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Chapter Text

“Hashirama… Your light is too bright,” Madara thought to himself, his cheek resting on the heel of his gloved hand as he watched his tipsy friend take a swig of his sake. The two were sitting at a wooden table in a dimly lit bustling pub in the middle of Konoha. Madara intently listened to Hashirama vent about his day as he slowly traced the handsome features of his face with his gaze.

Madara admired Hashirama, his body, and his soul. He admired the way his soft brown locks fell gracefully down the side of his face. The way his dark brown eyes radiated a welcoming warmth, no matter what mood he was in. The way his thick, brown eyelashes framed his captivating eyes. The way his full, pink lips curved upwards with every smile. Hashirama was beautiful.

Slightly buzzed from drinking his own beer, Madara bit down on the inside of his lip, drawing blood, holding back the longing he had for Hashirama.

Madara doesn’t remember when it all started—when he started growing feelings for his best friend. One day, he was skipping rocks across the river during their childhood, the next day they were enemies of war, soon after they were building up Konoha together, and now they’re here. At some point during all of that, Madara could feel himself falling deeper and deeper in love with Hashirama, with no way to turn back.  

Over the years, Hashirama gained. He gained incredible strength and led his clan through war. He gained a life with his younger brother by his side. He gained respect from his clan. He gained respect from the village. He gained a wife. He gained a life full of love, happiness, and a strong community.

Unfortunately for Madara, his life was the opposite, and he suffered losses over the years. He lost all his younger siblings to war. He lost respect from his clan while advocating for the Uchiha  by attempting to speak against some of Tobirama’s policies. He never truly gained respect from all the villagers. His life was full of hatred and loneliness, and he wasn’t able to build a strong community.

The only person Madara felt he had left was Hashirama, but even Hashirama’s light was too bright for him. He exuded a light meant to shine over his family, his wife, and the entire village, pulling him further and further away from Madara. A light Madara eventually felt like he had no right to access. Hashirama was way beyond him now.

The distance between them grew wider with time; Hashirama gradually became more occupied with his loved ones and the village. It was becoming rare for Madara to get the chance to spend time with him, spar with him, eat with him, and laugh with him. Thus, Madara cherished moments like these: when he’s able to sit down with Hashirama and listen to him vent about his problems. He didn’t mind it, really, if that meant he could have his attention and admire his presence.

“Madara? Did you hear me?” Hashirama asked as he tried to get Madara’s attention.

“Hmm?” Madara quickly snapped back into reality. He didn’t realize he was lost in his own thoughts just now.

“I said, Mito’s upset with me.” Hashirama pouted.

Madara quirked an eyebrow. “Again?”

Hashirama took another swig of his sake and slammed the cup down on the table. “Yes, again,” he groaned. “But she just doesn’t understand how much work being the Hokage is! She’s always upset about me coming home late but I’m trying my best. I didn’t know being Hokage would be this stressful. If I’d known this, I would’ve let someone else take it.”

The drunken man then pointed at Madara, “I would’ve let you take it!”

Madara snorted. “The villagers wanted you, you idiot.”

Hashirama dropped his head to the table and groaned, “I know…” He then shot back up and started gesturing with his hands. “And Tobirama! Tobirama’s nagging! I can’t do another day of it.”

Madara softly chuckled. “You’ll be okay, Hashi.” With a teasing grin, he continued, “You know… instead of being here, you could actually be at home with your wife.”

Hashirama flinched before sinking into his chair in defeat. He admitted Madara had a point but… “I don’t want to,” he responded.

“Oh? Why not?”

“…Because… I don’t want to face her wrath.”

Madara erupted into laughter; he watched as Hashirama pushed his lower lip out in a pout. There was something endearing about that expression—it made him almost irresistibly cute. Madara tried to push that thought out of his head quickly before he could entertain it any further.

“It’s not funny, Madara. She’s scary when she’s angry.”

Madara’s laughter slowly calmed down. “But you love her right?”

Hashirama’s eyes slightly widened before he turned his head to the side, avoiding eye contact with Madara. “Of course I do…” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Madara tilted his head to the side. “That didn’t sound very confident,” he thought.

Hashirama waved down a passing waiter. “Excuse me! Another one, please?” he asked as he mimed the motion of drinking sake with a charming smile. The waiter nodded in response, immediately walking over to the bar to get him another drink.

Madara watched as the waiter promptly left, then turned his gaze back to Hashirama. “Oi, Oi, are you sure you should be drinking this much? You’re the Hokage now, you know.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hashirama said through slurred words and his sheepish smile.

A smile flickered across Madara’s face. “Yes, you will be fine, Hashirama. You’ll be just fine after I leave,” he thought. Not too long ago, Madara officially decided he was leaving the village. He felt like he had nothing left here and was ready to leave to turn his own dreams into a reality: to achieve true peace. He hadn’t told Hashirama this though because, of course, he would be strongly against it. Ignorance is bliss, and Madara planned on disappearing one night, without a word.

“Anyway… enough about me. How have you been, Madara?” Hashirama asked.  

Madara lowered his gaze to his glass of beer, unsure what to say. He ran his gloved finger down the side of his wet glass, searching for the words to respond with. He hadn’t been doing well but couldn’t trouble Hashirama with his worries.

“Fine,” is all Madara could manage to say.

Hashirama raised an eyebrow, “Just fine?”

Madara nodded, unwavering. “Just fine.”

Hashirama’s eyes narrowed. He knew Madara long enough to know that he was lying.

“You’re not being honest,” Hashirama said firmly.

Madara briefly hesitated. “Y-yes I am,” he stuttered.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Are you?”

Madara sighed, “I’m fine, Hashirama. I’ve just been tired these days.”

“Tired of what?”

Madara grinned. “Tired of you," he said jokingly.

Hashirama chuckled softly as he rested his cheek on his palm, supporting his head. His gaze gradually wandered down to Madara’s lips, unintentionally keeping his focus locked onto that alluring curve.

Madara could feel his cheeks grow warm when he realized Hashirama was staring at his lips and quickly rubbed at them with the back of his gloved hand.

“Is there something on my lips?” Madara asked.

Hashirama nodded. “Mhmm, but you got it off,” he lied. There was nothing on his lips.  

Madara’s initial excitement quickly dissipated. Of course, that was the case. It was foolish of him to think otherwise.

The waiter from earlier returned with another drink for Hashirama, who enthusiastically accepted it. He brought the cup to his parted lips before quickly putting it back down, feeling the familiar buildup of excess saliva inside his mouth.

“What?” Madara asked curiously when he noticed Hashirama’s changed demeanor. He almost looked… sick?

“I think I’m going to throw up…” Hashirama mumbled, panic settling in.

Madara flinched, “Don’t just sit here, go to the bathroom!”

Hashirama quickly covered his mouth, shot up out of his chair, and stumbled toward the bathroom. He frantically looked for an open stall until he was able to successfully push a door open and drop down to his knees before throwing up into the toilet.

Madara sighed and shook his head while getting up from the table. He walked over to the bar and requested a cup of water. Upon receiving the full glass, he walked over to the bathroom entrance and waited just outside the door for Hashirama.

Hashirama stumbled out of the bathroom, gently swaying with each step he took. He looked to his left to see Madara holding out a cup of water.

“Here, hydrate, you idiot.”

Hashirama eagerly accepted the cup with an exaggerated grateful expression on his face, “Oh, Madara! You’re so kind!” He chugged the water until there was nothing left and sighed. Refreshing.

The two soon made their way out of the bar after closing their tabs. Madara figured it was time to take Hashirama home before he drank more and got worse. He allowed Hashirama to use him as support, wrapping his arm around his waist to prevent him from swaying out of line. Hashirama had his arm wrapped around Madara’s neck, subconsciously pulling him as close to his body as possible.

They strolled down the streets of Konoha as they headed towards Hashirama’s home.

“Jeez, I can’t believe you Hashirama,” Madara muttered.

“Sorry, sorry.” Hashirama awkwardly laughed, very aware of the situation.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m still a little nauseous…”

“Don’t you dare throw up on me.”

A mischievous smile spread across Hashirama’s face. He faked a gag, which led Madara to push him off, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. He quickly erupted into laughter, clutching his stomach from the intensity of it all.

“I was kidding!” Hashirama exclaimed.

“Don’t joke with me!” Madara yelled, pointing at the laughing drunken man on the ground. He sucked his teeth, waiting for the man to stop laughing. “Hashirama, get up, you look ridiculous.”

“Can you help me? The world is spinning,” Hashirama said through his laughter.

“Forget it, help yourself,” Madara turned around and started walking off.

“Madara…”

“What?!” Madara forcefully turned back around.

“I… I really can’t get up.”

Madara rolled his eyes and walked back over to Hashirama before helping him up and supporting his weight once again.

“If you do that again, you’re sleeping on the streets.”

Hashirama flinched. “Got it.”

They finally arrived at Hashirama’s front door. Neither of them could sense Mito’s presence inside, and so assumed she stepped out. As Hashirama swayed towards the front door, he fumbled in his pocket in search of his keys. Once found, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He turned to face Madara, who was standing right outside the door giving him a disapproving look.

“Will you be okay from here on?”

Hashirama nodded. All he had to do was somehow make his way to the bedroom and collapse onto his bed. Easy-peasy.

“Good.” There was a hint of pain in Madara’s voice. He hated it when he had to part with Hashirama after spending time with him because he never knew when he’d be able to see him again. Hashirama was a busy man and gradually had no time for Madara anymore. Madara wasn’t sure when he would have another chance to be with Hashirama like this. It could be a couple of days or weeks. Hell, this might be the last time he even sees Hashirama before he leaves the village.

Madara sighed, cursing his reality. But he’s learning to accept it because that’s how he’ll be able to maintain his resolve to leave the village. He had to accept it.

“Have a good night, Hashi,” Madara said before turning around to take his leave.

Madara felt a strong grip around his wrist that pulled him in. Suddenly, his body was pressed against Hashirama and wrapped in strong arms in a warm embrace. Hashirama’s face was buried into Madara’s shoulder, his brown hair tickling the side of Madara’s cheek.

Madara’s eyes gaped in shock. “H-Hashirama, what are you—”

“Don’t leave me…” Hashirama whispered.

“What?” Madara responded, confused. “What is he talking about?” he thought. 

“Madara… don’t leave me,” Hashirama repeated, the deep vibrato from his voice sending shivers down Madara’s spine.

“H-Hashirama, I’m just dropping you off at your house,” Madara said as he attempted to break free from Hashirama’s grasp but was met with resistance. Hashirama was taller, bigger, and stronger than Madara. He’s never been hugged so tightly by Hashirama like this before. This stirred something inside of Madara, but he didn’t want to let his delusions get the best of him.

Madara sighed. “Hashirama, you’re drunk.”

There was no response from Hashirama.

“Okay, I have decided that you will not be okay from here on, so I will help you get to bed,” Madara concluded.

He tried not to take Hashirama’s words too seriously, he’s drunk after all. Besides, Madara never told him about leaving the village anyway so he must be talking about something else, or talking straight nonsense, neither of which would be a surprise to Madara.  

Hashirama finally let go of Madara once he felt Madara attempt to force his way inside. He used Madara to support himself as they both slowly made their way to his bedroom.

“Okay, now get in bed.”

“I’m thirsty.”

Madara’s eye twitched. “What am I, your maid?” he thought. He sighed and gave in to Hashirama’s indirect request. “I’ll go get you some water. In the meantime, get in bed.”

“I’ll come with—”

“Get in bed,” Madara nagged.

He left Hashirama’s bedroom to get water. By the time he returned, Hashirama’s shirt was off, and he was in the process of removing his pants as well.

“W-what are you doing?” Madara asked, tightening his briefly loosened grip around the glass of water. He was taken aback and tried to stop his gaze from traveling anywhere past Hashirama’s shoulders.

Hashirama looked up. “What? I always sleep like this,” Hashirama responded while tossing his pants to the side, now wearing nothing but his dark green trunks.

Of course. Madara sighed and walked up to Hashirama, offering him the water. Hashirama gladly accepted it and quickly began to chug the water to quench his thirst. Madara watched as a droplet of water fell from the corner of Hashirama’s lips, dripped down his chiseled chin, and landed on his chest. The sight aroused Madara as he allowed himself to finally appreciate Hashirama’s heavenly body.

Hashirama finished his water and wiped the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Thank you, Madara.”

“Mm, now get in bed. I’ll get you more water for the night, so you don’t have to get back up if you’re thirsty. I don’t want you to fall and bust your head open,” Madara said as he accepted the empty cup and immediately left the bedroom.

Hashirama chuckled while clumsily getting in bed and pulling the covers over his lap.  He watched as Madara returned with another full glass of water and placed it on his nearby nightstand.

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm, Goodnight,” Madara responded while walking away, but he was once again stopped by Hashirama’s grasp around his wrist. He turned around, now growing irritated. “What?”

“Don’t leave me… please,” Hashirama urged.

“What? I brought you home, I helped you get to bed. What else do you want from me? Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?”

Hashirama slowly shook his head, while he tugged at Madara’s wrist.

Madara could feel himself slowly getting pulled in by Hashirama’s grasp. He resisted his force, but accidentally stumbled forward, landing on the bed with his knees and left hand supporting his weight. His right hand was still in Hashirama’s grasp, and his face was just inches away from Hashirama’s. A tense silence filled the air.

Madara could feel his cheeks grow hot as he stared into Hashirama’s deep brown eyes, which were staring back at him intently, pulling him in. Despite being this close, Hashirama didn’t seem to mind. Madara dropped his gaze to Hashirama’s slightly parted lips. He felt so tempted to lean in and steal a kiss, to give in to his unreciprocated love and lust for his best friend. Hashirama was all he had left, the only thing that kept him in Konoha. But since he’s finally made the decision to leave, there’s nothing left to lose, right?

Madara could feel himself slowly leaning in, and he wasn’t completely sure, but he thought he saw Hashirama doing the same.

Suddenly, they both heard the front door open, causing Madara to quickly slip his hand out of Hashirama’s grasp and stand up off the bed. They watched as Mito walked into the bedroom.

“Oh, Madara!” Mito greeted him as she bowed.

“Good evening, Mito.” Madara cleared his throat, internally recovering from the moment he just had with Hashirama. “I was just helping Hashirama get home. He drank a little too much tonight.” 

Madara looked over to Hashirama, who appeared a bit… disappointed? Was it because they were fighting? Madara remembered Hashirama’s rant earlier while they were at the pub and grinned.

“And you and I both know he’s an idiot, but he’s doing his best. Take it easy on him,” Madara added.

Mito giggled at his words while Hashirama flinched, feeling offended.

“I’m not an idi—!”

“Good night,” Madara waved off while he exited the room. He slipped his shoes back on and left the house, walking towards the street. Before he could get very far, he heard Hashirama’s front door swing open.

“Madara!”

Madara turned towards the familiar voice.

“Don’t leave me.”

Madara could feel his eyebrow twitch. God, this man is persistent. “Fine, fine! I won’t leave you.” Is that what he wanted to hear?

A smile slowly crept onto Hashirama’s face. “Thank you for listening to me tonight. Get home safe, good night,” he said through slightly slurred words as he closed the door.

“Get home safe? Is he underestimating who the Madara Uchiha is?” Madara thought.

xxx

Madara slowly walked the streets of Konoha with his head held low, deep in thought. What was that all about? Does Hashirama know he’s planning on leaving the village? Impossible, he’s just drunk. Was there something else Hashirama knew that Madara didn’t?

As Madara strolled down Konoha, he blocked out the sounds of the villagers. Upon entering the Uchiha compound, he pretended like he didn’t hear the whispers of his clansmen as he passed by. He knew they were talking about him; he wasn’t oblivious.

Before Konoha, during times of war, the clansmen didn’t appreciate that Madara tended to prioritize Izuna during battle, often fleeing and leaving them behind when Izuna got injured. Now in the age of Konoha, they still believe Madara was being selfish by trying to convince them that Tobirama’s policies are unfair towards the Uchiha. However, Madara believed they were too blinded by the idea of false peace to even see it for themselves. It’s not like Madara didn’t want peace, he wanted that more than ever. But he could tell Tobirama still harbored prejudice towards the Uchiha clan.

Whatever, Madara tried to do his part, but that came at the cost of losing the clan’s trust and respect. It won’t matter to him anymore once he leaves the village and achieves his dream.

Once he arrived home, he opened the door and was greeted by a picture sitting at a small table near the entrance—it was of him and Izuna. He gently lifted the picture frame and eyed it.

“I’m home…,” Madara whispered before putting the frame back down. 

He slipped off his gloves and gently set them down next to the picture frame before making his way to his bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to change his clothes. He found himself staring up at the ceiling, recalling the events of the night.

