"All's fair in love and war."
The sun is setting over the village, casting a golden glow over the bustling town and its newly carved mountain. Through the open screens Madara can hear the chorus of evening birds and crickets replace the distant voices of villagers as the townspeople retire home.
No such luck for me, Madara thinks as he eyes the tower of scrolls that virtually obscure the dark head of Hashirama seated opposite him. Not having to look at the Senju's face is the only redeeming quality to another arduous day of paperwork.
How did I get roped into this again? As if it wasn't enough having to endure that farce of an election and now I'm stuck doing the idiot's dirty work for him!
Again he considers throwing the tedious piece of paper at Hashirama and storming out, but his promise weights heavily on his mind. Each one of these documents could be a little more power lost or won for the Uchiha.
To think our battles have descended into bureaucratic nitpicking… our ancestors would be ashamed.
Despite his anger and lingering prejudice, the time spent here isn't entirely unpleasant, although he assures himself it's still duty to his clan that keeps him coming back. It's an unpalatable fact, but when he isn't playing the fool, Hashirama is still one of the only people Madara can have a decent conversation with.
"That's enough of those," Hashirama says suddenly, swiping the papers from the low table.
"I was trying to read that, Senju," Madara retorts as their hard work scatters across the floor.
"Oh come on, we been doing this for ages. It can wait. Let's just relax!" The new Hokage leans back, large hands resting against the meshed floor. "And I thought finally deciding on a leader would simplify this! I think I've seen more reports and treaties in the last two weeks than in all the months we were building Konoha."
"Are you complaining?" Madara grates, levelling him with a stern gaze.
I am not jealous, he reminds himself. It's only natural they chose the one that courted them with peace…Naïve fools…
"No," Hashirama replies quickly and it amuses Madara the way his rival falls over himself, as if apologising for being made Hokage in the first place. "I just think we need a balance, that's all."
"Says the man that's had Madara-dono and I doing most of his work for him. What have you done here?" Mito exclaims she lays down the latest tray of tea and notices the fallen pile. Hashirama grins up at her as Mito's nose wrinkles with disapproval.
"I wouldn't say most of the work – okay – fine," he laughs, catching the famous Uzumaki glare. "The two of you know I couldn't manage without you!"
Mito shakes her head, but Madara's keen eyes spot the faint smile on her lips. It's clear Hashirama's charm is already working its magic - no-one can stay angry with him for long, unless the one in question was an Uchiha.
"Tell the rest of the clans that," Madara says, rising stiffly. He hates being stationary for long, it's not in his nature. "They seem to think you are the Sage reborn."
"Where are you going, Madara?" Hashirama asks as he helps Mito arrange the papers back into some sort of order.
"It seems the official business is over for the day. Is there any reason for me to stay?"
Certainly not to watch the two of you flirt with each other…Madara's made a resolution with himself to forget Mito, but that doesn't mean he enjoys playing the third wheel.
"Abrupt as ever. Mito just made you some tea! And besides," Hashirama's face becomes eager. "I thought we could play a game."
"Shogi?" Madara says, wavering. "I thought you'd remember your last humiliation and forgo a repeat performance."
Despite his legendary strategic skills, Hashirama's losing streak with gaming continues; although Madara likes to think it has more to do with his own prowess than some jinx the Senju has.
"You won't beat me a second time."
"Second time? I've lost count of times I've beaten you."
Hashirama's eyes narrow cockily. "Care to bet on it?"
"Hashirama…" Mito's warning tone is drowned out by the thud of Madara sitting back down.
"You're on, Senju."
Several games later, his pockets almost as swollen as his ego, Madara smirks at the downcast Hokage. Even the break for a meal hasn't improved his chances.
Perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all…
"Would you like me to lend you some money, Hashirama?" he asks, judiciousness mixing with just the right edge of mockery.
Mito sniffs as she clears away the lacquer trays and bowls. It's unclear whether her irritation is directed at Madara's glee or her husband's gambling habit, but there's little she can do when Hashirama insists on falling on his own sword.
