju grins at her, and Madara gapes, cheeks flushing, before she splutters.
"I am not cute!" she protests (because she isn't, she has long since scarred her own face to keep from being called any such thing), but Hashirama just grins and bounces over to her, and then a long arm is wrapped tightly around her shoulders and Madara finds her face being squished against Hashirama's hard chest.
"You're right, you're adorable," the Senju declares dramatically, and Madara splutters more, getting her hands against Hashirama's chest in order to try and push the taller away, barely managing to pull her face away.
"I am not! Now let me go!" she snaps, trying her best to ignore her burning cheeks as Hashirama leans down to rub her own cheek against Madara's scarred one.
"But-"
"There you are!" both of them freeze, turning to face a scowling Tobirama and an amused Izuna, who have shown up on the top of the cliff, just past the tree line. Madara blinks, before taking advantage of Hashirama's distraction to escape her hold, straightening her ruffled clothes and trying to smooth down her mess of hair as much as she can.
"You two need to get a room aneki," Izuna says with a grin, and Madara glares at him.
"I can still tie you down and practice putting facepaints on you, you should remember that, otouto," she sniffs, and Izuna blanches, before schooling his features. They both turn to the Senju siblings, were Hashirama is sulking and Tobirama is scolding her for for something or another.
"He's so annoying," Izuna mutters, and Madara turns to him with a raised eyebrow.
"Who is?"
"Tobirama," Izuna huffs, crossing his arms, "Everything has to be perfectly done his way, or he'll bitch at everyone. It's enough to drive a person mad," Madara blinks.
"Are you... pouting?" she asks, because she has seen that look on Hashirama's face often enough, and then her brother glares down at her.
"Of course not!" she grins.
"You were!"
"Were not!"
"Were!"
"Were not!"
"Wer-"
"Are you two done acting like children yet?" Tobirama's voice is dry as he interrupts them, and Madara doesn't hesitate, turning a glare on him.
"Depends, are you done acting like a child yet?" she asks sweetly, and Izuna snickers. Tobirama's scowl deepens, and a few more words are said, before the Uchiha and Senju siblings go their separate ways for the time being, both having work to get back to. Unfortunately.
Madara isn't surprised in the least when Hashirama is elected Hokage, and she shrugs and tells her brother as much as she sits on the back porch of the small house they share. Madara is holding a cup of green tea, watching the small stream in her backyard flow across rocks as Izuna leans against a post, arms crossed as he looks out at the yard. Neither of them stayed for the arranged celebrations after the announcement. Their cousin Hikaku will take care of any formalities that need the presence of an Uchiha.
"Are you sure that you're not upset by it?" he asks, for what sounds like the hundredth time now. She rolls her eyes, and takes a sip of her tea, grimacing when she realizes that it's gone cold.
"I'm sure Izuna. Unlike Hashirama, I wasn't under any delusions that anyone would want me in charge of this place," she says, keeping her face blank as she speaks, because while she isn't surprised at the outcome, she is still surprised by how much it hurts to have not even been considered. Her grip on her cup tightens minutely, and she stares down at the cold liquid within it. It hurts that nobody, barely even her own clan, bothers to recognize that it was not just the Senju, not just Hashirama, who had come up with this village, who had given so much into it already, who would give their all for it. No, she is just the Uchiha's demon-lady. The disappointment. Good for nothing but to kill and fight.
"Aneki," Izuna murmurs, and with a start, Madara realizes that her cup has shattered, and cold tea and blood are now both dripping from her hand. She blinks and stares down at the mess for a few moments. Her brother sighs, and disappears for a moment, returning with a cloth and beginning to pick up the shards, cleaning her hand as she stays quiet. She doesn't move.
"Aneki," Izuna repeats, some minutes later, "one of us should probably show our face at the celebrations," his voice is quiet, "Can I trust you not to do anything stupid if I leave you alone for a few hours?" he asks her.
Madara raises a hand, resting it against the scars on her cheek as she did so often. Her nails dig into the top of them, and she drags them down the side of her face, feeling the sting of her actions as she keeps staring out at the small stream.
"I don't know, can you?" she responds, just as quiet, and hears him sigh. Her lips twist in a bitter smile; she isn't even sure if he can actually trust her not to do anything he would consider stupid, because they had very different ideas of what that consisted of.