His thoughts gradually drifted to Hashirama.  Oh, how he looked so good tonight. He recalled the way Hashirama’s hair brushed across his sun-kissed skin, the infectious charm of his sheepish smile. The way his deep voice sent a thrill through his body during their embrace, and the warmth of his breath against his neck lingered in his mind. He remembered his rich, musky scent mingled with earthy notes. When the water dripped down his chin and onto his chest, Madara wanted to lick up its trail—up his chest, up his neck, up his chin, and finally pull him into a hungry kiss.

As Madara allowed his mind to wander, he could feel increasing pressure around his crotch, arousal stirring inside of him.

“Fuck, Madara, not now,” he thought to himself, but his body felt differently. 

Before he knew it, he had already begun to run his hand down his stomach, and under the band of his pants and trunks, he needed release. Gripping his length, he started stroking up and down, letting out a soft moan. His grip tightened as he pumped, bucking his hips forward from the intensifying pleasure as he thought about Hashirama’s soft, pink lips pressed around him.

Soon he could feel the wetness of his pre-cum drip down his tip, coating his head with every pass of his hand. He quickened his pace as he felt his arousal begin to reach its peak.

“Fuck... Mmm… Hashi…” Madara moaned through his parted lips. He tightened his grip and stroked faster, feeling the pleasure start to peak. He wanted Hashirama. He needed him—his lips, his tongue, his touch, his body, his cock… his love, his smile, his warmth, his charm, his care, his… light.

Reaching his climax, he threw his head back as his body tensed and let out a deep moan, spilling his warm seed into his hand.

As he steadied his heavy breath, Madara brought his hand up in front of him and watched as his cum dripped down his wrist. He dropped his hand back down to his side and sighed, feeling ashamed and embarrassed that things had come to this.

Propping himself out of bed, Madara slowly walked to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. After washing and drying his hands, he headed back to his bedroom, still lacking the energy to change out of his day clothes. He collapsed onto the bed and found himself staring back up at the ceiling, getting lost in his thoughts once again.

Madara still didn’t know what Hashirama meant when he asked him not to leave. And what was that hug about? Madara once again recalled Hashirama’s warm embrace, enough to make him melt. He recalled almost kissing Hashirama, and how he thought Hashirama might’ve wanted it. Madara shook his head at the ridiculous thought. He figured he was just being delusional. Hashirama was drunk and probably had no clue what he was doing. If he really was leaning in, he was probably just losing his balance.

Madara sighed and closed his eyes. Was he really about to take advantage of a man in his vulnerable state? Oh, Madara, you’ve reached a new low.

He turned to lie on his side and felt a lump form in his throat as he thought about how Hashirama would probably never reciprocate his love. Good things never happened to Madara after all. He attracted darkness, and his loved ones always slipped away from him, and Hashirama was no different.

“Your light is too bright, Hashirama. It was never meant for me,” Madara whispered as he slowly drifted off to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Hashirama groaned as he slowly woke up to a throbbing headache. He rubbed his head while looking over to the other side of the bed to see that Mito had already left for the morning.

Turning his head, he saw the full glass of water that Madara had left on his nightstand last night. A blush spread across Hashirama’s face when he recalled the events of last night—when he was caught staring at Madara’s enticing lips at the pub, when he hugged Madara and wouldn’t let go. He even remembered when he pulled Madara onto his bed and leaned in for a kiss, entertaining the ridiculous idea that Madara might’ve wanted the same.

He slapped his palm against his forehead and mumbled, “Hashirama, you idiot.”

Hashirama propped himself up into a seated position and reached for the glass of water. He chugged the water down, quenching his thirst, before bringing the glass down to his lap. As he traced the edge of his cup with his thumb, he remembered other events of last night, specifically when he constantly asked Madara not to leave him. The thought made Hashirama’s cheeks flush with warmth. He hoped Madara would just chalk it up to his drunkenness.  

Truthfully, the possibility of Madara disappearing was something that had been worrying him for a while now, but it might’ve come off a little too… intense last night.

Leaning his back against the headboard of his bed, Hashirama sighed. He didn’t know when it all started, his feelings for Madara. One day he was teasing Madara about his crappy rock skipping during their childhood, the next they were enemies, the next they were building up Konoha, and now they’re here. Throughout all that, he felt something grow for Madara, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what that feeling was. Initially, he thought his feelings were platonic, a friend he valued dearly.

Hashirama went on to marry and build his community, not thinking much about his brewing feelings for Madara. But he didn’t realize those feelings were way past platonic until he was able to pinpoint the reason for the lingering emptiness inside of him.

Ever since finding Konoha, he admits that things went well for him. He survived the warring states with one younger brother left, who he cherishes deeply. He gained the respect and trust of both his clan and his village. He found a loving wife who supported and uplifted him. Despite all that, something was missing, and that missing piece grew larger the more distant he felt from Madara. The only time he felt like everything was right was when he was with Madara, like last night. Hashirama was almost ashamed to admit this though, he built a great life so he should be happy, right? Why did he still feel empty?

Hashirama closed his eyes. He could tell something wasn’t right with Madara. Though he couldn’t see Madara as often due to being busy as a Hokage, a husband, and a brother, Madara slowly became increasingly absent. He left the village for longer periods of time. He no longer walked the streets of Konoha as often. His smile slowly faded. He interacted less and less with his clansmen and the villagers. His voice no longer had the same charisma.

Hashirama could tell deep, deep down in his gut that Madara was probably going to disappear, and he didn’t want that—not when Madara completed him.

Suddenly, Hashirama’s eyes shot open.

“Oh crap, what time is it?”

He looked at his clock and saw that it was nearing noon, way past the time he needed to be at the Hokage’s office. He quickly got out of bed and ran to the bathroom to freshen up. After getting dressed, Hashirama ran towards the front door but skidded to a stop by the kitchen when he saw a bento box on the table with a note written by Mito. He smiled as he read:

Have a great day. I love you!

-Mito

Hashirama’s smile slowly faded as he fiddled with the edge of the paper. Guilt washed over him when he thought about how his feelings for Madara were unfair towards Mito. Mito was an amazing woman, and he really did love her. He really was grateful for her, but something in him still felt missing. He hadn’t told Mito anything about his feelings for Madara because he was hoping all of it would pass.  But unfortunately, they haven’t.

Hashirama quickly snapped back into reality when he remembered he was running late for work. He grabbed the bento box and bolted out the door.

As soon as he arrived at his office, Hashirama was met with Tobirama, who was sitting at his desk giving him a disapproving look.

“You’re late,” Tobirama said unforgivingly.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I had a rough night,” Hashirama responded as he walked over to his desk with his shoulders slouched forward, his headache still very much present.

“You should take it easy on me, you know,” Hashirama added jokingly as he approached Tobirama’s side.

Tobirama stood up from his seat, meeting Hashirama’s gaze. “If I took it any easier on you, the whole village would fall,” he responded, his voice unwavering, as he lightly tapped Hashirama’s forehead with a small stack of papers he held in his hand.

Hashirama pouted and walked around Tobirama to his chair. He let his body fall into his seat and leaned his head against the back of his chair. Tobirama looked Hashirama up and down, taking note of how rough he looked.

“You look awful.”

Hashirama sighed. “Thank you, Tobirama. I really appreciate the insult,” he said sarcastically as he leaned forward and rested his head against his desk.

Unbothered, Tobirama placed the stack of papers on the desk, prompting Hashirama to look up.

“More?” Hashirama groaned.

“More? What do you expect? You barely get work done.”

Hashirama flinched before being overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor. “You’re killing me Tobirama…” Hashirama sulked. He slowly picked up the first page and barely skimmed it before seeing a line for him to sign on. Without hesitation, Hashirama grabbed a pen and started signing. Before he could finish, Tobirama snatched the paper out of his hand.

“Brother! Did you even read it??”

“I… skimmed it,” Hashirama admitted.  

Tobirama sighed. “This is a petition to relinquish the rights of a large portion of land to the Hayashi Clan, potentially displacing a lot of the villagers. And you started signing the approval line.”

“Oh… We don’t want that! Sorry, sorry,” Hashirama said as he chuckled awkwardly. He proceeded to pick up the next page, but Tobirama snatched that one from him too, along with the rest of the stack.

“Just, just give it to me,” Tobirama demanded, exasperated. “Before you sign the rights of the whole village away,” he mumbled. He straightened the documents by tapping them against the desk and continued, “Just catch up on your other work.”

“Right,” Hashirama said as he turned his attention toward the mountain of papers on the side of his desk. He begrudgingly reached for the first page but could barely get through the first sentence due to his piercing headache. He rubbed his temples and sighed; he didn’t even want to be there. He hated paperwork with a burning passion.   

Tobirama crossed his arms and watched his older brother struggle. He most likely won’t get anything done productively in this state. Tobirama let out a sigh. “You can take the day off if you want.”

Hashirama’s face instantly lit up, a wide smile plastered across it. “Really?!”

Tobirama nodded. “Go relax, catch up on sleep or something, I’ll take things from here.” He then added, “You really do look awful.”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his depressed demeanor once again. He didn’t have to say it twice. But Hashirama didn’t sulk for long, he stood up and walked towards Tobirama. He placed his hand on his younger brother’s head and ruffled his hair with a smile. “Thank you, Tobi!”

Slightly pushing his lower lip into a pout, Tobirama responded, “Stop that, brother, I’m not a kid anymore.”

Hashirama chuckled, causing Tobirama’s eyes to narrow with irritation as he swatted away at Hashirama’s hand. “Get out before I change my mind.”

Hashirama flinched and immediately scurried out of the office. He didn’t want to have to be stuck in the office any longer.

As he watched Hashirama leave the office, Tobirama cursed in his head. “That bastard, oh, now you have all the energy in the world,” he mumbled as he walked over to Hashirama’s desk and sat down. “I would’ve had to do majority of this anyway regardless of if you were here or not.”

xxx

Hashirama walked down the streets of Konoha, his hands in his pockets, deep in thought. Initially, he figured he could go take a nap to relieve his headache, but then couldn’t stop thinking of Madara. Since he had time, maybe he could try and find him. He didn’t want to take his best friend’s presence for granted, especially since he had the gut feeling that Madara might disappear.

As he strolled the walkways, he caught a glimpse of Madara walking from afar, carrying a stack of books. What were those for? He instantly lit up and waved his hand out above his head to get Madara’s attention.

“Mada—!”

“Lord Hokage!!” A group of three children ran up to Hashirama, wide smiles plastered on their faces from excitement. They jumped up and down and started tugging at his arm to get his attention.

Hashirama briefly hesitated to acknowledge them because he wanted to greet Madara, but ultimately turned towards the kids and recognized their familiar faces. He squatted down to their level and smiled.

“Hey kids! Kenji, Emiko, Yuta,” he greeted them as he ruffled their hair, earning giggles from the three siblings.

Their mother ran up to them, her facial expression appearing apologetic. “Lord Hokage! I’m so sorry, I hope they didn’t bother you. Kids! Leave the Hokage alone, he’s a busy man.”

Hashirama chuckled. “It’s fine! Kids, I hope you’re not causing your mother too much trouble, eh?”

The kids smiled widely and shook their heads. Then, Yuta, a white-haired, green-eyed little boy, tugged at Hashirama’s sleeve.

“Lord Hokage! Come! Look! Come see something!”

For a moment, Hashirama wavered when he felt the pull on his sleeve. He realized that the children wanted to lead him somewhere, which he didn’t anticipate since his mind was still on meeting up with Madara. Hashirama briefly turned his head to check if his best friend was still there but found only the empty space where Madara had stood. A fleeting pang of longing washed over him, reminding him of how much he missed Madara.

“Yuta!” The mother yelled as she grabbed the little boy’s hand and attempted to pull him away from Hashirama.

Hashirama turned his attention back to the kids, reforming a smile on his face. He chuckled and stood up, allowing Yuta to take him wherever he wanted. “It’s okay! Yuta, show me. I want to see!”

The children cheered as they dragged Hashirama to a new destination.

Madara stopped and turned towards the sound of what he thought was someone calling his name. He was carrying a pile of books he owned and was on his way to the library to donate them. He didn’t feel the need to keep them at his home any longer since he was planning on leaving the village soon.

He scanned the area around him in search of the source of the sound until his eyes landed on Hashirama, who was laughing and interacting with a small group of kids. A slight grin tugged at Madara’s lips at the sight of Hashirama—his radiance, his charisma, his ability to do well with kids—they were all qualities Madara admittedly loved about him.

Hashirama has his community, and Madara believes Hashirama will be just fine once he leaves the village. He thought his absence wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway.

Madara turned his gaze back to his path and continued walking, leaving Hashirama behind. He must’ve been mistaken about the sound.

Soon, Madara found himself at the Konoha library and made his way up the steps. Once he entered, he approached the front desk, gently placed the stack of books on the tabletop, and looked up to meet the librarian’s gaze. She was a middle-aged woman with brown eyes and straight dark green hair that fell down the side of her face. She wore a long red casual dress and a white cotton shawl around her shoulders.

The librarian flashed him a fake smile, but Madara did not do so in return. He wasn’t the most openly friendly person out there, and these days Hashirama was the only person to get somewhat of a smile out of him.

“I’d like to donate these,” Madara said.

The librarian looked down at the books and raised her eyebrows in surprise. They were unique Uchiha books passed down for generations, only a few of their kind, that presented the history before and of the Uchiha clan, along with traditions and fables that weren’t t written anywhere else. Since there were only a few copies of each book out there in the world, the librarian was very pleased. It felt like her lucky day.

The librarian enthusiastically reached for the stack of books. “We’d be honored to h—”

“You’re donating those books?? Why?”

Both Madara and the librarian turned to face their Hokage, who walked up to Madara’s side with a concerned look on his face.

Madara raised an eyebrow, surprised to see Hashirama. He swore he was just with a group of children. And even if he was done with them, doesn’t he have other things to do besides being at the library?

“Hashirama? What are you doing here?” Madara asked.

Hashirama gently caressed the worn-down book at the top of the stack and turned to meet Madara’s gaze. “Why are you donating these? You cherish these books.”

Hashirama wasn’t wrong. Madara did cherish them. He received these books as a gift when he was a child and has read and re-read them ever since. These books also held fond memories of his younger brother, Izuna, who he often read these books with. But this is why he needed to get rid of them. If he were to leave the village, he needed to leave everything behind and commit to his new dream. He couldn’t dwell on sentimental things that would hold him back, as pursuing this new dream required him to be ready to leave everything behind.

Madara finally responded, “I don’t see a need for them anymore.” He turned back to the librarian. “Take good care of them.”

“Of cour—”

“I’ll take them,” Hashirama interrupted.

Madara turned back to Hashirama. “Why? They’ll be good to have in the library.”

Hashirama ignored Madara’s questioning and smiled at the librarian. “Sorry, Himari, I’m being selfish,” he said as he grabbed the stack of books. He then faced Madara. “I’ll keep them for you in case you want them again.”

“I said I don’t need them anymore.”

“That could change in the future!” Hashirama insisted, refusing to yield to Madara’s point.

Madara sucked his teeth, irritation slowly rising. He decided not to go back and forth with Hashirama any further and turned to start heading out of the library. “Whatever, do with them what you will.”

Hashirama watched as Madara left the building. He didn’t want their interaction to be over. He still felt pulled towards Madara, a force, a longing. He wanted to keep hearing his voice, keep seeing his face. He wanted to spend more time with him, and he didn’t want to take what time he had with him for granted. 

Hashirama stepped forward but stopped when he realized he had the stack of books in his hands. He didn’t want to take them home that instant and miss out on spending time with Madara.

He turned to Himari, the librarian, and held out the books, flashing a sheepish smile. “Sorry, can you actually watch these for me for the day? I’ll come back for them later.”

Himari nodded and gladly accepted the books, “They will be safe and secure with me until you come back, Lord Hokage.”

“Thank you!” Hashirama said as he hurried out of the library. He called out to Madara, who was just about to turn the corner and walk out of his sight.

Madara turned around looking irritated. What did he want now? It’s not that Madara didn’t want to see him, no, he was actually surprised he was able to interact with him this soon after last night. But at this point, the more he sees him, the harder it will be for him to leave Konoha behind. Plus, Hashirama already tried to get in the way of him parting with his books, which he found annoying.

Hashirama trotted down the steps and walked up to Madara, who crossed his arms once Hashirama stopped in front of him.

“Don’t you have a village to run?” Madara asked, sounding displeased.

Hashirama smiled. “Not right now!”

“Why not?”

“I’m taking the day off.”

Madara quirked an eyebrow, “Surely Tobirama isn’t too happy about that.”

