"Madara?!" The voice made him snap out of his bittersweet thoughts, and look at the person, unintentionally making an irritated expression.

"What? What, Hashirama?!" He yelled back. Shizu was just about to blow him in his fantasies and they were so harshly interrupted.

"Ever since you came back from wherever you've been you keep spacing out. I have asked you – third time, if I may add – what are we going to name this place?!" The Senju yelled back, then almost immediately slouched and let depression seemingly overwhelm him. "But I see you have more important things on your mind than our mutual dream."

"How should I know? Do I look like I'm good at naming things?"

"Right. You named your black dog Kuroo. But anyway, we're both the founders of this village, we need to name it together!"

Whatever the fuck… The wind got stronger for a few moments and Madara's eyes lazily followed a leaf it was playing with. He extended his arm and caught it. After examining it for a little while, he spoke, "Konohagakure."

"Meh, of course. What was I even expecting." Hashirama made sure his tone passes on all his disappointment. "Okay, we'll go with that."

Madara rolled his eyes at the other's stupidity, but it drew a tiniest of smiles from him either way. He sighed contentedly, letting his eyes take in the valley that was their village. It was great, and pretty, and fertile. They should be able to live very well in it.

Already, several small houses have budded out far below, while others were still in process. People worked very hard, both Uchiha and Senju were very optimistic about it and that made him happy.

So that's what it feels like having a dream come true?

"Have you heard that Uzumaki clan asked to join us?" He heard Hashirama say. "They offered me a hand of Uzumaki Mito. Should I accept?" He asked doubtfully.

Madara had heard both news, and even though he was unwilling to admit it, neither made him very happy. The grounds they stood on was already fragile enough because of two opposed clans, adding a third one to it didn't seem very wise to him. But then again, refusing would bring along issues as well.

The other thing was even more unsettling. Not that he wanted the hand of bloody Uzumaki Mito, but nobody even considered him! It was as if he wasn't also founder of the village.

He didn't have any intention of turning this sacred project into power play, but it was obvious that Hashirama was the only one everyone took seriously and looked up to as their leader.

"If you want to. But I guess it would be a lousy way to start off if you refused."

When it came to Madara, even fucking kids cry when they see him!

The other day, when he had managed to teleport back after fifty attempts, he knocked down a child that happened to be in the woods, gathering mushrooms. The little jerk cried so much and wouldn't stop that Madara had to sprint all the way to the village and get Hashirama to help get him home.

He did his chores perfectly well, and he tried everything in his power to get along with everyone. Even damned Tobirama, who killed his brother, but nothing seemed to be enough. The bastard still loomed behind Hashirama, running his filthy mouth while looking at Madara, thinking he couldn't see them.

But he knew everything, he wasn't stupid.

For days already, he's been telling himself that all those problems were but bumps in the road and that he just had to do his best to cross them without commotion. No dream was fulfilled easily. But it's easier said than done. And it angered him to no end that, while he struggled, it all seemed to work so well for Hashirama.

It was unfair.

…

He entered the Uchiha side of the village, their temporary reside until the homes are built. He didn't really feel like going home and meeting his father, but it's not like he had a choice.

They fought again earlier that day, like every other since he had returned. Tajima just wouldn't stop being paranoid and insisting that coming together with the Senju was a horrible idea, while listing all the possible ways for the Uchiha to be ruined through it.

Madara took his complaints even worse than usually, as his doubts were also weighing down on him but he couldn't share them with anyone, else he would seem like a complete idiot.

Every day, he stormed out of the camp, needing to get away before he lashes out at Tajima.

He stopped abruptly, irritated, when someone ran straight into him. Instead of getting out of his way, they looked up and he saw that it was Rukia. She cried, he could see.

"What is it?" He asked, nonchalant. Had Tajima gone out of his way to even piss his mistress off? Well, good for him! She was the only one who stuck around because she wanted to, and oh, how Madara envied her.

"Your father is dead!" She gasped out, bringing herself even closer to him, seeking comfort, as she cried again.

