Hashirama
Boxing
I lay on the couch with my feet kicked up in the air running my pencil along the white page. The scent of dinner wafted through the area, tinging on slightly burnt. I raised my head.
"Tobi, are you frying that?" I asked.
"I know how to cook mac and cheese, brother." He said in that matter-of-factly tone he always used.
Don't you hate smart-ass little siblings? They think they're so rad because they just learned sarcasm like yesterday.
Itama sat on the couch next to me flipping through the channels.
"The RoadRunner's on, Hashi." He informed me. "Check it out!"
I turned to see a coyote darting for a bird only to run into a brick wall that was only painted to look like a tunnel with the bird standing there. He pulled back, teeth in his mouth shattered and falling out. I laughed along with Itama. He really loved that show for some reason.
"Shouldn't Mommy be home now?" he asked. "It's almost nine 'o clock."
"Her second job most likely runs late into the night." I told him.
He sat up in his bright red footy pajamas and frowned.
"I don't like her new job. She always smells weird when she comes home."
She was the one who picked Itama up and put him to bed so he would be the one most familiar with her scent. In actuality, I hadn't even noticed that detail.
"What does she smell like?" I asked him, finally paying full attention.
He shrugged.
"I don't know what to call it. It's just weird."
I lifted my head, from the kitchen, Tobirama paused in stirring the mac and cheese and was listening to us. When he saw me looking at him, he gave me a knowing look. I nodded back at him.
"I wouldn't worry about it, Itama." I said, then I grinned. "You probably just smelled your upper lip."
Tobirama snorted from the kitchen.
"Hey!" he exclaimed.
I reached over and tugged on one of his rabbit ears. He was dressed like such a baby, wearing those full pajamas. Not only did they cover his feet, they extended over the sides of his head and pulled up into these big-ass red rabbit ears like he was wearing a cap. It looked dumb but we didn't pick on it because we didn't want to depress him or anything.
Tobirama dropped a plate of mac and cheese into his lap and tugged on the other ear.
"You look like such a goon wearing this."
Well, we didn't pick on him all the time for it...
I grabbed the other plate from him and he sat down on my other side. I slid the drawing I was working on, face down, and onto the floor as we dug into our food.
"Wait. Mom always says we have to pray over the food first." Tobirama reminded us.
"Thanks God!" I declared.
"'Fanks Gob" Itama repeated, mouth already stuffed with food.
Tobirama rolled his eyes, leaned over me, and snatched the remote from Itama.
"Hey!" he exclaimed.
"You snooze, you lose." He said, flipping the channel.
I was only watching it half-heartedly as he went on. I was more so interested in finishing my food as quickly as I could so I could get back to drawing but then, I saw something that look familiar in a sense.
"Hey, wait... Go back." I said.
He flipped backwards and the channel settled, slowly coming into focus.
"...And now that we've shown their brave faces, accompanying it are their names and ages." The announcer said.
"Ew. This is the news." Itama said.
Tobirama cocked his head.
"Isn't it all the people that were K.I.A this week?" He asked. "I heard the toll was pretty high."
I leaned forward in my seat as the camera slowly zoomed in on the list of names on the white board.
"Keep going, Tobi, this is boring." Itama said.
"Wait..." I said.
Toward the end of the list of about forty names, in the U section... The very first name read:
Tsubasa Uchiha. Age 18.
Tobirama's eyes widened.
"That's..."
I stood up, moving my plate off of my lap as I did and dropping it on the end table.
"Watch Itama." I told him, finding my shoes at the door. "I'll be back later."
"You better make it home before Mom does." Tobirama said.
I gave him a look.
"It'd be impossible to make it home later than her at this rate."
"Where you going?" Itama asked, looking completely confused.
I smirked at him.
"Up yours." I replied to which he immediately pouted.
I pulled my jacket on and slammed the door behind me trying to remember where he said he lived. The owls hooted over me and I could've sworn I saw a bat perched up on the roof. Now, if you know anything about horror stories, bats and owls are not good omens...
-Twelve Years Later, when I finally gave up trying to remember where he lived, went inside and found a phone book-
I walked through the freshly cut, green grass on the lawn and up to the porch. The guy's house was gigantic, I kid you not. Godzilla and his friggin' five kids could've lived there if they wanted to. I found myself wondering why he never struck me as a rich kid before. I pushed the doorbell to the two story home and walked around on the large porch. I could smell a scent coming from the inside of the house, something saucy, like ribs or steamed greens. A scent that smelled like home.
The door swung open and a woman glared down at me.
Suddenly all that nice smell went right out the window and I was met with a horribly strong stench of alcohol and cigs. I couldn't believe it was coming from her, despite the nice sundress she was wearing.
"Isn't it too late to be selling boy scouts?" she grumbled.
She had dark brown hair and bright blue eyes and looked nothing like Madara in the face but, strangely, more I looked at her, the more I could sense a slight resemblance to him. I wasn't sure where it was coming from...
She snapped her fingers in my face.
"Are you dead?" she asked.
Oh. Of course. It's that rude, asshole-like attitude.
"I'm looking for Madara." I said.
But I couldn't blame her. How else would anyone act on the night their son died?
"Hell if I know where he is." She muttered, looking away from me.
But when I said his name, I could see something in her eyes. Something...apologetic maybe?
"For what reason, may I ask, is the front door open?" asked a voice.
The voice sounded like a sharp difference from the woman's. It was masculine and prim and proper.
"One of Madara's little friends is here."
"Friends?" the voice continued. "I thought Kagami was his only friend."
I tilted, looking around her to get a good look at him as he approached. His outfit matched his voice. Who the hell wears a suit inside their own house?
"Shows how much you know about your own damn son."
"Please, woman. You were just as surprised to find him at the door, weren't you?" he asked. "Furthermore, you're a woman. You're supposed to know things about your children. It's your job."
