Perhaps Madara should have reflected more about the inevitable consequences his actions and inactions would bring into the past. One of them was even staring vigilantly at him in the eye. Rather than Hashirama, Madara was looking at the rather boyish features of one Senju Tobirama, the shinobi who would one day become the boogieman to all Uchiha children.
The boy looked as young as ten-years-old, maybe younger even, with a black sleeveless shirt tucked into unfashionable hakama pants, followed by a pair of wooden flip-flops. His arms, without any armor to pad it, looked skinny and frail. It made Madara soften ever so slightly, but he kept his distance, knowing that despite his young age, Tobirama was not to be underestimated.
What the future 'White Demon of the Senju' was doing at this particular creek when Madara had been - and still was - eagerly expecting for one Senju Hashirama's appearance was something that was of little interest to him. His only desire was to re-acquaint himself with his former best friend... if he was even allowed to call then-Hashirama as such after the cringe-worthy stunt he pulled in the future-that-wouldn't-occur.
Knowing that it would take a miracle for this younger version of his adversary to catch Madara unaware, he returned to skipping rocks on the waters' surface, already having put the baby Senju out of mind, but still aware of his movements. Funnily enough, after so long of throwing nothing but weapons, he has all but forgotten the technique required to make rocks skip further than twice.
As predicted, on its third skip, the rock sunk depressingly into the waters.
Unexpectedly, however, was the disdainful scoff heard from behind him, causing his muscles to loosen in preparation for any imminent attacks.
The sound reminded him far too much of that grouchy Senju who constantly threw barbs at him during his time in Konohagakure, whispering ridiculous Uchiha conspiracies into Hashirama's ears. Madara instantly became enraged (mortified), mind clouded with the many memories of them antagonizing each other to hell and back.
Madara would not be Madara if he allowed this insult to go unpunished. Moreover, he could never tolerate anyone standing behind him, paranoia and 'what ifs' always clawing insistently at his whole being.
"Don't stand behind me!" Madara screeched, "Arsehole! You're obviously trying to distract me, you damn git!"
And without his say so, his body acted on engraved habit; he swirled and shot a pebble at the younger male, before readying himself for Tobirama to avoid his projectile with infuriating ease and insult Madra's 'lack of' accuracy afterward. However, his action must have been wholly unforeseen - weirdly enough - if he judged the look correctly.
The pebble bounced off Tobirama's forehead innocently, leaving a circular red dot in place as proof of what had occurred not two seconds ago.
...
..
.
"Pfft-!" Madara snorted unattractively at the completely nonplussed expression the albino was wearing before losing all restraint. He threw his head back and roared with laughter, hands on his stomach as he fought to keep the mirthful tears at bay.
His brazen sniggering, unfortunate, snapped the befuddled Senju back to reality. With an absolutely livid glare (which Madara secretly found adorable, not that he would ever verbalize that out loud), the Senju swung an angry fist towards Madara in retaliation.
Having expected as much from the short-fused savant, he easily side-stepped the younger shinobi's punch. Madara then goaded Tobirama as per routine - similar to how they would often squabble over every little matter, which they, strangely enough, covertly appreciated due to it being quite the stress-reliever.
They might have had an antagonistic and strictly professional relationship, but dealing with butting clan heads, elders, and paperwork was mentally taxing. It just so happens that their schedules tend to overlap until they were all but tearing each other's throats to get some reprieve.
"Really, snowflake? My falcons could throw a better punch - and they're still eyasses. Shame on you. Tsk. How disappointing."
Tobirama didn't respond to his taunts immediately, though his expression did turn colder; if that was even humanly possible. The Senju continued to throw punches and kicks, and all the while, Madara was dancing around whilst snickering at the reddening face of one angry iceberg.
Maybe Madara could make the other shinobi hit the boiling point and melt to his death this time! He mentally crooned at the possibility.
