[Chapter warning: mentions & descriptions of animal abuse]
After having stalked an oblivious Hashirama for an entire fortnight, Takarama made his verdict: he was not going to tattle to their father about Hashirama's new Uchiha friend prematurely. He would graciously allow the plot to continue as per canon and leave being the tattletale to Tobirama since he found the two's friendship hilarious. As a tween, Madara was such a dork; always flailing and taking offence at literally anything Hashirama says.
That was why Takarama decided to reveal himself to the Uchiha before shit hit the fan; he wanted to play with and tease the future megalomaniac too, he wanted to know all about Madara's silly weaknesses too. After all, he pouted, it would be selfish of Hashirama to hog all the fun and amusing things to himself. Who knows, maybe in the future, Takarama might be able to use the knowledge he gained from their childhood playdates to add Madara's mangekyou patterned eyes into his collection of pretty things (the trophies of his victims).
Mind made up, Takarama calmly grabbed Sacchan by its neck and hurled it at Hashirama's head like a kunai whilst jumping down the branch he was perched on, landing with nary a sound on the mossy pebbles and flat rocks. His pet, long used to such actions, did not open its wings like any other bird would have, unmoving and silent as its limp body was flung towards Hashirama.
"What the-?!" Hashirama squawked, hands flying to catch the raven that bounced off the side of his head on reflex. "What hit me?"
Madara seemed equally, if not more, surprised by Sacchan's sudden appearance. Those beautiful onyx eyes narrowed, appearing suspicious and mistrustful. "A crow... no, a raven. It seems to have an owner, perhaps a messenger bird? But why are its eyes covered?" The Uchiha gestured at the black hood that covered Sacchan's entire head, eyes including.
Hashirama squinted, bringing the raven up to eye level. "Wait a second, isn't this Sacchan?! If you're here that means…" he trailed off, panicky wide eyes swerving the area in search for the raven's owner. When those pair of chocolate brown orbs finally landed on Takarama's cheerful visage, he visibly blanched. "Taka-chan?! W-Why are you here? No, wait, before that, didn't I tell you to stop throwing Sacchan at people?! What if he gets hurt? The poor bird."
"Relax, anija," he soothed offhandedly, the smile never once leaving his lips. It was an old argument of theirs. The way he disciplines and treats his pet often irked the kindhearted Senju. "Sacchan's made of sturdier stuff – it's not fragile enough to break if thrown once or twice. Besides, with your overindulgence of ceaseless treats, it has a hefty amount of fat to buffer any impact."
"What fats? You barely feed him as it is," Hashirama sulkily rebuked, fingers gentle in their movements as he used his free hand to check the raven for injuries. "He's your nin-animal, Taka-chan, you should treat him better. He needs attention, care, and a balanced diet. Yearly grooming and head pats aren't considered appropriate bird care no matter what you say. Training must be done in moderation, and being thrown should not be considered a part of the training! And don't get me started on–"
Rolling his eyes at his eldest brother's incessant nagging, Takarama gave a sharp whistle. Sacchan, at his signal, flapped its wings as if to bat Hashirama's hands away and obediently glided towards him. The raven landed on his outstretched arm with refined grace learned from the years of harsh training, blunt talons digging into the metal plates beneath thick cloth. He fluidly transferred his pet to his right shoulder and smoothened the sleeve of his earth-tone samue.
Hashirama may believe whatever he believes, but Takarama was always sure to keep his pet in mint condition. His training and care methods were deliberate, falling in between healthy and injurious. He needed Sacchan physically fit to be his chakra radar, yet still damaging in body and psyche to prevent any rebellious attitude from forming. That meant blunt talons and beak, sightless, and completely dependent on him for even the most basic of needs, such as food and mobility.
No matter what Hashirama says, it was a lot of hard work on Takarama's part to keep Sacchan docile, subservient, and useful, okay?
Purposefully turning his head away from Hashirama, who was still nagging (Jashin how he wishes he can sew his eldest brother's lips shut at times like this), Takarama sauntered forwards and only stopped when he was an arm's length away from the two tweens.
Takarama peered at Madara through dark lashes, making sure to angle his head in a certain way that would shadow his aloof green eyes from the Uchiha's sight. He made his smile turn into a friendly grin, an imitation of Hashirama's affable demeanour. He cheerfully cut through Hashirama's ceaseless lecture and bowed politely, "Hello. Are you Hashi-ani's friend? I'm his younger brother, Takarama."