She crossed her arms.
"And what? A father's duty is walking from here to fucking Timbuktu whenever he wants?!" she retorted.
It was quick, but I saw his fist ball... In a threatening way. And even slighter, there was a swift flinch in her. A bit of movement backward. The man, seeing me watching them, gave me one of the fakest smiles I've ever seen in my life.
"I do appreciate your concern for our son, boy, but as you can see, he's unavailable at the moment." He said.
The guy sounds like an answering machine.
"Now, if you'll excuse us..." He said, beginning to close the door.
"Who is it?" said a voice.
A smaller hand pushed between the two of them and pressed against the glass. I stepped back as little boy in a rusty red bellbottom jumpsuit surfaced. His eyebrows popped up.
"Oh, I know you."
I blinked.
"You do?"
He nodded and pointed.
"You're the boy who's always watching Madara."
Watching? Now, if there's a better definition of creepy, I'd really like to hear it.
"Do you know where he could be? I... I just... I really want to find him." I told the kid.
Maybe I sounded slightly desperate. But the woman crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, please..."
And his father scratched his hair awkwardly.
"The boy's a loner. He runs off all the time. There's no cause for concern." He said in a fake reassuring tone.
"The Boxing Arena." The boy replied.
Strangely, I had begun to seriously doubt anyone knew where he was. Especially if he didn't want to be found. But then suddenly, that kid just came out with it.
"He always goes there to blow off steam." He told me.
I nodded.
"Thanks." I turned, then paused and looked at them all. "Sorry for your loss."
Because of the way they'd all been acting, like it was a normal day, I'd almost begun to wonder if, somehow, there was another Tsubasa Uchiha in the world and I'd gotten everything all wrong. But once I said that. Once I definitively stated why I was even there. I could see it. His mother bit her bottom lip and ran her hand through her hair. Her other hand went into the pocket of her dress and out came a liquor bottle. His father turned around, not even offering me a wave goodbye and faded into the house beyond. And his little brother's face scrunched up and he blinked rapidly, like something was in his eye, and nodded hard at me.
I turned and ran down the driveway, not too surprised to feel their eyes on my back the entire way I walked down the street.
-A millennium later when I realized I didn't know where the Boxing Arena was, went to a phone booth, and looked it up-
I dropped my bike in front of an old white building in Downtown WestSide Konoha where people get mugged just for stepping two feet outside their houses and the bustling traffic, beeping buses, honking cabs and stoplight jingles were basically the national anthem. Lights were everywhere, high and low, red lights, orange lights, yellow lights, white lights, all making up the fabric of this hilly, smoky, dirty feeling city. I honestly never thought I'd miss the zone of idle suburbia I lived in until I saw the alternative.
I walked up to the large, black metallic doors of the building, slightly depressed when I saw the hours on scrawled on a laminated sheet of paper on the door:
Open from 9am to 9pm
By that time it was nearly 10pm. There weren't any windows on the front of the building but I could hear something coming from inside. Something dull, like low talking? I wound around to the side, kicking the gravel and poking around. The place didn't look too big from the front but the back seemed to stretch on for miles. After about two days of walking, I got to a tree that was old enough for me to climb and close enough to the building that I could reach a window that was thankfully, slightly open.
"I'm lucky I'm in shape..." I muttered as I climbed up the trunk.
My fingers stuck into the grooves and I turned, looking at the window.
"Well, this looks kind of far..."
It really did, too. Things always look safer when both feet are on the ground than otherwise. I leaned toward it, reaching just to gauge the distance and then I smirked.
"This isn't that big of a deal."
I swung back for some leverage and then jumped, reaching for the ledge and planting my feet firmly on the side of the building. Then, with one arm holding my weight, I shoved the window open higher up and pulled myself into the building.
"I should become an escape artist for a living." I said, brushing small twigs and dirt off my clothes.
A couple of voices wafted up to me. I walked through what looked like a workout room. The floor was completely patted down with mats and the walls were layered with mirrors. A million Hashirama's stared at me as I walked out of the room, like a creepy old fun-house at a carnival.
"Okay, I'm coming at you with full force this time..." said a voice I wasn't familiar with.
I walked through a dark hallway, with the only light coming from the end. As I neared the light the voice got clearer.
"You ready?"
"Of course, I'm ready. Just come on!"
But I was familiar with that voice. I picked up my pace, turning the corner and coming into the main room of the Boxing Arena. Like any arena should have, there was a ring. But there weren't any ropes around it. The way the building was, the second floor was open so that it was more like a circular balcony than an actual floor. I could see straight down onto them.
Madara bounced on his toes circling the guy who he was talking to. The other guy didn't have on boxing gloves though, he had on some other things with flat surfaces. On the guy's mark, Madara darted for him, punching at the soft, cushion barricades the guy had covering his hands as fast as he could.
The guy put his hands up.
"Two." He said.
Madara punched at the gloves twice.
"Four"
He punched four times.
"Six"
He went at him six times, falling into smooth rhythm. The guy kept going up by multiples of two until they got to twelve, around then, the guy started moving back against him, not actually to hit him, but once he moved his arm forward, Madara dodged that like it was a real attack, and when he moved it over his head, he ducked, too.
Around the time they got to twenty, his arms were moving so fast and he was skipping around on his toes so smoothly, I could barely keep up with him... And I was just watching.
I descended the stairs behind the ring, making sure to keep quiet so that they didn't notice me but they were so deep in the zone, I felt like I could've tap danced down the stairs and they still wouldn't have noticed me.
"Whoo!" the guy exclaimed. "That was good practice, kid. You're getting really good. Are you sure you haven't been practicing?"
Madara straightened up and cracked his neck.
"Nope."
