A/N: This whole story was supposed to be a short 4 thousand word character study but multiple chapters happened to me instead ahhahaha. Help me…
Budding
The sun is high in the sky when Madara leaves Ito's house. They'd broken into Ito's alcohol supply, demolishing several bottles of sake until even their constitutions gave into intoxication.
His eyes ache with the influx of light, as he squints into the morning sun. There's a bag of medicine tucked into his robes to soothe his throat, which is the most Ito can do for him. They've promised to track down a medic-nin with experience to do the surgery, but that it might take some weeks. More likely months.
It's the best they can expect, but Ito cautioned him to refrain from as many taxing actions as possible and to keep his chakra circulating in his lungs to try to stifle the roots from growing. It doesn't seem to be helping much, the roots an actual part of his body, not some foreign contaminant to be flushed out.
He's already noticed a decrease in basic lung capacity by simply moving, each breath shallower and quicker than before. It's a dangerous condition when his katon jutsu relies so heavily on how well and how much he can breath.
He needs to stay away from Hashirama, the man is an accomplished medic-nin himself and bound to notice Madara isn't quite right. He's been lucky to avoid the man these last few days, but his luck is bound to run out.
It's easier said than done however, a fact which proves itself the moment he steps into the bustle of the village. The lunch crowd, civilians and shinobi alike, parts before him like he's launched a fireball jutsu down the length of the street.
He's hungry, but it's too much trouble to eat at a stall or restaurant when the other customers leave, and the owners resent him as much as they fear him. He's about to turn back to the forest and catch a rabbit to roast when a deep voice calls out to him.
"Madara!"
He can't help but turn towards that voice, heart stuttering and leaping like a flame in his heart. Three days. He's avoided Hashirama for that long, but it seems his time's run out.
Hashirama strides down the road, flanked by his brother and the heads of the major clans. The Inuzuka matriarch, the Aki-Yama-Nara alliance, one Aburame leader (the brother this time), and finally that fucking Hyuuga head. All of them decked out in clan colors and symbols, but bearing the Konoha crest on their headbands.
There's someone new, another shock of white hair besides Tobirama's amidst the browns, blacks and blondes. At the person's side is a huge wolf, even larger than Inuzuka's mutt, ears twitching and huge head scouting out the village.
Ah, the current Hatake alpha, Madara remembers, there's a meeting today to invite them to the village, a ceremony more than anything. It's already assumed the small, insular clan will join. Wolves are pack animals after all.
The alpha is a woman from a brief look, almost of a height with the Senju brothers, short haired and sloe eyed, decked in leather and furs with an impressive musculature. Taijutsu fighter perhaps, or a weapon user. The wolf's shoulders come up to the woman's hip, with dark brown fur down it's face and back and a white belly. In another situation, Madara would challenge the woman to a spar once her pack joined. Fighting against a Taijutsu user was always exhilarating, and animals made the sharingan far less effective.
An impressive duo, and a strong addition to Konoha's ranks.
He inclines his head towards the woman, keeping his eyes on her as a sign of respect. "Welcome to Konoha, Hatake-san," he says. He inclines his head to the wolf as well, careful to not show his throat. He's learned the annoying way that while animal companions don't mind being ignored, their partners often take offense.
"Thank you, Uchiha-san. I am Hatake Natsuko. We expect these talks will bring good hunting. "
A strange turn of phrase, but the Hatake had roots in the lands of Iron, some rumors even whispered they have Samurai blood. He settles on a noncommittal hum, and doesn't twitch when Inuzuka Ashi leans in to whisper a snide phrase to the Yamanaka head.
The Inuzuka have never gotten along with the Uchiha, they were a bunch of feral dogs, fighting over scraps and useless slights.
Hashirama ignores the tension in the air, and grabs Madara by the arm, dragging Madara close to him. Madara stiffens, for the first time unsure how to react to Hashirama's touch. How did he act before he knew what these feelings meant?
He can't remember.
"Madara, it's been forever! I missed your scowly face these last few days, where have you been?"
The other man's body is warm and solid next to him, taller by a few inches (and doesn't that annoy), but less broad in the chest and shoulders than Madara. He's strong and handsome, and his smile brings light into Madara's heart. What's left of it.
"Let's get on with it," Tobirama, the wretch, interrupts with a scowl.
Hashirama laughs and agrees, letting Madara out of his arm and leading their group to the newly erected Hokage tower. Madara shivers, brushing his palm over his chest where the roots rustle and grow inside of him. But he doesn't cough, today's a better day than yesterday.