"I just don't understand. I had that last game! This always happens when I bet money," the Senju hangs his head.
"Or perhaps you just lost to a superior player," Madara replies.
"No, it can't be that."
Humour evaporating, Madara glares at his old friend but before he can cut him down to size, Hashirama leaps up.
"Wait, I have just the tonic – we need some sake!"
"Drowning your sorrows now?" Madara's grin is back in place as he watches his rival flee to the kitchen.
"That is enough." Mito says, respectful veneer finally slipping. "I think it's time someone wiped that smile off your face."
"Coming to defend your husband's honour, Mito-hime?" Madara says, feeling distinctly amused. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"Actually, no." Mito seats herself in Hashirama's place and arranges her kimono. The cool challenge in her gaze sends the old electricity sparking again through his veins. "It's my duty and pleasure to defeat you."
Madara barks a laugh. "By all means, Princess. What will you wager?"
Because there's a few things I wouldn't mind having from you…
The lamplight catches her blue eyes as she leans over the board. "Unlike my husband I don't need to wager, Madara-dono. Your wounded pride will be prize enough for me."
"So confident," he smirks, deciding to let her get away with the temerity as it makes her all the more attractive. "We'll see if you can remain that way."
"Ooh Mito, are you playing too?" Hashirama says as he sidles back into the room.
Seating himself to one side of the board to watch the game, Hashirama pours the rice wine out for the three of them. The blue ceramic is painted with the whirlpools of Uzushiogakure, a gift from Mito's grandfather - the indomitable Uzumaki Ashina. The man had only tried to kill Madara once before the treaty, but unlike other clan leaders he had damn near succeeded.
Banishing the memory, Madara takes a small draft of sake, enjoying the mix of the alcohol's burn and the prospect of humbling the haughty woman that sits across from him. In fact being able to watch her like this is a pleasure in itself. The rosy glow of the lamps turn her red hair molten and add extra lustre to her smooth skin.
Such a beautiful possession... he thinks yet again. She fits so well into the Senju's ideal life – a cultured bride to give his reign that final edge of nobility. Add her unique knowledge and abilities and Uzumaki Mito is truly a prize worth having. A pity none of the other clans heiresses compared, it would keep the Uchiha elders off Madara's back and his mind from wandering down paths it shouldn't.
But it doesn't do to concentrate on that with Hashirama a metre away from them. The atmosphere is companionable and despite his undeniable appreciation, Madara doesn't want to disturb the peace. Taking another draft, he sets his agile mind to work as they begin the game.
After they exchange a few rounds he has to concede she has some ability, but that just made things more interesting. Hashirama is smirking as if he has something to do with it. Madara decides after he beats Mito he's going to take what's left of the Senju's pride as well. An hour quickly passes but he doesn't notice it, absorbed as he is in the game. Mito is just as serious, although he does note the way her lips curve into a half smile every time she makes a good move.
Reading her body language is just as important in learning her strategy as analysing her gameplay, Madara assures himself as his eyes covertly trace the lines of her face again.
The crickets continue outside and a brazier keeps the room warm against the cooling night air. The smell of charcoal and delicate intense filter through the homely space and the muscles in Madara's back relax imperceptibly.
Hashirama watches their progress avidly, tanned arms wrapped around his knees. The alcohol has obviously mellowed him as his enthusiastic commentary trails off to something more profound. "I've been thinking…"
"Don't strain yourself, Senju."
"As I was saying…" Hashirama cuts in with a slight pout, "I was thinking the king reminds me of the village."
Madara rolls his eyes and lays another piece with a sharp clack. "Everything reminds you of the village, Hashirama."
"I'm serious, Madara. The king is what you protect in Shogi. Well for us, its this place - our home."
"You do love your analogies, don't you, Senju? But if we are going to use this one, the better example would be that the Daiymo are the kings and we are their pawns."
He illustrates his point by taking Mito's flying chariot. Even an important piece must sometimes be sacrificed for the greater goal. As he knows to his cost…
"Hmm, well I prefer to concentrate on the positive view."
"Why does that not surprise me?"