"I don't think I can, but I'm going to have to anyways," Izuna says, and Madara lets her nails dig a little deeper against her cheek.
"Try not to cause any kind of irreparable damage while I'm off playing nice with everyone," he says.
"I'll try," she murmurs, and Izuna takes his leave of her. Madara stays where she is, not bothering to move, because if she moves she will do something that will disappoint Izuna and she knows that. The temptation to just up and leave the village is almost too strong to fight right now. But her brother is here, and so is Hashirama, so she will stay. For now, she decides, and lets her hand fall back into her lap.
It is dark out when Hashirama shows up, and Madara wonders if she has to move now or if she can just keep pretending to be a statue, never moving, never feeling. But then Hashirama speaks in that quiet voice she sometimes has.
"I'm sorry," is all she says, and Madara bites her lip, because she will not react. She will not. It is weakness to show emotion, to show feelings, to want to cry and scream and burn everything down because no matter she has done, she will never, ever, be good enough for anyone.
"I'm sorry Madara," she repeats, and then there is a comforting weight at her left side, and an arm is wrapped around her stiff shoulders, breaking her pose in order to draw her close, a face pressed against her hair as she is hugged. One tanned hand finds her bandaged one, and she doesn't have to look to know that Hashirama is frowning at it, gently unwrapping it before holding it close, green chakra swirls around their joined hands and Madara watches as the freshly scabbed over cuts hiss and heal at Hashirama's unspoken command. She wants to hate the Senju right now. She wants to hate her, and rage, and go back to days of constant battles, the struggle to simply survive, because it is easier, it is what she knows best. Madara feels cast aside now. Cut loose when she had before been tied so tightly, and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know if this village, this pipe dream, will be enough to tie her down again.
"It will be, I promise. It might take some time, but it will be enough. You'll see," Hashirama's voice is low and soothing, and Madara hadn't even realized that she had spoken the words churning around in her mind.
"But how do you know that," her voice is hoarse from being quiet for so long. A tanned hand gently cups her chin, tilting her head up, and brown eyes, so full of emotion, stare down at her.
"I know because I believe in you Madara. It will take time to adjust, certainly, but I believe in you, and I believe in the village. Together we will do just fine," Hashirama says, and then she leans down and kisses her.
It has been weeks since the night of the ceremony, but Madara wonders how she could ever forget about the taste of Hashirama's mouth against hers, and her hands clench around the folds of the ridiculous robes the other is wearing, and she's desperately pressing back against the Senju's mouth, needing something, anything, to help keep her grounded right now.
Hashirama gasps silently against Madara's mouth as the shorter woman bites her bottom lip, drawing blood and then sucking on it, growling against the Senju's mouth. It is all Hashirama's fault, the confusion, the conflict with herself, if it weren't for the Senju and her stupid village- Madara stops herself, refusing to think any more on the matter as Hashirama's hands grip tightly at her butt, drawing her in closer as they kiss messily.
She isn't satisfied with just kissing though, not right now, she needs more, so she moves and shifts and begins nipping her way down Hashirama's jawline, down her neck to her collarbone as large hands grip at her, fingers digging into her skin and leaving bruises in their wake. Madara growls at the mass of clothes that are in her way, and she pulls back, glaring at Hashirama (and wondering when she had ended up straddling the other's lap).
"Take them off," her voice is low, but Hashirama's eyes are blown wide with lust at their actions and Madara's tone, and she is quick to comply, struggling out of the robes until she is in the plain shirt and pants the she wears underneath. Madara glares more, and with a quick tug, Hashirama's shirt is ripped open and the tatters shoved off. And then Madara's mouth is pressed against Hashirama's chest, her nails scraping against it as she leaves bites and red marks all over the tanned skin, gently biting down on a nipple as she digs nails into the skin above Hashirama's hips, which jerk up against her own in the most pleasant of ways, and she moans against the Senju's chest, pressing her hips down against the other's, Hashirama's hands gripping them tightly as she does so. Her head tilts up enough that the brunette can see the hazy grin on Madara's flushed face, before the Uchiha grinds her hips down roughly and Hashirama chokes, her own nails drawing dots of blood from Madara's hips as she grips at them. Madara bites down on Hashirama's shoulder to muffle her moans, and drags her nails harshly up the Senju's back, getting a groan from her in response.