"… Madara. Did you come looking for this idiot?" Madara tugged at Hashirama's ugly bowl hair, causing the latter to whine and bat at the offending pale wrist.
They both skillfully ignored Hashirama's "Madara! Don't call me an idiot! And don't pull my hair!"
"Mm, not really. It is a coincidence. I was finding somewhere quiet to nap when Sacchan alerted me of Hashi-ani's presence nearby. Hey, can I play with you too, Madara-niichan?" Takarama even made sure to tilt his head childishly to the side when he referred to the Uchiha all cutesy-like, playing the part of a guileless ten-year-old to perfection, bar his aloof and cold eyes, which he kept half-lidded and mostly shadowed.
Unfortunately, extending any sort of emotion (apart from rage and bloodlust) to reach his frosty green eyes was still a work-in-progress.
Madara scratched his cheek, hesitant and slightly flustered. "I guess you can stick around, but only if your big brother is okay with it."
Takarama beamed, pleased that his plan had worked. Finally, he deemed his brother worthy of his attention and turned to tug childishly at Hashirama's greenish, short-sleeved haori. Rather than ask, he demanded with a pout, cheeks puffed, "Anija, I want to play with you and Madara-niichan." Hashirama was more agreeable when Takarama acted like a child.
Takarama braced himself, and as predicted; Hashirama squealed, pulled him into a bear hug, and twirled him around whilst rubbing his cheek against his fluffy black hair. Works every time.
"Taka-chan so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute! My little brother is the cutest! Look at those chubby cheeks, those blank eyes, that adorable smile, those smol hands. Ah, I can't take it! Let me gobble you up, Taka-chan! Socutesocutesocutesocuuuuute-!"
Madara yelped and leapt forward, barely saving Sacchan from breaking its neck on the rocks when it was dislodged from Takarama's shoulder by the overly enthusiastic Hashirama. "H-Hey, be careful! You stupid oaf, you almost killed your brother's bird!" The Uchiha yelled, cradling Sacchan protectively to his chest.
Hashirama was not listening. "Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa~ Mou, why are you so bloody adorable?! From the tip of your raven black hair to your perfectly shaped toenails, I just want to smother you with love and hugs and kisses and, ah! Socutesocutesocutesocuuuuute-!"
Takarama deadpanned. This might take a while. It was rather time-consuming to calm his eldest brother down once triggered.
"Have you calmed? Idiot," Madara grumped, arms crossed and brow raised judgmentally.
It was an intimidating pose canon Madara was often seen in, dominating in body language and aura as he used Susanoo to crush enemy after enemy all the while without lifting a finger. But currently, it was nowhere near the level of instilling that kind of fear into people. Rather, it was oddly adorable, like a child pretending to be an adult. It was like comparing a lion to a house cat.
"You didn't have to hit me that hard, Madara…" Hashirama sulked, crossed-legged on the rocky ground whilst his hands covered the growing bump on his forehead. "You're making me look bad in front of my cute little brother."
"Trust when I say you don't need me for that," Madara responded drily. "That ridiculous haircut and your face alone is enough to make you look dumb."
Hashirama squawked in mock offence as he jumped to his feet, dramatically pointing a finger at the Uchiha. "You, take that back! You can't even skip stones! Who's the dumb one now?"
"Hah?! I dare you to repeat what you said, Hashirama!" Madara growled. A pebble magically appeared in his hand and he seemed to guestimate its weight.
"What? You wanna fight?" Hashirama taunted, in his own hand was a pebble similar in size to Madara's. "Taka-chan! See how your awesome big brother beats the shit out of this grumpy idiot!"
In a fit of childish rage, Madara hurled the pebble at Hashirama, who jumped out of the way, laughing. It plopped rather sadly into the water. "That did not count," the Uchiha muttered, hands on his hips as he glowered, cheeks pink. That was rather cunning of Hashirama, Takarama was impressed.
The pebble in Hashirama's hand soared before it landed on the water and skipped five times before sinking. Hashirama smirked, a challenging glint in his eyes, "Nu-uh, Taka-chan, keep track: Hashirama 1 Madara ZER0!"