Hashirama scratched the back of his head and awkwardly laughed. “He actually recommended it.”

“Oh?” Madara turned around and started walking away, but Hashirama quickly shuffled in front of him, causing Madara to almost bump into his broad chest. “What?” he asked, annoyance evident in his face as he stepped back to create space between him and Hashirama.

“Let’s grab something to eat?” Hashirama asked with a smile, hoping Madara would agree.

Madara’s eyes narrowed, slightly suspicious at Hashirama’s request. Did something happen again? Why was he asking again? Hashirama has other things to do, so why now?

“No,” Madara said flatly.

Hashirama frowned. “Why not?”

Madara placed his hand on his hip. Why is he being persistent? He just wanted him to leave him alone. Don’t make this harder than this has to be. “Why don’t you go do something with your wife?”

“She’s busy…”

“No, she’s not. I saw her at the flower shop earlier.”

“Flower shop?” Hashirama felt a pang of pain pierce his chest. What was Madara doing at the flower shop? Was he getting flowers for someone… special? 

Despite the pain, Hashirama forced a smirk on his face. “What were you doing at the flower shop? Are you seeing anyone?” he asked as he nudged Madara in his side. Please, say it isn’t so.

Madara grew a bit flustered. “N-no! I was just passing by.”

Whew. Hashirama could feel his slightly tense shoulders relax, he didn’t realize they tensed up. “Well, I’m sure Mito already has her own plans for today.”

Madara sighed. “I still think you should check in.”

“Are you avoiding me?” Why won’t he just agree?

“I’m helping you solve your problems, Hashirama.”

Hashirama pouted. Well, it was a point well made for sure. “Just one meal, I’ll only take one hour of your day.”

“Hashirama, I’m fine, I’ll pass.”

“Come on! Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’m not hun—”

A growl escaped Madara’s stomach, he blushed at the comical timing.

Hashirama smirked.

“Fine!”

The two walked down the streets to their local ramen shop and conversed on their way there, matching each other’s walking pace. Hashirama tried hard to contain his excitement, he didn’t realize how much it would mean for him to spend time with Madara. He could feel himself slowly drift towards Madara as they walked, their hands brushing against each other intermittently, which sent satisfying tingles down his body. But he didn’t want to keep getting too close, he tried to keep his distance to avoid bumping into his friend again.

“I’m surprised that Tobirama recommended you take the day off,” Madara added as they continued their conversation.

Hashirama pouted, remembering the interaction he had earlier with his younger brother. “He said I looked awful, so he decided to show me some mercy.”

Madara looked over to Hashirama, finally giving himself the opportunity to examine him. He gazed at his skin, it was a bit paler than usual, his cheeks were slightly sunken, and his under-eyes were a bit sunken as well. Well, Tobirama wasn’t wrong. But even if he did look a little rough, Hashirama was no doubt still beautiful at his worst. He turned back to focus his attention on the street ahead of him, not saying a word.

Hashirama turned to Madara, offended at the silence. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“What was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, maybe to disagree.”

“Lying would be doing you a disservice, Hashirama,” Madara said through a chuckle.

Hashirama sulked. “Do I look that bad?”

“You just look tired is all.”

“Mmm, yeah, this week has been stressful, and I definitely drank too much last night. I think I’m still getting over my hangover.”

The two grew silent. Both of them remembered what happened last night but neither of them were willing to recall it openly, nor mention their suspicions. 

Hashirama soon broke the silence. “So… what were you really doing at the flower shop?”

“I told you; I was really just passing by,” Madara responded with an eye roll.

The two finally arrived at the ramen bar and took their seats. The air was filled with the savory aroma of pork broth and umami. They ordered their meals and conversed, waiting for their food to be served. Madara listened intently to Hashirama, who was now talking about the progress he was making on his garden that he started a little over a year ago. He loved listening to Hashirama speak about his passions. His face always exuded a light that was so attractive to Madara, like now, despite his somewhat tired look.

Soon enough, the servers placed their hot, steaming ramen on the tabletop in front of the two men. Madara didn’t realize how hungry he was until he was faced with his ramen: ramen tonkatsu with chashu pork, an over-easy egg, and vegetables. He could feel his stomach eating itself from the inside. He quickly grabbed chopsticks and dug in, sliding the noodles into his mouth and slurping them up, despite how hot the food was.

These days, Madara often forgets to eat. He simply didn’t have an appetite because he was always consumed by negative thoughts: the loneliness, the feelings of betrayal, the desire to leave everything behind. His racing mind didn’t leave room for hunger.

Hashirama watched as Madara didn’t waste time eating his food. He quietly chuckled and found himself taking in Madara’s sight; there was a sense of softness to Madara’s features. The way his dark, onyx eyes, surrounded by subtle wispy black eyelashes, were glued to his ramen bowl.  His subtle eyebags suited him very well, adding to his unique, handsome look. The way his black hair, graced with a blue tint, fell down his face, covering nearly half of it, which sometimes Hashirama hated. He liked looking at Madara’s full face back in the day. Hashirama thought Madara was beautiful, especially when he allowed himself to display emotion. But these days, that hasn’t been very often.

Hashirama found himself resting his cheek on his palm, with his elbow planted on the table. He smiled as he got lost in the sight of Madara, who was still eating his ramen eagerly.

Madara could feel Hashirama staring at him, and turned to him mid-slurp, with half of the noodles still dangling from his mouth. He met Hashirama’s gaze and slurped up the rest of his noodles.

“What? Are you not going to eat?”

Finally realizing he had been staring at Madara the whole time, Hashirama quickly straightened up and tried to come up with an excuse. “Um, yeah I was waiting for it to cool down.” He then turned to Madara and chuckled. “You must’ve been hungry. And to think you didn’t want to get lunch.”

Madara looked back at his ramen bowl. “Not really, it’s just better when it’s hot,” he lied; he was definitely very hungry. Madara brought his chopsticks to his pork and lifted it to his mouth, taking a bite of the savory goodness.

Hashirama smirked; he didn’t believe him. He turned to his bowl and finally picked up his own wooden chopsticks, breaking the bonded pair apart before he started digging into his ramen.

For the time being, they ate in silence, with nothing but the sound of their sporadic slurps, which Hashirama found very enticing. As he ate, he discreetly shifted his gaze toward Madara, so to make sure he didn’t notice him looking. He eyed Madara’s perfectly rounded pink lips, wet from the ramen broth. He allowed his mind to wander to more inappropriate things, which sent of wave of pleasure that traveled down to his crotch.

In addition to love, Hashirama also felt an irresistible lust for Madara. Like his love for him, he didn’t really know when this started, but he gradually started finding himself thinking of all the things he would do to Madara.

Don’t get him wrong, he wanted more from Madara—he wanted love and companionship, and he didn’t want Madara to leave him. But he couldn’t help but think about the ways he would pin him down, kiss him, and make love to him. He wanted those lips against his own, against his skin; he wanted those lips around him. He wanted to whisper sweet nothings in his ear while hearing his moans and hold him in a tight embrace.

Hashirama didn’t think Madara felt the same way though, so he tried his best to keep his desires in check. Since he had a wife, he was ashamed to feel like this. But unfortunately, Mito just didn’t arouse him as much as Madara did these days, and it drove him insane.

While Hashirama got lost in his lustful desires, he accidentally slurped his noodles a little too hard and choked on his food, throwing him into a coughing fit. He quickly grabbed his cup of water and chugged it.

Meanwhile, Madara gave him a disapproving look.

Hashirama exhaled in relief when the coughing was finally over, then turned to Madara, who didn’t offer any help at all. “Were you just going to let me choke to death?!”

Madara softly chuckled, “You’re the Hokage, would you really go down that easily?”

Hashirama pouted. He at least would’ve liked Madara to show a little concern. But he had a point because death by ramen noodles would be embarrassing. Hashirama huffed and grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. 

Picking up his bowl, Madara drank the rest of the broth after he finished eating the contents inside of it. Hashirama faced Madara once again, finding it to be the perfect time to question him and voice his concerns.

“So, Madara, why were you donating those books?”

Madara gently placed his bowl back down on the table once he was done. “I told you; I don’t feel a need for them anymore.”

“Why not? You love those books.”

Madara sighed. “And I’ve decided it’s time to let them go. What’s wrong with that?”

Hashirama eyed Madara as if he were looking through his soul, causing Madara to flinch. “Why are you being so persistent? I just don’t want them anymore.”

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is everything okay, Madara?”

“Like I said last night, I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

“Mada—”

“Let it go—”

“I can tell when you’re being dishonest.”

Madara grew silent, his grip around his bowl tightening. He didn’t want to talk about this with Hashirama. Hashirama wouldn’t understand anyway, and there was no point sharing his sentiments with a man who had everything going on for him. Plus, Madara didn’t want to burden him, he just wanted to accept his fate and slip away like he was meant to.

“Why can’t you just talk to me?” Hashirama added softly.

“I didn’t realize you had time to talk with me, Hashirama,” Madara said, almost accusingly. What he said, he felt was true. Hashirama was a busy man, with more important things to worry about.

Hashirama grew a confused look on his face. What did he mean by that? 

“What do you mean—”

Madara abruptly stood up. “It’s been an hour.” He began to walk out of the ramen bar, leaving Hashirama behind.

Hashirama quickly stood up and tried to follow Madara but stopped when he heard a voice.

“L-Lord Hokage?” the ramen bar server said as she raised a bill in her hand.

Hashirama smiled sheepishly, apologized, and took out his wallet. He slammed the money on the counter and took off after Madara.

“Madara!”

Madara sucked his teeth and sped up his walk, but Hashirama caught up, blocking Madara’s path.

“Hashirama.” Madara acknowledged his presence.

“What did you mean by that?”

Madara sighed, “Don’t you have someplace to be?”

“I told you I have the day off. Don’t try to change the subject on me.”

Madara avoided eye contact and mumbled, “I just think you have better things to worry about than my troubles.”

“So, there is something bothering you?”

“No, I was just saying. Why do you keep asking? I said I’m fine.”

“Because I want to know how you truly feel. And I have a feeling that you aren’t okay, Madara.” He then thought to himself, “That you’ll disappear.”

Madara looked into Hashirama’s concerned eyes, and at that moment, he thought he felt the walls he built up start to crumble. He entertained the idea of opening up to Hashirama, potentially allowing himself to dump his worries on him like he always did growing up. To lean on his best friend, like he always used to, before Hashirama became his war enemy, before Konoha, and before he became Hokage, got married, built his community, and left Madara behind.

Madara slowly parted his lips, preparing to let out his troubles to Hashirama. Hashirama listened in anticipation.

“Lord Hokage!” A teenage, brunette boy ran up to Hashirama.

Madara shut his mouth and averted his gaze. Of course, this would happen.

As he cursed in his head at the interruption, Hashirama turned to face the boy and plastered a smile on his face. “Hiruzen! What’s up?”

“Train me!”

Hashirama brought his hand to the boy’s head and ruffled his hair, “Next time, Hiruzen.”

Hiruzen pouted, “But you keep saying that. Last time you promised you would train me the next time you’re off.”

Damn it, he did say that.

Madara took that as an opportunity to take his leave. He turned around without acknowledging Hiruzen’s presence and started walking away. Hashirama could feel slight panic settling in; he didn’t want to end the conversation here with Madara. He felt like he was getting really close to hearing what Madara had been going through. Hashirama’s mind raced with potential ideas to prevent Madara from completely dismissing himself.

Hashirama blurted, “Why don’t we let Madara join us?”

Madara stopped in his tracks and shifted his body slightly to face them. What did he have planned?

Hiruzen, who was initially cautious, took time to think about it. Madara didn’t seem very… inviting, and it looked like he didn’t want anything to do with this. Hiruzen had always been cautious about Madara, especially given the rumors that circulated. But if his sensei was suggesting it, then he figured he should trust it. 

Hiruzen bowed and said, “It would be an honor to be trained by you, Lord Madara.”

Madara winced, he wasn’t used to that kind of treatment from the younger generation. He didn’t interact with them much to begin with. “Hashirama is enough to teach you everything you need to know,” he said before turning back around and walking off.

Hiruzen stood back up, slightly disappointed at Madara denying his request.

Hashirama bent down to Hiruzen’s level and talked towards his ear in a low tone, though still loud enough for Madara to hear. “Don’t take it personally, Hiruzen. Madara’s just afraid you’ll bruise his ego if you’re stronger than him.”

Suddenly, Madara’s competitive nature pounced out. He turned around and gave Hashirama a bewildered look, “Huh?!?”

Chapter Text

“Pay attention to your opponent’s movements. Anticipate their next move,” Madara lectured as he swung his fist out at Hiruzen, who successfully, but just barely, dodged.

“Yes sir!” Hiruzen answered as he kicked his leg out toward Madara, who grabbed his leg, swung him around, and released him, sending him flying. Hiruzen managed to land on his hands and backflip back to a stand. With the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat that dripped down his chin and thought about other ways to land a hit on his teacher.

They had been sparring for quite some time now, and Hiruzen had yet to land a hit on Madara. Though Madara wasn’t taking it easy on Hiruzen, he still looked almost bored, revealing the obvious gap in their strength. Initially, it was discouraging to Hiruzen, but he appreciated the experience he was able to get from sparring with Madara.  

Meanwhile, Hashirama was sitting to the side, watching them train with a smile. He loved observing Madara train the younger generation since it was such a rare sight. He also liked witnessing Hiruzen’s progress and has noticed that he’s definitely gotten stronger within the past few months.

Madara stood calmly on the open field with his arms crossed; he hadn’t even broken a sweat nor activated his Sharingan yet. He patiently watched Hiruzen pant heavily from a distance, waiting for him to make the next move. 

“You’re not going to have this much time to think in real battle,” Madara announced sternly.

Hiruzen flinched and immediately started moving without a plan. “Yes sir!”

He lunged at Madara, and they started engaging in more hand-to-hand combat. Hiruzen was only able to get a few swings in before he was easily overpowered by Madara and took a few painful punches to his face and stomach. He skidded back, creating distance between them, and weaved multiple hand signs.

“ Water style: Wild Water Wave .” 

A stream of water shot out at Hiruzen’s mouth toward Madara’s direction.

Madara immediately weaved a single hand sign. 

“ Fire style: Majestic Destroyer Flame .” 

A large rush of fire shot out of Madara’s mouth and easily overwhelmed Hiruzen’s jutsu, causing the water to evaporate instantly. Hiruzen jumped out of the way to avoid being hit by Madara’s fire style, but the side of his shirt was singed, and he suffered a superficial burn along a small area of skin on his abdomen.

Hiruzen grabbed two kunai from his pouch and ran towards Madara, then jumped into the air. He threw the kunai and weaved a couple of hand signs, causing the kunai to multiply.

Madara effortlessly caught the first kunai that flew toward him and used it to counter the rest with ease. The sounds of metal clashing against each other reverberated through the air. With a swift motion, he grabbed the last kunai that headed toward him and threw it back at Hiruzen, who was still suspended in mid-air.

As soon as the kunai struck Hiruzen, he immediately turned into a log that hit the ground.

“ Hmm? Substitution, eh? ” Madara thought as he crossed his arms. He could already sense where the real Hiruzen was attacking from, yet remained still, not bothering to turn towards the approaching boy.

Hiruzen felt confident. He didn’t think Madara caught on to where he was coming from. He took out his last kunai and gathered chakra to his feet, lunging himself at top speed towards Madara from behind. However, Madara shifted to the side and grabbed his wrist tightly, causing Hiruzen to wince and drop the kunai. Hiruzen was suddenly swung into the air. He grunted as he felt a Madara uppercut his stomach. While Hiruzen started falling back down, Madara kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying until he hit his back against a tree and slid down to the ground. 

Hashirama flinched at the impact. Madara sure was being tough .

Both Hiruzen’s back and stomach burned with intense pain, causing him to groan in pain. Suddenly, he felt a daunting presence appear near him. When he opened his eyes, he saw Madara crouched right in front of him, a kunai just centimeters away from his neck.

“Now, what will you do in this situation?” Madara asked, his deep voice sending chills down Hiruzen’s spine.

Hiruzen gulped, he felt a wave of fear suddenly wash over him as his legs trembled. He didn’t know how to get out of this situation. His breathing was heavy, but he was too afraid to move too much, knowing if he moved even an inch, the kunai would slice his skin and draw blood. Hiruzen took the time to examine Madara’s face. Wow , he hadn’t even broken a sweat. His aura was menacing, powerful, confident. This was Madara Uchiha.

“Okay! Okay! How about we call it a day?” Hashirama interrupted as he walked up to the two clapping his hands together to lighten up the mood.