"Hell, man." The guy said, turning around and jumping down off the stage. "You're going to be even better than Tsubasa when he gets home. That guy's going to be shocked."
Madara stared after him, face suddenly hard and expressionless. Not that he was a beacon of happy expression in the first place.
"Anyway, I'm heading out. It's after gym hours so I actually shouldn't leave you in here but since you're Tsubasa's baby bro, I trust you." Then he smirked. "But the thing is, if you mess anything up, I know where you live anyway, so..."
Madara had turned around and gone back to practicing, punching at nothing.
"See ya small fry!" he called before he pushed the big black double doors open and walked out.
I stood there watching as he kept bouncing around on his toes, moving through uppercuts and jabs and hooks. Suddenly, he paused and looked over at my direction. Startled, I jumped back, ducking behind the wall.
It was silent. Well, out there, inside my head I was screaming, cursing myself for standing in plain sight. But then again, wasn't the point of this to talk to him anyway?
"Hashirama..."
I stiffened, peeking around the corner.
"...Stop hiding from me."
It may have been the way he said it. It was...a hopeless kind of way. I don't know. I kind of felt obligated to show myself after that. I stepped out into the light and walked forward. He stared at me. I stared at him. And then he went back to punching at nothing again.
I slowly walked up to the ring and put my hands on the slightly bouncy but mostly firm floor he was standing on. The ring came up to my waist, so I could lean on it easily.
"How did you find me?"
I shrugged.
"Your little brother said you'd be here?"
He faulted momentarily, stuttering in his rhythm but caught back on again quickly.
"You went to my house?" he asked.
"Sorry, I thought it was a free country!" I exclaimed.
He said nothing. Every now and then, when his hair would get in his eyes, he'd bring a glove up and pull it back. It wasn't until I'd gotten that close to him that I realized he was shirtless. The plain white t-shirt he'd worn with his boxing shorts to school that day was hanging on a pole next to me.
"So I guess..." he continued punching. "You met my piece of shit mom and never gave a fuck dad, huh?"
I smiled.
"You're forgetting your 'crybaby' brother." I told him. "But don't worry, I have one of those, too."
As he moved around, I got a closer look at his face, realizing he had a couple welts there. Like someone had scratched at him. He paused momentarily shaking his fists out.
I wanted to ask what he had against his parents but he started up again and I lost my opportunity.
My eyes drifted from his long, wavy dark hair, that, everyday, was threatening to pass his shoulders, and zeroed in on his chest. Slightly shiny with sweat, the impacts in them, curved and cut to precision. Momentarily, I began to wonder if I was completely wrong about being in shape. I mean, I didn't have abs like that.
But the more I watched him, the more I started to feel... Inexplicable. The other times I'd watched him, it was just interest. Interest in what he may be thinking or who he might be. But for some really, really strange reason... I was starting to feel an interest for... I wasn't really sure what.
"Why are you always staring at me?"
I blinked. He'd stopped practicing and was looking down at me with a hand on his hip.
"You don't have the excuse of trying to draw me this time."
"Isn't it more like you're watching me?" I asked him.
He gave me a dumbfounded look.
"How else would you know I was looking your direction?" I asked, pulling a folded towel off the stage edge and throwing it to him.
He caught it and rolled his eyes.
"Shut up."
He walked toward me and sat down on the edge of the stage. I pulled myself up next to him and he frowned, probably seeing both of our feet dangle above the floor. Sucks when there are cockroaches with longer legs than you.
"Anyway, the reason I'm here." I began. "I..."
I picked at a loose fiber in the stage mat.
"I guess I should say something like 'Sorry', right?" I asked, feeling out of place.
"Sorry for what?" he asked. "That someone died?"
I watched as he dragged the towel through his hair.
"Death happens."
He finished drying himself and tossed it to the ground.
"What was he like?" I found myself asking.
"A wuss." Madara replied. "I told you already, he tried to ditch service when he was first drafted. My other older brother went in with his head held high."
I raised my eyebrows.
"You have another brother?"
"I have four." He told me, then he paused. "Well... I had four."
It felt like the beginning of a story. You know, that segue... So I waited.
"Taiga was the eldest one out of all of us. He'd always wanted to go the military. He used to go to the shooting ranges and practice there all the time and go hunting with his pals and stuff. His nickname was 'the hunter'. Pretty fitting. He was a lot like that. Didn't care about anything except his next prey."
"I bet he was pretty good in there then."
He nodded.
"He was. He won lots of awards and medals and stuff. That was back when my parents could actually stand the sight of each other so they adored him. Loved talking about him to visitors and stuff." He cracked a smile. "When we were all young, we all wanted to grow up and be just like him. Until he came back."
I was thinking along the lines off lost limbs, wheelchair bound, brain dead... Something really horrific, but Madara said...
"It wasn't like he didn't look like him. He looked just fine. But he wasn't him." Madara said. "Everyone could feel it even though no one wanted to talk about it. It was just strange around him. He'd zone out a lot. And back when he used to share a bedroom with Tsubasa, he said he heard him crying in his sleep all the time."
"He must've been depressed." I realized.
"Yeah, probably." Madara said. "He acted really weird around kids. He would even look at me, Izuna or my other little brother, Itsuya and anytime any of the neighborhood kids came around, he'd go lock himself up in his room."
"They say there's soldiers in 'Nam younger than our little brothers." I pointed out.
"Yeah... He probably killed a lot more of them than he'd like to think about." He agreed. "But my Mom really wanted him to get out of the house. She thought the best way to do it would be to have him and my little brother Itsuya join this stupid summer camp."
"Not all of you?" I asked.
Strangely a smile spread across his face.
"Of course not. Tsubasa is the definition of a pretty boy. He wouldn't be caught dead at a camp. And Izuna was doing T-ball then and I was in this stupid junior W.O.F Scholars thing..."