As this was in play, Madara continued to spur the Senju on by trash talking. Tobirama wasn't one to disappoint. He gave as good as he got.
"As if you're one to talk Mr. I-can't-skip-rocks-to-save-my-life," Tobirama growled as Madara jumped, causing the boy's leg sweep to become entirely ineffective.
"I was out of practice!... And far too busy for such infantile activities," He sneered defensively even as he grabbed the Senju by the wrist and, unthinkingly, tucked him slightly to the right into a better stance before letting go, too used to correcting his two little brothers' pathetic forms during their daily sparring sessions.
"Keep making excuses, you uncultured swine. Maybe one day they'll even come true," Tobirama sneered right back, teeth bared in a mocking manner. Madara easily deflected all of his strikes, using his fingers to jab at the areas that required more work.
"Who are you calling an uncultured swine?!"
He screeched in offense, which then caused his next choice of insults to be astonishingly juvenile even to his own ears. Thankfully, he did not degrade to childish hair-pulling. Yet. There was just something about Tobirama that made Madara want to poke and prod until the two of them exploded into petty name-calling that would make even toddlers cringe at their lack of maturity.
"Well, you have a big forehead! Hmph!"
Madra then ungenerously jabbed his toes extra hard into Tobirama's right hip, pushing the boy into a better defensive posture, and producing a grunt of in pain from the albino.
"Means I'm intelligent," Was the petulant respond whilst aiming for a backhand to Madara's face. Madara easily deflected, "All that's sizeable about you is your hair and ego. Can't even skip stones all the way to the other side of the creek. Hmph! Pig."
"You're such an insufferable brat...! At least I don't have two left feet. I recommend that you take your dance lessons more seriously. It'll do you no good to play truant just to skip rocks," he jeered, smirking when Tobirama overextended and stumbled, proving to Madara that he did, in fact, have two left feet.
"I don't dance," Tobirama deadpanned with narrowed eyes, spinning in for a wheel kick.
"I can see that," Madara ridiculed whilst sliding forward with his back bent, one hand striking out to raise the other shinobi's ankle higher before retreating, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sloppy footwork."
"Fuck you!" Tobirama spat angrily, his brain caught up on the insult of his taijutsu skills.
Using the core of his muscles, the albino changed his leg path into an ax kick, fluent and deadly. Madara grinned dementedly, eyes full of hunger as he raised his forearms and crossed it above his head. His ulna and radius creaked at the strain, which only made him hum in approval.
"No thank you. Although I applaud you for your stellar taste in men. Ultimately, I am humanity's finest specimen, thus I cannot blame you in your wicked desires," He blew a raspberry, making sure to look as smug as possible after that.
"AAAARGH!" Tobirama suddenly stopped moving entirely, pulling at his hair in frustration.
At such an unexpectedly childish tantrum, Madara abruptly took a few steps back, finally noticing that he had been visualizing the then-Tobirama in place of the now-Tobirama; the adult figure dissipating, replaced by the younger and boyish one.
Madara felt as if he had been slapped in the face with that realization.
It dampened the gleeful high he felt for winning one of their petty arguments which had caused the uptight albino to cuss out loud. No, it was not their arguments; he was in the past, not there. This was a version of Tobirama, not the version he was most familiar with (Izuna's murderer, Hashirama's advisor, Madara's adversary).
Not knowing why he felt so betrayed and heavy by such a thought, he slipped away unnoticed whilst the sweaty and haggard albino continued to mutter angrily to himself.
He needed a moment with his mistress named denial.
For the following visits, Madara had been fully expecting to see a boy with a ridiculous bowl cut hairstyle and poor fashion sense grinning goofily at him from the other side of the creek, but much to his initial disappointment, he only saw an albino with an almost Sharingan-red eyes and a petulant scowl etched permanently on his cherubic face. Never has he encountered the one he used to call a best friend.
Now, he only met with Senju Tobirama.
