Thank you very much for all the lovely reviews! I really appreciate it. Here is chapter 2. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
….
Those who lived during Uchiha Madara's time would say that he was a very cold man. After all, he was back in battle soon after his adored brother's unfortunate passing. What more, he even stole his brother eyes to quench his thirst for power. Izuna's grave was still fresh when Madara started to use his newly acquired ability.
How heartless of Madara.
He was , in addition, manipulative, ensnaring Senju Hashirama in his webs of lies and deceit. Poor Hokage-sama, deceived by Madara's sweet words and false promises.
Cruel.
Tyrant.
Those who knew him, such as members of the Uchiha would refer to him as , nah, more or less an ok man. He was an excellent leader, and the Uchiha prospered under his rule. They even managed to stand on equal footing with the Senju, forming the first Shinobi village. Yes, he was ruthless, but nobody could say he was a bad leader.
Cunning.
Powerful.
Those who were intimate with him would tell you he was a immensely misunderstood man. No, he was not even a man. In him, there had always been this boy, who was scarred by loss and despair. His acts were merely the confused actions by a boy forced to mature far too early, coerced to abandon his emotions in order for others to thrive.
Izuna would call him the most affectionate of all brothers.
Hashirama would call him the most compassionate of all people to had ever walked upon earth, since he shared his dream.
Madara himself had never cared enough to analyse himself. Nor did he care about what others thought of him. However, if he had to describe himself, he would say he was a determined person. He would give his all, no matter what endeavour he was in. He would try his hardest to achieve what he believed in.
When he and Hashirama believed in peace, he risked his father's wrath to meet Hashirama.
When he believed in destruction, he tried his best to destroy his adversaries.
Yes, Uchiha Madara was a person who was very determined, among many other qualities he possessed.
Nevertheless, there was never one person, not even his own closest confidante who associated Madara with romance.
Thus, when he finally returned Hashirama's sentiments, there was an uproar in Konoha. Every single person, shinobi and non shinobi alike would gossip about their newly formed relationship.
"What does Hokage-sama see in that demon?"
"Can you believe it, two, powerful clan leaders…"
"Uchiha Madara… What is he planning now?"
Madara was aware of disdainful stares which followed him wherever he went. It did not matter that they knew Hashirama was the one who pursued him, not he other way around, no. To them Hashirama was god, and Madara was the devil. Not that Madara minded, anyway. The only effective way to control people, no matter what Hashirama might say, was through fear.
Somebody needed to shoulder all the hatred.
He would not be Uchiha Madara if each and every snide remark brought him down.
The only approval he needed was his own and maybe, a tiny, weeny, little bit of Hashirama's as well.
That overly optimistic, cheerful and irritating man?
He was his lover was he not?
What prompted him to accept Hashirama again?
Madara might had huffed and puffed each time Hashirama showed his affections initially, but he found himself missing the taller man each time he was away. With each coming day Hashirama's arguments began to seem more convincing. He found himself longing for the other's presence more and more, until he finally came to a conclusion.
He was in love with Hashirama.
On a second thought, maybe not love.. perhaps just he was just fond, very fond of his bright, sometimes annoyingly so, presence.
Yeah that must had been it.
But occasionally Madara would ponder alone on why the sight of Hashirama's face lighting up when he agreed to Hashirama's idea of pursuing a romantic relationship with him made his heart warm all over.
Although, he would forcefully dismiss the notion each time. Having a sharp and over analysing mind was not always peachy.
But he was sure that he was willing to work hard to make the relationship work. It would not be easy he knew, but he had enough attraction towards Hashirama to try. Two years into the relationship, and he informed his clan's elders he meant to never get married in his life. Ever. Of course they were rebuffed by the idea at first, but they came term with it soon enough. Although it may had caused him to lose favour, not that it bothered him.
He had found another person, other than Izuna, who became the meaning for his life.
As he sprawled next to Hashirama one night, as he combed his fingers through the brown silky hair he promised himself.
He would cherish that person next to him, until the day he breathed his last.
He remembered smiling to himself as Hashirama stirred in his sleep, perhaps his senses alerted by Madara's intense stare. He pulled Hashirama close to him, whispering the three words he was too chicken to say out loud when the other was awake.
He was a coward.
But even a coward could feel threatened.
"I am going to propose a marriage between Anija and Uzumaki Mito of Uzushio."
"And you are telling me because?" He raised one eyebrow at Tobirama.
"I would appreciate if you don't meddle with this." The look in Tobirama's eyes was of pure mistrust. "You have dragged his name to mud long enough." He conveniently left out the fact that it was his brother who relentlessly pursued Madara like a deranged person but Madara was not a man so petty to point out his deliberate omission.
"Hmph." How absurd.
Hashirama would not even consider the proposal, did Tobirama not know? He was very much in love with Madara. Madara was very sure of the fact, as much as he was sure that the sun would rise from east and set in the west, thank you very much for the unnecessary concern.
Right?
So why was he back in Konoha a few days early, when he received a message that Uzumaki Mito was sighted in the village?
Well, he was done with his mission in any case, and he had always been fond of speeding up. Time after all was an enemy. One second wasted, and you will never get it back.
Uh-huh, the reasons above would be more than sufficient to justify his immediate departure and increased pace to himself.