"You mean the Will Of Fire Gifted Program?" I asked, then I shrugged. "That's basically the same thing as a summer camp. Having to go to a research academy and learn how to build rockets and missiles and machine guns all day."
He raised his eyebrows.
"How did you know that's what we did?"
"I was in that, too." I told him, then I smirked. "What? You thought you were the smartest person on Earth again?"
"Don't flatter yourself. The only way you could've gotten that invite is if they felt sorry for you."
"In your dreams." I retorted. "More like felt sorry for you!"
Our playful banter dissolved back into the somber mood pretty quickly.
"Anyway, he had to drive the family car over there with Itsuya and... I guess to just sum it all up, he was probably, distracted or something one day... He spaced a lot after everything. He barely heard what anyone was saying. It was like he was in his own little world. So it wasn't much of a surprise... To me at least, when they said they got into an accident."
He rubbed his bare chest.
"I didn't think they'd died or anything. I was only like ten then, so I didn't even really think people could die like that, you know? Especially not if they lived with you. I thought death was only something..."
Only something that happened to 'those people over there'. Not you...or me...
"We went to the hospital and found out that he ran a stoplight and got hit by a big gasoline truck going like fifty miles per hour." He told me. "Taiga was dead before the ambulance even got there. But there was hope for Itsuya. He wasn't sitting on the side the car hit so they thought he could make it."
But he probably didn't.
"It turned out that even though they could keep him alive. His brain wouldn't come back. That was another thing I couldn't really understand. How he could be breathing, heart beating and everything... But just never wake up? I was sure he'd wake up. I was positive. But... My Dad wasn't. He talked to the doctors and everyone agreed it was taking up more money to keep a sleeping kid alive than to just pull it."
So they probably pulled it...
"So, we had two funerals in a year." Strangely, again, he smiled. "Fuck, my life really went to shit after that happened."
I blinked, thinking of his home, and his parents.
"Your...parents aren't together anymore are they?" I asked.
He leaned back onto the stage and sprawled out, staring up at the ceiling.
"Nope." He said. "After the funeral, they couldn't stop arguing. My Dad didn't think it was a good idea for her to put them in camp. He wanted Taiga to join the family business. This banking company our family's been running since, like, the beginning of time. The Uchiha Senju bank."
I cocked my head. I was slightly aware of the company. I'd heard of it before. But it wasn't like colossal or anything yet.
"He thought working in the office would help him out better. My Mom did all of that behind his back. And it ended up with two people dead... Because she sucks at making any good decision ever."
"That's some pent up animosity."
"You don't know my mother." He replied
"I know Mother's in general." I said. "My Step-Mother's a big screw up... But I know deep inside, she wishes she could really be there for us. Maybe your Mother really, really wishes the same thing..."
"She's lousy, Hashi." He said, completely ignoring me. "That's it."
I messed with a loose fiber on my shorts, opting for saying nothing.
"Anyway, my Dad ended up skipping town. Moving to the really far outskirts of SouthSide Konoha. All I ever got from him until today were cards on my birthday and maybe a phone call on Christmas. Maybe. And my Mom, without anyone to tell her what to do, turned into a total bitch."
He closed his eyes.
"Tsubasa was the one who looked out for us. The only one who really cared after that. The only one we could really talk to. He played baseball with Izuna and brought me here and we used to box all the time. And then he had to go and get drafted... And now..."
I looked down at him, feeling lost for words. You know that moment where you can always feel someone's pain as sharply as you can feel your own heart beating in your chest? And there's that moment where you know, anything you say will be remembered forever and has the power to completely change the course of someone's life and your own. But anytime those moments happen, it's like all of humanity always draws a blank. But slowly, my mouth started to open.
"He was like the escape for you, wasn't he?"
Madara's eyes slowly opened and he looked at me.
"Before I said you looked like you were waiting for something."
Perhaps he was waiting for Tsubasa.
"But you can find a new escape."
If that's still what he wants.
He slowly pulled himself back up into a sitting position. He turned to me then, face literally inches from mine and gave me a serious look.
"Do you believe in coincidence?"
"Coincidence like... I was watching boxing on TV this morning and now I'm in an arena?" I asked, smiling.
"Can you be serious for one friggin' second?!"
"Alright, alright!" I exclaimed. "Uh..."
I thought about it.
"I guess I'm just one of those 'Everything happens for a reason' sort of people." I said shrugging.
"Even death?"
I looked down.
"Running into an old friend at the grocery store, or hitting the same homerun at the same stadium your Old Man did, stuff like that is the kind of thing that happens for a reason." I swallowed. "But death... Death, I don't know."
We were silent for a while. I looked up at him, watching as he played with his fingers.
"Why'd you ask that anyway?"
He shrugged.
"I just had a weird dream earlier..."
"You mean the one where you were whispering my name?" I asked him.
His face exploded into disagreement.
"Shut up!" he exclaimed. "I told you, it was about my brother!"
I cocked my head.
"What about him?"
He was silent for a while, probably calming down after my jabbing at him. He grabbed the ends of his shorts and then rubbed his hands on them.
"He said... 'I'll see you when you come home'" he told me in a voice barely above a whisper.
I didn't really believe in the supernatural either. But something like that can really change a guy's mind. How weird...
I found my hand reaching for his, I wasn't really planning anything, or at least if I was, I couldn't figure out what I was planning. I touched his hand, sliding over it gently and curling my fingers around it. His head was bent down and I wondered if he wanted to cry, though I doubted, a guy like him would ever cry in front of anyone.
"Hashirama..."
He stared at my hand on his as he spoke and then turned his eyes up to me.
"Do you believe in heaven?" He asked quietly.
