Summary: I was challenged to write TobiMada. As a gen girl who doesn't understand TobiMada, I tried. XD

Past the river bank

Hashirama's laughter brought life to the room where the meeting with the representatives of the Fire Daimyou had just taken place. Like a drop of sake in winter, it warmed the heart and cleared the mind. Suddenly, the night was not so cold anymore, nor so dark. Weariness and protocol were put aside as the dull-eyed envoys of the Lord of Fire responded to the Senju's joy in kind.

Hashirama opened his arms and all were drawn to him, like chicks to a mother hen. They followed the Senju out of the room, happily chattering about dinner arrangements and accommodations for the night.

Madara wanted to go too, but he could not. He knew that Hashirama's gesture did not include him. It was only meant for those representatives, to earn their favour and their trust.

All that he wanted, though, was for Hashirama to see him as an equal, for him to forget about meetings and politics and villages and see Madara. But that would be like asking the dragon to defer to the sparrow.

While the committee vacated the hallways outside, Madara remained seated at the conference table. The gas light mounted on the wall flickered as a breeze slipped in through the open window.

That would forever be his place, he suspected. The shadow in the corner that was ignored in favour of Hashirama's sunshine, ever-present but never fully welcome. He wished that he could be that irresistible bright flame too, if only once.

The noise of shuffling paper jerked him from his self-commiseration. Madara snapped to attention, turning to the far end of the table, only to find that Tobirama had also stayed behind. He sat arranging a sheaf of loose notes, his gaze set on Madara.

The Uchiha froze. He had thought that he was alone and had lost track of time, watching the open door that Hashirama had taken. How long had Tobirama been staring at him? How much had he seen?

"What are you looking at?"

The question was practically snarled. There was no love lost between them. Hashirama usually acted as buffer. He was the one reason why they tried to act civil in front of one another, but he wasn't there now.

"You," Tobirama said, deadpan.

Madara fumed. The gall of that Senju knew no bounds. He wasn't even going to do Madara the courtesy to pretend otherwise.

"And why is that?"

If the Senju wanted a fight, Madara would give him one. He was spoiling for one, really, and had been for a long time: since earlier that afternoon when Tobirama had interrupted his conversation with Hashirama – since two weeks ago when Tobirama had dismissed Madara's suggestions regarding the protective barrier around Konoha – since five months ago when Tobirama had welcomed the Uchiha to the Senju camp for the first of their peace talks and pretended that a last minute inconvenience had left Madara bereft of proper accommodations – since two years ago when Tobirama had cut down Madara's baby brother like cattle.

Madara jumped to his feet. His chair screeched from the sudden motion. "If you have something to say, then come out and say it!"

If Madara was fire, Tobirama was the still waters at the bottom of a lake. He lowered his gaze back to his papers and nudged the corners until the stack was perfectly aligned. There was a profound sense of resignation about him.

"For a long time, I envied you," he said in a low voice. "I hated you for being the focus of his attention, for holding his love. He would have died for you, at your request. Almost did. I see now that I was unfair."

Madara knew who he was, of course. Hashirama. It was easier, though, to feign incomprehension and outrage, than it was to see his own feelings reflected back at him so perfectly in the man that he hated most of all in the world.

To want to share a piece of Hashirama's light. He understood it so well.

"You've gone mad…" Madara had wanted it to sound derisive, mocking, destructive. Instead, his voice came out a tenuous thread.

Tobirama was undeterred. Like Madara, he knew like when he saw it. He had known that awkward inadequacy that came with being close to Hashirama longer the Uchiha, though, so he had already grown past the need to deny it.

"You will never have him. That is his way. He makes you love him and need him, until you can't imagine life without him, and then he leaves you for someone or something else, because he doesn't need you. He never did."

Madara clenched his teeth and scowled in silence. It was better than to let his voice betray him a second time, especially now that his most secret thoughts had been spoken aloud.

Tobirama picked up his notes and stood up to leave, the slight noise of his chair and footsteps echoing in the completely silent room.

"I'd tell you to be careful around him, but you and I both know how pointless that is. It's too late. We are but flies happily trapped in his lure."

With a final nod, Tobirama disappeared behind the same door as Hashirama. As Madara watched his back, he felt a startling pang, a surge of kinship like he had never expected.

They were more alike that he had ever thought. Two half-shadows forever waiting for a light that was turned the other way.