"You two!" Mito's voice is a mix of fondness and exasperation as she moves her king out of the reach of Madara's gold general.
"Protecting each other and fighting for what you believe in makes a stronger shinobi, Madara, you know that," Hashirama continues, sounding slightly put out. "They are already calling it 'the Will of Fire.'"
"What?" Madara almost forgoes his reputation by spluttering. "Another ridiculous name? Where do you get these from, Hashirama?"
"You're the one who came up with Konohagakure."
Hashirama is definitely on the edge of one of his mock depressions. It amazes Madara that someone so formidable can descend into childishness so easily, but Madara knows it's just one of his games. Despite that, he still finds his hand straying towards a game-piece that would make a good projectile.
What is it about this fool that still gets to me?
" 'The Village hidden in the Leaves' is practical, Senju. Unlike 'Fire Shadow', which, as well as sounding preposterous, doesn't make any logical sense."
"I thought a Fire-Style user would know a flame creates shadows," Hashirama says under his breath.
Madara's fist clasps around the game-piece and then unclenches as he forces himself not to rise to the bait.
"Flames are best known for banishing shadow by creating light, but fine, I can accept 'Hokage'…but 'The Will of Fire'?" Madara stares at his rival witheringly.
"What's wrong with it?"
"It sounds like something out of Journey to the West."
"You loved that story as I recall- "
"As a child, Hashirama."
"I didn't come up with it- "
"Then as I feared, your stupidity is catching- "
"Both of you, enough!" Mito cuts in, Uzumaki temper flaring. "I would like to finish the game in relative peace."
"Of course," Madara glances back at her. "Mito-hime needs putting out of her misery."
"I don't think I'm the one who needs putting out of their misery, Madara-dono," she says sweetly. "Check."
"What?" he gasps, looking at the board.
"Check," she repeats, a smile breaking through the polite veneer.
"I don't need a repetition," Madara growls, his anger rising as he hears Hashirama chuckling quietly into his cup.
She's only a few moves away from checkmate! How did this happen?
"You were distracting me!" he rounds on Hashirama.
"It's nothing to do with me! Perhaps she is just a superior player," the other man says, repeating Madara's earlier taunt with obvious satisfaction.
"Don't patronise me, Hashirama! All I've been hearing for the last ten minutes is your voice!"
"That's because you insisted on arguing with him, instead of concentrating on the task at hand, Madara-dono," Mito replies, silks whispering as she leans back on her cushion.
She's clearly enjoying having him at her mercy and as riled as he is, Madara finds himself focusing on that teasing face. She looks like a vixen - red hair, wicked eyes and that little smile. He would give those lips a biting kiss right now if she were his.
"You haven't won yet, Uzumaki-chan," he smirks back at her.
She sniffs at his rudeness. "Then you'd best make your move."
"And I promise not to distract you," Hashirama grins. "Or stand behind you as I remember that time- "
"Finish that sentence, Hashirama, and I swear, alliance or no, I will kill you," Madara's voice is emphatic as Mito looks at them questioningly.
She is never going to find out about that, he thinks, remembering with suppressed horror some of the pranks the Senju used to play on him during their brief childhood friendship.
"Hashirama, would you get us some more sake?" Mito asks, clearly trying to prevent more upsets.
She leans over to stroke her husband briefly on the cheek. It's a small moment, but the seed of jealousy is again flaring in Madara's dark heart and suddenly the friendly atmosphere in the room is stifling.
Ignoring his rival's departure, Madara gets up and strides out on to the veranda, screens opening and closing with a loud snap. The air is cooler outside, but it does nothing for his mood. Crossing his arms, he stares unseeing at the starry sky, black hair blending with the night. The garden in front of him is dark, but he can hear the rhythmic clunk of the water fountain. Hashirama created the landscaped area as a gift for his new bride, Madara recalls.
Yet another sickeningly sentimental action and yet the clans really believe he has the nerve to lead the village.
The memory of the Hokage ceremony rises up – the Lord of Fire's praise, Hashirama's bashful smile, all those cheering people…Yes it does rankle, there's no use in denying it.