I stared at him. His eyes were open, so very wide open like... Like a baby's or something. He looked so vulnerable, so...honest. I couldn't even imagine a jerk like him actually having such a soft, tender underbelly. His expression...it's almost artistic in a way. But not just this one... All of his expressions are. All of the really honest ones. My mind flashed back to the time that he smiled, truly smiled at me. And remembering that, and seeing his almost pleading expression in front of me sparked a reaction in me. I began feeling hot inside. Like a volcano just erupted or something.
"U-Uhm... Yeah, I... I do." I told him, then I nodded, reassuring myself. "Yes. Definitely."
His gaze dropped from mine and he smiled slightly. I could feel more reactions spinning off inside me like falling dominos. One of them, the one happening in my shorts, was brand new all in itself. Both exciting and frightening. And maybe it was because of all that, that I...
I leaned toward him and before my conscience could tell me otherwise, I softly brushed his hair out of the way and pressed my lips against his cheek. Dangerously close to his mouth, but not touching it. Along with the soft, smoothness of his skin there, I felt him stiffen under me. When I pulled back, his ears stood out to me, because the tops of them were a vibrant red.
He let go of my hand. We were silent for a while, incredibly awkwardly silent. About twenty five years later, when he moved out of shock, and my non-existent conscience prodded me, we jumped to the floor from the stage edge.
I was already kicking myself to the moon and back for what I did. I couldn't even think of a good reason why I did it. I didn't even know what provoked me. But even though I felt like it was a bad idea and serious encroachment of personal space, I wasn't regretting it. Actually, my fingers tapped against my shorts with longing because... I wanted to do it again.
But he was walking away from me. To the backdoor where he picked up his bag and pulled his shirt on, over his head. He paused with his hand on the exit doors.
"What are you waiting for, a red carpet?" He asked me, then he smirked. "Come on."
It wasn't until then that I realized I was holding my breath. I grinned back at him.
"I just waiting for your gross BO to leave the room." I retorted.
"Shut up!" he yelled.
He turned off the lights in the place as we walked out into the alley way. When he closed the door behind him, it firmly clicked into a lock. As we walked an idea popped into my head.
"Hey, since I got to see how you have fun today, maybe over the weekend, I can show you how I have fun."
"I'm not going to an Art Museum." He mumbled.
"I do other things than drawing." I told him.
He nodded.
"Alright, on one condition."
I stared at him dully.
"Another condition?! I still didn't get my side of the bargain from our last condition!"
"New condition anyway!" he overrode me.
I pretended to pout.
"You never do what I like..."
He sighed.
"Hey... Don't be all-"
"Psyche!" I yelled.
He glared at me.
"Stop playing around, I'm being serious!"
We stopped where my bike was out front of the place. I was actually very, very surprised it wasn't stolen and already being auctioned off somewhere in Denver.
"What is it?" I asked.
He slid his hands into his pockets. Suddenly, taking on that pleading expression again, though it wasn't as strong.
"Would you...come to his funeral with me?"
My face broke out into a grin.
"Dude, I was going to come whether you asked me to or not." I said, nudging him.
And that was a real truth. I'd only known the guy for three weeks. And he was an asshole, don't get me wrong. He was a HUGE asshole. But... Strangely... I wanted to be around him. Or more like, I didn't ever want to stop being around him. But I just couldn't figure out why... Why him? Why now?
"Don't tell me I have to ride on your handle bars."
"Unless you want walk." I said, sneering.
He sighed exaggeratedly.
"This blows..."
But...for the time being, I was content with being just as blissfully unaware as he was. I just wished it could stay that way.
Madara
To The Train Tracks
The bell was ringing so loud I felt like people all over town could hear it.
This is different from before.
Izuna was sniffling on my left side. I couldn't bring myself to sling my arm around my shoulder like I normally did to calm him down. I just stared straight ahead.
Before... Even though there were two deaths, there weren't nearly as many people here.
There were rows and rows of people, some of them distant relatives, like Kagami and his family, others family friends, like Hiruzen and his family, others people no one liked like Danzo... But the majority of people were people who'd heard through the grapevine some "neighborhood kid" went to 'Nam and didn't make it. These people made up the bulk of us. Eyes fitting back and forth between the coffin with the American Flag blanket thrown over it and their watches, waiting for their five seconds of being a good Samaritan to be over.
None of these people even really knew who he was.
The large bell over the cemetery continued to ring. The tears collecting in Izuna's eyes spilled over, his trembling Soprano voice shook over to a sob. They began to move the coffin cover over, closing the lid. Inside, was a boy who was eighteen years old, but looked more like a fifteen year old and barely had any facial hair. His brown hair had been shaved into a buzz cut during the war so he looked slightly different but it was him. Still him. His tuxedo...was all white...with a black bow tie.
They don't even know...
He was a real happy-go-lucky guy. Anytime he got even slightly serious was when he was studying or doing homework. He wanted to grow up and really change things... Change them the right way. The legal way, by going into politics and becoming a Congressman or the President.
My Mother and Father stood next to each other but based on their expressions, they could've been standing light years apart. My mother's fingers were trembling. She tried to mask it by balling her fists or biting her nails but it was obvious. She clearly needed another 'fix'. My father's face was the epitome of calm and composed. Not a smile. Not a frown. Nothing.
Even Mother and Father don't know...
The girls really adored him, too. But he was a saint, he'd never date two at once or dump one for another in a bad way. He chose one girl that he really liked, despite all the girls throwing themselves at him, and stuck with her for two years. But before he left, he broke up with her...
Maybe he knew... Knew he wouldn't make it...
And then, with that thought, suddenly it all felt like it was getting to be too much. I felt the sorrow creeping up on me like an immense black fog I'd never be able to see through, or breathe through, or walk through... But when that happened, and I was seriously on the bridge, listening the Izuna's sobbing, and the screaming inside my own head... A hand slid into my mine.