Mito was not a threat, he decided. Sure, she was not ugly, but not necessarily stunning either. And what was with her obviously forced demureness? And she was wearing too much make-up. Overly feminine.
Hmph. Hashirama would not get much fun in life if he chose her over Madara.
Wait, why was he comparing himself with Mito?
He stared at the red haired woman, observing her reaction upon hearing his name. The slight twitch at the corner of her left eye might had been missed by another person, but definitely not Madara.
She knew who he was to Hashirama,
"Nice to finally meet you." Hashirama's mine.
He watched as she tried her best to hide her uncertainty.
"Uzumaki Mito." Back off, woman.
Heh, she was doing a good job, since Hashirama did not notice her discomfort.
Hashirama…on his way back to their house, he tried to find any reason for the hurt he saw in Hashirama's eyes. He was himself in the morning, however he adopted the sullen look after Mito left. Was Hashirama that upset that Mito was leaving? How dare he! What about the hurt then? Madara was the one who was supposed to be offended! His lover was offered a bride, a female to boot! What right did Hashirama have to feel slighted?
Nah, he must had had imagined it.
He was overthinking the matter, he was sure.
Hashirama returned to his passionate self when he made love to Madara that night. The tips fingers which grazed Madara's flushed skin felt the same to him, he loved Madara with the same raw, pure masculine vigour he always did. His kisses were still feverish, leaving Madara panting for more, his rhythm fully synchronised with Madara's.
It was a night a little bit too cold for the ravenette's liking, and he was departing the following morning, thus Madara returned his drive with the same intensity. He remembered leaving his fingerprints all over the span of Hashirama's broad back. He bit hard, until a familiar metallic taste registered on his tongue. His fingernails were red from scratching perhaps a wee bit more than necessary. But he felt elated, looking at Hashirama, bleeding and bruised from his little 'ministrations.'
Somehow he felt the need to leave his marks all over his lover.
He was not going to die in the mission was he? His abnormal impulse was not a death flag was it?
Truly he was over thinking. He was Uchiha Madara. The only man who would have the ability to pose any harm towards him was at that moment too busy pounding hard inside him, hitting his sweet spot over and over. As he felt Hashirama's arms encircling him after both of them collapsed from satisfied exhaustion, he deduced that everything was alright.
The following morning however, Hashirama was odd again. He was staring at Madara, a lot more than he usually would, but refused to give a solid answer when asked. Something was definitely different with Hashirama. The thought bothered him eminently that he found himself sprinting back to Konoha after the talk with Iwa representatives had ended. Well, the talk consisted of Madara spewing a few threats and the Iwa shinobis cowering in fear at any rate, therefore there was not much left to discuss after he was done.
The sight that greeted him in his bedroom was even more puzzling. What was Hashirama doing, transforming into a lady, kneeling in the middle of the room?
"Hashirama?"
Hshirama's face was paler than he had ever seen in his life, and that was saying a lot, since he had known him since they were young boys. He watched as flickers of mixed emotions went through Hashirama's eyes, before the latter burst into tears.
Tears?
Senju Hashirama was crying?
Was the end of the world near? Madara dropped his gunbai and luggage, before hurrying to Hashirama's side. He gathered the man into his arms. Madara was very, very confused. What happened?
However, untactful as he was, even he knew it was best to let whatever that was pass before probing further. So he stroke Hashirama's hair while he whispered sweet, at least by his standards, nothings into his ears.
He did not know how many hours had passed until Hashirama finally calmed down. However his arms were almost numb from being in the same position for so long by the time Hashirama stopped trembling. He rested his chin on top of Hashirma's head, his fingers rubbing his back in a calming, circular motions.
He was glad that he had younger brothers. At least he knew how to calm someone down.
"Are you better now?" He felt the other nod under him. It was one of the few, very rare moments when Uchiha Madara felt truly relieved. He would not know what else he had to do had Hashirama not cease with his tears.
"Did Tobirama die?" He stared at Hashirama's tear streaked face.
Tobirama's death would not warrant for tears, unless they were joyful tears in Madara's opinion.
Hashirama shook his head, his gaze averted from Madara.
Well, Tobirama being alive was certainly a misfortune to many, Madara mainly, but to Hashirama he was his brother. It was not Tobirama.
Madara was out of ideas. It was unlike him to be so personal and caring anyhow, thus he decided to not try getting Hashirama to answer him. Perhaps Hashirama was facing a mid life crisis, that must be it. He stood up, extending one hand to Hashirama.
"If you are feeling unwell, why don't you get a rest. I'm sure no one is expecting you to show up at office by now." Hashirama grabbed his palm, pulling Madara into a bone crushing hug. The plates of his armour dug into Hashirama's skin, he was sure they would leave ugly bruises, but Hashirama seemed to not have noticed. Madara returned his hug, but with a slightly less force. He took in Hashirama's scent. Almost two weeks without his smell, Madara had longed for it all the time he was away.
The clasp of his armour unfastened , and the red metal fell with with a clink. He felt calloused fingers making their way under his shirt, tracing his spine in a very slow motion.