Madara threw the kunai to the side and stood up to move out of the way. Hashirama then crouched down in front of Hiruzen and ruffled his hair.

“Hiruzen! I watched the whole thing. You did well.” Hashirama then looked over to Madara. “Right, Madara?”

Madara didn’t expect to be put on the spot like that. He slowly searched for words to respond with.

“He wasn’t… terrible.”

Hiruzen felt a bit dejected at Madara’s response. Despite working so hard, he didn’t even manage to land a single hit on him, let alone come close. No wonder Madara didn’t have anything good to say.

Hashirama turned to Hiruzen and gave him a reassuring smile. “Believe it or not, that’s a big compliment coming from Madara.”

Hiruzen then felt a glimmer of hope. He quickly got on his hands and knees and bowed. “Thank you, Madara, for training me today! I promise I’ll keep working harder to get stronger, so as not to disappoint you!”

Madara could feel his cheeks grow warm. He didn’t really know what to say in this situation. He opted to hum in response, acknowledging Hiruzen’s resolve.

Hashirama chuckled and said to Hiruzen, “Don’t mind him, he’s just shy.”

Irritation welled up inside Madara as he pointed at Hashirama and yelled, “Oi, Hashirama! I’m tired of you doing me like that!”

“Like what?” Hashirama teased.

“You know what I mean!” Madara huffed and walked away from the two, hiding his slightly flushed face.

Hashirama laughed. In that moment he felt nostalgic, it was like their usual banter from years ago; the dynamic that slowly faded as they grew more distant. He missed moments like these.

Hashirama then dismissed Hiruzen and told him he’d train him some other day, to which Hiruzen nodded and left.

Madara sat down on the grass in the empty field and Hashirama walked over to sit down next to him. In an attempt to ignore Hashirama’s presence, Madara stared straight ahead.

“So… what do you think of Hiruzen? He’s pretty promising, right?” Hashirama asked with a pleased smile, proud of his student and how far he’s come.

“Hiruzen Sarutobi… he’s a bit of a disappointment,” Madara said flatly, eyes still straight ahead.

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor.

Madara could sense Hashirama’s change in demeanor. He glanced at Hashirama and gave him a judging look. “You’re still doing that?”

Hashirama pouted. “What’s so bad about him?”

Madara blinked then looked forward once again. “Hmm… he’s not nearly as strong as we were at his age. Plus, there were plenty of kids his age that were stronger back in the day.”

Hashirama exhaled and leaned back against his arms, with his hands planted against the ground slightly behind him. “Times are different. They don’t have to fight as much as we did back then. The caliber of shinobi is different in an age of peace.”

Madara turned to Hashirama, “You think we’re in the age of peace?”

“Relatively. It’s better than how things were before,” Hashirama responded.

Madara grew silent before gazing forward at the grassy field in front of him. He understood what Hashirama meant. Yeah, things weren’t as bad as they were during the warring states era, but he didn’t believe peace had been completely achieved yet. Shinobi were still dying; small wars were still being fought, children were still training and getting sent out on missions to die, and tension was still present and rising. People still faced tragedy. None of this was peaceful. None of this was how Madara wanted things to be. 

Madara’s thoughts were interrupted by the chuckle that escaped Hashirama’s lips.

“I think you might’ve been a little too hard on Hiruzen today.”

Madara raised an eyebrow. “Was I? I thought I was going easy on him.”

Hashirama grew a worried look on his face. “ You call that easy? ” he thought. The interesting thing is that Madara probably genuinely thought so.

“Really. My father was a lot worse with me and my brothers,” Madara added. He immediately experienced unpleasant flashbacks — the hours of training, the broken bones, the burns. Yet his father claimed it was all in the name of getting stronger for the sake of the Uchiha clan.

Hashirama chuckled, “Well, he might be a little afraid of you now, but I believe he was appreciative of your attention today.”

“Whatever, add that to the list of children who are afraid of me.”

Hashirama burst into laughter as he thought about the encounters Madara had had with children. He wasn’t very lucky with them. For some reason, their first reaction is to be afraid. He recalled a time when a little girl tripped and fell, and Madara rushed to her aid. In an attempt to help her, she was startled at the sight of Madara.

Madara rolled his eyes.

“It’s because you don’t smile! It makes you more intimidating.”

Madara sighed. “Please, spare me the lecture, Hashirama,” he said as he ran his gloved hand through his hair, for a moment moving his black locks out of his face, revealing the other half. It was a sight Hashirama didn’t dare to miss. He admired Madara as his fair fell back down over half of his face.  

Hashirama responded, “I’m not trying to lecture you, I’m serious! I really do like your…” he didn’t realize the last sentence had already slipped out, but decided to finish it anyway. “…smile.”

For a moment, Madara could feel butterflies in his stomach. What did he say ? His heart began to beat against his chest as he processed the compliment Hashirama had just given him. But was it really a compliment? Was he really being serious? Or was he just being nice? Was he just saying that as part of his lecture?

Madara turned to Hashirama, who was looking down at the grass in front of him. His eyes narrowed. “Are you teasing me, Senju?”

“W-what? No! I’m serious.” Hashirama then decided to say it again with more conviction. “I like your smile, Madara.”

Madara, not knowing how to react to the compliment, averted his gaze elsewhere, hiding the subtle shift in his facial expression as he was feeling both a bit embarrassed and pleased. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

The conversation they were having earlier that day before they got interrupted by Hiruzen crossed Hashirama’s mind. At that moment, he really did feel like Madara was going to open up to him, and he didn’t want to let that opportunity slip away from him before the day was over.

“Oh, by the way, Madara, I’m sorry Hiruzen interrupted us earlier. I still want to—”

Madara immediately stood up. He knew where this was going, but he didn’t want to go there. While he did almost open up to Hashirama, the interruption served as a reminder that he shouldn’t. It will only complicate things. He’s already made his decision, and opening up probably won’t change that.

“I’m leaving,” Madara said as he started walking away from Hashirama.

“Wait, Madara, where are you going?”

But Madara didn’t respond. He just kept walking, not in the mood to entertain Hashirama’s questions today. He wasn’t really going anywhere in specific but just wanted to escape Hashirama’s constant persistence.

“Madara!” Hashirama called out as he watched his best friend walk further and further away from him. He could feel some anxiety rise within him since he knew that once Madara left, it would be hard for him to reinitiate a conversation or another hangout, especially given how stubborn the man was being.

Humming to himself, Hashirama thought about how he could keep Madara’s attention so as not to let their time together end. To his satisfaction, an idea popped into his head. Hashirama activated one of his many jutsus, creating a wooden pillar that emerged from the ground and attacked Madara, who successfully dodged it.

“What was that for?” Madara asked as he turned to Hashirama.

Hashirama smirked and stood up, clapping his hands together into a hand seal, causing more pillars to emerge and grow towards Madara. The Uchiha continuously dodged the pillars as they launched at him.

“Hashira—”

Before Madara could finish calling out his name, Hashirama lunged at Madara. They engaged in brief hand-to-hand combat before they clashed their hands together, their fingers intertwined with one another’s and their faces just inches away from each other’s, pushing with all their might to avoid getting overpowered. 

“We haven’t sparred in a while, right?” Hashirama said.

“Hashirama—”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting rusty?” Hashirama taunted with a mischievous grin.

And that’s what did it. Madara felt something rile up inside of him.

 “Rusty?!?” A smirk slowly spread across Madara’s face. Now he was getting serious. They forcefully pushed against each other and lunged backward, creating distance between them.

They immediately started engaging in one-on-one combat, matching each other’s strengths, and holding their own against each other.  The sounds of clashing metal, growing wood, and flames quickly pierced the air. The grunts of the two men echoed through the atmosphere along with the smells of burning wood.

Hashirama was used to Madara’s patterns, and his sharingan was no problem for him. But even though Madara was smirking on the outside, Hashirama could feel the emotions of his best friend through the clashing of their fists—the anger, the sadness, the loneliness. Each physical impact between the two served as a bridge between the outside world and Madara’s heart. It saddened Hashirama and only confirmed his suspicions. It was just so frustrating that he couldn’t get it out of Madara.

Meanwhile, Madara felt more alive than he had ever been in a while. His racing heart rate, the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the waves of pain with each hit he took from Hashirama—it was the first time in months he felt something other than despair and loneliness. He loved it. He sank into this feeling: the feeling of combating his best friend, the only person who could match his strength, his rhythm. The only person he acknowledged. And he felt like he was having the time of his life.

“HASHIRAMA!” Madara called out with a smile as he got lost in the moment.

Hours passed by, and nighttime had arrived. By this time, the two were worn out, panting on the ground beside each other as they attempted to catch their breaths after taking a break amidst their endless sparring. They both looked up at the stars that traversed the night sky.

Suddenly, Madara broke out into a bout of laughter, his deep voice reverberating through the air. Hashirama turned his head towards Madara and widened his eyes in awe. His chest fluttered at the sight of Madara’s genuine smile, the infectious laughter, and the way the moonlight shined against his fair skin, with beads of sweat that glistened. Hashirama continued to take in his beauty, his best friend, his rival, the person he loved.

Madara’s laughter slowly calmed down. “We haven’t danced like that in a while, Hashirama.”

Hashirama slowly smiled. “Yeah…” 

For a moment, Hashirama thought about bringing up the emotions he felt through his fight with Madara, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He propped himself up to a seated position and exhaled. Madara remained lying down; he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and brought it up to his face to wipe his sweat, exposing his abdomen.

Hashirama took this opportunity to glance at Madara. His gaze slowly made his way down Madara’s exposed chest, and down his lean stomach, his prominent abs glistening in the moonlight from the sweat. He then slowly looked down, following his V-line down to the band of his pants. Hashirama bit his inner lip and dared to look down further, glimpsing at the subtle bulge at his crotch, which sent of wave of pleasure through his body and down to his crotch. Hashirama’s breath quickened as he thought about what he wanted to do to Madara; he wanted to climb on top of him and grind against him while sucking at his sweaty neck.

Hashirama quickly turned his head when Madara pulled his shirt back down, his face now free from the sweat he wiped off. 

Madara didn’t notice Hashirama ogling him earlier. He pushed himself to a seated position and looked towards Hashirama, who was looking away. He took that as an opportunity to also appreciate Hashirama in the moonlight. He noticed the way Hashirama’s damp brown locks stuck to the side of his face and how his neck glistened with the sweat that slowly slid downward. He watched Hashirama as his chest slowly rose and fell as he caught his breath. Madara desperately wanted to pull him towards him, bring his neck to his mouth and bite down, suck, and taste his salty sweat against his tongue. He wanted to grab his damp hair and pull him into a feverous kiss.

Madara quickly turned his head away when he noticed Hashirama shifting his face towards him. Their silence continued. Since Madara still sensed Hashirama’s eyes on him, he glanced back and met his gaze.

“What?” Madara asked.

“Nothing,” Hashirama muttered.

They both stared straight ahead at the open land, its landscape altered from their battle. Both tried to contain their excitement, not daring to act on their desires with the belief that the other didn’t feel the same way.

Hashirama and Madara found themselves sitting in silence for a few moments, lost in their thoughts. Hashirama’s mind raced with his concern for Madara. He wished he would open up to him and tell him what was going on. He still harbored that fear of Madara slipping away from him, disappearing. Hashirama has been afraid to bring it up again because he didn’t want to ruin the moment but came to the reluctant conclusion that it might be time to just ask.

In Madara’s head were all the things that had been bothering him—his loneliness, the emptiness left by the death of his younger brother, the betrayal by his clan, his hopelessness in the future, the feeling that he had nothing else left to live for. He thought about Hashirma, who was so close, yet still felt so far away… so far ahead of him—a bright light that was out of reach, and he has come to accept that. But curse Hashirama for trying to get closer to him, to give Madara a sliver of hope that will probably eventually get ripped away from him with time again. 

Good things never last for Madara anyway. Despite this, he started entertaining the idea that maybe… just maybe if he opened up, things would be different. Maybe opening up will help him. Maybe it’ll give him some hope.

The two sighed in unison.

“Madara.”

“Hashirama.”

They both said at the same time. They turned to each other.

“Hmm?” they answered in unison.

Both quickly got cold feet, deciding not to follow through with their thoughts. They continued to stare at each other in silence. Despite deciding not to open up, Madara really didn’t want his time with Hashirama to end.

Madara finally broke the silence and asked, “Shall we continue where we left off? Sparring?”

Hashirama’s eyes slightly widened, surprised that Madara offered to continue even after he attempted to avoid him all day. The initial excitement didn’t last though; a wave of sadness washed over him when he realized how late it was. If they continued, they would probably keep going until the morning. Despite Hashirama’s strong feelings for Madara, he did still have a life outside of him and a wife at home.

“I’m sorry, Madara. I should probably go home to Mito before she starts to worry.”

Hashirama watched as Madara’s ever-so-slight smile started to fade. Madara averted his gaze and looked forward.

“Right, don’t let me keep you.”

Hashirama added, “B-but next time, yeah?”

If there will even be a next time . Madara turned back to Hashirama and flashed him a subtle grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Next time,” he said.

Hashirama could tell the smile wasn’t genuine. “Madara—”

Madara let out an exaggerated sigh as he stood up off the ground and dusted off his pants. “Oi, Oi, Hashirama, didn’t you say Mito can be scary when she’s angry? You better get going before she gets on you, or else I’ll have to hear about it,” Madara said lightly.

Hashirama could tell that Madara was trying to lighten up the mood. He chuckled while scratching the back of his head. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course, I am.”

Hashirama smiled and reached out his hand, signaling for help.

Madara’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t get up yourself?”

Hashirama flashed a sheepish smile. “The world is spinning,” he said softly, a playful hint in his voice. 

Madara smirked and rolled his eyes, understanding the joke behind Hashirama’s reference. He reached out his gloved hand and grabbed Hashirama’s, pulling him up to his feet. Truthfully, Hashirama didn’t like that Madara wore gloves. He always felt robbed of his touch.

“Thank you, Madara.”

“Hn, now get going.” Madara then pointed at Hashirama and added, “And don’t bring my name up with Mito. I don’t want to face her wrath too.”

Hashirama burst into laughter, “Right, right, you have my word.”

Madara hummed in response and started taking his leave.

Hashirama watched as his best friend walked away. Then he felt that familiar unsettling feeling in his gut he’d been feeling for a while—the fear that Madara would disappear. 

“Madara.”

Madara turned around.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“…Maybe,” Madara said as he turned back to continue walking. He was planning on leaving the village soon after all and wasn’t going to tell Hashirama. 

“You said you wouldn’t leave me, remember?”

Madara’s eye twitched, annoyed that he’d bring that up. “So, you do remember that night?”

Hashirama nodded, “Vividly.”

Madara sucked his teeth. “I only said that because your drunk ass wouldn’t shut up.”

“But you said it.”

“Because—”

“But you said it,” Hashirama interrupted, a teasing smirk spread across his face.

Madara grew annoyed; he could tell Hashirama was trying to push his buttons. “Whatever.”

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hashirama said, hopeful that he’d agree.

“I’ll be around,” Madara mumbled, finally giving in.

“ And that’s enough for me for now ,” Hashirama thought as he smiled. He watched as Madara slowly walked off, disappearing into the night, and hoped that he’d still be here when he woke up the next day.

Chapter Text

Madara slowly strolled the streets of Konoha with his gloved hands shoved into his pockets, on his way to the Uchiha district after pretty much spending the majority of the day with Hashirama. He kept his head tilted downwards to avoid eye contact with any passersby, lost in thought.

He didn’t expect to spend this much time with Hashirama so soon after getting drinks the night before. It felt… good. The thought of Hashirama made his chest flutter. But he always had to remind himself that moments like these were fleeting. Good things never last for Madara, almost as if he was destined for darkness. Hashirama has his own life after all and probably doesn’t have enough time for him.

As Madara entered the Uchiha district, he noticed something felt… off. He could usually tell when something wasn’t right. There was a shift in the Uchiha compound that made him feel uneasy, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He kept walking, now paying more attention to the environment around him. Things looked the same, and there were no suspicious people around him that he could see or sense.

He attempted to ease his suspicions until he started walking towards a building, a hall where the Uchiha usually held events. The lights were on, which was weird because Madara didn’t know of any events going on that night. He concealed his chakra and slowly edged towards the front door, sensing multiple Uchiha clansmen in the hall. The voices of the men were muffled, making it difficult for Madara to make out any of the words. He pressed his ear against the door for a better listen.

“We need to think about what’s best for the Uchiha clan moving forward,” one man said. 

Madara could tell this voice belonged to one of the clan’s top representatives. Madara continued to listen quietly to the conversation occurring in the hall.

