Time Heals All Wounds
Summary: The day Tobirama died happens earlier, during Hashirama's time as Hokage when they are at war with almost every new village but years after Madara's death. Only he didn't die. He somehow ended up in a time not his own and met a familiar face he though gone forever. Can he get back? And what of his new friend?
Utaha Asama looked pretty much like every other born Utaha, the same coloring, the same complexion and the same arrogance that coated and veiled every action his father or any of his siblings ever did. The only difference between his siblings and his four years older cousin was that his parents were not like Madara's and had allowed the young man to train karate since the moment he saw Madara was starting his training. Two years later, Asama had attempted to seriously hurt Madara in one sparring session that Asama's Sensei and Madara's Sensei, Tsunomade Akira, had set up as a friendly match to show off for some of his Sensei's beginners.
Madara had been ashamed of loosing his temper in front of his Sensei by snapping so many bones in his cousin's body but the woman had been more worried than she was angry at the results of the spar. She had tried to pull him out of the championship tournament for fear of stressing his barely starting to heal rib and what could happen if someone were to kick him in exactly that spot. His life would have been in danger as the possibility of his rib puncturing a lung were at an all time high.
Especially since Asama's dojo had decided to retaliate for the lack of punishment Madara got from his Sensei by spreading the word that the current reigning champion had an injury that everyone then aimed for. It was a dick move and petty revenge and Asama had come from the hospital just to sneer at him when Madara finally caught on to what was happening during his second match when his opponent went for the same side he was hiding that he was favoring.
It made victory all the sweeter when he defended his title and walked away with a gold trophy and medal.
Asama, unlike his siblings, had never liked him. There was no single moment in time when his attitude towards Madara changed, he'd simply always been a dick towards him while kissing up to Ren every chance he got. Given that Ren never believed Madara when he had tried to tell him what Asama had done before the tournament, Madara figured they deserved each other and never spoke of the matter again. Even now, years later, Asama was smarting from his hurt pride and he actually had a bit of a limp on colder days when his foot started acting up. Asama always takes the chance to glare death at him while slicking his way into his father's good graces in hopes that Ren would provide him with a place in the business world.
Madara was disgusted.
He still is, when he and Tobirama finally enter the living room and he sees Asama all but praising this or that business maneuver he'd heard or read about that Ren had recently done. Such a kiss ass. Unfortunately, Asama's attention immediately tunes into him and a hatred ten times deeper than anyone else's that Madara's known in this life seeps into his cousin's gaze. Asama had never been subtle about his dislike. Those dark eyes then turn curious as they slide over to Tobirama, taking in his white hair, pale skin, red eyes, the three tattoos on his face and the elegance of a predator on the prowl that he exhibits in every step. Tobirama was studying him in turn with laser sharp intensity that Madara realized he was assessing the threat level he might represent. He wasn't sure how he felt about recognizing such a look when he had been pretty much oblivious to it in the weeks since he'd met Tobirama. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear the man was radiating murder again.
'Though maybe he is?' He mused to himself, contemplating what he knew of shinobi and how they did things. He realizes that it's very possible, even more probable that, yes, Tobirama was projecting murderous intent, probably through his chakra and probably as a familiar gesture to chase people off before it could come to physical conflict when it is not needed and is essentially a waste of chakra. It obviously caused unease, given the way that the people present in the living room all shifted uneasily or paled a little, but the world has also obviously been without shinobi long enough that 'civilians' - or rather just people in general, really - no longer understood the origin or the meaning behind this cold, stiffening feeling. 'Imagine that,' he thought, the words dripping with irony in his own mind. 'People once used to be obvious about their killing intent.' Madara probably only realized what it was because of his past experiences with it in another, completely different life.
And that was something he thought he should be freaking out about more than he was. Truly, he was taking all of this shinobi/ninja thing far too easily and smoothly considering how many bombs had been dropped on him so far. He guessed, though, that a part of him had always known this and it had taken a man out of his past and a near death experience to trigger it all. Shinobi business was apparently something his soul was very familiar with, for whatever reason that might be. He wasn't sure why or how he had reincarnated but not even Tobirama knew. He has this untouchable, inconsistent and yet insistent feeling that he himself should know, but the knowledge is apparently still blocked to him. He has a theory as to how to unlock it, but if he is honest with himself, he is afraid to have those memories back. And not just because Tobirama said a vast majority of them will be horrible, but because of Tobirama.
Tobirama, who had held a blade to his throat the second he saw/sensed him. Tobirama, who had accused him of being powerful and cruel enough to play games with a near deathly injured and severely exhausted man. Tobirama, who had obviously never trusted his past self.
Tobirama, who was his friend now but could go back to being somewhat enemies with him if he gets his memories back, whether that's his or Madara's decision and doing.
Madara did not want to be enemies with him, to chase him out of his life.