"Hashirama?" He tried to pull away, but was barricaded between Hashirama's steely arms. Hashiramsa still refused to look at him, his face buried at the crook of Madara's neck. Madara glanced down. Hashirama was being awfully quiet, it made him feel vexingly self conscious. He felt Hashirama inhale deeply before he loosened his hold. Before he could walk away, Madara caught his arm.
Hashirama tried to wrestle his arm back, but Madara kept his grip strong. Not that Hashirama was really trying. Somehow his half hearted attempt annoyed Madara more.
"Is everything really alright Hashirama?"
Hashirama stiffened for a moment before nodding mechanically. He tried to wrench his hand again, but Madara decided to jerk him closer.
"Okay, now don't shit around. What. Is. Wrong." Hashirama's oddity was making him anxious. Something must had happened.
Hashirama was silent.
Hashirama did not try to jump him.
Hashirama was not smiling.
Hashirama was not Hashirama.
He did not know how to deal with a quiet, miserable Hashirama. Such person was foreign to him. He resented that there was something that could make Hashirama act such way. Something other than him.
Hashirama was his. Only he could affect Hashirama.
He surprised himself with such possessiveness. He had never felt such urge towards anything, much less anyone. However, the fact remained that he was irked because Hashirama was distracted in his presence.
"I'm sorry."
His voice was so small Madara might had missed it had the night not been so eerily quiet. Madara became even much more confused. Did Hashirama think that Madara was mad at him? Of course he was not mad at Hashirama. He may had been annoyed at him but not mad. Madara cupped both sides of Hashirama's face with his palms, trying to appear as appeased as he could. He secured his hold firmly, forcing Hashirama to look at him.
The sclera was red from all those crying, his face appeared flushed while the area around his eyes was swollen. As Madara stared into his brown eyes he could see hints of indescribable emotions in Hashirama's gaze.
"I am not angry at you, Hashirama." His voice was calm. Madara tried to soothe..whatever that was bothering Hashirama. "Only, when I ask questions, I expect answers." Honest answers. We are lovers are we not? Let me share your burden.
Hashirama cowered a little from his words.
"I am sorry." His voice was as feeble as his first apology. Madara knew then that no amount of persuasion would grant him what he wanted. Hoping to be more considerate he decided to let the topic drop.
"Whatever. I am hungry, can you cook something? I need to shower." He dropped his hands from Hashirama's face. His gunbai and bag were strewn on the floor. Madara stretched himself before picking them up. The floor was dirty from his gunbai, he would need to clean it afterwards, he noted. He started towards their equipment room however Hashirama's voice stopped him.
"Madara.." He sounded desperate, his voice strained, his jugular veins visible as he grit his teeth. Madara sighed. He raised his brows encouraging Hashirama to go on.
"I love you. You know that right?" His voice was low, he averted his eyes again. Madara gave Hashirama the warmest smile he could manage. "I know, Hashirama." He tilted his head sideways, turning away from Hahshirama towards the equipment room.
Later that night, when Hashirama was deeply asleep Madara would caress his lover's cheeks. He would scrutinise every corner of Hashirama's face, drinking in the perfection that was him. He would silently sigh, his breath causing a few of the dark hair strands to be softly blown away.
And finally, he would whisper his words of endearment for Hashirama.
I am sorry, Hashirama, I am a coward. You know I love you as well, right?
….
From another person's perspective, Hashirama may had appeared to have returned to his usual self the next morning. He was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast by the time Madara woke up. The sun had not fully risen, and chirping of birds of many kinds could be heard. Madara swung his legs to the sides of the bed. He combed his fingers through his hair in an effort to reduce its fuzziness. He walked towards the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. The tap water felt cold to his face, jolting him fully awake. He turned the tap off, grabbing his face towel, patting his face dry. Closing the bathroom door, he headed towards their kitchen. The sizzling sound and familiar aroma of cooking eggs and steaming rice intruded his senses.
"We're having rice today?"
Hahsirama turned towards him. In his hand was a ladle, his other hand holding a bowl.
"I made eggs and miso soup. Why don't you go and have a seat over there, it will be ready soon." Madara headed to the chabudai, sitting down in seiza position. Even though he had been told to relax by Hashirama multiple times before, he still found it hard to discard his habits. Even as they went through the meal, chatting over menial matters, subtly avoiding Hashirama's out of place behaviour, he maintained his position despite the well accustomed painful numbness which started to prickle at his legs. He was strong after all. Such pain barely even registered at his mind. Besides it was a form of endurance training.
How very Uchiha Madara.
They walked to Hashirama's office side by side, in a very relaxed pace. Summer was nearing the end of its visit, and the occasional chilly zephyr of early autumn was a bit too cold for Madara's liking. He was, after all, a member of the clan with a strong affinity towards fire. He unconsciously inched closer towards Hashirama, hoping to leech off some of his body heat. He folded his arms against his chest, his palms rubbing his biceps in repetitive motions.
"Are you cold?" Hashirama had stopped walking. The taller man was looking at him, concern evident in his coffee eyes. Madara shrugged. He was not about to admit his weakness, not even to his own lover.
Hashirama chuckled. His first genuine expression of joy since the day before, in Madara's opinion. "Madara it is barely twenty five degrees! Truly, you Uchihas are.." He could not finish his sentence before he burst out into a full, hearty laughter. The sun had risen, its rays fell over the sharp features of Hashirama , painting a picture so dazzling it wholly captivated Madara. Despite the nagging annoyance he felt at being mocked, he could not stop an embarrassed grin from stretching.