“Agreed, and having a strong, clear-minded, selfless leader is critical for maintaining peace within the Uchiha clan and preventing more devastating conflict with other clans,” another man added.

“Madara Uchiha will only bring more trouble to the Uchiha clan.”

“Mmm,” everyone in the room hummed in agreement.

Madara’s eyes narrowed as he listened. So, is that what they truly believe?

“It was bad with Lord Izuna around. We were always led into battles, day after day, that ended in grave loss despite opposition from many clansmen. Now that Lord Izuna is dead, and we have made progress in achieving peace, Lord Madara wants to ruin that—”

The front door swung open and slammed against the nearby wall, revealing an angry Madara standing in front of a now quiet room full of up to twenty men with gaping eyes. He was in disbelief at the blatant betrayal of his clansmen. Though he had a feeling it was coming, he didn’t think they would stoop so low as to try and overthrow him. How could they do such a thing when they can’t even see what’s really going on?

“Lord Mad—”

“What is the meaning of this?” Madara interrupted sternly.

There was no response. The cautious men looked at each other in search of who was willing to answer and how.

Madara crossed his arms and scanned the room, waiting for a response. He then added, “Having a meeting behind the back of your leader? Surely, something is going on.” His deep, stern voice cut through the tense atmosphere, sending shivers down the men’s spines.

Finally, one man, who seemed to be the one leading this conversation, firmly stood up from the table.  He was a young, lean man, appearing to be in his early thirties, with dark brown, short shaggy hair and a scar that ran down the side of his face. His eyes were black, and filled with resolve, refusing to yield to Madara.

“Lord Madara, forgive us but, we called this meeting to discuss the future of the Uchiha clan.”

Madara raised an eyebrow. “Isamu, and you failed to invite me?”

There was a brief silence before Isamu Uchiha spoke up once again.

“To be quite honest, Lord Madara, we, the Uchiha clan, have been concerned about your leadership.”

“Oh?” But Madara already knew that. He could already feel the tension rise within the clan over the past few months after he brought up his distrust in Tobirama Senju. He was concerned that Konoha would continue to be led by the Senju and push the Uchiha to the side out of mistrust. Yet, the rest of the clan did not see this. But to be so daring as to have an official meeting about it behind his back? Madara didn’t appreciate.

Isamu cleared his throat, preparing for his next words. Madara could sense the slight nervousness in the man but commended him for being bold enough to stand up to him, especially given their power gap.

“The Uchiha clan believes that we are at risk of running into more conflict if we let you decide what’s best for the clan,” Isamu continued.

“And what makes you think things will be worse for the Uchiha under my leadership?”

“We have finally achieved some sort of peace with the Senju. We have lost too many of our clansmen in conflict and wish not to revisit that era. Ever since the loss of Lord Izu—”

“Watch what you say,” Madara commanded, his voice intense and unwavering. He will never, ever let anyone speak ill of his younger brother, or bring him up in conversations he does not need to be brought up in.

The man immediately cut his train of thought, obeying Madara.  

Isamu cautiously continued, “We believe it’s best to continue this trail we’re on with the Senju clan and Konoha. They have made efforts to keep us involved without disrespecting the power and prestige of the Uchiha clan.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed. “And what makes you believe this is the answer; what Konoha has done for us thus far?”

“We—”

“Do you think making us the head of the police force is a good way to give us power? To earn the respect of the villagers?”

“Yes—”

“How idiotic and naïve of you to not see how that further antagonizes us. It’s an attempt to keep us in check while also putting us in a position to be hated by the villagers by our policing.”

“Well Lord Mad—”

“And within the next coming years, they will further antagonize the Uchiha clan right under our noses until they push us to the brink of a revolt.”

“I—”

“And you’re telling me you don’t foresee that?”

The room erupted into a slew of whispers as the rest of the men sitting at the table made their comments to one another.

“Silence,” Isamu and Madara demanded in unison, causing the room to quickly silence.

Isamu took a brief moment to think about the next words to say. “Lord Madara… I believe that is delusional thinking; it’s a way of thinking that is resistant to peace. Your leadership has led us into constant wars, and many of our men have fallen. Enough is enough.”

Madara clenched his jaw. He figured they wouldn’t understand. While yes, Madara did want peace sooner rather than later, he was always influenced by his younger brother, Izuna, who didn’t want to yield to a truce with the Senju clan to honor the clansmen who had fallen for the sake of the Uchiha clan. After Izuna’s death, Madara was defeated and finally agreed to a truce to lead the Uchiha clan toward a path of peace. Despite this, he could still sense some antagonism from Konoha’s policies. This wasn’t what Madara wanted for the Uchiha clan; this isn’t what Izuna wanted for the clan. Madara felt like he was doing a disservice if he let Konoha’s government continue to do as they pleased.

Madara didn’t realize he was sinking his fingertips into his arms. He relaxed his hands and slowly opened his lips. “And what are you trying to imply?”

“We wish for you to step down as the leader of the Uchiha clan to allow someone more fitting to lead us,” Isamu said firmly.

Madara could feel his heart instantly drop. Step down? For thinking ahead? For wanting what was best for the clan? Despite his inner turmoil, Madara maintained a stern expression on his face.

“Oh?” Madara said as he flared his chakra, his dark blue menacing chakra surged around him, causing the floors to rumble, and the ground around his feet cracked. His hair was blown upwards from the force of his chakra, revealing his full, threatening face.

The rest of the men quickly stood up and braced themselves. They activated their sharingans in preparation for any battle that may ensue between them and Madara. They were no fools; they were aware of the power Madara Uchiha had. He was the only man able to go head-to-head with Hashirama Senju, known to be the strongest ninja alive. If they were to fight Madara, they’d probably be wiped out instantly. However, they still stood their ground despite their slightly trembling legs.

Madara could sense the fear of his clansmen. While he could easily defeat them all, he opted not to. He didn’t want to fight his clansmen, despite their betrayal. Truth is, he already saw it coming and felt like he had nothing left. He pretty much checked out a while ago.

Madara slowly relaxed his chakra, the surge slowly dissipating as his hair fell back down to the side of his face and down his back. He closed his eyes and let out a subtle sigh. He turned around and started heading towards the door.

“Do as you please, I’ve already given up on this hopeless clan,” Madara muttered as he exited the building. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure if that was completely true; he still cared about his clan and was hurt by their betrayal. But it was something he had to tell himself to move on, to leave Konoha, to go after his dream.

As soon as Madara left the building, the rest of the men let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto their chairs. They hadn’t realized they were completely paralyzed by Madara’s intimidating aura.

“He could’ve easily taken us all out if he wanted to,” one man mumbled. “I thought I was about to face death.”

“I can’t believe he stepped down,” another man added.

“We should be fortunate. That could’ve ended much worse,” Isamu stated as he calmed his nerves.

Everyone else hummed in agreement. Soon, they straightened themselves back up and continued their discussions about the future of the Uchiha clan.

Madara found himself wandering down the streets in the Uchiha district, trying his best to contain his anger after what just ensued with the group of Uchiha men earlier. But among that anger, there was also an overwhelming sadness he couldn’t quite shake off.

Originally, he was planning on going home, but now he didn’t have any specific destination in mind. He just walked, and walked, surrounded by the dim lights of the streetlamps amidst the darkness of the night, the cool breeze that gently shifted his long, black hair, and the soft crunches of the gravel beneath his feet with every step he took.

Soon, Madara found himself subconsciously walking down a familiar path to a place he had been spending a lot of his time at—the Naka shrine within the Uchiha district. But there was more to the shrine than what meets the eye. No other person would be able to appreciate its significance, but the Naka shrine was where Madara sought hope. More specifically, a hidden room underneath the Naka shrine, a place where only a very select few Uchihas had access to.

As Madara arrived at the shrine, he slowly walked up the worn-down wooden steps, the surface creaking under the pressure of Madara’s feet as he slowly ascended to the main entrance. Before entering, Madara turned around to check if anyone was following him, but he couldn’t sense anyone’s presence, prompting him to go inside.

It was pitch-black inside, and Madara had been there enough times to memorize the way to the secret room without needing light. As he walked down the hallway, he ran his gloved hand down the wooden walls, feeling every groove, every splinter, despite his gloves. He kept moving until he found a secret doorway. Madara infused the wall with chakra, causing the slow opening of a secret door accompanied by a deep rumble.

Madara stepped into another pitch-dark room and activated his fire style, lighting up a nearby torch. A cascade of torches also lit up around the room as a result, bringing dim light to the empty room that harbored nothing but a stone slab marked with writing. The walls were marked with the Uchiha crest, and a sign saying “Uchiha” hung above the sacred slab of stone.

Finally… finally Madara was met with his hope, his dream, his answer, all of which was written on the slab of stone before him—the Uchiha Stone Tablet. He had spent weeks and weeks trying to decipher it with his mangekyou sharingan, and it was quite difficult. But he felt like he was getting close to the answer. 

He already had a pretty good idea of what was written—the story of the Sage of the Six Paths, shinobi history, the secrets of the sharingan and the Uchiha clan. But there was one more thing he needed to figure out to connect the dots. He knew this tablet mentioned a way to achieve true peace, but how? That’s what he needs to figure out, that’s his missing piece, and he has spent hours in this room trying to find it. 

Madara activated his mangekyou sharingan and proceeded to decipher the tablet. He felt it. He was so close. He was so close to the answers he needed to escape this hell, to lead the world to true peace where there was no more war, children no longer had to die, families were no longer broken apart, people were no longer alone… where there was hope.

A few hours had passed while Madara was in the room. He was lost in his own little world, completely unaware of how much time had passed. Madara's eyes continuously scanned the tablet until his eyes froze at one spot and his lips parted slightly.

He whispered, “…Infinite Tsukuyomi…”

Then something in Madara snapped. He dropped to his knees and edged closer to the stone tablet, gripping the sides tightly with his gloved hands as exhilaration slowly rose inside of him as he finally put things together.

“…A dream… where everyone can live peacefully… the way they desire… the Uchiha clan can be saved… where everyone can be saved…”

A grin slowly crept onto Madara’s face, followed by a brief chuckle.

“This is it…” Madara thought as he brought the palm of his gloved hand to his face and let out another brief chuckle, unable to withstand the rising joy and anticipation within him.  

“This is it; this is it…” he said out loud, unable to stifle another chuckle that escaped his lips. His shoulders bounced repeatedly in coordination with his laugh.

Soon, Madara burst into loud laughter, his deep and thunderous laugh reverberated through the room. It was almost menacing; the ominous echoes of his laughter were enough to shift the air within the stifling, small room. He felt like he had just hit the jackpot, and that he was now on a solid path to salvation.

“THIS IS IT!” Madara yelled. His chilling laughter continued as his despair-plagued heart sunk deeper and deeper into the abyss that was the questionable hope promised by the stone tablet. He was so entranced by this newfound discovery that he didn’t even notice the ambiguous black creature that hid stealthily in the dark upper corner of the room.

Madara abruptly stopped laughing and glued his eyes to the tablet, scanning its contents as he mumbled to himself like a madman.

“To cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi, I’ll need the rinnegan. The rinnegan? How does one obtain the rinnegan—the eyes of the Sage of the Six Paths? To obtain the rinnegan… I’ll need to possess both cells of the sons of Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki: Indra and Ashura. I’ll need the cells of the Senju… Hashirama Senju…”

Another bout of chuckles escaped from Madara’s lips. He brought his palm back to his face, spreading his fingers apart just enough to peak through with his piercing red eye. He couldn’t help but get overwhelmed by the emotions rising in him, something finally other than despair and loneliness. He felt like he was ready to leave everything behind to achieve the Infinite Tsukuyomi, the ultimate dream where everyone could live a happy life, the true answer to peace that would transcend human nature. And Madara started to believe that he was… the chosen one. It didn’t matter what the Uchiha clan thought of him. It didn’t matter what the villagers thought of him. It didn’t matter what Tobirama Senju thought of him. He was the savior.

Well of course he would be the chosen one. Who else? Who else is fully aware of the flaws of mankind and has come to realize it was hopeless for them? Who else possesses his kind of power? Who else has the eternal mangekyou sharingan? Who else has the perfect susanoo? Who else can go head-to-head with the ‘God of Shinobi?’ He didn’t need anyone. He didn’t need anyone at all. He had a mission, a goal. He will be the one to pull everyone out of the reality of this tragic world and create a new reality. He will save everyone.

For the first time in a long time, ever since his younger brother’s death, Madara felt an elevated sense of hope; he felt like he had a purpose.

Madara succumbed to the intense desire to laugh again, but his laughter was quickly suppressed by a sharp pain that radiated from his side. He winced as he placed his gloved hand on his side and gently pressed down, which produced more pain. It was a large bruise he got from his spar with Hashirama earlier that evening.

Hashirama.

Madara stood up and slowly walked towards the wall. He leaned his back against the wall, slowly slid down to a seat on the floor, and let out a sigh. As he rested his head back against the wall, he started thinking about his best friend. His thoughts were filled with images of Hashirama’s teasing smile, the sparkle in his deep brown eyes whenever he’s excited, the pout of his lips whenever he’s frustrated or embarrassed.

Madara could feel a slight grin develop as he thought about Hashirama. Through the Infinite Tsukuyomi, he could also give Hashirama his perfect reality. The grin quickly dissipated when Madara thought about how he’ll probably never see him again once the ultimate genjutsu is cast since as the jutsu caster, he will be overseeing everything. But maybe that’s okay… it’s the price to pay for taking on the challenge to bring world peace. Madara thought things would probably never change between Hashirama and him. Madara attracted darkness, and Hashirama’s light was too bright for him anyway. Madara strongly believed good things never last for him.

Madara allowed his mind to wander further, recalling a moment he had with Hashirama earlier that evening before leaving the training ground.

*Flashback starts*

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“…Maybe,” Madara said as he turned back to continue walking. He was planning on leaving the village soon after all and wasn’t going to tell Hashirama. 

“You said you wouldn’t leave me, remember?”

Madara’s eye twitched, annoyed that he’d bring that up. “So, you do remember that night?”

Hashirama nodded, “Vividly.”

Madara sucked his teeth. “I only said that because your drunk ass wouldn’t shut up.”

“But you said it.”

“Because—”

“But you said it,” Hashirama interrupted, a teasing smirk spread across his face.

Madara grew annoyed; he could tell Hashirama was trying to push his buttons. “Whatever.”

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hashirama said, hopeful that he’d agree.

“I’ll be around,” Madara mumbled, finally giving in.

*Flashback ends*

A subtle smile slowly crept onto Madara’s face.

“I suppose I’ll stick around a little longer…,” Madara whispered to himself as he felt his eyes grow heavy. As his overwhelming excitement gradually calmed down, he could feel exhaustion take over his body. He was too tired to get up and head back home. Instead, Madara let his eyes close and slowly drifted off to sleep in the dimly lit, stifling room, where he realized his dream.

Chapter Text

“I don’t know Hashirama… I just have an uneasy feeling about him,” Mito said.

“What do you mean?” Hashirama asked.

The two were in their kitchen, cooking dinner for the evening. They were both at the kitchen counter, with Hashirama chopping some Japanese cucumbers into slices and Mito assembling rice balls beside him. They discussed many things throughout the evening, and Madara happened to come up in their conversation.

“He’s just been acting… unsettling lately.” Mito tried hard to choose her words carefully, knowing how much Madara meant to Hashirama. She glued her eyes to the ball of rice she was molding in her hands and continued, “I don’t know, over time he’s seemed very distant, very closed off, as if he wants nothing to do with Konoha anymore.”

Hashirama continued chopping the cucumber and responded, “What makes you think he wants nothing to do with Konoha anymore?”

“There’s just something going on, I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know if you should trust him, Hashirama.”

Hashirama paused, her words cut through him like a knife as he processed what Mito just said. He then carefully continued chopping the cucumber until he got to the end.

“Well, I do agree that something is going on. But the real question is what is going on? Is he okay…?” Hashirama's voice trailed off. He picked up the chopping board and walked over to the sink, pushing the chopped cucumbers into a colander.

“I mean, can’t we kind of guess? He has a history...,” Mito said as she finished making the last rice ball.

Hashirama quirked an eyebrow as he searched for the salt in the cabinet by the sink. “And what is that history?”

“Didn’t it take you forever to convince him to agree to a truce? To stop the endless fighting and lead both clans to peace?” Mito asked as she handed Hashirama the salt he was looking for, which was sitting on the counter beside her. He thanked her and proceeded to salt the cucumbers in the colanders and wash them.

“Does that matter anymore? We eventually came to a truce and built up Konoha together,” Hashirama responded as he squeezed the cucumbers between his palms to ring out the excess water. He then transferred the cucumbers to a bowl on the counter and started adding the ingredients to finish making the cucumber salad.