"Fuck," Hashirama pants out, and Madara can feel herself grin against the Senju's neck, because causing the normally calm, and composed "God of Shinobi" will always be something that she relishes in being able to do, and the trembling hands that grip her hips encourage her to slowly lick the dots of blood and beads of sweat off of Hashirama's neck, causing her to let out a breathy moan. She does it again, and then suddenly the world is turning as Hashirama pushes her down onto her back and Madara feels the breath get knocked out of her as her back hits the wooden porch, and she finds herself staring up into Hashirama's dark eyes, before her mouth is being monopolized, and she twines her fingers through brown hair, pulling on it as she moans against Hashirama's mouth.
Madara growls when Hashirama pulls away, but then her own clothing is being quickly pulled off her body, and a hot mouth engulfs one of her small breasts and she lets out a sharp gasp as her nipple is bitten and sucked on harshly and whines when Hashirama pulls her mouth away, only to latch onto her other breast when Madara pulls harshly on her hair. She lets out an embarrassing keening noise when she feels Hashirama's fingers pressing against her centre, still covered by the cloth of her pants and her legs shift apart more of their own accord and her hips press down against them. Hashirama murmurs something against her breast, and then she feels her pants being tugged off and out of the way, and her back arches as one long finger runs against her dripping centre, barely brushing against it.
"What do you want, Madara," Hashirama's voice is quiet and husky and Madara bites her lip hard at the words spoken, refusing to speak. This loss of control is embarrassing enough already. One finger taps against the overly sensitive bundle of nerves, and Madara can taste blood, feeling it drip down her chin.
"Ma-da-ra," the Senju draws out the syllables of her name, and Hashirama pinches the inside of her thigh and she whines low in her throat, "Tell me what you want, I want to know that you want this too, that it isn't just me, please," her voice is almost pleading, but still soft against Madara's chest. Madara squeezes her eyes shut, before opening them again, tugging Hashirama up by her hair gently, and pressing soft kisses against her mouth.
"Please," she says quietly, cheeks burning, "I want you,Hashirama, I want you so badly, and I don't know why, but I do, alright," Hashirama kisses her deeply and two fingers slide into her dripping heat and she gasps and moans into the Senju's mouth.
"I love you," she can hear Hashirama mutter against her mouth, and Madara freezes, before long fingers curl in her just slightly, and she gasps, back arching off the porch, and her mind goes blank.
"Ngh..." her hands grasp at Hashirama's hair tightly as she presses her hips down against those long fingers again.
"Shhhh," Hashirama murmurs, kissing her again, and Madara bites her tongue, pulling hard on brown hair again as a third finger enters her and they curl and a thumb rubs circles on her bundle of nerves. She can taste blood in her mouth as she tries to muffle her moans as she clenches around Hashirama's fingers, body shaking as she hits her release.
"You're so wonderful," Hashirama whispers against her mouth, kissing her gently as she withdraws her fingers from Madara's body. Madara untangles her fingers from brown hair, and lets her hands run down the planes of Hashirama's back as the Senju presses soft kisses against her face, lingering on the scars, before pressing more heated ones against her jaw.
"If you don't hurry up and fuck me," Madara pants, pausing to suck in air sharply as Hashirama bites at one of her breasts again, "I am going to stab you," she mutters, and Hashirama just grins up at her.
"You're so bossy, Madara-chan," she grins, and Madara growls and shoves at her, knocking Hashirama over.
"Shut up," she snaps as she yanks on the Senju's pants, pulling them down and out of the way, even as Hashirama pouts and tries to draw her back up, falling silent and keeping herself half-raised on her elbows as the Uchiha impatiently finishes undressing her, freeing the Senju's length. Hashirama bites her lip, looking away from it, before her hips jerk involuntarily as she feels a hand grasp it and she looks down at Madara, cheeks burning. The Uchiha's face is burning pink as well, but she's too stubborn to back down, and she begins to move her hand, griping a bit tighter and Hashirama makes a keening noise in the back of her throat that makes Madara pause, before grinning and continuing in her motions. One hand is gripping the base of Hashirama's penis, and the other is near the head, Madara's thumb pressing against the slit, covered in precum and the Senju whines, bucking her hips up.