"Oh shut up! At least my body will not become mouldy because it is made of wood." He increased his pace, leaving Hashirama behind. Hashirama fell into steps with him, his voice had not lost traces of his laughter as he playfully muttered apology towards Madara.
"Oh, come on Uchiha-sama, your humble servant Hashirama did not mean to offend you. You're such a bore." Madara almost broke into laughter but he held himself in check. It would not do if he was seen in public laughing.
"Uchiha-sama~~! Uchiha-sama~~~!"
A cloud of depression fell over Hashirama.
"Uchiha-sama doesn't want to see humble Hashirama anymore?"
"Fine! Argh! You are so embarrassing!" A gust of wind passed through them and Madara instinctively hugged himself, realising the implications of his actions a wee bit too late. Hashirama was hysterics. He clutched his middle hard. After more than ten days without Hashirama, Madara found it extremely hard to maintain his angry facade. He chuckled, joining in with him, making fun of his own inability to withstand cold.
"You know you could have asked me to just hug you right?" He tried to loop his arms around Madara's waist, but Madara expertly evaded his attempt. It was not the first time anyway. How many times must he tell Hashirama not to do that? He hated PDA, and if it was not for the oath he made to keep the village safe, he would have Amaterasu-ed all the couples who could not seem to understand his resentment.
"People will see, Hashirama." He growled. Sometimes he would wonder why his emotions were such a roller coaster, but he was a powerful shinobi so who cares?
Uchihas were always full of love in any case, so why bother?
"So if we go to places where people can't see, it would be fine?"
"Huh?"
Hashirama jerked his left hand, dragging him towards somewhere that was definitely not his Hokage office. It was certainly a peculiar sight, with Hokage-sama and Madara-sama hopping from one building to another, hand in hand. Madara was of course shouting curses for Hashirama to let him go, while Hashirama was merrily laughing.
Madara was out of breath from all his shoutings by the time they reached their destination.
"The river?"
"Yeah." Hashirama's grin was dazzling, Madara noted not for the first time. "It has been a long time since we last came here, don't you think?" He plopped on the ground, his arms supporting his back, his legs stretched in front of him.
"Aren't you supposed to be in office today?" Madara crossed his arms. Hashirama had skipped his work the day before, and who knew for how many days before Madara returned. Madara could not believe him. He had a village to govern!
"It is fine to take a break once in a while isn't it?" Hashirama had that look in his eyes again as he watched the flow of the river. His movements were almost absent minded, as he pick up a small stone, slinging it across all the way to the other bank. Madara felt himself relax. It would not harm to postpone his works for a day.
"Tobirama would nag at you, you know." But he sat down next to Hashirama, his legs crossed. He tilted his face to the sky, watching intently as a flock of birds flew away. He closed his eyes. The sun rays were blinding him, but its warmth felt nice against his skin.
"Screw Tobirama." The corners of his mouth lifted up at Hashirama's choice of words. He turned towards him. Hashirama was still lost in his thoughts as he unconsciously played with the pebbles underneath his palms. His gaze was still unfocused.
"Hashirama."
Hashirama looked at him.
Madara stared right into him.
"You know I'm here right?"
Hashirama nodded. He shuffled towards Madara, wrapping his left arm around him, placing Madara's head on top of his shoulder.
"I know." But he still sounded distant to Madara. If it had been any other times, Madara would had pressed Hashirama until he obtained his , at that moment, being in a very close proximity to Hashirama, Madara had another pressing need. Last night, since Hashirama was acting so queer, and due to his exhaustion, both of them fell asleep without anything, ahem, intimate.
Madara wound both of his arms around Hashirama's shoulders, craning his neck to invite Hashirama into a kiss. Hashirama met him halfway. The kiss was brief but it was enough to bring Madara into the mood. His movements became more aggressive. He placed his palms on either sides of Hashirama's fore head, before tugging at the strands hard, tilting his head backwards, baring the tanned neck to him.
How trusting of Hashirama. He could kill him then, and there was nothing the other could do about it. The river had been long since considered their private place, the villages avoiding it out of respect, or was it disgust?, towards them. He trailed the tip of his fore finger down his Adam's apple all the way to the place where the two of his collarbones met.
When he pushed Hashirama down, he heard the other's playful voice.
"Tobirama would nag at me tomorrow."
Madara smirked.
"Screw Tobirama." He could feel the rumble of Hashirama's chest when he chuckled.
…...
There were two things that Madara decided during the following two months that ensued. One, something was definitely going on with Hashirama. Although he acted like everything was normal, there would be occasions where he would sneak glances at Madara when he thought Madara was not looking. Now Madara was used to Hashirama's secretly looking at him, but what was out of ordinary was that Hashirama would avert his eyes instead of meeting his with a broad smile like he usually would.
Hashirama had his head in the clouds even more often. Sometimes he would look so fearful in his thoughts, other times he would look dejected. But the most bizarre thing was that he seemed to be keeping secrets from Madara. And the Uchiha patriarch was not pleased with the fact at all.