I turned, looking at his tentative smile. Tentative...like he wasn't sure if I would accept his kindness. My hand tightened around his. Strangely, I found myself wanting to be as close as I possibly could to him. It felt like it was so cold where I was standing...but if I could just immerse myself in his arms, then suddenly, I could find the warmth I was desperately lacking.
The bells tolled again. The coffin began to lower. It was like the ground shook when it moved all the way to the bottom. Echoing the sudden emptiness of my life. Dad would leave again. Mom had never even returned anyway. And Izuna's pain was too much to carry along with my own.
But I can't be like that. I can't just run away and leave like everyone else in my life does.
But the option was looking more and more attractive by the second...
Some things were said. My father said something. My Mother pretended to be too choked up crying to say anything, even though it was most likely because she didn't know enough about him. And because we were children, we were excused. Allowed to mesh into the background of everything. Dirt began to fall onto the coffin.
It's over...
"We can just pretend like he's still over there." Izuna whispered
He'd finally found a way to pull himself together. He looked up at me with red, tear drenched eyes.
"And that he'll be coming home any minute?"
"Stop hiding Izuna. Face it head on like a man. What happened has happened. It's done. Now we have to move on."
I found myself turning around, because Hashirama's hand was still in mine, he was pulled away with me. We walked, weaving around tombstones and large oak trees and paused at the gates of the cemetery. The people were dispersing, heading out in all directions. Hashirama kicked at the dirt next to us with his hands in his pockets.
I was actually surprised the guy had shown up in a shirt and tie. Though it still wasn't proper funeral wear. He was wearing khakis with a pale, blue thickly woven cotton short sleeved button down with a red and white polka dotted bow tie and red and white high topped Converse sneakers. He looked like something straight out of a private school catalogue rather than someone at a funeral.
At least he's not wearing board shorts again...
"Are you alright?" he asked me.
I nodded.
"That was pretty rough." He went on, still kicking at the dirt. "When they put the flag on... That... That really reminded me of my Old Man's funeral."
I looked at him, concentrating hard on the dirt and seeming to purposely avoid my eyes and tugged his hand.
"What the hell are you cryin' for?" I asked him.
He breathed deep, pulling himself together quicker than I could've imagined and showed me that ear to ear grin.
"You're way too gullible, Madara." He told me.
But that wasn't trick...
And it was odd to me then that, this boy I'd known for less than a month, was someone I could see through.
"Anyway, come on, let's go change so I can show you my favorite place."
"I thought you said it was what you liked to do for fun." I muttered as he tugged the gate open for me to walk through. "Not your favorite place or whatever."
"Same difference." He replied.
"Hey, Madara!"
We paused, I looked over Hashirama's shoulder to see Danzo and the rest walking up. They, unlike Hashirama, were actually wearing black and white funeral wear.
"Where are you going?" Kagami asked.
I stared at them, mind drawing a blank on how to respond.
"Did you forget about...'you know'?" Hiruzen improvised.
"I can't make it." I told them simply.
"What the hell do you mean you can't make it?" Danzo asked, crossing his arms. "You were the one that said Orange Sweater-"
"Hey! That's classified!" I interrupted.
I glanced at Hashirama quickly who was giving me a strange look.
"I know this asshole, okay? There will be another time to get him. Just...go on vacation or something." I told them.
I turned then, passing through the gate. Hashirama was still looking between them and me strangely, I slid my hand into his and pulled him after me.
"Come on."
After hearing me beckon him, he didn't turn back to them again and we walked on. As we turned onto the side walk next to the highway, over the small shrubs and bushes I could see them still standing there. Hiruzen looked kind of worried, as he whispered to Kagami I could distinctly see his lips move to form a word like "depression", Kagami just looked utterly confused, and Danzo, with his lips pursed together in a scowl and his arms crossed, looked angry.
Knowing him, he'll probably try to lead the group now that I passed up... Go after the guy anyway to win himself some glory...
I mulled over that and part of me wanted to go back and finished what I'd started. But another part, perhaps a stronger part, looked at Hashirama and the tingle of excitement on his face mixed with the bounce in his step and the prospect of being able to show me "how he has fun" and that all washed away.
We decided to go to my house since it was much closer than his, even though it was still a good fifteen minute walk away.
"Everything in Konoha is like countries away if you don't have a car." Hashirama complained on the way.
I shuffled my feet as I walked saying nothing. Suddenly, his face sparked up.
"Want to go joyriding?"
I rolled my eyes at him.
"Want to get killed?" I retorted.
But sooner or later, we stopped in front of my long, dark green lawn and walked up the driveway.
"Your house is so big. It makes me feel like I'm in...one of those Hollywood movies or something." He said, banging a stick he'd picked up against the porch fence.
"It's not even that big." I said offhandedly.
"Do you share a room with your little brother?" he asked me.
I blinked at him like he was crazy.
"Of course not." I replied.
Sharing a room with Izuna would be like leaving the television on all day and night... People go crazy like that.
He grabbed his bow tie and straightened it out.
"Oh, of course not. No Uchiha has ever shared a room with a sibling since the year 1431 and even that was just because our stocks dipped just slightly." He said, putting on a mock British accent.
I couldn't help but smile.
"As a matter of fact, we don't even know the meaning of sharing... Does that have something to do with our sons' trust funds?"
My smile turned into grin.
"Dear God, our son has suddenly staring fraternizing with a poor boy... Let's raise the bus fare so we don't have to see these people again."
My grin suddenly melted into an onslaught of full out laughter. I pushed the door open to my house and we both held our sides completely cracking up.
"Where is your room anyway?" he asked as I closed the front door behind us.
"Upstairs, first room on the left."
I heard his feet tapping against the hollow wooden floor before I could even finish speaking. I walked after him, taking my time, up the stairs and around the corner. I leaned against the doorframe of my room watching as he looked around.