"Madara, please," Hashirama's voice is breathless as she reaches hands down to grip at the Uchiha's waist, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Madara bites her lip when Hashirama's nails break skin. The Uchiha bends down, kissing Hashirama messily, blood and saliva mixing as she lets go of the other's cock, moving until she is straddling Hashirama's lap, the Senju's tip just barely brushing against Madara's dripping core. Hashirama whines again, but it is quick to turn into a guttural moan as Madara sinks down onto her length.
Madara's nails scrape down Hashirama's chest as she is stretched and filled, moaning as she sinks down lower on the Senju, who's grip on her hips tightens even more. The are still for a few precious seconds, breathing hard, before Hashirama helps Madara to lift off her lap, and push back down, their hips meeting with the harsh slapping sound of skin hitting skin.
Their pace is brutal; Madara needs more and Hashirama doesn't think that she will ever be able to get enough. The Senju's hips snap up to meet the Uchiha's, and they are both letting out gasping moans as Hashirama pushes ever deeper into Madara's core. One tanned hand slides down from bony hips to slip in between them and long fingers press against and pinch at Madara's bundle of nerves and that is it for her. She lifts herself once more before dropping heavily onto Hashirama's cock, gasping out her name as her inner muscles clench around the Senju and she grinds her hips down hard as she rides out her orgasm, ripping Hashirama's release from her as she does so. Madara moan softly as she feels the Senju's fluids filling her until they drip out and run down her thighs.
Hashirama's hands are still gripping Madara's hips tightly, leaving bruises and even more bloody nail marks behind as they both pant, slowly coming down from their highs. Madara slumps against the brunette's chest, feeling far too boneless and tired right now to move off of Hashirama's lap. The Senju wraps warm arms around the Uchiha and just tucks her head under her chin in response.
"I love you," she murmurs again, pressing a soft kiss against the top of Madara's head. There is no verbal response from the smaller woman, but Hashirama feels soft lips press a gentle kiss against the pulse point in her neck, and she smiles against messy black hair.
The weeks pass, the time seeming to flow by faster as the village grows around them. There are stolen kisses when others aren't looking, and soft and rough touches under the cover of night, and Madara realizes idly one afternoon, hazy from the late August heat, that she is actually content with her life for the most part. It is a jarring realization, and she pauses mid-jump from a tree branch, on her way back to Konoha from the latest mission she was assigned. Luckily, there is no one there to see her stumble and nearly fall to the forest floor as she frowns at herself.
Madara is content with her life, and that thought is... scary, because now she has so much more to lose. A foreboding shiver makes it's way down her spine, but she shakes it off, shaking her head and concentrating on getting back to the village as soon as she can with the scroll she had been sent to pick up.
Her report to her Hokage is over with quickly enough, and she pauses, thoughts swirling around her mind as she stops near the doorway of Hashirama's office. It has been a hectic month for the both of them, and she knows that Izuna will be busy later this afternoon and most of the night, so she turns back to the brunette, who is watching her with a touch of confusion.
"You know, I wasn't lying about having some hair pins that would look good on you," she says quietly, and Hashirama freezes, and looks up at Madara with unreadable eyes, biting her lip.
"I- I don't know," she whispers.
"I have a kimono that would probably fit you too. One of my great-aunts was apparently as tall as you," Madara offers, and she can see Hashirama wavering, wanting to, but so unsure of herself, "I'm sure that it'd look wonderful on you, it's green, and that is very much so a colour that does look good on you," she keeps her voice light, and the sparks of hope and excitement that light up Hashirama's eyes almost make her breath catch in her throat, but she continues, "You can come over tonight once you're done here. I have some facepaints too if you'd like. We can have dinner."
"Yes," Hashirama breathes out, looking up at Madara with a bright smile, "yes, I'd like that, I think," she says quietly, and Madara nods, shooting her a quick smile, and leans down to press a quick kiss to the Senju's cheek.
"I'll see you tonight then," she murmurs, and Hashirama steals a proper kiss from her before letting the Uchiha leave. Madara runs a hand through her hair after she leaves the office, and quickly arranges her face into her normal blank look as footsteps approach. It is Tobirama, who raises an eyebrow at her.