Two, it was Uzumaki Mito. Madara was surprised to see her in the village when he took a stroll a few days after he returned from Iwa. When he enquired Hashirama, the other just nodded without providing a concrete response for the reason of her being in the village. Madara did not have any reason to be so antagonistic towards her presence other than he was bloody jealous of her. For no reason really. It was not as though Hashirama was interested in her, but for all that it was worth Madara hated her guts.
Thus it came as no surprise when he was taken aback when Mito approached him one evening. He was on his way back, tired and was in dire need of a warm bath after he finished sparring with his clansmen.
"Whatever it is make it quick." He did not even try to mask his strong dislike for the Uzumaki, crossing his arms, his gaze thrown in all sorts of directions apart from her face.
"Look, Madara-sama, I know that Hashirama-sama and Madara-sama are not exactly associated with each other in a purely platonic manner." Big deal. Who doesn't know that? She seemed unsure whether to continue or not, not that it was in Madara's concern.
After a few seconds of silence, Madara started to walk away, but was stopped when Mito called after him.
Mito looked uncomfortable as she formulated her sentences. "I am sure Madara-sama knows who I am to Hashirama-sama." Other than a shameless wench? No he did not know, nor was he interested in knowing. "What I want to tell you is that.." She hesitated.
"I am willing to share Hashirama-sama with you, if it means maintaining the peace." Her fists were clenched on both of her sides, and he could see that it took all of her strength to maintain eye contact with him. She had guts, he would give her that. Although he would say her courage was greatly misplaced.
Very, very greatly misplaced.
The whole village knew not to say anything about his 'ownership' of Hashirama. Even Tobirama was tactful enough to subtly ask for his permission before proposing a marriage for Hashirama.
And there she was, a kunoichi from a different village. An outsider.
What did she say?
Share?
She was willing to share?
She was willing?
She was?
Oh how presumptuous of her. How arrogant! How brazen!
How impertinent.
How dare she!
Hahshirama was not hers.
He was his.
He would be the one calling the shots.
He would decide if he would share Hashirama with her, not the other way round.
He would.
Never another.
Not that he would ever share Hashirama. Never ever in his life.
His elbow was at Mito's neck, the latter slammed into the nearest tree as he stabbed the other's eyes with his piercing , furious stare before she even had the opportunity to comprehend the situation.
"Don't you, ever, utter such nonsense in front of me again." His voice dripped with venom, his eyes ice cold. "End of conversation."
If it was not for his pledge with Hashirama not to harm anyone who did not pose threats towards him, he would have relieved the woman of her life that moment.
He retracted his arm. Mito fell on the ground with a fit of cough. He did not bother sparing Mito another glance before moving away from the spot, not caring with the curious onlookers. As if his image could sink any lower.
When Hashirama arrived home that late evening, he did not wait until he reached their bedroom to jump at Hashirama, forcing himself onto him. Madara rarely was the one who did the giving, he was more often on the receiving end. It was a thrill to know that somebody was strong enough to dominate him, although that was also usually done at his pace. However his encounter with Mito made him feel that she was insinuating that he was the woman in their relationship.
Which was undeniably preposterous. They were both men. They both had equal rights over each other. Not that a woman would have less right over her man than he over her.
No. But Madara was not a woman.
When he was finally done with Hashirama, the other was bleeding from his entrance, with bloody bite marks and scratches all over him. Hashirama however was wise enough to not ask what was wrong. Instead he silently healed his wounds, while Madara sat next to him, not letting Hashirama out of his sight.
He knew Hashirama knew that it was his own way of apologising. He felt guilty looking at Hashirama's well hidden wince here and there.
He loved Hashirama after all.
Later he pulled Hashirama into a gentle embrace, not caring that the wooden floor was stained with blood and cum. He rested his chin over the top of Hashirama's shoulder, feeling Hashirama's silky stands occasionally rubbing against his cheeks. He tightened his hold, feeling the appeasing effect of the other relaxing.
Still, he did not say a word.
Still, Hashirama kept quiet.
They were both lost in their own worlds. Madara thoughtlessly combed his fingers through Hashirama's hair that he was very fond of.
Hashirama traced the veins of his free arm, his act inattentive.
It would be perfect if they could stay that way forever, Madara thought.
But he knew some wishes were meant to remain wishes. Some dreams were not meant to come true. Some hope would remain impossible.
Some people were just not meant to be together.
In the hind sight, Madara would be able to pinpoint the exact moment everything turned for the worse.
Calamity came that night in the form of one Senju Tobirama.
His face was as grim as ever, Madara noted, however the distaste was mutual so he did not complain.
"Anija." He did not bother to acknowledge Madara, but it was not the first time he did not, and sure as hell would not be the last time either.
But Madara was the bigger man, so he ignored Tobirama's blatant disrespect in his own house.
"I have something to talk about." Madara noticed that he was glancing at his directions more than a few times, as if he was displeased with Madara's presence. "It's about Mito."
Madara stood up that instance. He shot both Hashirama and Tobirama his infamous Uchiha glare before exiting the room. Mito…Mito…Mito! Was there not another name he could have mentioned?! Madara headed to the public training ground. On nights as such, it was best to let his Majestic Flame Destroyer loose. His mood was elevated the moment his seventh, or was it eighth?, flames were put out by the lake water. It was not hard to continuously breathing out fire when he imagined a certain red haired woman's and a certain albino's faces on the water surface.