"Nice." He said. "You even have colored carpet."
I shrugged. My room was pretty basic to me. I had dark blue carpet with white walls. My bed sheets were pretty plain, a plaid red, light blue and dark blue mix covering my full sized bed. I had a wooden desk/book shelf that took up most of the wall on one side of my room and a toy box with toys I hadn't touched in about four years on the other side. Hashirama lifted the lid of the toybox and dug around the dusty hug-me bears and box-car train sets.
"I was wondering how you got the money to buy such nice kicks." He said, as he poked around. "What did you say your Dad does again?"
I scoffed.
"I paid for that myself." I told him. "They don't pay for shit...anymore."
Hearing my dismal tone, he straightened up and looked at me.
"My Dad was a lawyer, or he went to school for law, then, when my great grandfather passed, he handed him the CEO chair of the company."
Hashirama nodded, beginning to shove my toybox to the side.
"Sounds about right, CEO/Lawyer..."
"But like I said, neither of them pay for shit."
"Not even lunch money?" he asked me, looking up momentarily.
I smirked.
"Especially not lunch money."
He succeeded in pushing my toybox to the side only to have a light brown colored acoustic guitar that had been jammed back there for God knows how long clatter to the floor. His eyebrows rose with interest as he picked it up.
"This is yours?" he inquired.
I looked at the guitar for a long moment and frowned.
"No." I muttered.
...Yes.
Suddenly, his hands dropped to the top of his khakis and he started undoing his belt.
"Do you have swim shorts?" he asked me.
I stared at him.
"Yeah, but they're... Why are you stripping?"
"One of my favorite things to do is going streaking." He replied.
Looking up at the expression on my face, he grinned.
"I have my shorts under these." He said, pulling of his khakis. "See."
Underneath he wore a pair of white board shorts with bright, neon pink, blue and yellow colored splotches all over it.
"You can't go one day without wearing those stupid things?!" I exclaimed.
"We can go back to my house if you don't have a pair." He said, ignoring me. "Do you?"
I do have a pair... But they're not really mine...
"Wait here." I told him.
I turned, leaving my bedroom and walking all the way across the tan carpeted hall to the last room directly opposite from mine. I paused for a second, looking around... I don't know what for. I could hear low, out of tune strumming coming from my room.
Hashirama's messing with my guitar...
I put my hand on the knob of the door and turned it. The room looked exactly like how he left it. Even though my mother couldn't be bothered to drive Izuna to practices, help anyone with homework or even cook friggin' dinner, she never missed a day cleaning his room. Never.
Tsubasa's room...
There was a memory I was trying to repress. A moment in time I didn't want to think of.
It was right after he'd gotten drafted and he decided he was actually going to go. Izuna was bouncing on his bed and I, along with Mom, was helping him get his stuff together.
"It kind of feels like summer camp." He said, offering me a smile.
Summer camp had been a taboo word in the house since my other brothers had died. So no one smiled.
"I'll tell you about all my adventures when I come back." He went on.
"That'd be cool!" Izuna exclaimed. "Tell us all about how you're gonna kick some commie ass!"
But I said nothing.
"...Didn't you think it'd be cool to be a soldier, Madara? What's up with you, anyway?"
I did think that. Until they drafted him, the last person that should have a gun pointed at them, except me, someone who could learn to handle it.
Somehow sensing my animosity, he smiled.
"Izuna, get out. I want to talk to Madara alone."
Izuna sighed exaggeratedly.
"That's a pile of shit, Tsubasa."
Tsubasa leaned over and used his belt to whip him on the butt, but not that hard.
"Didn't I tell you to stop cursing, now get out of here!"
Izuna grinned and ran off. Tsubasa sat next to me.
"There's a possibility I won't be coming back." He said.
And then I understood why he told Izuna to leave, because that was a realization he was too young to come to.
"So... Why don't I leave you in charge of something?" he asked.
I raised my head. He leaned under his bed and grabbed a brown bag.
"This is the bag I was going to take with me when I wanted to run away." He said. "It only has stuff that's really, really important to me in it. If... If... I don't come back..."
He put the bag in my hands.
"...Make sure this bag gets the escape that I couldn't get."
The escape...
I sat on his ultra-clean bed in his ultra-clean room. The bag was under the bed where I'd put it after he left. I didn't want to think I'd have to own up on that promise. So I pretended to forget about it. With a pair of his dark red swim shorts in one hand, I leaned over and pulled the bag out with the other and walked back to my bedroom. While I walked across the hall I could hear voices downstairs.
"I'm gonna go play baseball with the guys, Mom!" Izuna called, a door promptly shut behind him.
"Yeah... Yeah... Whatever." My mother's voice went.
I pushed the door back open to my bedroom to find Hashirama lying on my bed, holding a foam soccer ball over his head.
"It can get kind of cold where we're going. Do you have a jacket?"
I nodded and proceeded to pull my suit jacket off and hang it in the closet. Then my tie, which I hung on my tie rack.
"Does all of your clothes have a specific place?" he asked.
I sighed.
"Can you stop asking questions?" I retorted. "And turn around, I can't change if someone's watching me."
He groaned and rolled over, facing my wall.
I went for my pants, loosening my belt.
My mind reeled over what I wanted to do, continue forgetting about the bag, and what I promised to do, give it a proper send off. I kicked my pants away, hanging them up and turned to pick up my swim shorts. As I grabbed them, my eyes came into contact with Hashirama's who, at one point, had turned away from the wall.
"Do you think...if we were soldiers...I would die easily?" he asked me.
I pulled my shorts up over my waist and tied them.
What the hell kind of question is that?
I was sick of the somber mood. But lightening the mood wasn't ever in the realm of things I was good at.