"Your brother was looking for you earlier," he says blandly, and she nods as he enters Hashirama's office. Madara frowns a bit, wondering what Izuna could have needed her for, but then again, she had been meant to return home from her mission earlier than she actually had, but there was no traveling during sandstorms as everyone knew. She is quick to return to the house she shares with her younger brother now though. It is on the outside edge of the section of the village that had been delegated to the Uchiha Clan. That had been the cause of an argument between her and Hashirama, due to the location of it being on the edge of the village. She frowns at the memory of it, before shaking her head slightly and entering the small house.
Izuna is seated on a tatami mat, reading over a scroll with a cup of tea by his hand, he looks up when she enters the kitchen after cleaning up and changing and putting her weapons away properly.
"Sorry for being late, there was a sandstorm on the way home that I had to wait out," she says, sitting across from him.
"Ahh, that sucks," he says, before sighing, "the Elders are just going to yell at you even more for it," he mutters, and Madara feels an eyebrow rise.
"They were going off on me yesterday, the usual stuff; letting you take the position as main Head, my not having children, the fact that I stick around the village to interfere with their plotting instead of taking missions like you do," Izuna says, lips twisting in a bitter smile as they both roll their eyes.
"Which means that I have less than twenty minutes before whichever poor kid they've roped into being their message dog comes to summon me so they can 'express their opinions' of me too," Madara sighs, rubbing her temples as Izuna nods, and a knock sounds from outside their house. Madara sighs again, but straightens up, rubbing a hand against her scarred cheek. Izuna stands with her, rolling up his scroll.
"Have fun with the Elders, and try not to set them on fire. I'm going to be home late tonight, I have a theory about a jutsu that I'd like to pick Tobirama's brains about," he says, and Madara shoots him a wry look.
"The fact that your very presence annoys him has nothing to do with it, huh?" she asks, and her brother grins cheekily down at her.
"Of course it doesn't, aneki," he says, and laughs as she rolls her eyes.
"Try not to let him stab you for being annoying," she says as he leaves, and she turns to the young boy who was the unlucky one sent to bring her to the Elders for what was undoubtedly going to be a headache inducing meeting.
Madara is right, the meeting is headache inducing within the first few minutes as she stands in front of the table that six of her Clan Elders are seated at, hands locked loosely behind her back, nails digging against her knuckles, and face impassive as they harp at her.
" -and furthermore," one of them is saying, "you can't even make yourself useful and get married and have children like you are supposed to," the old man's voice is grating on Madara's nerves, but she knows from experience that it will only get worse if she speaks against them.
"You are a disgrace to this clan and the Uchiha name. Why Hokage-sama even tolerates you as he does is a mystery," one of the two female Elders sniffs in disdain.
"Well once he's married he won't be so relenting. His wife won't allow him to have any relations with a no-good slut like you," the other one sneers and it is nothing that Madara hasn't heard since the founding of the village.
"You may leave now, Madara," the old man at the centre of the table speaks then, dismissing her with cold grey eyes. Daiki Uchiha is the one who directs the opinions of the other Elders, and has always disapproved of her. She bows, palms flat against the sides of her thighs, but keeps her face level, eyes boring into his as she straightens, and turns.
"Stupid whore. Should have made Tajima drown her at birth like you wanted, Yuuka," she hears them say behind her back, a haughty sniff echoes around the room.
"The chit's mother was a good for nothing bitch too. It's better that the slut doesn't breed. Bad blood will out," and Madara's hands clench into tight fists and she quickly returns to her own home, with it's private training grounds in order to beat out some of her pent up anger. She can take the Elders insulting her, it is nothing new, they have been doing so since it became apparent that Madara wasn't going to be one to sit around and do nothing as was expected of her, but she hates when they blame her mother for it, her mother who actually cared for her, and brought her and her brothers so much happiness as children, before being ripped away from them because the Elders demanded that she keep having children regardless of the healers warnings.
It takes an hour and her knuckles are bloody by the time Madara feels calm enough to go inside without breaking everything she can grab and throw. She is quick to clean up though, because Hashirama will likely be there soon, and the thought of that soothes her temper some. She carefully pulls out the light green kimono and its accessories from the plain box she kept stacked in a storage room, remembering the great-aunt they had belonged to faintly; the woman had been a spinster, and had helped Madara sneak out to train when she had been young, before the older woman had died. It wouldn't have long to air out, but it is better than no time at all, and Madara heads downstairs to get started on food (because at least she could cook, although not as well as Izuna could).