He sat down on the hard ground. It was a starless night, he could only see darkness when he tilted his face upwards. Madara sighed.
What was he doing, throwing tantrums like a mindless child?
After some time, he decided to head back. Even though he was already a man fully grown, there we certain things which had still remained.
Ripples of water had always had a calming effect on him.
Madara walked back home instead of hopping. It was conciliating to walk alone with only the moonlight as his companion. It was quite a long walk from the training ground .His shared house with Hashirama was quite isolated from the rest of the villagers'.
"Privacy." Hashirama said with a not so innocent smirk on his face.
The night was cooler than the day, with autumn breeze greeting him now and then. He stuck both of his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunched to trap as much heat as he could. His hair provided for a wonderful warmth, enwrapping him in its wild, thick mane. He inhaled deeply. He could smell the scent of falling leaves which brought a nostalgic feeling. Izuna had always loved autumn. When they were very young, before they were allowed to enter battlefields, he would make piles of dried leaves before coercing Madara to join him jumping on them from the top of trees. His brother would be delighted with Konoha, he knew that. Even though Izuna told him not to trust the Senju, he believed that he could make Izuna see that Hashirama was different.
Yes, if only Izuna was still around.
Madara would not feel so alone like he did. Of course there was Hashirama, but Hashirama was not an Uchiha. In the end only an Uchiha can fully understand another Uchiha.
He cursed Tobirama under his breath. Tobirama took away Izuna, he would not permit him to take Hashirama as well. Him and that red haired, boring woman. Like come on, who fashions her hair into two buns?
Spiky, unruly long hair was the way to go.
Madara hummed with vain satisfaction as he neared the house. The lights were still on. He rolled his eyes. Tobirama might still be around. But Madara was a matured person, so he could handle being in the presence of a person he… let's say immensely disliked. However as he went through the entrance, he noticed that it was peculiarly quiet. That was strange. Even if Tobirama had gone home, Hashirama would normally greet him whenever he came back. Madara was suddenly dowsed with worry. Something could not had happened to Hashirama, could it? He dashed towards all the places he thought Hashirama could be at.
Hashirama was seated at the middle of their living room, his head hung low, his legs crossed. The coffee strands that were his hair curtained the sides of his face obstructing Madara from looking at his expression. Madara breathed a sigh of relief.
"What are you doing, sitting like that? Has your brother gone home?"He walked towards him.
"Hashirama?" When Hashirama finally titled his face upwards, he had a look on his face Madara could not quite put his finger to. He stared right into Madara, his gaze apologetic. His face was calm, so serene it scared Madara. When at last smiled, his smile was enigmatic, and perhaps with a hint of lethargy.
He out stretched his arms, pulling Madara onto his lap in a fierce hug. Madara could feel the bumps of Hashirama's ribcage pushing against him. He was even more befuddled.
"I love you, Madara." His voice was the same deep, soothing Hashirama's he knew, but somehow it felt different. There was something Hashirama was trying to tell him, of that he was certain, but what? He tried to disentangle his self but Hashirama refused to budge. Instead, he was pulled deeper into his embrace. Madara gave up. He decide to play along with Hashirama. He buried his face to the spot where Hashirama's neck met his shoulder, his nose touching the familiar skin. His arms crept up Hashirama's back, feeling the ridges of the latter's spine. He felt the tension leaving Hashirama's body.
The was just something about hugs that would be good for health, he remembered the fact from.. somewhere.
"Are you alright?" The number of times he had asked Hashirama the question in the span of the past couple of months may be more than he had ever done so during the years of their relationship. Hashirama had always been alright. Ha was always so bubbly, so bright it blinded Madara more often than not. But the recent Hashirama was mysterious.
"I am, Madara." He sighed, tickling Madara's right ear with his breath. "I am." This time his voice sounded like a pained whisper. Madara shrugged, almost knocking Hahirama's chin in the process. He lifted his head. There was no use thinking about things he would not get answers for, he decided. Hashirama would tell him sooner or later, he knew. As if Hashirama could keep secrets from him for very long. The Hokage was too deeply in love with him. He kissed the top of Hashirama's straight nose. "Let's call it a night, Hashirama."
His answers came sooner, a lot sooner than he expected. The following day, he was greeted with a jovial Uzumaki Mito when he entered the Hokage office. Hashirama, who was seated behind his table, refused to look at Madara, his gaze trained to his right, hip lower lip bitten hard between his teeth. So hard, Madara could see the white of his tanned skin. The crease between his brows were visible. He looked different.
He look tormented.
And somehow, at the back of his mind Madara knew it had to do with the overly happy Mito.
"My father is coming tomorrow, Madara-sama." She bowed, a gesture that should had meant respect, but it looked mocking to Madara. "Forgive me if I seem too happy." She went on with scripted pleasantries, but he could not care less. His focus was still on Hashirama, who by then had met his stare, his eyes soulless.
"…for the wedding." That particular word of hers grabbed Madara's attention instantly. He turned towards Mito, his movement so sudden it stopped the woman in her tracks.
"What did you say?" He was impressed with the calm in his voice. Mito looked at him for a brief second before proceeding to explain.
