A/N: Sequel to the fic, Birdsong. AU alternate happy ending. Collection of drabbles. Note: Rather than posting this separately, I decided to group them all under the same heading, since this is a series on AO3.
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It's raining when the sword slices through the meat of Madara's back, and Madara gasps, his eyes widening in shock as he sees the wood clone disintegrate in front of him. Hashi steps close, her grip on the hilt firm, and drives the sword forward.
He falls onto the ground gracelessly, the dead weight of his body dropping into the mud. Bright pools of blood mix with rainwater, coagulating into a thick paste, as Hashi dully steps closer.
His clothes are soaked. His hair is wet and sticking to the skin of his face. Hashi carefully pries her fingers around the stiff muscle of his arms, hefts up his torso until she's clutching him heavily against her chest.
And then she screams. Eyes squeezed, rain sluicing down her dirt-streaked face. She screams and sobs, agonized, holding his body and sobbing in the rain.
Her vision tunnels; she's lightheaded and lost too much blood. Her body sways woozily, until Madara's body rolls off her lap, and Hashi passes out in the mud.
xXx
.
Everything is dark. Slowly she sits forward, blinking her eyes and letting herself get acclimated to the darkness. She's in some sort of cave, the cool rock dripping with precipitation. Her eyes widen.
Madara is sitting in the dark, watching her.
"If I wanted to kill you," he says, and he moves to a stand, "I already would have. You've been unconscious for at least a few hours, now."
He looks okay. His hair is tangled and there are scratches on his face, but other than the scuff marks on his clothes, everything is intact. Hashi swallows, her eyes filling with tears.
She starts to sob and throws her arms around him, making Madara step back, briefly losing his balance with her sudden weight. "Woman, what are you-"
"I'm so sorry!" Hashi sobs and hugs him, bawling into his neck. Madara's jaw tightens, unsettled. He places a firm hand against the back of her head.
"You have nothing to apologize for. I was the one who tried to kill you."
Hashi sniffs, then pulls back just enough to look at him. Her eyes are puffy and her nose is red. "I thought you died," Hashi says. She hiccups, blinking her eyes. "I stabbed you. How are you alive?"
Madara gently disentangles himself from her grasp. "You healed me," Madara says. "You were crying on top of me, and that ridiculous chakra of yours somehow seeped through your tears. It fused the hole in my chest."
"What...?" Hashi looks on, awestruck as Madara tugs down the collar of his shirt and shows her the wound, ugly raised bumps of scar tissue roughly fused together. Hashi steps forward and hesitantly lifts a hand. She touches the tips of her fingers to his chest, then pulls back. Eyes flicking upward, she looks up at him again before shyly touching the center of his chest.
He feels warm. She can feel it, the tortured eddies of his chakra smoothed over by her own. Madara waits a moment, then gently removes her hand.
"If you wish to finish," Madara says, and Hashi looks up at him. "I have no intention of fighting you until you've healed."
"I don't want to fight you," Hashi says. Madara sighs, sitting back against the corner.
She carefully approaches, then lowers herself next to him. Her body is tense, uncharacteristically timid. Madara looks up at her, then lowers his eyes, giving her permission, and all at once she curls up against him, hugging him and burrowing into his chest.
"You are entirely too trusting," Madara says. He speaks with a tenderness that's surprising. He rests his cheek against her hair.
They hold each other without saying anything more, Hashi resting her head against Madara's chest while Madara leans against her, and soon enough they're both dozing off. They're exhausted and emotionally spent, and being together like this is oddly comforting.
They drift in and out of sleep; somehow, they've changed positions in the course of the night, until they're lying on the stone floor, curled up against each other. The exhaustion of the day, the physical and emotional hurt they both carried into battle, drains out, until there's nothing but a tired, dull ache. She tucks herself against his body as he holds her, breathing deeply until they both fall asleep.
xXx
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This is what happened when Madara first came to consciousness.
It was surprisingly quiet: except for the sound of wind and the flapping frantic sound of torn banners, there was no sound, nothing but the half-gasped wheeze of Madara's breath as he lay on the ground. Around him, pieces of armor and other bits of detritus were strewn on the yellow grass, and as he lay on his back he dimly became aware of something lying on his chest.
Hashirama. Madara's eyes cracked open, crusted and painful, as his gaze slowly focused in on the woman lying passed out on top of him, her face pale and her breathing rapid and shallow. Her arms were around him, and he realized she had passed out crying on top of him.
He carried her into the cave, where he pulled off her armor and dressed her wounds. For all of Hashi's legendary healing, she was still covered in scratches and myriad bruises, body blows from their battle earlier.
She was so much smaller than him. He paused, the span of his hand curving around her bare waist, and he looked on at her with infinite tenderness. Stupid, stubborn woman. He gently brushed a strand of hair back from her face.
Their eyes grow powerful when they lose someone they love, and Madara slowly came to realize he was looking at the world through the bruised lens of the rinnegan. He took a breath, then dampened his chakra, the violet sclera receding until his eyes were normal, his dark brown irises almost black. He didn't want to think of the implications - that he awakened the rinnegan the moment Hashirama stabbed him - and instead he took his perch across from her in the cave, and waited.
xXx
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There is a thin trickle of light seeping through the mouth of the cave, and Hashi wakes, blinking slowly, her body stiff from sleeping in the same position. Gingerly, she pushes herself upright, stopping only to glance down at Madara's sleeping face. He's breathing deeply, his body warm and relaxed against hers, and Hashi leans back against him again, wrapping her arms around his chest. She's never felt more safe than she does like this, even though just the day before they tried killing each other in battle. She's never felt more at peace.