Hashirama arrives just as it is finishing, and they sit down to eat, talking idly about the going's on in the village, the latest clans to join it, the budding shinobi academy, complaining lightly about their respective clan Elders and younger brothers, discussing the other villages that are rumoured, and some confirmed, to be popping up all over the Elemental Nations. The finish eating and Madara cleans up, before ignoring Hashirama's nervousness, leading the other woman to the room where she has the kimono airing out, and proceeds to carefully help the Senju change into it.
Madara was right, the soft green of it does look wonderful on Hashirama, and the soft look of awe on the brunette's face just makes it look even better as she watches the taller woman look over herself.
"Come on," she murmurs, scooping up two boxes she had dug out earlier along with the kimono, "let's go out back, there's more light there. I'll do your hair," her voice is quiet, and Hashirama looks up at her with wide eyes, but Madara has already left the room, so the Senju swallows, and nervously follows her outside, looking around the large backyard of the Uchiha's house cautiously.
"Sit," Madara commands the taller woman, who's nervously looking around the backyard of the Uchiha's small house. She rolls her eyes.
"Nobody but Izuna and I are here usually, and you know that he's busy bothering Tobirama tonight," she reassures the brunette who finally sits down on the edge of the small porch, folding her legs underneath her carefully. Madara watches her, before kneeling carefully behind her, picking up strands of fine brown hair, and a tortoiseshell comb that she had inherited from her mother. Gently, she begins to card the comb through Hashirama's hair, feeling the taller slowly relax at the repetitive motion.
"Why don't you ever seem to brush your own hair?" she asks after a few minutes, Madara snorts.
"Good luck trying to get any kind of comb through my hair when it's not freshly washed. Hell, try washing it in the first place," she mutters, used to hating the thick, unmanageable hair that she had inherited from her father, keeping it long only in memory of the mother who had actually cared for her as a person, and not just another tool to be used.
"Alright, I will, I'll wash it and comb it for you tomorrow," Hashirama says brightly, and Madara pauses in her combing to look at her incredulously.
"I-" wasn't being serious, she meant to say, but honestly, the idea sounded kind of appealing. She hated washing her own hair, usually had to make Izuna help her with it, so she bit her lip.
"Er, okay, if you want to I guess," she mutters, going back to combing all of the knots out of the Senju's hair, deciding it was easier to focus on that than to think about what she had said. Hashirama giggles, and while there's still a slight nervous tinge to it, she has relaxed for the most part, and is then happy enough to fill the silence with idle talk about the village, and what's been going on, and asking for Madara's opinion on this, and that, and that other thing as well, as she combs through her hair, and then begins twisting it up into intricate knots. Hashirama falls silent, before giving into her curiosity.
"Where did you learn to do this?" she asks, keeping her head very still as Madara works.
"My mother," she answers quietly, after pausing briefly, "she taught me how to style hair when I was little, and then when I was bit older and had cut off most of my hair at the time, she taught me how to use facepaints," Madara's lips quirk up a little at the edges, "She let me practice both on Izuna."
Hashirama laughs quietly at the mental image of a young Izuna, with his hair and face done up by a young Madara.
"Yeah, he didn't mind the hair so much once I stopped pulling on his so much and accidentally stabbing him with the ends of the kanzashi, but he never liked the facepaints," she says quietly.
"I can imagine, I'm surprised that your father allowed that," Hashirama says, Madara shrugs.
"He reasoned that if Izuna couldn't escape the rope I had tied him down with, then he deserved to get his face painted," she says, and Hashirama can hear the grin in her voice, and she laughs again.
"Makes sense," the brunette murmurs, and Madara hums lightly, her small hands making quick work of Hashirama's hair now, twisting it up into small, intricate knots, and grabbing some of the plain hairpins from the pile beside her knee to push into Hashirama's hair in order to keep it in place. Eventually all of her brown hair is pinned up, and Madara leans down, opening one of the small, delicate boxes she had brought out with her. This one, from what Hashirama can see, is full of kanzashi, and her breath catches in her throat at the sight of the beautiful hair ornaments that she had spent most of her life admiring, never able to wear them.
Madara frowns down at the box a bit, before pulling out a pair of kanzashi and showing them to Hashirama.