"I don't know..." I muttered.
"That sounds like a yes."
I thought about it. Thought about him in a military uniform getting shot at by Ho Chi Min soldiers and getting taken in as a POW and gritted my teeth.
"No." I said, walking toward him. "I'd die before you did."
He sat up, giving me a curious look.
"How?"
Because I'd snap every soldier's neck, torch every woman's body, and massacre any onslaught of children that dared to kill anyone else I care about.
"Just a hunch." I replied, then I leaned over him, grabbing his neck. "And didn't I tell you to keep turning around?"
He grinned pulling my hand away.
"Only someone who's trying to hide something can't change when someone else is watching!"
"I'm just really sensitive. I can't pee when someone's watching me either!"
He laughed.
"Dude, you just proved my point!"
I pinned him down on the bed and he squirmed, laughing at me.
"You're such a sucker." He said.
"I won't be a sucker if I pull you in a head-lock, you jerk!"
He stopped moving suddenly, looking toward the door. I looked, too. Beyond it, I could hear someone's footsteps, most likely my mother's going around. Hashirama grinned at me. It was that mischievous grin, that one that meant your life was about to get 100 times more stupid than it already was.
"Ahhh... Yeahhh... Keep it up."
My eyes widened so much, it was a wonder they didn't pop out of my head. Hashirama's facial expression slipped into that of complete glee as he continued moaning and sighing like some girl in a porno flick.
"Ohhh, this feels so good!" He yelled, purposely pushing my bedsprings.
"Shut the hell up!" I whispered at him.
"Ohhh my Godddd, ahhhh!" he went on.
"Quit it!" I said, pinning him down harder.
"Madara?" a voice sounded.
Shit!
"See what you did?" I said to him.
"Are you...alright?" she asked.
He responded with a long "ohhhhhh" moan and stuck his tongue out at me.
"...Is there...someone in there with you?" my mother asked.
I was actually slightly amused. It was the first time in my life SHE ever sounded as uncomfortable as I was.
"N-No... It was... The radio!" I improvised.
Hashirama snickered underneath me.
"...What the hell are you listening to?" she finally asked.
"U-Uh... Nothing! It's nothing! Go away!"
I saw the door knob turning, heard the click.
This is bad... If she comes in here and sees me lying over this idiot like this... It's gonna look really bad.
"N-N-No! Stop! Don't open the door!" I yelled.
She paused for a moment.
"Whatever..." she mumbled, walking away. "You better clean up those bed sheets when you're finished, I'm not doing laundry today..."
Hashirama was struggling so hard, I thought he was going to die laughing.
"She totally thought you were jacking off!" He joked.
I put my hand on his forehead and pressed his head back.
"Why do you like messing with me so much?"
"Because it's fun." He replied, smiling.
I raised the hand on his forehead and brushed his hair back. His eyes shined out at me, playfully innocent. We gazed at each other for a moment. I wasn't really sure what I was thinking or why I was staring at him for so long. Why we were staring at each other. But I don't know how much time passed before I pulled myself off of him and walked over to my closet.
"We're going to lose daylight if we don't hurry." I said. "I assume that's important for whatever you're trying to do."
"Kind of important I guess."
I heard my bedsprings creak meaning he'd pulled himself up. With my jet black collared shirt still on, I unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled them up to my elbows and grabbed one of my windbreakers. It was black with a red and white fan symbol on it and read: "Uchiha Banking- Fanning the Flames of Your Credit since 1883" in the back. Then I reached into the closet and tossed him one of my acid washed/almost white, light blue jean jackets.
"Sweet!" he exclaimed. "I've always wanted to wear one of these!"
"Of course you have, since you have virtually no style whatsoever."
Then I dug through the top shelf of my closet and pulled down two pairs of jeans.
"Here. Put these on if it could get cold where we're going."
He made a face at the deep, dark blue jeans but between those and his khaki's he didn't hesitate to pull them on. I grabbed the other pair, my lighter blue jeans, slid them on over the swim shorts, and slid my feet into one of my newer pairs of kicks, a pair of black and white Adidas Campus.
"And we're off!" Hashirama exclaimed.
We basically had to sneak out of the house like ninja so my mother wouldn't see Hashirama and get any ideas.
"You're such a pain." I muttered to him.
"You love me." Hashirama replied, snickering.
It wasn't long, until following Hashirama, we walked Eastward across town, through the deep forested trees that the "shack" was in, where Danzo and the rest probably were planning their next heist, and past the ponds where kids and their father's fished on a Saturday afternoon. We stopped when we reached the train tracks on the edge of town. I rarely ever went out that far, but from what I remembered, it was rather close to where Hashirama lived...on the other side of the tracks.
"Let's go."
I stared out into the distance, the tracks went on for miles, seemingly.
"You mean...just walk up it?" I asked.
He nodded.
"A train should come soon." He said. "But until then..."
We walk.
"This is lame." I muttered.
I adjusted my brother's leather black backpack straps on my shoulders and we stood there momentarily. Both of us staring ahead at the daunting nature of the path laid out in front of us.
It's like we're standing on the edge of the universe. To go or not to go.
He reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling me.
"Trust me?"
It was strange. Normally, when people said "trust me" it was an order, a statement, a decision they basically already made for you. But he was asking for it...begging almost.
I continued walking after him, his Converse and my Adidas slapped across the metallic brown, rusty tracks. He was raising his eyebrows at me, in that hopeful way and I found myself wanting to give him more than just an answer. But I shook it off and opted for just squeezing his hand in return.
"I trust you." I told him.
UP Next: And so...they walk. But next time, living life on the edge is taken to whole new extremes. Madara knew Hashirama was a funny guy...but TRAIN JUMPING!? And also, things heat up in more ways than one as they finally get to Hashirama's 'secret place'.