"Most of my family members would be able to travel here, but not my elder sister. She has a baby coming. Perhaps she would not be able to make it for the wedding." Madara nodded. He almost snorted. Who was the poor guy who had to marry Mito? Could it be Tobirama? Well would they not make a fine pair. One controlling, son of a bitch brother complex albino and a red haired, vain kunoichi.
He could see Mito's relief. "You are not against this, Madara-sama?" Madara almost shrugged, but he decided not to. It would have been unbecoming to seem so unprofessional. Instead he just ignored her. Not that she minded. She soon excused herself, humming as she went. He turned towards Hashirama.
"How did you get Tobirama to agree?"
"It was his idea in the first place." Hashirama sounded distant, but Madara allowed it to slide. He imagined he would be upset as well if Izuna were to get married. Although he doubted that he would behave like Hashirama. "Are you really agreeable to this?"
What a possessive brother. He must had been looking for any opposition he could find. What did Madara care about Tobirama's future spouse?
"It has nothing to do with me anyway."
He watched as Hashirama rested his elbows on the desk, his strong chin placed on top of his crossed fingers. Hashirama had a sad smile playing upon his lips. In his eyes, Madara could see flashes of hurt.
"Is that the extent of how much I mean to you?"
Madara could not comprehend how Hashirama's worth to him had the slightest involvement with Tobirama's impending nuptial. He tilted his head to the left, his expression of great confusion.
"What does that have to do with this?"
"It has everything to do with this."
"I don't get your point."
"You never do."
"What is that supposed to mean?" He growled, his voice laced with building anger.
Hashirama sighed. "Its ok, I understand. Look, lets just drop the subject."
Now there were many things which could irk the Uchiha. One of them was being left hanging. He covered the distance between them in a few long strides. He slammed both of his palms upon the hard wooden desk, hearing the sound of cracks forming on the surface. Not that he cared.
"Oh no, we are not going to! I have had enough Hashirama!" His right thumb was on a side of Hashirama's face, his other four fingers digging into his other jaw line. He roughly tilted his face so Hashirama could not evade his eyes. He could see that Hashirama was startled. He brought his own face down, until he was eye levels with Hashirama. "Don't you dare look fucking away!" He was snarling, he knew that. But he was at the end of his patience, and no one could ever say that Uchiha Madara was a patient person. He hated not being able to figure out Hashirama. As much as he would refuse to admit, he knew the oddity had something to do with Mito.
And that bugged him.
Madara was scared, even if he kept telling himself he was not.
What if Hashirama decided that he preferred a stable home, with a wife and kids over Madara? Sure, Hashirama initiated their relationship, but Madara had come to being accustomed to having the tanned man waiting for him each time he returned. He was already used to having him shower himself with his undying was already used to missing Hashirama when he was away. It had become natural for him to call Hashirama his home.
Madara had come to love Hashirama, very, very much. So much he could never find the words to describe it in.
And it made him euphoric to know that he was capable of loving.
But it scared him.
Because, as much as he tried to convince himself that Hashirama was his, he knew the latter was not, and Madara disliked not having complete control.
Hashirama was far too deeply rooted in his heart that it would kill him if he was wrenched out.
As he held Hashirama in his powerful grip, such was what he tried to convey despite his harsh words. Hashirama held his gaze, his eyes unblinking. Madara knew he could activate his Sharingan, and he would gain instant access to Hashirama's mind. But he did not, as a show of trust. And both of them were well aware of the fact.
" Do you even love me, Madara?" When Hashirama croaked his words, Madara was full of disbelief. How did their conversation came to that?
"I am the one with questions, here Hashirama."
"Just answer me, Madara." He was pleading, his voice trembling. Madara softened his grip. He took in a deep breath. Truly he was becoming soft. Just one plead from Hashirama, and his anger dissipated, despite his hanging question.
"Is it not obvious, Hashirama?" Madara was one who was shy with verbal affections, Hashirama knew that, Madara was sure.
"It is even more so now, seeing your reaction." Hahshirama's fingers crept up Madara's, prying his fingers away from his face. Madara dropped his hand to his side.
"We need to talk, Hashirama."
"There is nothing left to talk about, Madara."
"I give up. I don't understand." Madara raised both of his hands, a sign of defeat. "You keep talking in riddles, enlighten me. "
"It is alright, I promised you that you could end this whenever you want in the first place."
End? End what? "I believe I told you to stop beating around the bush, Hashirama."
"How can you be okay with the that matter with Mito, if we are on the same page, Madara?"
"Why should I concern myself, Uchiha Madara, with matters as trivial as Tobirama's marriage?!" He had raised his voiced he knew, but talking with Hashirama was exasperating. The man was not making much sense, brooding over incomprehensible affairs.
"Where does Tobirama fit in all these?"
"Are you not upset with Mito for taking your brother away?
"Since when is Mito taking my brother?"
"Is she not marrying Tobirama?"
"Of course she is not. Where did you even get the idea?"
Silence filled the air. Madara was not liking the direction their conversation was heading towards. Uzumaki Mito was getting married, and definitely to somebody from Konoha, since her father was making the trip. Hashirama was definitely involved in this somehow, judging from his weird behaviour. His constantly depressed state. His refusal to share with Madara. Mito's joy. It suddenly hit Madara.