I was born to rule, I've sacrificed everything to get to this point and yet here I am still playing second to Hashirama!
Madara can hear the sound of the screens opening and Mito's sandals on the wooden floor as she moves to join him. The inward sensitivity at having someone behind him is all the more acute when it's her, but his anger makes him aloof. Ignoring her, he glares to the left and notices a orange lantern swinging gently in the breeze. A circle of moths dance around it, vainly trying to penetrate the interior. Why they fight so hard for something that would ultimately kill them is a mystery, but the irony isn't lost on him.
"Come to chide me for leaving our game?" Madara asks at last without looking at her.
"I think we could all use a short break."
Mito sounds genuine so he grudgingly lets her stay and for a few minutes they stand together looking out over the view.
"Konohagakure is beautiful at night, isn't it?" she says, indicating the twinkling lights of the village beyond the line of trees.
"Darkness hides all manner of sins."
"You are in a strange mood tonight," Mito says, looking at him askance. "Does the prospect of losing to a woman really make you so upset?"
Madara turns slowly and gives her a patented Uchiha stare. Her face is controlled, but the teasing glint is back in her eyes and her lips twitch at his dour expression.
"Think of it as a short reprieve before I crush you," Madara says, cold baritone hiding his unwilling amusement. "It's always a pleasure to defeat an opponent who thinks they have won."
She laughs and he hates the way his heart leaps on hearing it. He never intended on letting her get this close, but like Hashirama she has somehow wormed her way past his defences.
Damn them both. Where is the fool anyway?
On cue there is a crash and a string of curses from the kitchen. Both their heads turn.
"I better see what he's up to," Mito says, gathering her long robes.
"Don't," Madara says with more vigour then he intends. "He'll be fine. Let's postpone the onslaught of idiocy for a few more moments at least."
"Madara-dono!" Mito censures as she peers round the screen.
Perhaps it's the sake or the perverse sense of rightness he feels with her at his side, but suddenly all he wants is to hear his proper name on those full lips, not this assumed formality. What's the use of such boundaries if she's already overcome them?
"My name is Madara," he corrects as he turns towards her. "Say it."
"What?" She looks back at him, bemused.
"Say my name, Mito."
"I wouldn't want to take liberties, Madara-dono." And neither should you, her expression says.
"If I allow it, what's the issue?" he insists and steps closer.
"It would be too personal, as you know," she says pointedly, but her eyelids flutter and her chin tilts, striving as ever to stay aloof and untouched.
It gives him a vicarious sense of power to have rattled that perfect composure.
"It would please me to hear you say it," Madara says softly.
He is only a step away from her now, looking down into those pupiless eyes. The tips of his hair catch in the wind and brush across her, as dark as his aura that reaches out, smothering all objection. Her Geisha mask is back in place as she stares up at him, but he can tell she's still flustered.
The tension grows between them as the moments pass, each one as long as time in Tsukuyomi. The black against the red. But he's never been able to catch her in genjutsu. He recalls all too bitterly the first and last time he tried.
Eyes wide in shock fix on him as Madara rips aside the curtains of her palanquin, the blood of her clansman a gory spray across the silk. He's drunk with the triumph of victory and the knowledge of denying the Senju their new allies. She has no Mokuton, this pampered princess, no Flying Thunder God technique to escape the Sharingan. She is his.
Her eyes begin to close as she surrenders to his will like all the rest. But as he gazes at her beauty, Madara thinks to savour her before he ransoms his prize. Then her eyes blaze open and the force of his chakra smashes back into his sockets; the agony of a blinding seal hits him as it burns itself onto his retina. His men tell him later that chains forged of chakra, the like of which they have never seen, burst out of the palanquin just as he falls from it. Only Izuna's intervention saves him and the signature of his defeat is etched for days on his bleeding eyes.
It's a seal traced on her very mind, she tells him years later, one derived from the Sage himself. The wife of the Younger Son was an adept at Fūinjutsu and memories of the Elder Son's eyes linger in their descendants all too well.
