Fragrances

It wasn't like him, yet when a ray of sunlight finally awakened Hashirama, he swore loudly and hurried to push back the covers, taking no time to notice Madara moving beside him.

Madara reached out to touch him and Hashirama sighed, dodging contact. "I'm an hour late, Tobi is going to kill me."

He quickly put on his clothes as his best friend grumbled, his lingering hangover transpired in his every moves

The previous night had been rough. First, the three of them went out to celebrate the treaty's signature with the Hyuuga which had finally agreed to join Konoha. Then, while they were in the third round of this incredible alcohol that the Nara distilled, Izuna bit his lip then stated, barely containing the happiness sparkling in his voice: "the daughter of the cadet branch smelled good, she smelled of flowers and sun".

How anyone who finds their soulmate could instinctively describe the smell was inexplicable to Hashirama. Tobirama had come up with a theory about it, one that seemed to hold up, if other clan and village scientists were to be believed, but the Hokage had never really listened. All he knew about soul mates was that they had a particular and unique scent and that it was the only one that would ever be smelled. It better had to smell good, he often amused himself.

However, the news that Izuna had casually dropped between two sake's cups had moved Madara at his core and added yet another thing to celebrate: Izuna had finally found his soulmate. Another Uchihas joined them in the celebration, they had been swarming the place, covering Izuna with alcohol, hugs and congratulations, and Hashirama had happily joined them.

It had been a long time since the Senju clan had celebrated the discovery of a soulmate. The last time was Touka and it had been years before. Hashirama was beginning to despair for himself and his brother. Neither of them had ever smelled their soulmate.

"Stay a little longer," Madara asked, rubbing his eyes.

His hair was flying around even more than usual. He wore the marks of their night on his neck. If Hashirama was immune alcohol's effects in such small quantities - he had drunk enough to finish off several grown men, but it was still too little for him - he knew that Madara could badly suffer from hangovers.

Hashirama shook his head as he finished tying his belt. "I can't. Tobirama wanted us to inspect the treaty one last time before returning the final signed copy."

Madara fell back into the bed.

"As you wish. I'll stop by the Tower later. We can have lunch together."

Nodding, Hashirama eventually left the room, then the house, but not without throwing an amused smile at the sight of a cluster of hungover Uchihas lying in the living room.

It was thanks to peace that such scene was possible to witness. When at war, no clan would have risked losing so many warriors to alcohol. Izuna vaguely waved at him, emerging as he could, and said something that might sound like "I need to talk to you later, I have something to discuss about the academy.

Crossing the village was fast, he reached his office with an air of contrition, reinforced by the furious look that Tobirama threw im, lips pinched, eyes ringed byhe black of fatigue. He was already seated at the side desk, files piling up to his left as he filled them.

"Have you been here long?" Hashirama asked as he walked past him to sit in at his own desk.

His brother wrinkled his nose, his mouth so tightly pinched it turned into a disgruntled line, then shook his head in a non-answer discouraging any small-talk attempt.

So Hashirama went to work as discreetly as possible. The treaty's proofreading, point by point, and his brother's comments in the margins raised important questions, and digging through all the appendices to find answers and making sure everything was in order was a tedious job that everyone hated.

Still, time passed quickly enough; the silence only broken by Hashirama's mumbling.

Suddenly, Tobirama stood up. The gesture was brisk, jerky, it was a bit unbalanced in Hashirama's peripheral vision who looked up from the appendix 14-B about hunting in the ancient Hyuuga's lands. He watched as his brother's tall figure grabbed the files he had closed and put them away in the cabinet that took up a good part of Hashirama's desk.

He filed them with strange, very unusual gestures and Hashirama frowned. Something was wrong with his brother. Even if he didn't say anything, the elder could hear his younger brother taking quick breaths, sometimes deeper, as if he was about to say something.

It was still many minutes before Tobirama moved, his hand clenching on one of the shelves in the cabinet.

"Anija?"

Tobirama didn't even have to say the word in a loud voice. The shaky whisper echoed through the room as Hashirama began to stand up, his heart beating feverishly from the emotions dancing in that single word.

"You had sex with my soulmate. I can smell his fragrance all over you. On your hair, on your clothes. In your breath."

The horror that seized Hashirama froze him in place and his heart seemed to turn to ice, his vision blurred and he could not complete his movement to get up and rush to his brother to comfort him.

Tobirama did not turn to him. At no time did he meet his brother's eyes. Hashirama saw his hand tighten a little more, his knuckles whitened, and he could hear Tobirama's control of his voice to keep it from shaking.

"It's not a big deal," he continued in a breath, "I always knew that Madara would never look at me that way, even if I lo-"

He lowered his head, swallowing the end of his sentence, a confession of love. Hashirama reached out, the closet door slammed shut.

"I thought you should know. I'm sorry. That explains why I can't, I can't-"

Tobirama didn't finish that sentence either. He turned on his heels and fled from the office, leaving Hashirama dazed, half-risen, heartbroken.

Hashirama moved only to sit back down, still deeply horrified by the thought of having broken his brother's heart without even realizing it.

If the realization hit him hard, it took him some time to understand the full extent of his brother's revelation. It took him even longer to get past the memory of Tobirama shaking as he was holding back tears, to realize that his brother had confessed to having feelings for Madara.

The treaty was not going anywhere, but that was of little consequence in the face of what had just happened.