Shockingly enough, he had to reluctantly admit that he enjoys their time spent together. It had, however, taken them approximately thirteen meetings altogether before Tobirama gave out his name, and Madara to give a shortened version - Dara - of his in return.
Unlike back then, in this life, the name Madara was too well known on the battlefield. A healthy dose of paranoia never hurt anybody; and intrinsically, he wasn't lying.
As soon as he pushed out those thoughts about meeting Hashirama in the near future, he started to wait for the dreaded day when Izuna would follow him on the orders of his father. It proved to be wasted time spent as his father did not notice his absence, too used to how Madara often fades into the background until called upon.
(Uchiha Tajima was truly a foolish man - too blind to truly see his heir's many strings that stretched from the shadows, binding the limbs of many of his clansmen and making them dance to his tune.)
Tobirama has no tails as well, seeing that he was one of the best sensor-nins around despite his young age. He would never come to the creek if followed, lest he risks both their lives in unnecessary combat.
The brat, as much as Madara loathes to admit it, was by far smarter than him intellectually, having an IQ count that would make even a Nara feel dumb. Madara suspects that Tobirama did, in fact, investigate 'Dara' and came up with Uchiha Madara; the murderer capable of horrendous monstrosity, the Uchiha Devil, the one with wild hair, jaded abyss-gazing eyes, and gloved hands that were constantly caked in the blood of his foes.
But it was to Madara's unexpected pleasure that the younger shinobi did not bring reinforcements to cut him down. The albino only stared at him for long periods of time before grunting and returning to his usual behavior of being an utterly obnoxious brat with a stick too high up his arse that even the Sage of Six Paths could not pull out.
With Tobirama, there were no talks about dreamful peace times. There were only perpetual bickerings, spars that would often lead to Madara teasing and correcting Tobirama's taijutsu form, ninjutsu training, and quiet days when Tobirama would bring a few books for the occasional reading time and Madara imposing on them shamelessly.
Yet, whenever he saw the flash of white hair rather than the expected chestnut brown, he would feel his chest constrict tightly for a few short moments, where his breathing would pick up and his heart would start pounding loudly in his ears, before he all but shove those feelings aside to greet the Senju with a taunting smirk, masking all of those useless emotions and enervation with confidence he did not have.
He knew what he had been feeling as of late; loss. At the fact that he has lost Hashirama so early in his second life without his knowledge.
He knew subconsciously, however, whenever he saw Tobirama on the other side of the creek, that the only encounters he would have with the dorky man were on a warring battlefront. And that made Madara despondent. Fighting against a Hashirama who dreamt of peace without Madara inside was heartbreaking. There would assumingly be no persuasion of peace talks or the desperate calling of Madara's name to beat the sense into him. Only a battle cry for his head. It was not something he was looking forward to if he were being honest.
There was also the potential that in this timeline, Tobirama could be the one to fight Madara in his brother's place, but those chances were slim and unlikely. Only Hashirama could outmatch Madara in the future, and Batsuma would most definitely pit the Mokuton user against him once that became a clear fact.
Even then, however, Madara would have decades upon decades worth of experience fighting a Hashirama - be they friendly spars or death battles. An unfair advantage... until the Mokuton user grew into his utterly monstrous power levels that dwarfed Madara's own baseline. Hashirama was considered the strongest shinobi of all time for a reason, after all, and Hashirama, as loathed as Madara was to admit it, outclassed him badly.
On the other hand, he obtained a tentative friendship with a boy with a permanently scowling face. It gradually eased his disappointment and their meetings always gave him a peace of mind. He slept better nowadays, some of his dreams filled with positive feelings rather than his usual damaging night terrors.
With a sigh, Madara shook his head to free himself from his thoughts.
His eyelids were heavy with lethargy, but his mind raced with one too many thoughts. His body was downright exhausted, however. Turning slightly towards the windows, he peered at the full moon outside, his stare full of longing for some kind of sign that he was on the right path.
It was still red.