“Who’s to say he won’t tear down everything you both built up?” Mito asked as she took the plate of rice balls and walked over to the dining table, where the rest of the food they prepared was already placed.

“You’re speaking as if you know what’s going on in his head. What do you even know about Madara anyway? You barely talk to the man.”

“He barely talks to anybody.”

Mito wasn’t wrong. Madara wasn’t the most outgoing, social guy out there, but he’s an open book. Talk and you shall receive. Well… besides when it comes to his emotions, then he’s a sealed iron, triple-chained casket with a lock whose key has been thrown into a haystack.

“What I do know is that he stepped down as the leader of the Uchiha clan.”

“What??” Hashirama exclaimed, shocked at the information he was hearing for the first time. His eyes widened as the weight of the news hit him. He turned around to face Mito, who was sitting at the table. “When? Why?”

“You didn’t hear? He stepped down a few days ago. They’re saying there was an internal disagreement within the Uchiha. They believed Madara was leading the Uchiha down a road to more conflict… especially with the village.”

Hashirama took a moment to process what he just heard. He grabbed the bowl of cucumber salad and made his way to the table. Once he sat down, he met Mito’s gaze.

“Where did you hear that from?” Hashirama finally asked.

“From a friend of mine, as well as other villagers. You haven’t heard?”

“How are you so sure they’re telling the truth?”

Mito’s furrowed her eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Hashirama grew silent. Madara didn’t tell him any of this. He had no clue he had stepped down as the leader of the Uchiha clan, nor was he completely aware of the internal conflict. All week, he’s gone out of his way to see Madara every day, and they had brief conversations here and there. But none of this ever came up.

Mito added, “Is it that surprising though? Given what we know about him… Sooner or later he might turn on the village.”

Hashirama let out a deep, audible sigh and flashed a slight smile despite his inner irritation. “Forgive me, Mito, but you’re starting to sound a lot like Tobirama.” His smile slowly faded into a subtle frown as he continued, “And I don’t like it.”

A flicker of surprise flashed across Mito’s face at the unexpected comment before it quickly shifted back into a concerned expression. Truthfully, she did feel a pang of guilt at Hashirama’s words, knowing he didn’t like it when Tobirama lectured him on Madara Uchiha and the Uchiha clan. Hashirama vents about it to her all the time. Though she felt remorseful about doing the same thing as Tobirama, Mito felt like the conversation needed to be had. 

Carefully choosing her words, Mito responded, “Maybe you should listen to him… Hashirama, you are a very kind, caring man. I am very aware of how loyal you are to the people you love—"

“Don’t worry, Mito. If it ever comes down to it, I will prioritize Konoha. I won’t let anybody bring harm to the village,” Hashirama said almost robotically, clearly revealing he’d probably already said this line many times before.

“It’s not just about Konoha, Hashirama. I just… I just don’t think you should keep stretching yourself thin to try and reach out to him when he’s turning his back on you.”

“So, I’m supposed to give up on him?”

“You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved, Hashirama.”

Hashirama's eyes slightly widened as he felt a sudden sinking feeling in his chest. He looked down and fiddled with the chopsticks in his hand. He knew that. He knew that very well. But it was… Madara. He couldn’t just give up on him.

Hashirama kept his gaze downward and finally said, “If it were you, wouldn’t you want to be saved?”

Mito paused, her chopsticks right in front of her face as she was just about to take a bite of her food. She lowered her chopsticks and said, “If it were me, yes. But that might not be the case with Madara Uchiha.”

Silence washed over them. Neither of them had any more words left to say. So, they continued eating until they both finished their food. Hashirama stood up and started grabbing the empty dishes off the table to take to the sink. Mito assisted, bringing more dishes to the counter to be washed. Hashirama didn’t hesitate to get started on the dishes.

“Oh, don’t worry honey, I can wash the dishes,” Mito offered as she walked towards the sink.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Hashirama responded.

“You shouldn’t. You did most of the cooking tonight.”

“I insist.”

Mito pouted and finished clearing out the table. She started packing the leftovers in containers. Now and then, she would glance over at Hashirama, who was focused on the dishes, appearing a bit tense. Mito has known Hashirama long enough to know that she might’ve pushed his buttons a little too far. She walked over to Hashirama and looked up at him.

“Are you mad at me?”

Mito saw Hashirama’s tense shoulders slowly relax.

“No, I just don’t agree with you. But we can agree to disagree.” Hashirama turned to Mito, who looked up at him with worried eyes. He smiled and leaned down, planting a kiss on her lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle the dishes,” he said in a reassuring tone.

Mito flashed a smile and gave Hashirama another brief kiss before turning around to clean the table. 

Meanwhile, Hashirama grew lost in thought, thinking about his conversation with Mito. Yeah, Madara and Hashirama used to be… frenemies? Enemies on the battlefield, but friends deep down. The war between the Uchiha and Senju was long and drawn out, but it eventually came to an end. Hashirama knows Madara has gone through a lot, and it isn’t fair for him to be antagonized the way he is.

Madara… Hashirama only briefly saw him today, and he’d love to so him again. He yearned to see him again. Maybe he should bring him some food? They had leftovers anyway. Once Hashirama was done with the dishes, he took out a basket from the cabinet and started making a bento box for Madara.

Mito took notice. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to bring some food to Madara.”

Mito pouted. She had wanted to spend the rest of the night with Hashirama, and maybe get some intimate time with him. Given he’s been busy, they rarely get the time to enjoy each other’s company at night or have sex.

“How long will you be out?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure,” Hashirama responded as he finished packing the food into the basket. He picked it up and headed toward the front door, slipping his shoes on. As he straightened up, he turned to find Mito standing behind him.

“I’ll try to be home soon. But if not, don’t wait up too late for me, okay?”

“Okay…” Mito responded, her voice barely audible as she looked down at her feet. She hated that her husband was willingly leaving her alone in the house to be with someone else that evening.

Hashirama could see the sadness etched on Mito’s face. Gently grabbing her chin, he lifted her face and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips slowly moved against each other’s before Hashirama pulled away and locked eyes with his wife.

“I just want to check in on him. I’ve been worried about him lately.”

“I know,” Mito whispered.

Hashirama smiled before planting a final kiss on Mito’s forehead and heading out the door.

As he walked towards the Uchiha district, Hashirama couldn’t help but feel guilt wash over him. He felt like he was lying to his wife. Was he visiting Madara to check in on him? Of course, and he truly was worried about him. But this was… so much more than that. He wanted to see Madara, to be with him, to hold him, to have him.

Hashirama sighed at the emotional war going on in his head. Mito doesn’t deserve this.

As he walked the streets, he admired the sunset before him. Hashirama was met with occasional greetings from passersby, to which he would smile and greet back. He soon found himself walking up to Madara’s door. Good, he’s inside. Hashirama could sense his presence, which brought him relief.

Hashirama knocked on the door, hoping Madara would open it.

No answer.

Hashirama waited a brief moment before knocking again.

No answer.

He sighed. This has happened a lot these days. Hashirama would try and visit, Madara would ignore him, and Hashirama would eventually walk away and count on catching him when he’s outside.

Hashirama slowly set the basket of food down in front of Madara’s front door and started walking away, but then he stopped. This is what always happens. If he walks away now, what good is he doing for the both of them? He didn’t want them to grow more distant. He wanted to be there for Madara.

So Hashirama walked back to the door, picked up the basket, and knocked again.

xxx

Madara shifted in bed and groaned after hearing Hashirama knock for the fifth time. Why was Hashirama being so persistent these days? Why was he making things so hard? He wrapped his pillow around the back of his head and pressed each side against his ears to block out the sound of Hashirama’s knocks.

“Madara? I know you’re in there.” Hashirama’s muffled voice made its way to Madara’s bedroom.

Madara continued to ignore him, not saying a word. He didn’t want to face Hashirama. Hashirama was making it harder and harder for him to leave everything behind and go, to start working towards achieving his ultimate dream, his mission, his purpose.

He hated the hold that Hashirama still had on him. The tug at his heart was enough to stop Madara from completely falling over the ledge. But can’t he just let him fall? Can’t he just let him cast away all his emotions, put an end to his misery, and be the savior the stone tablet said he was?

“Madara? If you don’t answer, I’ll force my way in.”

Madara exhaled and sat up on his bed. He looked towards his window and decided to escape. He was wearing a black T-shirt with an Uchiha crest on the back, and some black lounge pants. It’s not the most ideal thing he’d want to wear outside, but it’ll have to do. But first, he needed his shoes. Madara begrudgingly slipped out of bed and quietly walked over to his front door, where his shoes were.

He slowly bent down to grab his shoes, making sure not to make any noise.

*Knock knock knock knock*

“Madara?”

Madara froze. He waited a moment before successfully grabbing his shoes and subconsciously grabbing his gloves. He then made his way back to his bedroom, opened the window, and slipped out of his home, making sure to conceal his chakra so that Hashirama wouldn’t notice.

xxx

Hashirama could sense Madara’s presence dissipate. He pouted. Was he trying to run away from him? He materialized a key with his Wood Style Jutsu and used it to successfully open Madara’s door. A picture of Madara and Izuna on a nearby table was the first thing to greet him when he walked inside. A soft smile spread across Hashirama’s face despite the pang in his chest. He knew how much Izuna meant to Madara, and how things changed for him ever since his death.

Hashirama slipped off his shoes before searching for Madara in his home. He looked in the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, and finally, the bedroom.

As Hashirama walked into Madara’s bedroom, he was hit by the alluring scent of Madara. His smell alone was enough to make Hashirama’s heart melt. Subconsciously making his way to the bed, he gently lifted the bedsheets and brought them to his nose, taking a long whiff. He slowly exhaled and smiled at the smell of Madara’s scent. It was so…comforting.

Embarrassment quickly washed over Hashirama as he realized what he was doing and quickly released the bedsheets from his grasp.

Hashirama started looking around Madara’s room. He laid eyes on Madara’s gunbai and gently caressed the weapon, something that was important to Madara. He then moved his gaze to a nearby dresser, where a sheathed katana lay. As he edged closer to the dresser, he saw some folded clothes beside the katana with a necklace laid on top that had the Uchiha crest on it.

The items looked familiar, and Hashirama was able to realize they belonged to Madara’s late brother, Izuna Uchiha.

“So, he kept his things, eh?” Hashirama whispered to himself as he reached out to touch Izuna’s sword. However, he quickly stopped midway. “These must be precious to Madara, so I probably shouldn’t touch them,” Hashirama thought.

Hashirama felt a breeze hit his skin and turned around to see an open window. He walked over and looked outside; there were no signs of Madara. He must’ve escaped through here.

Hashirama sighed and closed the window. He walked back to the front door, slipped his shoes on, and walked outside, closing and locking the door behind him. He went on a hunt for his best friend. He couldn’t have gone too far, right?

Madara slowly walked around the forest area of Konoha. He didn’t anticipate having to avoid Hashirama tonight, but at least he was able to witness the sunset. Depending on his mood, sometimes he really did appreciate nature.

Suddenly, Madara felt his eyes sting and his vision slightly blur. He softly groaned and stopped walking, rubbing his eyes with his gloved hands. He’s been straining his eyes too often for the past couple of weeks to decipher the tablet, it must be catching up to him.

Madara was so focused on his eyes that he didn’t sense a presence walking up behind him.

“Are your eyes bothering you?” Hashirama whispered as he leaned into Madara’s ear from behind.

“Shit!” Madara jumped forward. He turned around and went for a punch, but Hashirama effortlessly grabbed his fist with his hand before it could make contact with his face and chuckled.

“Did I scare you?”

“Hashirama, don’t do that! You know how I feel about people standing behind me.”

Hashirama laughed, “Sorry, Sorry, I couldn’t help it!”

Madara sucked his teeth and continued his walk, refusing to acknowledge Hashirama any further. Great, of course, Hashirama would search for him. What was the point of jumping out of the window then?

Hashirama quickly joined Madara by his side, and glanced over at him, assessing his face. His eye bags were slightly more prominent than usual, causing Hashirama to wonder if he’s been getting much sleep lately.

“I tried stopping at your place earlier.”

“Oh. Sorry, you missed me,” Madara responded, his voice flat.

Hashirama frowned. Liar. “I could sense you were inside at first, but then you snuck out huh?”

Madara’s eye twitched. Busted.

“Are you avoiding me?” Hashirama asked.

“I just wanted to go out for a walk.”

“So, you snuck out when you had a guest at your door to go for a walk?” Hashirama asked teasingly.

“Can’t a man go for a walk?”

Hashirama chuckled, “He can, he can! You still didn’t have to leave me at the door.”

“Whatever. What do you want?”

Hashirama smiled and held up the basket he’d been holding. “I brought some food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Hashirama softly sighed. “Well, you can save it for later then.”

The two kept walking alongside each other in silence. Although Madara was adamant about avoiding Hashirama at first, he really did enjoy his presence. He always felt a warm, fuzzy feeling that he couldn’t shake. He would never admit it though. Spending more time with Hashirama just makes it a lot harder for him to leave.

Even though Madara wasn’t talking, Hashirama still enjoyed being by his side. He relished Madara’s presence as he also appreciated the nature around him. His gaze slowly traversed the environment in front of him until it made its way to Madara’s face. He was reminded of how tired Madara looked.

“Have you been sleeping?” Hashirama asked.

Madara initially hesitated to answer the question truthfully but decided to anyway. “Not really,” he muttered.

Hashirama’s eyes slightly widened at his unexpected response. He was fully prepared to hear Madara deny it.

“Why not?”

“…I’ve had trouble, I guess.”

Hashirama and Madara continued walking until they heard the trickle of a nearby river. The feeling of nostalgia welled up inside of them as they slowly approached a tranquil stream of water that shimmered with the golden hue of the setting sun. Memories of their childhood flashed through their minds as they recalled their times skipping rocks together.

Hashirama crouched down and started searching for the ideal rock for skipping. Once he set his eyes on a rock, he grabbed it and stood up, turning to Madara with a smile. Madara could feel a slight grin tug at the corner of his lips as he looked at the rock Hashirama held up in front of him. He guessed it would be nice to skip rocks like old times.

Interpreting Madara’s smile as a ‘yes,’ Hashirama hopped to the other side of the river and gently placed the basket of food down on the ground beside him. He then proceeded to throw the rock, watching as it bounced across the surface of the river and landed in Madara's gloved hand.

For a moment neither of the men spoke. The silence between them was broken only by the rhythmic splashes of the rock dancing across the surface of the river. The chirps of crickets echoed from the forest, and the orange sun rays bathed the two men, who were savoring the moment.

Though Hashirama was enjoying his time with Madara, he still couldn't get his worries about him out of his mind. He recalled his conversation with Mito earlier. Why didn't Madara tell him about what happened with the Uchiha clan? Why isn't Madara sleeping? What's going on in Madara’s head? Hashirama did not want to give up on him. He wasn't going to give up on him.

Hashirama finally parted his lips preparing to engage in conversation once again just as Madara was about to skip the rock back over to him.

“Madara, is everything okay?”

As soon as Hashirama asked that question, he noticed the rock tumbling towards him quicker than the usual pace they had maintained. He promptly held out his hand to catch it and was met with an unexpected sting against his palm from the sheer force of the rock. Wincing in pain, Hashirama figured he must’ve struck a cord.

Madara tilted his head down, causing his black locks to cover his face. His mind raced with all the things that bothered him, and he could feel a familiar unsettling heaviness develop in his chest. But he quickly forced himself to remember… he remembered that the Infinite Tsukuyomi would change everything. It will bring true peace. And Madara will be the one to deliver everyone from evil. His lips slowly curled into a smirk.

Madara’s smile quickly faded when he heard Hashirama calling out his name. He looked up and maintained a neutral expression.

“Everything is fine.”

“Mmm, like I’ve said before, I can tell when you’re not being honest,” Hashirama responded as he threw the rock toward Madara.

“Why are you being so stubborn?” Madara asked as he caught the rock.

“Because you’re being stubborn, so I need to be.”

Madara sucked his teeth.

“Is it so wrong for me to want to be there for someone?” Hashirama added.

Madara averted his gaze.

“J-just… stop asking me that,” Madara finally muttered as he threw the rock back at Hashirama, but the rock only skipped a few times before sinking into the river.

Hashirama smiled. “No,” he respectfully said. He then pointed down at the river. “And I won.”

Madara’s eye twitched. He pointed at Hashirama and started yelling. “Listen! You’re really starting to irritate—”

A deep growl escaped from Madara’s stomach, causing his cheeks to flush. Silently, Hashirama picked up his basket of food and smiled. Madara huffed and turned his head away as he pushed his lower lip out into a subtle pout.

xxx

Madara’s face lit up when he felt the amazing flavors from the rice, cooked vegetables, and salmon dance across his tongue.