Leaning back in his seat, Hashirama ran his hands over his face, trying to get rid of his discomfort and looking for a way to repair the damage.

Suddenly, a new realization took his breath away. If Tobirama could smell Madara's scent on him, then the reverse was true. Madara could probably smell Tobi all over Hashirama.

However, it had been months since they had really gotten close to each other - now Hashirama understood better why his brother had knowingly avoided Madara all this time - and during the war, everyone used a scent suppressant to avoid smelling their soulmate on a battlefield.

Madara had probably never noticed that it wasn't Hashirama who was giving off the scent. So Madara must have thought that Hashirama was his soul mate.

This thought forced Hashirama to close his eyelids and sigh heavily. Because Madara didn't smell anything to him. He was his best friend, that's all, even if it had gone wrong the night before.

If Hashirama was right, then this night was clearly not of equal value to both men. So he would have to talk to Madara. He would have to tell him that they weren't meant for each other. That the soul mate his friend was waiting for was nearby. That Tobirama deserved this love, this closeness, that they would be happy together.

He hoped he was wrong. He had never wished so much to be wrong not even that day by the river when Madara had finally turned against him.

Lunchtime came too quickly and when Madara entered the Hokage's office, Hashirama knew immediately that he wasn't wrong. He also knew that he couldn't avoid it and that on the same day he would break his brother and best friend's hearts.

Madara was looking at him with a tender look, the same kind of look that Izuna had the day before when he was talking about the Hyuuga woman who smelled of sun and flowers, the same look that Hikaku had when he was talking about his wife. Hashirama discreetly bit his lip while looking for how he could bring up the subject.

He almost gave up once or twice, by the time Madara asked him how his morning had been. But Hashirama was not a coward. He was a pacifist, but he was also a shinobi. He put down his brush, closed his bottle of ink and put his papers back in order, glancing quickly at his friend who was sitting in a chair, completely ignoring the desk that should not have been empty.

"About last night, Madara," Hashirama began, hesitantly. "There's something I want to tell you."

"Yes?" the encouragement was hopeful, Madara's eyes glittered and damn, Hashirama hated himself already.

He placed his hands flat on the wood of the desk. Speaking these words was difficult, he didn't know how to turn them to be clear enough, yet not hurtful. He clung to the idea that his friend was in love with the false idea that they were soul mates, not him. Then he huffed to regain his courage.

"I don't smell your scent, Madara."

Madara shrieked without seeming to understand and Hashirama stirred in his seat.

"I don't smell your scent," he insisted, "I'm not your soulmate."

Madara's breathing became wheezy as pain rose to his eyes.

"That's impossible," Madara rejected. "You smell like wet grass after a rainy day."

Hashirama winced and shook his head. From his idea of such a scent, it absolutely looked like Tobi. He said nothing more, letting his friend take in what he had just said.

"You smell like wet grass after a rainy day," Madara frowned, his eyes drifting over the desk. "You're beautiful, and fun, and powerful, and we have so much in common and I smell your fragrance."

He looked so defeated, so broken, as Hashirama shook his head once more.

"What you smell on me is a residue of fragrance."

Madara blanched. Hashirama looked down.

"It's my fault. I'm too affectionate. By cuddling him all the time, his scent ends up lingering on me more than it should. I didn't realize that my brother-"

The door slammed shut before he had a chance to finish.

He had apparently failed not to hurt his best friend.

Madara and Tobirama's encounter happened a few hours later and couldn't be due to chance.

The younger Senju took care of hiding himself from his brother, convinced that Hashirama would come to find him, reeking of this cedar wood and snowy morning smell.

He was dawdling in his personal library when the door opened to let Madara enter the room. He was tousled, short of breath, and his look was haunted by something Tobirama well knew for having lived it each time he had looked at Hashirama and Madara's friendship grow up to this overwhelming point.

Madara crossed the distance between them at an angry speed, his eyes blazing with hatred and, when he was close enough to brush past Tobirama, he raised his fist and crushed it against the bookcase. The wood vibrated, some books fell off the shelves on the ground, but Tobirama didn't flinch. He had never been afraid of Madara and it wasn't planned for this day.

"You stole my soulmate from me," Madara spewed out.

It wasn't true. Both knew that. Tobirama closed his eyelids. "I'm sorry."

"I don't give a shit! You stole my soulmate from me! Hashirama is perfect to me, and he smells wet grass on a rainy day! You're nothing, compared to him. Why are you my soulmate and not him?"

Tobirama's heart shattered, panged in his chest. The loud noise echoed in his mind, he blinked.

"I don't know. I'm sorry."

Madara's ire vanished all at once, as it came, and his arm fell down his body. He lowered his head; his sorrow's weight curved his neck. Madara's forehead rested against Tobirama's shoulder as he shivered.

"Why must you smell like home?"

It took a few minutes for Tobirama understanding that Madara was crying, leaned on him. Tobirama hesitated before curling his arms around Madara's back, soothing him softly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered on Madara's hear, "I love you, I'm so sorry. It can get better. It will get better. We don't have to be anything special to each other, I promise."

Despite his heart screaming as he was promising to his soulmate that he wouldn't come close, that he would let him alone, "I love you, I promise I'll stay far away from you, you won't even remember I'm your soulmate", Tobirama couldn't help but smile.

Because Madara's fragrance would stay with him for weeks and that was far more than he had hoped.