"They're maple leaves," she murmurs, setting one of them in her friend's tanned hand to let her see. They are indeed maple leaves, green ones, to match the plain kimono she was wearing obviously, a small trio of leaves, done in a light green fabric, darker at the edges, and lightening to white at the centre, where dark green beads are sewn in, with two trailing strands of tiny swatches of even lighter green fabric overlapping until they end with a small silver bell on each strand. They are beautiful, and Hashirama loves them. She looks up at Madara again, speechless. The Uchiha smiles softly at her.
"They were one of my mother's favourite pairs," she says quietly, "Her name was Kaede. She loved wearing them at the beginning of spring, when all of the trees of Fire Country were just starting to put out buds, and everything was beginning to turn green again, and at the very end of the summer, when she always said that the green was the brightest, right before changing colours for the autumn."
"They're beautiful," Hashirama says honestly, and Madara nods, gently taking the one back from her, getting the Senju to turn her head around again so she can position them properly on either side of her head, handing Hashirama a small hand mirror, before stepping back.
Hashirama has to bite her lip to stop from crying as she carefully turns her head from side to side, watching as the kanzashi move with her. She looks up at Madara, who is fiddling with the other box she had carried out. The Uchiha looks up at her, biting her own lip, before speaking.
"I- I have facepaints too, if you want I could...?" she trails off, leaving the offer hanging without actually saying anything, and Hashirama doesn't even think before she nods, breathless at the idea, and she watches Madara grin quickly at her.
"It might not be very good, I haven't used these in years, and even then it was mostly on Izuna that I did use them," she snickers and Hashirama giggles too.
"It's alright, I'm sure that whatever you do will be fine," she says quietly, and watches as Madara's cheeks flush, before the Uchiha clears her throat and kneels in front of her, opening the carved box.
"I'm not going to powder your skin, I don't have much with me, and it would just look weird on you, plus your skin is clear enough to go without it," she says quietly, pulling out a thin, reed-tipped brush and swiping it through some kind of dark powder, before bringing it up and leaning in. Madara can feel Hashirama's eyelashes flutter against her wrist as she dabs the dark powder against her eyebrows, filling them in and neatening their lines just slightly. She taps the extra powder off of the brush and onto the ground off the porch. She sets that brush back down in its case and picks up another one, this one, Hashirama thinks, looks like a very tiny comb, which Madara drags across a black block of some kind until she deems enough of the substance has coated the brush.
"I need you to look up for this. I'm going to set this brush against the base of your eyelashes, and you need to blink when I tell you to, alright?" she says quietly, bringing the brush up to Hashirama's face.
"Alright," she murmurs, tilting her head back so Madara can apply the powder, which is thicker than the other one she had used, to her eyelashes, darkening them. She repeats her actions with Hashirama's other eye, before back up again, putting that brush away.
Madara then dips the pads of her right index and middle fingers against the top of a pot of reddish creme, swirling them against it gently, before pulling them away. Hashirama is entranced by the sight of Madara doing something so feminine as applying makeup, even if it is not to herself, the fact that she is still doing it, and doing it well, is something Hashirama never thought she would see. She sits very still as Madara rubs her fingers against the apple of her cheek, right underneath the bone, before dragging them upwards, almost to her temple, smearing the creme until it dusts Hashirama's cheek a light pink, highlighting her sharp cheekbone. Madara dips her fingers back into the pot to repeat the process with the other cheek until they match. There is a small cloth in the box that Madara uses to wipe her fingers clean, before she pulls another thin reed brush from the box, along with a tiny pot, carefully unscrewing the lid of it.
"Bite your lips a little," she tells Hashirama, not looking up at her as she swirls the brush through the thick red liquid in the pot. Hashirama bites at her lips, causing them to swell just a little, until Madara tells her to stop, leaning in once more and Hashirama's eyes flutter closed of their own accord as the brush touches against her lower lip, gently swiping across it, filling it in with the red lip paint. Madara pulls away to recoat the brush in the paint, leaning in to carefully outline and fill in Hashirama's top lip as well.
"Don't move your mouth until it's dry," she says, and Hashirama makes herself go very still, her lips slightly parted as Madara cleans off the brush, and closes the pot, tucking it back into it's place in the box, before settling the lid on it once more.
Carefully, Madara leans in once more, pressing the pad of her thumb gently against Hashirama's lower lip, and she gulps quietly, before Madara pulls away, looking at her thumb.