So no, though he had a theory, he was in no haste nor did he feel the urgency to test it out. Those memories can stay blocked for all he cared. He already didn't know what to do with the ones triggered in his fight with those idiots that had been after Tobirama!
Yes, he had fought as though nothing clouded his mind, but in truth, he had not been thinking or focused at all. His body had simply known how to fight and what to do. He had moved without a single conscious thought, he had kneaded chakra with even less than that and he had won. In the meantime, his mind's eyes was overwhelmed with images that made little sense as they were fragments.
A strange war fan, the one had had seen in his daze after the explosion at the store. Red eyes with three comas rotating around the pupil. A man with long hair that was friend foe danger didn't-notice-didn't-help. A village at the bottom of a cliff. A red and white fire fan. A fox, orange and big and dangerous, red eyes and plenty of tails. Four children waving at him, all making him feel love protect cherish precious my-all, dwindling to one - my-world adoration my-sanity my-heart unconditional-love my-everything failed gone grief loneliness please-not-him please-give-him-back. A woman with hair almost identical to his feeling like safety love home, a man with most of his features feeling like love pride honor duty home war. A young man with dark chestnut hair loyalty adoration warrior steadfast protect. A boy staring up at him in awe protect so-young innocent keep-safe keep-happy. Tobirama, staring at him in suspicion, glaring in distrust. A redhead woman elegant careful doesn't-understand respect fondness. A woman with blood red lipstick and sharp eyes, naginata in each hand danger respect amusing.
A pain in his chest, in his heart. Pain of loss and pain from a wound. It was impossible which one hurt more.
His heart, trashing in bonds he could not fight. Desperation. Last chance. Fight, fight fight.
I will not be controlled!
All in all, it had been a very weird experience, one he really wasn't going to share with Tobirama, no matter the promise he made. Until the memories start forcing themselves into his mind, refused to give Tobirama a chance to change his mind about their friendship status.
"Ah, cousin!" The overly cheery greeting broke him out of his thoughts and brought him back to the present, only to see Asama beaming too brightly at him to be anything but sarcastic and venomous. Mio, who had a crush on him that Madara did not want to contemplate, of course threw him a jealous glare from where she had seated herself as close to Ren as she could so she would be in Asama's direct line of sight. Unfortunately for both her and Madara - and especially his peace of mind, seeing Asama's bordering on obsession with him - Asama's eyes will always stray to Madara first no matter who or what was present or going on. Kind of comes with the territory after how Madara had humiliated him. Asama had almost been twice his size when he had broken those bones. "It's good to see you back home at last! Who's your new ... friend?"
The teen felt his eye twitch and his jaw clench but he relaxed as much as Asama's mere presence allowed and gave his elder cousin a sarcastic smile. "I will be home once I get the money from insurance to either rebuild or buy a new one. And my friend can introduce himself, if he wishes to."
From the corner of his eye, Madara saw the pale man roll his eyes and had to repress a snicker. (It was much better to focus on that than his father's disapproving glare or the knowledge his decision still caused pain to his mother.) "Senju Tobirama."
"Utaha Asama. I'm sure you've heard a lot about me," the arrogant cousin all but bragged but Tobirama just shrugged, nonchalant and deadpan in expression.
"Not really."
Asama sputtered and Madara actually sniggered this time. Trust Tobirama to amp up the sass at any given moment. Behind them, he could hear his mother's nearly completely suppressed giggles and knew she agreed with him. Oh yes, Tobirama was definitely her favorite of all the friends her children had brought home.
"Kaa-chan tells me you want to take us out tonight?" Madara asks, though, before the conversation can uselessly stretch on longer than necessary.
Asama sneers at him for a moment before he was all smiles again when Ren looked his way. "Ah, yes. I got entrance tickets to tonight's pre-Christmas party at The Spark night club, so I thought who better to invite than my favorite cousins!" Which, essentially, meant Mio, Miyako, Kiachi and Madara, as his birthday was tomorrow. Sixteen was enough to enter the club, seventeen enough without adult supervision but you can't order alcoholic drinks until you're twenty one, in accordance to the law. The drinks will be overpriced but The Spark was known for its vast variety of good music.
"You know clubbing isn't my thing nor do I plan on leaving Tobirama alone with virtual strangers," he replied to the invitation, crossing his arms and unconsciously cocking his hip how his mother did it when she is staring disapprovingly or disappointingly at someone. Madara knows that with him, it's more irritation than anything.
"So bring snowball along! I have enough tickets." Tobirama twitched at his side and Madara frowned but decided not to address that. "Come on! It's either all of us or none of us."
Miyako's eyes widened and she turned a sickly sweet smile at him. "Come now, otouto. We all know how much you love loud music."
"You don't even have to stay long," Mio wheedled, though that might be more to do with the fact that as soon as Madara inevitably leaves, Asama's attention would be focused elsewhere and she can grab it for herself. Madara wondered if she was aware that Asama was Ren's younger brother's son and that they were far too closely related for whatever offspring a relationship like their's might produce is likely to end up demented or retarded because it was practically incest.