Hashirama's office is more like a greenhouse than an office, potted plants lining the bookshelves and walls making a forest of greenery and humidity. Madara spares a thought for the poor assistants battling an early onset of mold. As they all walk inside, the branches and flowers of the plants lean towards Hashirama like he's the sun, the water and the earth that nourishes them.
It's uncanny, when the man himself exerts no chakra, and doesn't notice it happening.
Everyone settles down, standing or sitting at various points of the room. Hashirama is in the Hokage's seat, with Tobirama and Madara at his shoulders. The Hatake stands tall and steady in the middle of the room, her wolf at her side.
She surveys them with cool eyes and says, "The Hatake pack accepts the Shodaime's offer of alliance and a permanent place in the village of Konohagakure."
Hashirama smiles broadly, the corners of his eyes creasing with pleasure. "We of Konoha welcome the Hatake pack gladly!" he pronounces, leaping to his feet and going forward to clasp arms with the woman. Madara hears Tobirama snort next to him, grumbling about decorum and treaties.
The sunlight is slanting through the windows, the room dancing with dust motes as the Hokage and clan heads convene at the meeting table. It's a rough outline of a governmental system, the Hokage, his advisors, and the clan heads. Madara eyes them all, a distant and undesired advisor. The future of the village, a meeting of equals before their benevolent leader.
Hashirama is their guiding light, the great tree whose branches support and shelter them.
Madara wonders where his place is here.
The other clan heads wait for him to stumble, to fall from his place at Hashirama's left hand so they can claw at his robes and drag him under into the depths of their miring pit.
His own clan elders are peers of his grandmother, clan head of her time, and they tire of him. Clan meetings are embittering enough he almost thinks of begetting an heir to eventually take his place. But he'll burden no unwilling woman or girl barely into adulthood with his advances. In the Uchiha clan all avoid his gaze. And the village is worse, they call him a demon.
He is only a token leader, kept on his empty throne by the grace of Hashirama's affection, and plotted against by those wanting Hashirama's good will, and those planning to set his cousin Uchiha Ikaru in his place. It's been made clear he's not welcome in the village or the Uchiha district.
His office has a couch long enough only his feet dangle off when he needs to sleep, and it's within chakra sensing distance of Hashirama's home. Most nights he spends there, or with the stone tablet of his ancestors, uncovering the murky history of his clan's past.
It's enough… enough for now.
"Madara?" Hashirama's voice breaks through his musings, and he focuses back on the meeting with a restrained twitch.
The other clan heads are chatting with the newest addition to the village. Hatake Natsuko and her dire wolf lounge in an armchair, all droopy eyes and wicked teeth. Izuna would have been enamored of her, he always liked a powerful woman, but it's too late for that now. Izuna's dead… gone.
His brother's killer has pulled up the Hokage's chair next to Hatake, speaking softly with the woman. There's a careful distance being maintained between Aburame and Inuzuka who sit on either side of the Aki-Yama-Nara trio. The Hyuuga is in another armchair, listening to Tobirama and Hatake speak to each other.
The Akimichi, Yamanaka and Nara are clustered together on the same couch, sprawled over each other. It's an open secret the three of them are together sexually if not romantically, despite being married to others. Madara has never felt as much scornful jealousy over it as he does right now.
Hashirama is leaning into him, their shoulders bumping together, and the man's scent, tree sap and damp earth, fills his nose. He swallows roughly, eyes flashing red to capture the other man's face, imprinting the feeling, the smell, the clenching in his chest, into another captured moment.
(broth-)
The voice rises and falls, the twisted remnants of Izuna's presence whispering into his ears as he activates their eyes.
But Izuna is dead.
"Madara, hey." Hashirama wraps his arm over Madara's shoulder, clasping him into a side hug. "You there?" His voice is low and husky, his breath hot against Madara's ear.
Too close.
"Off, you mongrel," Madara grumbles, pushing that stupid, smiling face away from him.
Hashirama goes easily, laughing as he drags Madara into the circle of Clan Heads. The Aburame removes himself from Madara's side, and settles next to Inuzuka. Even clans with decades long feuds barely patched over prefer the one they know to the mad Uchiha Clan Head. Madara's not bitter, after all the snubbing is practically a ritual now.
Hashirama squeezes his shoulder, and stays a solid, reassuring presence next to him as they all discuss recent news, debate legislature and complain about having to share resources.
Madara stays silent. He knows when he's wanted, and there's no use offering his thoughts when all he receives is dismissal and scorn. He used to rage, to shout, to swear. Might makes right, but he's only one man against a united front. The other clan heads and Senju Tobirama band together against him during meetings, and Hashirama is in a delicate position.
Madara has learned to hold his tongue.
The discussion meanders on, from clan borders, to village borders, to whether random civilians not related to any clans or shinobi should be barred from settling down. The clan heads talk and talk and talk, uselessly because Madara knows the look on Hashirama's face.