"She is marrying you." His voice was barely above a whisper. As absurd as the idea sounded, and as much as he wanted Hashirama to deny it, Hashirama's averted gaze confirmed his suspicions. Madara was stunned. It was a situation he was utterly unprepared for.
"You are not against this, Madara-sama?" So that was why Mito asked him the question.
What?
"Are you really agreeable to this?" Was Hashirama asking for his permission?
How?
He looked up to Hashirama, incredulity evident in his eyes.
Why?
Did Hashirama not love him?
"Why did you accept it Hashirama? Is it Tobirama? That bastard! I will talk to him! " He was going to pummel Tobirama, really , really badly, until he bleed from every inch of his body. How dare he! He dashed towards the door before his wrist was jerked hard. The hand that gripped his was shaking.
"It is not Tobirama." Hashirama's eyes were downcast. "It was my decision."
Madara wrestled his hand away. "How dare you!" He knew Hashirama must had been under pressure from his elders but how dare he not consult with Madara first! He knew a man with a great sense of responsibilities like Hashirama would be easily manipulated. But how could Hashirama say it was his decision. As though he decided to pick Mito over Madara.
Hashirama fell onto his knees. He clutched at the fabric of Madara's clothing. "Forgive me, Madara. Forgive me! Forgive me, Madara! " He was shaking Madara in his attempt to apologise.
"I will talk to your elders as well. If I could knock some sense into my clan's, I can do the same to yours ." He sighed. Madara pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated complicated things. "Come on, on your feet. It is undignified to act like this." His tone was soft, as if he was speaking to an upset child.
Hashirama was silent. His expression was full of guilt. He opened his mouth before closing it again. Madara chose not to say anything. He knew if he intervened, Hashirama would lose..whatever it was that prompted him to speak.
"It is no use, even if you go to them." Hashirama lifted his head, meeting Madara with teary eyes. "I slept with Mito, Madara! I have to take responsibility!" He proceeded with incoherent sobs which resembled apologies, but Madara no longer paid any attention.
Hashirama had to be pulling his leg.
It was as though he was struck by thunder, while simultaneously had his heart pierced with the sharpest of kusarigama. His legs wobbled before giving in to gravity. Madara stared at his crying lover, lost of every ounce of strength in his body.
Crying?
Why was he crying?
Oh right, because he slept with Mito.
Madara had never felt more pain than when the thought finally fully set in his mind. Hashirama had slept with Mito. A woman. A kunoichi. A person from another village.
A person who was not Madara.
Did he betray Madara then?
When did it happen?
Why had he not known of the matter?
His Uchiha spies would have known he was sure of that. Why did none of them tell him?
Were they all laughing at him, behind his back?
Oh how he must had looked like a fool.
Hashirama was wailing at his shoulders , his nails digging into the skin of his shoulder blades, his body shaking from powerful sobs. Normally, his tears would had made Madara soothe him but not that time.
Why was he crying again?
Oh right.
Uzumaki Mito.
He pushed Hashirama away, standing up that instant. Hashirama was taken aback by his sudden action, but at that moment Madara could not care less. It was suffocating to be in the same room with Hashirama, with overflowing emotions threatening to spill out of him. Madara felt nauseated. He rushed out of the office, out of the building not caring where his legs took him. All that he knew he needed to get away.
As he jumped from one tree branch to another, with each step he took, he could hear the sound of his heart crumbling into pieces little by little.
It hurt.
He found it hard to breathe.
He stopped when he was sure that he was far away enough, howling his frustrations to the blue, cloudless sky, while permitting himself to come term with the fact that his heart was broken.
…
When he returned home, the moon was already out. Their house was brightly lit. An anxious and fidgety Hashirama greeted him at the living room. He looked uncertain, but with more composure than he had in the morning. Madara did not spare him a glance before heading towards the kitchen to find some water.
"Madara.." He had never hated any sound more than Hashirama's voice apologetically calling his name that night. He ignored the other as he tried to initiate a conversation with him. When HAshirama reached for his hand, he automatically evaded, as though he was disgusted by him. Madara was burning with rage as he glared at Hashirama.
"Don't. Touch. Me." It was hurting him to see Hashirama's dejected face, his shoulders hunched with disappointment. But it was killing Madara just by looking at Hahshirama. Funny hows single fact could change the way a person is perceived. He loved Hashirama, he knew that. Perhaps he would never ever fall out love with the brunette for as long as he had life in his body.
But his attachment was destructive.
"Madara, please just listen to me." How selfish of Hashirama . How cruel of him. Madara decided to walk away. He did not want to hear anything from Hashirama. He refused to.
Each word would only deepen his wound.
"Madara, I love you." He stopped walking, turning slowly towards Hashirama. Love? After he betrayed Madara? After he decided to marry another? How dare he! How dare he spout lies again! Did he think that Madara was a person so easily deceived? His movements were menacing as he stalked towards Hashirama.
For the first time in years, not for sparring, not out of anger, not for sexual gratification, but from the desire to purely hurt, Madara allowed his fist to hit Hashirama.
Let him have a taste of Madara's ache.
…..
Thank you very much for reading this. Do drop a review if you have the time, thank you.