“This is good…”

Hashirama flashed a proud smile. “Isn’t it?!”

“Did Mito make this?”

“Mm-mm, I did. Though she did help assemble the onigiri.”

Madara looked down at the bento box he was eating from. It had a diverse selection of food: rice, onigiri, fish, cooked vegetables, fish cakes, cucumber salad, etc. Still in the basket was a thermos with hot miso soup.

After skipping rocks, they found a small clearing to sit at so that Madara could eat. It took a little convincing, but Madara had finally given in to Hashirama’s nagging. They created a small fire for light and warmth since the sun had officially set, and night time arrived. 

Madara placed the bento box down and reached for the thermos inside the basket. He gently unscrewed the top and was hit by a wave of heat and the wonderful scent of umami. As he brought the edge of the thermos to his lips, Madara slowly titled the container, sipping on the warm soup. He was captivated by how good it was. Fuck. Why is Hashirama so good at the things he does? Actually, he took that back; Hashirama definitely falls short in a couple of departments.

Madara brought the thermos back down to his lap and whispered, “Mito is very lucky…”

Hashirama's eyes slightly gaped as he took in what Madara just said. He could feel his cheeks grow warm as he thought about the idea of making food for Madara in the future. He would love to cook for him. Just like he would love to hold him, kiss him, and keep him by his side.

Hashirama nervously scratched his cheek with his finger.

“I-I can bring you more home-cooked meals in the future if you’d like?”

Madara turned his head away from Hashirama to hide his flushed face and mumbled, “It's not that good.”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor. However, he soon shook it off and chuckled before refocusing his gaze on Madara. He watched Madara practically scarf down the food, not wasting any time between bites. He must’ve been very hungry.

Madara was so focused on the food that he didn’t realize he had sauce on the side of his lip. Without thinking, Hashirama reached out and gently used his thumb to wipe the sauce away from the corner of his lips. Madara froze at the feeling of Hashirama’s warm touch.

Entranced, Hashirama slowly ran his fingers up Madara’s cheek, gently pushing aside his raven locks to reveal his entire face. Wow, he’s so beautiful. His eyes slowly scanned the features on Madara’s face until they locked eyes.

Madara could feel his cheeks grow warm as his heart started beating against his chest. He felt like Hashirama’s deep brown eyes were pulling him in and was enticed by his intent stare. Butterflies formed in his stomach as he felt Hashirama’s fingers slowly brush back down the side of his cheek to his mouth, his thumb brushing across his bottom lip.

Madara's breath caught in his throat as the gravity of the situation sank in. He swatted away at Hashirama’s hand.

“W-What are you doing?”

Hashirama quickly snapped out of his trance and blushed. Fuck. “S-Sorry! Habit… you had something on your face and I just…” Hashirama’s voice trailed off as he brought his palm to his face in embarrassment, turning his head to hide his flushed face. 

Madara bit his lip, attempting to contain his excitement. But his body had already started reacting. He hated the effect that Hashirama had on him. Why did he do that anyway? What was Hashirama thinking? Habit??

“Hnn, habit? Don’t mistake me for your wife, Hashirama.”

“I know…” he mumbled. Hashirama groaned in his head. Why does Madara always have to bring up Mito?  

The two men sat in silence, working to calm down their racing hearts. Madara proceeded to finish his food, while Hashirama tapped nervously against his leg, thinking of the next thing to say. What can he say? He then finally turned to Madara.

“…I realize I talk about myself a lot when we’re together, but how about you? Is there anything new?”

“No.”

“Anything you’re looking forward to?”

“No.”

“…Is anything on your mind?”

“No.”

“Nothing??”

Madara let out an exaggerated sigh. Why can’t Hashirama back off? Madara just wants to break away and become the savior he’s meant to be. But this damn being is making it hard for him to harden his resolve.

Hashirama was at a loss. He decided that he should stop pressing him for now. At this moment, Hashirama just wanted to have a normal conversation with the person he wanted to be with the most right now.

“How are your hawks?”

“I said I’m fi—” Madara paused. He wasn’t expecting that question. “My hawks? They’re… okay, I think.”

“Finally, a real answer,” Hashirama thought. “You think?”

Madara nodded. “Takaya was sick recently, so I had to pin him down to give him a medicine shot because he wasn’t having it. I think he’s pretty upset with me though because I haven’t seen him in 3 months, but he’ll come back around eventually.”

Hashirama softly chuckled. Hawks were notably fickle, but Madara was great with them. It was one of the things Hashirama admired about Madara.

“Takaya… If I recall correctly, he’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah, but he was always a bit dramatic.”

Hashirama chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

“He will,” Madara said confidently.

Hashirama smiled, then started snickering as he remembered their time together as children.

“Do you remember when you accidentally called over a bunch of hawks and they started attacking you when we were kids?” Failing to control it, Hashirama’s laughter forcefully escaped his mouth as Madara stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“It wasn’t funny.”

“You should’ve… seen… the look on your face,” Hashirama said between laughs.

“Yeah, and you just laughed at me instead of helping me!” Madara yelled.

“I couldn’t help it, Madara. It was too funny! I couldn’t… I can’t.” Hashirama continued laughing, recalling that specific event vividly.

Madara rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it was worth watching them shit in your hair before they flew off.”

Hashirama’s laughter immediately ceased, and he looked at Madara with a frown, causing Madara to snicker. Madara attempted to stifle his laughter but instead succumbed to his chuckles.

Though Hashirama was annoyed, he loved the sound of Madara’s genuine laughter. It was like music to his ears.

“It wasn’t funny, Madara. I couldn’t get the smell out of my hair for days.”

Madara laughed harder, recalling the turmoil Hashirama went through.

“And you kept calling me—”

“Shithead,” Madara finished.

Hashirama pouted as he watched Madara laugh at him. He then added, “You know, I even debated on cutting my hair off, but I didn’t think I’d like myself with shorter hair.”

Without thinking, Madara’s next words slipped out of his mouth, “I love your long hair, it’s cute.”

Madara abruptly stopped laughing. Fuck, did he just say that? He didn’t mean to say that. Did he hear him? Madara slowly turned his head until he met Hashirama’s widened eyes. He quickly looked away to avoid further eye contact.

Hashirama could feel his chest flutter at Madara’s words. Did Madara really just say that? Cute? Once their eyes locked, Hashirama turned away and bit his lip. He fought the immense urge to pull Madara into his arms and kiss him. While yes, Madara always complimented his strengths, he never complimented his looks.

“Ugh, I feel like such a child, why am I reacting like this?” Hashirama thought in his head. “Thank you…” Hashirama finally said once his shock calmed down.

Madara hummed in response. His mind was running in circles as he thought of ways to move on in the conversation. Hawks, they were talking about hawks.

“D-Did I tell you about my brother’s pet?”

“Izuna’s?”

Madara shook his head. “No, one of my younger brothers’… Shio. He passed away on the battlefield as a child… But anyway, I was outside in the backyard working with my hawks, and I told Shio to stay inside with his pet bunny he kept carrying around with him everywhere he went.”

A smile slowly crept onto Madara’s face as he recalled the memories. Hashirama was surprised, Madara never really talked about his other siblings.

“…and of course, he didn’t listen to me. So, he ran outside with his bunny in his arms and Takaya swooped down and took it.”

Hashirama’s mouth gaped. “Oh! Hopefully, you were able to get it back, yeah?”

Madara shook his head, “We never saw that damn thing ever again.”

Hashirama pressed his lips together to stifle his laughter. He didn’t want to laugh but the way Madara said it made it a lot funnier.

“I tried getting him another bunny, but he still gave me the cold shoulder for a week.”

Laughter escaped Hashirama’s lips as he finally gave in. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, that’s not funny.”

Madara softly chuckled, “It was kind of funny.”

“You’re awful!”

“I told him to stay inside!”

The two men laughed for a few moments, slowly forgetting the awkward encounter they had a moment ago. Hashirama’s laughter slowly faded as he set his eyes on Madara, who was still laughing. God, he missed this Madara. His genuine smile, his laughter, his presence. He wanted to keep talking. He wanted to keep listening to Madara ramble about the things he loved.

“Tell me about them.”

Madara’s laughter finally calmed down. “Hmm?”

“Your brothers. You’ve only ever talked about Izuna, but I’d love to hear about the rest. Tell me about them,” Hashirama smiled.

“My brothers…” Madara initially hesitated to continue but grinned as he thought about his fond memories of his brothers. “Well… Shio was more on the reserved side…”

Hasharama rested his elbow on his leg and leaned his cheek against his fist as he intently listened to Madara talk about his brothers with a smile on his face. The light from the campfire danced across Madara’s smooth, fair skin and reflected off his onyx eyes. Hashirama watched in awe as Madara’s lips frequently curled into a smile as he talked about memorable moments.

For up to an hour, Hashirama let Madara go on and on about his siblings, chuckling here and there at the funny moments. He was loving every second of it.

But unfortunately, good things must come to an end and Hashirama sighed when he heard the caw of a messenger bird approaching. Madara stopped talking, and they both looked up to see the bird circling them.

“Trouble?” Madara asked.

“Perhaps…” Hashirama stood up and dusted the dirt off the back of his pants. “Looks like I have to go check something out. Would you like to come with?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle,” Madara said. But deep down he could feel his heart sink as he realized his time with Hashirama was over. This is why he didn’t like it when Hashirama kept coming back around. He resists until he finally gives in, then he finds himself yearning for more, and hurting when their time is over. Hashirama was making it hard for Madara to leave everything behind. Damn it.  

“Well, if you don’t want to join me then… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Madara ignored Hashirama and looked away. Hashirama frowned, and walked towards Madara, crouching down right in front of his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Not this shit again. Madara could feel his eye twitch. “Don’t you have something to attend to? What if something bad is happening?”

“Yes, I’ll attend to it immediately once you assure me that I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Madara sucked his teeth. “People could be in trouble, and you, the Hokage, are here being foolish.”

“You’re holding me hostage here.”

“No, I’m no—"

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

No response.

Hashirama dramatically clutched his chest. “Think about the dying children! And the families! And the struggling shinobi—”

“Fine!”

Hashirama smiled.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Madara mumbled begrudgingly.

Finally receiving the answer he wanted, Hashirama stood back up and said his goodbyes before disappearing into the night.

“You’re wrong for that,” Madara thought as he sighed. He couldn’t help but bring his hand to his cheek, where Hashirama caressed him earlier. Butterflies danced around in his stomach as he slowly licked and bit down on his lower lip where Hashirama had touched. Fuck. He really, really hated how Hashirama made him feel.

A sigh escaped Madara’s lips as he stood up off the ground. His eyes met the empty basket and bento box on the ground.

“Idiot,” Madara thought to himself. Of course, he would leave his stuff behind.

Madara bent down and started picking up the empty containers, placing them in the basket. 

“I’ll just give this to him… tomorrow…” Madara whispered.

Tomorrow.

Madara recalled how he’d been agreeing to see Hashirama the next day for the past few days. But… he has a mission, a goal. He needed to leave Konoha. But why hasn’t he yet? Madara tried to keep telling himself that he would, that he had already chosen his path and would pursue his purpose.

He picked up the basket and started walking in the direction of his home.

“Tomorrow… but one day there won’t be a tomorrow, huh?” 

Chapter Text

“Lord Hokage!”

“Hmm?” Hashirama answered as he looked up from the paperwork he had barely made a dent in for the past couple of hours. A shinobi had just rushed into his office to report to him. 

“We’ve tried summoning Madara as you asked, but he is nowhere to be found.”

“What?!” Hashirama immediately shot up out of his seat, his heart sinking inside his chest. What does he mean nowhere to be found? “What do you mean?”

The shinobi cleared his throat before proceeding, “We’ve searched all over the village, but no luck. No one knows where he is.”

What? Huh? Nowhere to be found? Did he… leave the village? Suddenly, Hashirama could feel his vision slightly blur and a wave of heat rushed through his body as panic settled in. He didn’t want to believe that Madara left. His mind raced with a million questions as the blood rushing through his ears roared. Hashirama could feel tightness build up in his throat before he could say the next thing. He locked eyes with the shinobi. Making sure to maintain a serious, unwavering tone in his voice, he finally asked, “Are you sure?”  

“Yes sir—”

Before he knew it, Hashirama was already out the door. He zoomed down the hallways, his mind filled with nothing else and no one else but Madara. This can’t be. Madara said he wouldn’t leave him. Hashirama was so focused on his thoughts that he barely noticed Tobirama walk by.

Tobirama quirked an eyebrow as he saw his brother quickly approaching him. He could easily tell that Hashirama was alarmed about something just by his demeanor and the way he failed to make eye contact.

“Brother, where are you—?”

Hashirama quickly ran past Tobirama, too panicked to address him. Near-sprinting out of the building, he skidded to a stop and briefly scanned the area around him. His head snapped from left to right repeatedly, hoping that Madara would pop up somewhere.  But all he saw were buildings, trees, and villagers who weren’t Madara. Hashirama nervously ran his hand through his hair and let out an anxious sigh. 

This can’t be.

He took off into the bustling streets of the village, stopping by every single building he laid eyes on. Repeatedly, he would enter a building, ask about Madara, and immediately leave if he didn’t receive the answer he was looking for. This happened over and over again, only exacerbating the heaviness Hashirama felt in his chest.

No.

Hashirama soon found himself going from door to door at the villagers’ homes. Now, imagine the villagers’ surprise to see a panicked Hokage make a random appearance at their doorstep. As soon as they opened the door, Hashirama would ask if they had seen Madara, but time and time again, the answer wouldn’t be what he was hoping for. 

This can’t be.

Hurriedly making his way into the forest area of the village, Hashirama weaved around trees and ran through bushes in search of Madara. Maybe he had gone on a walk? Hashirama briefly stopped at the nostalgic river, where Hashirama and Madara had skipped rocks a few evenings ago. Nothing.

Where are you?

Hashirama finally searched the Uchiha district, repeatedly stopping Madara’s fellow clansmen to see if they knew Madara’s whereabouts. But still, nothing. However, Hashirama did notice something seemed off with them. Every time he mentioned Madara’s name, they didn’t seem too keen about talking about him, nor were they interested in where he was or what he was doing. What could have happened between Madara and the rest of his clan? Was everything Mito said really true? Did they really fear that Madara would lead them down a path of more conflict? Hashirama wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, and he didn’t want to make any assumptions until he spoke with Madara directly about it. But right now, he was only focused on one thing and one thing only: to find Madara. 

Please.

Once Hashirama singled out all the Uchiha he could find, he made his way to Madara’s home. He stood in front of the door and knocked, but there was no answer. Wanting so badly to let himself in, Hashirama opted to see if he could sense Madara inside. Nothing. Hashirama sucked his teeth in frustration. Where could he possibly be?

Madara…

Hashirama finally ran to the front of the village, where the main Konoha entrance gate was. Ah, he was avoiding this place. Rushing up to the two gate guards, Hashirama asked, “Have you seen Madara? Did he leave through these gates?” His words escaped his lips quickly, conveying a sense of urgency the two guards caught on to. 

The two guys looked at each other as they recalled all the people who had left the village within the past couple of days. 

“Hmm… We don’t recall Madara leaving the village,” one guard finally said. He was a young male, with short shaggy ginger hair, and green eyes. His name was Aoki Yamanaka. His partner, Haruto Izuno, who had short curly dark green hair and light brown eyes, nodded in agreement. 

“At all? No one that looked like him? How about any Uchiha members? Have any of them left within the past few days?” Hashirama hit them with a barrage of questions, hoping that nothing was overlooked. 

Aoki and Haruto looked at each other once again. 

“Mmm, perhaps…” Aoki said with uncertainty. “One moment.” He pulled out a small book from his pocket and started flipping through the pages. The two used this book to keep track of people who entered and exited the village. Haruto looked over Aoki’s shoulder to take a look as well. They mumbled to each other as they scanned the pages together. 

As Hashirama waited for a response, his breath slowly grew heavy as the pressure in his chest intensified. Subconsciously taking a few steps back, Hashirama clutched his chest and started panting as his mind raced with the possibility that Madara had left him—that he lost someone he loved. Hashirama’s heart rate increased and his mind slowly grew hazy; his breathing growing more labored as he grasped at the fabric covering his chest. A tingling sensation traveled down his fingers and Hashirama could feel his knees grow weak. 

It was all too much… He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Soon enough, it was like the world around him was closing in. He grew tunnel vision, and a dense fog clouded Hashirama’s mind. It was all too much. It was all too—

“Lord Hokage?” 