"Okay, anija," Takarama showed a perfectly cute, closed-eye smile from where he sat on top of a medium-sized boulder, crossed-legged beside Sacchan who was preening itself. He obediently retrieved a kunai from the hidden pocket in his right sleeve and made a '|' under Hashirama's name on the hard surface of his rocky chair. "Madara-niichan, ganbatte!" He made sure to cheer.
"Dammit, just you wait, Hashirama! Takarama, watch as I destroy this stupid oaf."
With that, both thirteen-year-olds began throwing pebbles at the water. Takarama kept track of their score and even gave Madara some additional freebie points when he managed to sock Hashirama in the forehead with his pebble hard enough to bruise. It was hilarious; Hashirama's first bump got another bump to accompany it.
By the end of their impromptu rock skipping challenge (which ended in a tie if anyone was wondering), the sun was beginning to set, and they had to return home to their respective families for dinner. Hashirama cried dramatically whilst accusing Takarama of favouring Madara, all the whilst the latter had a smug smile as he patted the mass murderer on the head.
Hashirama, out of jealousy, kicked Madara away from his brother, which made the two fight yet again. Takarama had to interfere before it got out of hand, lest they get home late and was questioned by their father on their whereabouts.
After watching Madara leave until not even his silhouette could be seen, the two brothers headed for home.
"Takarama." Takarama glanced at his eldest brother from the corner of his eyes. The only time his brother would call him by his name and not by any other form of endearment was when he was serious. "You will speak nothing of Madara in front of father."
Just because he could, Takarama blinked in an innocent manner. "Why?"
"Takarama," Hashirama warned, chocolate eyes turning hard as he abruptly stopped walking. "Don't test my patience."
Takarama, who was a couple of steps ahead, stopped and turned to face his eldest brother, his abrupt movement jostling Sacchan, who was perched on his left shoulder. He clicked his tongue when its blunt beak accidentally grazed his cheek, and it meekly warbled an apology.
A minute of tense silence later and he dropped the childish façade, leaving behind only apathy on his face. It was as if the fun time they spent together just now was all an illusion. There was no need to fake his personality when Hashirama has already acknowledged the true evil that lurked inside of him, accepted it, even.
In their years of growing up together, Hashirama was indifferent to his true personality, not once treating him differently even when he slipped a couple of times during his learning phase. Although they have never once discussed his psychopathic tendencies and lack of empathy, they had a silent agreement of sorts – Hashirama nurtured him, and Takarama would not turn his double-edged blade on their family.
Hashirama was as much as Takarama's life coach as he was his brother. Up until now, everything he did was an emulation of Hashirama; his personality, his smiles, his mannerism, everything. Takarama was, for all purposes to an outsider, a miniature version of a darker Hashirama, sans mood swings.
The least he could do right now was respect Hashirama's intelligence and drop the act of a guileless child.
"Yes, anija," Takarama acknowledged, monotone.
"No word of Madara to father, Takarama," Hashirama repeated firmly.
There was nothing wrong with obeying Hashirama's current order. Since he would not have told Butsuma anything even if Hashirama had said nothing in the first place. So he agreed, passive, "Yes, anija."
"You were taking a nap at the nearby meadow, the one where we used to play in when we were younger."
"Yes, anija."
"I was with you, training my mokuton. I lost control of some branches, and that's how I received the bumps on my forehead."
"Yes, anija."
"Indulge me; how did we spend our day together, Takarama?"
"We were at the nearby meadow we frequented when we were younger; I was napping, and you were training. You acquired the bumps on your forehead due to a mild training accident where your branches ricocheted."
By the end of his monotonous paraphrasing, Hashirama relaxed, those chocolate brown orbs softening as he ruffled his younger brother's raven locks with a grin.
Taking that as a cue that their serious conversation was over, his usual mask came back in full force. Takarama grinned, matching his older brother's expression as they resumed their track back home. Their conversation was lighthearted all the way back to the compound, where they soon split to clean themselves in their respective bedrooms before a servant would call them down for dinner.
The entire time, Hashirama did not ask why he had followed him to the creek and Takarama did not offer an explanation. After all, they were merely a pair of happy-go-lucky brothers who have never once lied to or deceived the other before.
A/N:
Comments are appreciated and they fill me with DETERMINATION (｀*ω*´ )o