"You're lucky I didn't trigger another kind," she says, returning one of his smirks with her own. "Instead of repelling your chakra, I could have drawn it in and sealed you away inside of me forever. No escape."
The innuendo is lost on Mito until he begins to grin and it's the first blush he sees on her, clashing with her hair.
Sealed inside you forever…I can think of worse fates, like this one for instance.
Their eyes are still locked together. Mito seems unable to break his gaze unlike their first encounter. The ineffable chemistry wells up between them, Elder branch to Younger. Together they could be the Sage reborn.
Hashirama could appear at any second, but Madara can't bring himself to care. All he can see is her and this elegant house, which by all rights, should have been his.
I know you feel something for me, Mito. I will have you admit it.
Behind him, he hears the crisp of an incinerated moth.
Yes, Madara thinks and prepares himself to step into the fire. Mito's lips part, with a gasp or something else, but he never gets to find out as Hashirama crashes through the doorway and breaks the moment.
"There you both are!" He slings his strong arms around them both and for an instant Madara's heart seizes in guilt and fear.
Did he see us? Or rather just Madara as Mito made no move towards him.
She has moved her face away, cheeks flushed and Madara expects Hashirama's grip on his shoulder to become iron. It tightens and despite himself, Madara's heart finds his throat in a sudden icy surge.
Hashirama crushes them both to his chest and lets out a belly laugh.
"Ooh, my two favourite people!" The smell of alcohol is ripe on his breath and his cheeks are even more flushed than Mito's. Madara is too leaden with guilt and what might have happened, to fend him off. "Well, two of three, really, as Tobi isn't here. Isn't Konoha lovely at night?"
They are both forced to contemplate the view with him, Mito just as uncomfortable as Madara. Her eyes momentarily meet his and dart away as she's squished against her husband's broad chest. The frozen facade is back.
Had there been something or is he just imagining it? He has to know.
But not tonight.
Forcing guilt and desire down in equal parts, Madara extracts himself from Hashirama's grip and moves to leave.
"Where are you going? The game's not finished!" Hashirama cries, his arms leaving Mito as he clambers after Madara.
"It's late, husband," Mito says firmly. "Let's save Madara-dono's pride." Her eyes underscore the words to Madara.
Madara gives her a thin-lipped smile and spite makes him retort. "The game's just begun, Hashirama, but I'll leave you to savour victory for tonight."
He doesn't wait for their responses as he strides towards the gate flanked by its Mokuton sentinels. Shadows crawl across his face as the night-lamps catch his passing back to the Uchiha district.
Hashirama being his brother and the Uchiha being his responsibility are distant in his mind for now. He has to know.
Fire lights the dimness below the Naka shrine, the torches incandescent with a single, minor jutsu. Madara's Sharingan swirl like an eddy, first the three tomoe then the wicked shapes of the Mangekyo, illuminating the gabbled script on the ancient stone before him.
Together Yin and Yang can obtain all things in Creation…
There was a way to entrap Uzumaki Mito. Knowledge.
A/N: Big thanks to those of you who reviewed over the years. I find myself in a mini Naruto renaissance and wanted to polish this scene so you could finally see it after, what? Ten years! Can't believe it's been that long…
The bickering between Hashirama and Madara during the game remains one of my favourite pieces of writing. They have such an interesting and poignant friendship/rivalry and I think Hashirama is a lot smarter than he lets on, he just likes to tease people. I've struggled from time to time, when I come back to this, to find the right ending for this chapter, but I've always wanted Madara to show Mito the shrine and if you look on DeviantArt under my name (GirlofBluefire) you will find an old fanart of that scene. That said, I still don't think I'm going to have the inspiration to complete this story, Naruto ending the way it did, but still, let's see. Coming back to this has at least allowed me to integrate some of the Uzumaki techniques I've toyed with over the years. I would have LOVED to seen them developed and especially wanted to see someone overcome Kishi's beloved Sharingan. If anyone could do it, it would be the Uzumakis! Anyway, thanks again and let me know what you think?