"What?" Madara inquired, sounding strangely silent even to himself. No, she's mistaken. She had to be. "How could… How?"

"In his sleep!" The muffled response came, as Rukia buried her face in his shoulder.

"Let me through." He moved her gently to the side and made his way towards his father's tent, hoping and genuinely expecting to find the man drinking his tea and sulking, as always.

Died in his sleep? That's ridiculous, he wasn't even sick! How does a shinobi as legendary as Tajima die in his sleep? When he dies, it will be in a battle and… He barged into the tent, taken back all over again when he spotted Tajima's serene face while he lied on the cushion, completely still.

"Father?" He called, frowning at his own idiocy. He's dead, he cannot answer. Yet, he called again, kneeling down before the cushion. "Father…"

He placed a hand over the blanket covering Tajima's chest, the lack of movement, breath or heartbeat crushed all hopes of Rukia being mistaken. Leaning his forehead over his hand, Madara let out a broken sigh, his eyes itching as tears were gathering in them, soon sliding down his cheeks in small streams.

He wasn't there for him, the same way he wasn't there for Izuna. The only two people he had left in his life he had forsaken for something useless. The only two people who genuinely cared for him, he had abandoned for a woman who can never be his and a village that would never accept him as its leader.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered breathily, sniffing. "I should have listened better."

…

So, here he was. Lying helplessly, all energy drained from his body, waiting for Hashirama to come and kill him. All of it even worse, because the other was heavily wounded himself and he walked with all speed of a snail.

It was just like his father had predicted. He should have never made a truce with the Senju. Hashirama turned against him, village he helped create turned against him, even his own clan had turned against him as well.

After Tajima died, it was as if the Uchiha just stopped taking him seriously. They wouldn't listen to his orders, nor suggestions.

He took only a day or two away from work, needing his time to mourn, and already when he returned, he came to find Tobirama had turned Hashirama against him.

Who was he kidding, in the first place? As if Hashirama would go against his brother and the entire village just to have Madara be next Hokage. Madara was apparently the only one stupid enough to betray the memory of his brother just so he could join the enemy.

He may have gone overboard with brining the Nine Tails to destroy everything, but he believed that was the best thing to do. In the heat of the moment, it seemed like the only solution. Destroy that lair of false hope and have all clans live their separate lives as they were meant to.

Uchihas would always be looked upon as a threat and because of that they should just ruin those who stand in their way. For when they show an ounce of good will, they will inevitably be played and rejected, like he was.

But once again, he's just a stupid son of a bitch for even caring! They had turned against him! He could have simply gone back to Shizu now that he cut all the ties with the village and the clan. But no, he hadn't had enough of disappointment.

He raised his gaze when Hashirama had finally dragged himself close enough and stood above him. He seemed sorrowful, but he'll probably be overwhelmed by relief once Madara is dead.

But Madara didn't want to die. He wanted to go to Shizu, live in a stone and glass cube of a house, work as a surgeon and make love to her as much as possible. Was that too much to ask?

Where was his fucking brain when he decided to pick up that damned fox?

His chakra was drained, using up even more of it could kill him and not a small amount was necessary to have Sharingan teleport him. He might show up over there dead, or just fail completely and stay here, have a stick pierced through his chest.

Hashirama raised the improvised weapon, its sharp point was no less deadly than that of the shiniest sword.

He spoke, probably spilling more bullshit about their ruined shared dream. How is it shared when one of them gets everything and the other gets nothing?

Hashirama's arm jerked and moved the weapon, and Madara's eyes flared up bright red, the black circles inside of them spinning, each spin making him even more languid. As if he was falling asleep in drunken state, it was almost pleasant.

The weapon hurled down and he may have even felt it come in touch with his skin, and then it disappeared. And Hashirama with it too.

Above him appeared clear night sky and a tall street lamp, illuminating the pavement he lied on. He was right in front of Shizu's building, he realized. Yet, there's no way he could stand up and walk over to the apartment. He would just fall back down. At this point, even breathing was tiring and painful.

Too bad, he was this close.