Will he fight her later? She doesn't want to. But if he threatens the village again, she'll have to.
"Are you awake?" he says, and she lifts her head.
"Sorry," she says. "Did I wake you?"
A nod, but he makes no motion to move, and so Hashi stays curled up against him, one leg curled over his hip and one arm draped on top of him. He shifts her weight, resting an arm across her back, and Hashi burrows her face into his neck, hugging him. "I could stay forever like this," Madara says. His voice is soft. Regretful.
"Come home," Hashi says. She leans on top of him. "Please."
"I have no home," Madara says, and Hashi looks at him sadly, resting her head against his chest and reaching up to stroke his hair. She thinks of their battle, and the ones to come, and her eyes grow shiny with tears.
"I don't want to hurt you," Hashi says, and a tear drips. Another one rolls down the side of her face. Madara touches her face.
"Moron," Madara says, and his voice is tender. "I should be insulted. You speak as if you've already bested me."
Hashi starts crying. Madara frowns, then holds her close, gently stroking her hair.
He shifts so they're sitting upright, Hashi curling in his lap while he holds her. He shushes her and strokes her hair, and it's only when she's hiccuping pathetically that he pulls back and gently wipes her eyes.
"What do we do now?" she asks, and her swollen eyes flick upward. Madara fans a thumb across her cheek, silently.
"There's nothing more I want than to raze that village to the ground," Madara says. "But if you were by my side, I could ignore it. Come with me," Madara says, and he searches Hashi's eyes. "Please."
Hashi sucks in her breath. Uchiha Madara is not one to beg.
She had fought him to protect their village. Now he's telling her he'd abandon his vendetta if she stayed with him. She thinks of Tobirama and the council, her responsibilities as Hokage, then looks back at Madara, meeting his eyes.
"Okay," Hashi says. She nods, swallowing thickly. "Okay."
She feels Madara's grip around her tighten.
He lunges forward and kisses her hard, a sudden, violent movement. Hashi's hands flutter uselessly before falling on his shoulders, gripping him for balance as he pushes her back. She's prone now, Madara kissing her hard and lying on top of her.
His mouth latches onto her neck, and Hashi gasps, panting. "Madara-"
"Idiot Senju." His voice is tight. His hips grind down against hers. "You don't know how long I've wanted this. What I'd give to have you."
Hashi's eyes flutter as his mouth snakes down to her collarbone, one calloused hand sliding up under her shirt.
He breathes raggedly against her mouth before kissing her again, his hands all over her body, hungry for contact. There's a shifting of clothes, a sudden feeling of cold, unforgiving rock, and then the blunt end of something pressing insistently at the wet seam between her legs, before he kisses her hard and pushes himself inside her.
Hashi cries out. She clutches his shoulders, the pain hot and white. Her thighs are shaking and her body is arched tight. She isn't even sure what's happening until Madara gently cradles her face, then kisses her softly.
"Madara?" His face is close. Her eyes open, meeting his.
Her legs are bare, but otherwise they're both still clothed except for the place where they're joined. She feels him throb inside her, and she exhales at the sensation.
Gently, he lowers his head and kisses her as if he's plucking at the seams of something delicate. He moves slowly, arms tight around her.
xXx
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Outside, the sky is overcast, and the valley is covered in a light rain.
Hashi moves slowly, sore in unfamiliar places, as if she had undergone training and used new muscle groups. Her wounds from their earlier battle have mostly healed; all that's left are the thumbprint bruises by her thighs, the dull scrape of teethmarks that had abraded her shoulder. He didn't mean to bite her - he came hard, pulsing and shuddering as he gasped and kissed her, momentarily losing his self-control.
The valley is a cratered wasteland, littered with bits of detritus while parts of charred earth are still smoldering with smoke. The villagers of Konoha would assume she's dead, but that she managed to kill Madara in the process. Hashi looks out, and wishes she could tell her brother what happened, where she's going. She wishes she could explain her decision.
Behind her, Madara is gathering up their packs, moving silently at the back of the cave.
"What are you thinking?" he says, and he comes to stand beside her. Wordlessly Hashi holds his hand, then turns her gaze back outward.
"I was looking at our village," Hashi says, and Madara looks out at the trees dotting the horizon, at the outskirts of the village he had a hand in creating.
"Your brother will be Hokage," Madara says. He looks out, silently. And then, "Someone should stay to make sure he doesn't harm the Uchiha," Madara says, finally. Hashi looks up at him.
"Are you thinking of coming back?" Hashi says. Hope in her voice. Madara frowns, grimly.
"I doubt they would have me," Madara says. "Even so, the ingrates in my clan would fare better if we were there, and our children would undoubtedly be much safer."
"Children?" Hashi squeals and throws her arms around him, making him stagger back.
"Woman, what are you-"
"We battled against each other earlier and now you're talking about having children!"
Madara gives a long-suffering sigh, then rests a hand in her hair.
"What will you tell them?" Madara asks. Hashi speaks into his neck.
"I'll tell him you threw a bunch of fireballs at me, and now we're getting married."
"I'm sure your brother will berate you for your idiocy."
Hashi smiles. "He probably will."