"Alright, you're good to move your mouth, the paint is dry," she says, and then hands Hashirama the mirror again, and she looks, and freezes.
The woman looking back at her is beautiful. Her hair is neatly pinned up, with delicate kanzashi decorating it, and her facepaint might be simple but it looks good on her, and Hashirama has to raise a hand to her cheek and touch it in order to make sure that it is actually her that she is looking at. Her eyes are overbright and she can feel her throat closing up as she looks up at Madara, who is grinning crookedly at her.
"Madara, I..." she doesn't know what to say, she can't think of any words that would get across to the other just how much this meant to her.
"You look beautiful," Madara says quietly, and Hashirama's lips are trembling, but she is smiling, and Madara means her words as one pale hand moves up to cup a tanned cheek.
"You are beautiful," the Uchiha murmurs, and kisses her softly. Hashirama's fingers thread through Madara's thick mane of hair, tugging the Uchiha closer, realizing that she's probably ruined her lip paint, but she is uncaring in this moment, because she has Madara with her, wonderful beautiful Madara, who despite all of her sharp edges and steel muscles, is without a doubt the most caring person Hashirama has ever met. Madara, who is lovely, and has never questioned Hashirama's awkwardness in her own body despite not understanding, and who has accepted her so fully, and she never wants to lose this woman, Hashirama realizes. She thinks that losing Madara would be akin to losing the sun, and she can't even begin to imagine a life without her anymore.
They wake in Madara's bed, the morning sun shining down on both of their naked bodies, and Hashirama whines, and nuzzles her face against Madara's breasts, hiding her face from the world and the invading sunlight as the Uchiha throws an arm over her eyes, sighing.
" 's too early to be up," the Senju mumbles, breath tickling Madara's chest as she speaks, and the Uchiha just sighs again, raising both of her arms above her head, back arching even with the weight of Hashirama's head on her, and tanned arms wrapped tightly around her waist, as she stretches.
"You have to get up though, you have duties to attend to, and you have to go home and change before you can go to work," Madara says quietly, and feels Hashirama frown against her skin, before she tilts her head up just enough for their eyes to meet. There is a mischievous glint in the Senju's brown eyes, and it makes Madara wary.
"You know, you should just move in with me," she says, and Madara splutters, cheeks burning as her eyes go wide, "that'd make things easier for both of us, and we could have a bunch of children running around eventually, yeah? We wouldn't even have to get married, since you don't want to," her voice is cheeky, but there is a very serious look in those brown eyes and Madara stares at her with a bit of shock. She blinks a few times, trying to formulate a response, before Hashirama leans up and kisses her softly.
"Think about it, okay," she murmurs against Madara's lips, nipping the bottom one gently, before kissing her again and pulling away with a grin, "I should probably get going now, see you later," she practically chirps, before rolling out of the futon, and pulling on the clothes she had arrived in yesterday, and leaving out the back of the house in order to avoid waking Izuna. Madara stares after her, before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose, shaking her head a bit before getting up herself. Today is a day off, and she means to spend it running through katas, cleaning her weapons, and getting out with her falcons for a bit. She pauses as a wave of nausea overwhelms her as she sits up. She frowns, before blanching, throwing her blankets off and scrambling for the bathroom where she vomits. Madara frowns further after she cleans up, but is quick to brush the incident from her mind, she has more important things to do than to dwell over a moment of sickness.
She manages her first two tasks before noon, and greets her brother (who apparently had a very late night, since he only just now appears to be stumbling out of his room) during lunch, before she gathers her things to head out to the Uchiha Clan Mews, where her falcons and hawks resided. And that was when the messenger arrived, out of breath from running through the beginning to twist streets of the village all the way out to their house. Madara raises an eyebrow at the young boy, wearing the headband she and Hashirama had designed, and the vest that designated him as a chunin.
"Hokage-sama has requested that both of you come to the tower immediately," he says as he straightens up, and Madara frowns.
"Did he say why?" Izuna asks sharply, coming up behind her, making her twitch slightly.
"The delegation from the Uzumaki clan from Uzushiogakure has finally arrived."
I can't believe how many people are actually reading this tbh.
Anyways, there's a couple of scrapped scenes from Part V that I've posted on my tumblr if you want to see them. I have a link to them up on my profile.
As always, thanks for reading!
Extra thanks to the two people who have reviews this so far ;w;