He's smiling and nodding, but he's already made a decision, and is already planning how to soothe them into doing things his way.
Madara has no doubts he'll be successful.
The last topic is finished, and everyone looks satisfied. Hashirama ushers them out the door, but holds his brother and Madara back.
The doors close behind the last of the clan heads as they leave for their duties, and Hashirama reactivates the privacy seals, before turning around. His solemn face breaks into a beaming smile, the whites of his teeth almost reflecting light like some bizarre genjutsu.
"I have great news."
Tobirama blatantly ignores him, as he settles down at the Hokage's desk, sorting through documents and signing the dotted lines in Hashirama's handwriting. Most of the Hokage's paperwork is cleared by his hands as Hashirama patrols the village, helping settle disputes and build houses like a commoner. It's one aspect of the job that makes Madara glad he dodged the kunai.
"News?" Madara prompts, as Hashirama paces in the middle of the room. There's an uncontained, vibrant energy around him, like he can't contain his happiness.
"Mito's pregnant!"
...pregnant?
"How far along?" Tobirama asks. He's standing, paperwork abandoned, his stern face breaking into a broad smile.
Madara feels numb, like the floor beneath his feet has fallen away, the sound of his heartbeat thrums in his ears, muffling the outside world.
"Five months." Hashirama is glowing with happiness.
Tobirama frowns. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"I didn't know! Mito kept it a secret. She told me when she put the hat on me." He runs his fingers over the rim of the ridiculous Hokage's hat, smile softening. His eyes...they're so tender, so fond.
"That's why you were such a fool after your speech, I thought the applause had gone to your head." But Tobirama is still smiling, his hand on Hashirama's shoulder. "Congratulations, brother."
They pull each other into a bear hug, Hashirama slapping his back and laughing while Tobirama holds him tight.
What is this…this separation. As close as brothers, Hashirama says, his dearest friend. What brothers, what friend. Madara can't lie to himself, he's envious of Mito and Tobirama. If he could be first in Hashirama's heart as a brother or a lover, what joy that would be.
But he's second best. Always second.
"Congratulations." His voice comes from far away, like he's hearing it underwater. Hashirama turns to him, his smile still a warm, soft thing.
"Thanks, Ma-chan."
"Don't call me that ridiculous name." He's coming back to himself, the shock sliding off.
"I'll name them after you! And don't be upset Tobirama, you can have the next one."
"The next one? Already planning that are you." Tobirama laughs. "Subjecting the village to one of your spawns?"
"Be grateful I'm going to name one after you at all!" Hashirama slaps Tobirama's back again, smiling, laughing. "You've given me so much trouble, and I'll be cursed with a child just like you!"
He's happy.
The brother's squabble, and in this moment Madara can only be glad that they revolve around each other so he can take a moment to compose himself.
There will be time to choke this down later, but for now bear it. Bear it…
"You'll be even more insufferable now, I suppose," he drawls. The great roiling waves of the dark sea he'd seen in the north during his youth has taken up residence in his body, the flowers in his lungs like lightning strikes reaching deep into the depths of him. Hashirama is the sun sending faint rays through the boiling clouds, the cleansing rain.
Ahh, Izuna would have called him a dramatic fool if he could hear Madara's thoughts now. Too romantic, too sentimental, too hot-headed and too sensitive.
Izuna had always been the pragmatic one, the realistic one.
"You're just jealous!" Hashirama laughs.
"Hardly."
Perhaps his tone was too short or the expression on his face too twisted, but Hashirama looks at him with confusion twisting his brows.
"Madara, what's wro-?"
"Hokage-sama!" There's a knock on the door, the speaker's voice is still young and squeaky with puberty.
Hashirama pauses and glances towards the office door. After a moment, he sighs and throws on the Hokage's hat and robes, settling behind the desk and folding his hands beneath his chin.
"Enter."
A young shinobi opens the door with a message scroll in their hands. Madara excuses himself, slipping out into the hallway and ignoring the way the shinobi flinches from him as he passes.
Hashirama's voice follows him as he goes to his office, serious and deep. His chest aches, his throat convulses. His heart burns with longing, bleeding and raw.
He still loves him, loves him to the depths of Amaterasu's hellscape. Through fire and blood, despite his brother, despite it all. He loves him enough to let him go. To cut him out.
Hashirama, Hashirama…
(he doesn't care about you he already has a brother you only have me me brother i'm here)
His mangekyou flickers as his chakra fluctuates, pushing down the rustling in his lungs.
He stands in his office looking out the window at the village spread out beneath him and thinks, thinks of the man he loves.
And breathes.