And while it's true that Madara indeed did like music, he's long since been conditioned by past experiences not to like crowds. Especially loud crowds. Especially where there's little space to maneuver should Asama or anyone from his school see an opening to get revenge at him while they're in the club. Time for viable, reasonable excuses. "Tobirama doesn't like clubbing. It's not his thing and as I said, I don't plan on leaving him alone, especially when his ankle is still injured."
Asama's eyes fell to the bandages still left tied around Tobirama's ankle if only to create the illusion that he hadn't healed himself. Still, the man stood steady and strong, which kind of gave off the impression that whatever it was, it wasn't serious. "Looks pretty good to me."
"You'll come with us, right Tobirama-kun?" Miyako asked in what she probably thought was an enticing or seductive tone. The teen tried not to gag.
"Can you even keep up with us, old man?" Kiachi asked with a snort, challenging, as though he himself wasn't witness to Tobirama's perceived stamina in outrunning him and his little followers whenever they tried stalking Madara home in the past month or so. Seeing the frown - obviously offended more by the fact that Kiachi thought him stupid enough to fall for that taunt than the taunt and insults themselves - Madara was quick to place a hand on the Senju's upper arm to get his attention.
"You don't have to agree to this. I have more than plenty of music to listen to here as well and I don't like crowds."
"You're just scared he'll see how awful you are at dancing," Kiachi sneered again and Madara felt his temper and his indignation raise like hackles.
It was an absolute falsehood. Madara danced as easily as he fought. The louder the drums, the harder the beat and the faster the rhythm, the better. It always left Madara feeling like liquid fire was flowing through his veins instead of blood and the rush always had him heady. No matter how long he danced, he always felt extra energized afterwards and dancing was one of the things that brought him peace and relaxation. But he usually didn't like dancing around other people. A club would be both the worst and the perfect place for him to let loose and lose himself to the rhythm. There would be too many people too close all though him, but it would be dark with only some club lights to set the mood and it would be loud. Every hit of the bass would vibrate in his chest and the heat of so many bodies rubbing and bumping and grinding would be like dancing next to a fire.
Saying Madara would be awful at dancing was not an insult he'll let slide. And damn Kiachi but he knew this! It was something he used to watch Madara do every time the younger was stressed and needed release.
"I guess we're going then. Perfect!" Asama said as he caught on to the indignation Madara was feeling and reading it for what it was. "I'll come pick you guys up at eight! Be ready!"
Madara growled and stormed out of his house, continuing to stomp his feet until he was off of his parents street. He wasn't at all surprised when Tobirama came after him and fell easily in step with his angry strides. Not only was the other a shinobi but he also had longer legs as his advantage. It took him a couple of minutes, in which the Senju remained perfectly silent and calm, before he let out a scream he muffled by biting his own hand and covering his mouth with his shirt and free hand so no one heard more than what might be a groan. It helped him release all the anger and frustration but somehow left him feeling drained in the process.
When he was finally back in control of his emotions, he sighed and looked at Tobirama from the corner of his eyes. "Sorry about that. I just ... Ugh!"
"I can easily say I've never seen you this pissed before," his friend commented as Madara ran a hand through his hair and then futilely tried to get it back in order. He had a meeting with his insurance company agent, damn it! He had to look presentable.
"They just frustrate me. If we weren't family, I would be punching them all in the face every day!" And while Madara might have been busy raging because of his idiot relatives, he wasn't blind to the look that crossed Tobirama's face at his exclamation. It's not the first time he'd seen it, after all. The Senju sported it every once in a while and Madara had a good guess as to why. 'Probably reminiscent about how similar I am to the Madara he was used to.' He wasn't sure if he was relieved or distraught by that, as there were two warring sides in him about that point.
The look, though, cleared soon enough and the white haired man shook his head. "Why don't we focus on what we set out to do? Namely getting that insurance money for the house. You said you wanted to take Kurama outside for a bit as well."
Madara had to snort at that, amused and feeling himself relax again. "No, I said you should take Kurama out for a walk and you're just trying to avoid it. Look, I know he's one grumpy fox, but Kurama's pretty much been all I had for about a year since I could only rarely see my mother. He's really not that bad. He's giving you a chance, why don't you try it in turn?"
The ninja sighed but seemed to concede. "I'll try to. I just hope he won't see it as a weakness and gauge out my eyes."
"Hm, yes, that would be a tragedy. You do have pretty eyes." He turned his head to the other side to ensure his spiky mass of hair will hide the blush that was threatening to consume it whole.
He turned red as a rape tomato when Tobirama returned his hum. "Perhaps you should look in the mirror. There's a lot more pretty to you than just eyes." Ah, yes, Madara will be the first person on Earth to die of embarrassment by means of compliments. He huffed and hurried on ahead in fear of the smug bastard seeing him blush.
"Shut up and walk."
"Yes, dear."