Suddenly, Hashirama felt himself get pulled back into reality, and his surroundings were clear to him. He looked up to meet Aoki’s gaze, who was looking at him with concern. 

“Hmm?” Hashirama hummed in response, trying his best to mask the internal panic that ravaged his body. 

Aoki then shook his head. “There’s no record of Madara Uchiha, or any other Uchiha members, leaving the village within the past few days.” 

“I see,” Hashirama responded, trying desperately to steady his breath. “Thank you.” 

Hashirama’s legs felt like heavy lead as he tried to take his first step away from the two men. For a moment, he swayed, taking a few unplanned steps to regain his balance. Aoki and Haruto reflexively ran to Hashirama’s side. 

“L-Lord Hokage, are you okay? You look unwell,” Haruto said. 

Hashirama quickly held his hand out to signal that he didn’t need assistance. He plastered a fake smile on his face and forced a laugh. 

“O-Of course! Sorry, I just felt a little dizzy.” Hashirama cleared his throat, which still felt overwhelmingly tight. He didn’t want the men to worry about their Hokage. He placed his hands on each of their shoulders and added, “Aoki, Haruto! Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Thank you for the information. You both are doing great, keep up the good work.” Hashirama then flashed his usual charming smile to ease any of their suspicions. 

“Yes sir!” Aoki and Haruto returned a smile and bowed, feeling pleased that their Hokage complimented them. 

Hashirama silently waved and steadily walked toward the heart of the village, leaving the two guards behind to get back to their duties. He soon found a nearby bench to finally collapse on. His mind was still quite muddled, and he took deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. The pressure in his chest was still immense, but that was starting to subside as he deeply inhaled and exhaled. 

Hashirama leaned back against the bench and looked towards the sky to try and clear his mind. 

“So they didn’t see Madara leave the village, huh?” Hashirama thought to himself. Though it should have given him a sense of comfort, Hashirama’s nerves still weren’t at ease. Madara was skilled enough to evade the gate guards if he really wanted to, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if they had no record of him leaving. Hashirama then leaned forward and nervously bit the nail of his thumb, deep in thought. Why would he… Hashirama shook the thought out of his head. He didn’t want to believe Madara left. Maybe he was still somewhere here and just missed him. Maybe he just needs to try harder to find him. 

As Hashirama closed his eyes, unique markings slowly appeared across his face, signifying that he had activated his sage mode. Sage mode helped him become one with nature, and better sense the chakra of everyone and everything within the village and in close proximity to the village. He slid off the bench and crouched down, placing his palm on the ground. Slipping into a deep concentration, Hashirama focused on the environment around him. 

Then finally, he could feel it—the warm, familiar feeling of his chakra. At that moment, Hashirama could feel his stomach flip. He quickly stood up and ran eagerly towards that warm, familiar feeling.

Madara slowly woke up from his slumber in the secret room under the Naka shrine where the Uchiha Stone Tablet was. Propping his body up off the cold, hard floors into a seated position, Madara groaned from the ache that radiated down his back. He figured he must’ve fallen asleep while ruminating on his ultimate plan. This has actually been happening a lot lately. For the past couple of days, ever since his walk with Hashirama that night, Madara had been spending more time in this secret room. The reason being, he could feel his resolve wavering, and thus needed to immerse himself in the content of the tablet to remind him what his purpose was—to remind him that true peace can only be achieved through the Infinite Tsukuyomi, and he was the savior who will cast it.

Now, what he really needed were Hashirama’s cells, but he wasn’t sure how to go about getting them. He could demand to spar and get a chunk of it mid-fight? Or he could simply just… ask. Hashirama was probably dumb and naive enough to give some to him, no questions asked. A smirk spread across Madara’s face. And once he gets those cells, he can start springing his plan into action.

Madara slowly began to chuckle, before it was abruptly interrupted by a series of coughs. 

“God, this room is stuffy,” Madara thought as he sniffled. He stood up and stretched to relieve the discomfort in his back, letting out another groan. “This can’t be good for my back.” Madara slowly made his way to the door. “I wonder what time it is.” The hours and days blended together while he was in there. There were no windows or clocks to indicate the time. He might not even know what day it is because sometimes he also happens to spend the night there as well. 

As Madara exited the shrine, the light of the blazing sun's rays instantly hit his eyes, causing him to bring his gloved hands up to his face to shield himself. Judging from the sun’s location, evening was approaching and the sun was about to set.  

He slowly walked down the creaky stairs of the shrine and shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, keeping his head tilted down. While he walked through the streets of the Uchiha district, an Uchiha came up to him. Oh, that was surprising. These days, his clansmen usually don’t speak with him, especially ever since Madara stepped down as their leader.

“L-Lord Madara? Lord Hokage is looking for you.”

Madara frowned. Again? Jeez, that man was so damn persistent. Despite Madara’s love for Hashirama, he still hated how much attention he’s been receiving from him lately. It was like samples… getting a small taste of something you know you can’t have. He figured he can never have Hashirama, so all this sudden attention just felt like… torture. Yet he couldn’t help but indulge in those samples every… single… time. How frustrating. And it’s worse now that he needs to harden his resolve in order to leave the village. 

Madara walked past the Uchiha without giving him a response. As he slowly treaded the village, he found himself arriving at a familiar place—atop the rocky mountain with the Hokage’s head sculpted onto it. He reached the edge of the mountain and paused, feeling the cool breeze brush against his skin. His hair flowed in the wind as he overlooked the village—the village he created with Hashirama. He sat down and took in the sight. It had developed quite a bit since they first found it. Oh, how time flies.

A green leaf with a hole in the middle slowly fell in front of Madara, swaying side to side until it gently landed in his lap. He grinned at the nostalgia the leaf triggered for him. Gently picking up the leaf, Madara brought it to his eye and peered at Konoha through its hole. Building Konoha was a dream Hashirama and Madara harbored together. To think they were actually able to follow through with it. Madara could feel his small grin slowly fade as he thought about how their dreams were all for naught, and that he’d be leaving all of this behind. 

As he focused on the village, Madara could hear footsteps quickly approaching. Still looking through the hole in the leaf, he turned around to see Hashirama run up. Oh, great. 

“MADARA!”

“Hmm?” Madara calmly responded he brought the leaf down from his face.

Hashirama doubled over, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath after running full speed to find him while fending off the effects of his internal panic. 

Madara quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you look like you just ran across the earth ten times?” 

Hashirama ignored Madara’s witty remark as he tried calming himself down. 

Madara then added, “I heard you were looking for me?”

“Yes… You… scared… the shit out of me,” Hashirama forced out between his heavy breaths.

Madara turned back around to face the village. “Why? Did you think I was dead?” Madara asked as he twirled the stem of the leaf between his gloved fingertips. 

Hashirama took one last deep inhale and slowly exhaled. He walked up to Madara’s side and mumbled, “Worse, I thought you willingly left me…”

“Oh? I didn’t think there was anything worse than death,” Madara retorted. Wait, what did Hashirama mean by that? Madara turned to Hashirama and said, “Wait, what—”

“Where have you been???” Hashirama blurted, his voice etched with a mix of concern, demand, and relief.

Madara could feel his eye twitch. “What do you mean where have I been? Is that any of your business??” 

Hashirama sat down next to Madara and pouted. “It is my business. I was looking all over for you!” 

“Well, you found me,” Madara retorted. 

“Hmph.” Hashirama crossed his arms and turned his head away from Madara in mild frustration. Madara had no idea about the emotional turmoil he had just put him through. How could he react so insensitively? 

Madara silently judged Hashirama’s dramatic actions. “Why is he acting like an overprotective lover?” he thought. Madara sighed. “Why were you looking for me anyway?” 

Hashirama flinched. “No reason…”

Madara narrowed his eyes and glanced at Hashirama. “So, you scoured the entire village and ran up here like I was on my deathbed for no reason?”

Hashirama pouted. “Well… I just wanted to see you. The day is almost over and… I said I’d see you today. So, I wanted to fulfill that.”

“Oh? So you’re acting like an overprotective lover because you just wanted to see me?” 

“W-Wha—?! Overprotective lover?? I am not acting like that!” Hashirama stammered as his cheeks grew warm. 

Madara smirked and waved the leaf in his hand in Hashirama’s direction in a teasing manner. “Yes, overprotective love—” 

“No, I’m not,” Hashirama interrupted. He then turned away in embarrassment. “And for the record, I consider myself to be an appropriately protective lover.” 

“Hmm? Maybe I should ask Mito what her thoughts are.” 

“Go ahead, she’d disagree with you.” Hashirama pouted. 

Madara briefly chuckled before turning his gaze back toward the village and retreating into his thoughts. “Wanted to fulfill that, huh?” Madara didn’t want to admit that it made him a little happy knowing Hashirama would go to such lengths to see him. But his feelings were more complicated than that because again, this attention felt like samples—he knew he could never truly have Hashirama and it killed him. But he shouldn’t waste energy thinking about all this anyway. He had a plan to set into action. A plan that required him to leave the village. Ah yes, his plan. His newfound hope. 

Hashirama slowly lowered his gaze to the leaf in Madara’s hand and smiled. 

“That leaf.”

“Hmm? What about it?” Madara asked.

“It has a hole in it.” Hashirama’s smile grew wider, “That sure does bring back memories, huh?” 

Madara raised the leaf in front of his face. “Doesn’t it?” 

Hashirama and Madara started conversing about when they first found Konoha, reminiscing on the childhood conversations that led them there. They then ventured into topics on current village affairs, however Madara was already slowly detaching himself from it all and was less engaged. As Hashirama talked with Madara, he could feel his anxiety finally begin to dissipate. Madara was right there, beside him, in the flesh, where he wanted him to be. He didn’t leave the village. He didn’t leave him. However, he couldn’t help but notice something seemed… different about Madara. He was smiling more than usual, but it felt… off. 

“You’ve seemed… happier,” Hashirama pointed out, though he wasn’t sure ‘happier’ was the right word.

Madara smirked. “I think I finally found the answer.”

“Found the answer to what?”

“True peace,” Madara declared. A sudden gust of wind wooshed against the two men, strong enough to blow the leaf out of Madara’s grasp and into the open air. His smile slowly grew wider before he burst into a chuckle, bringing his gloved hand to his face.

This made Hashirama uncomfortable. It wasn’t Madara’s usual, warm smile or his light-hearted, infectious laugh. It wasn’t the laugh that graced his ears when he talked about his brothers and his valuable memories a few nights ago. This, this, was almost menacing, and he didn’t have a great feeling about it. Hashirama hated to admit it, but Mito might’ve been on to something.  

Hashirama swallowed back the lump in his throat and asked, “What’s the answer, Madara?”

“You’ll find out in due time.” Madara didn’t want to tell Hashirama just yet.

“Well… whatever it is, is it really the answer?” Hashirama questioned, his voice filled with worry.

Madara glanced at Hashirama, and immediately brought his hands to his face to shield him from the blinding sunlight. The sun was setting, and glowed right behind Hashirama, kissing his beautiful tanned skin. Madara clicked his tongue and faced forward once again, refusing to allow himself to get sucked into Hashirama’s beauty. He hated the effect that Hashirama had on him. 

“It is,” Madara answered flatly. But Hashirama wouldn’t understand that anyway, not with the life he’s achieved. He’s oblivious, naive. He doesn’t realize that humans will probably never change and that the path they’re going on probably won’t bring true peace. But Madara was growing confident, his resolve solidifying. The Infinite Tsukuyomi was his last hope. He was the savior. He will bring true peace to this world and none of his troubles will matter anymore, none of the Uchiha clan’s troubles, and none of the world’s troubles. 

Hashirama carefully eyed Madara. He could sense his friend’s soul slowly slipping into the darkness Madara wouldn’t open up to him about. 

He watched as the evening breeze gently hit Madara, blowing his long black locks out of his face. Butterflies stirred in Hashirama’s stomach at the sight—the way the sunlight bathed Madara’s fair skin in a warm glow and cast glimmers in his deep, dark eyes. His pink lips appeared soft and inviting, and his collar shifted in the wind, allowing Hashirama a peak at Madara’s exposed neck. 

It was very, very clear to Hashirama that these feelings toward Madara were way more than just platonic. He wanted to lead Madara out of this questionable path he was going down. The scare he had earlier when he thought Madara left? Awful. He never anticipated that the possibility of Madara leaving would trigger such a visceral reaction in him. Hashirama couldn’t even imagine how he’d react if Madara really left. What would he do? Would he go on an endless search to find him? Would he fall into a deep depression? Would he grow so numb that he couldn’t even move? Regardless, Hashirama knew it would’ve felt much worse than what he felt earlier before he found Madara. 

Truth is, Hashirama wanted to keep seeing Madara every day. He wanted to be with him and lay by his side at night. He wanted to keep sharing meals, keep conversing, and keep laughing at silly jokes. He wanted to keep engaging in playful banter. He wanted to cradle him in his arms and listen to his thoughts and problems. He wanted to feel his touch, explore his body, hear his moans, and make love to him.

Hashirama loved Madara, and the thought of Madara giving in to his despair, descending into darkness, and disappearing, hurt Hashirama deeply. 

Hashirama finally got out of his head and responded, “I… I think we can achieve true peace if we keep working together.”

No response. 

Madara just kept staring straight ahead, responding in his head. “No, we can’t. See? Naïve. Idealistic. It’s hopeless,” Madara thought.

Hashirama waited for a response from Madara, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to get one. He just wished Madara would let him in. He wished he would just open up, let him help, and work with him. Hashirama wanted to keep pursuing their goals together, to stay by each other’s side. Hashirama would do anything for Madara because… 

He loved him.

“Madara…”

“Hmm?”

Before Hashirama could say anything, he found himself withdrawing back into his thoughts. What if things were different between him and Madara? What if he paid attention to his personal feelings earlier? What if he was able to catch this uneasy feeling he was getting from Madara earlier? 

“What??” Madara asked, a little annoyed at the fact that Hashirama didn’t answer him the first time around. 

“…Do you have any regrets?” Hashirama finally asked.

“Regrets? Of course, I do. Who doesn’t have them?”

Hashirama hummed in response because he had regrets himself. And part of those regrets had to do with Madara. He wished he had fully recognized these feelings much, much earlier… Hashirama then asked, “…If given the opportunity to act on those regrets, would you?”

“If there was a way to bring Izuna back, I wouldn’t hesitate to.”

Hashirama glanced at Madara. “Time travel?”

“That’s one way of doing it, yes.”

Hashirama grinned. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Probably,” Madara said bluntly. 

Hashirama softly chuckled, which was probably inappropriate because Madara’s demeanor didn’t change. He was being dead serious, and Hashirama almost felt bad for laughing. 

Madara grew slightly irritated at Hashirama’s reaction. Of course, he wouldn’t understand. He still had Tobirama after all. Now, did he really believe time travel was possible? There’s probably some special ninja creating some space-time jutsu out there that permits time travel. And Madara wouldn’t hesitate to use it if he ever got his hands on it. 

Hyperaware of the situation, Hashirama tried to lighten up the mood. “If I could time travel… I would go back to the first time I met you.”

Madara raised an eyebrow. “That’s a waste…” he responded. Then without thinking, Madara let the next few words slip out of his mouth. “If I could time travel, I would go back to stop your brother from killing mine.”

Hashirama could sense a hint of hostility in Madara’s voice. Izuna’s death was always a sensitive topic, and it didn’t help that it was caused by his own brother, Tobirama. 

“If I could time travel… I would also stop my brother from killing yours,” Hashirama responded softly. 

No response.

“Madara, I’m sorr—”

“If I could time travel… I would go back to when you pulled that ghost joke on me when we were kids and throw you into the river like you deserved.”

Hashirama could tell Madara was trying to shift the subject. Madara didn’t like getting sentimental after all, so Hashirama went along with it for now.

“If I could time travel, I would do it again,” Hashirama said with a teasing smile.

“You bastard.” Madara turned to Hashirama. “If I could time travel, I’d train my hawks to attack you.”

“If I could time travel, I’d go back and watch those hawks attack you again.”

“If I could time travel, I’d call those hawks again just so they can shit in your hair again.”

“If I could time travel…” Hashirama’s facial expression softened. “…I’d go back to when we first started creating Konoha and keep you closer…”

“If I c—” Madara couldn’t finish his sentence. He wasn’t expecting that from Hashirama. What was that supposed to mean?

Hashirama added, “If I could time travel, I wouldn’t take you for granted.” 

“If I…”

“If I could time travel, I’d pay more attention to how you were really feeling and help you.”

“…”

Hashirama edged closer towards Madara, now committed to prying out whatever Madara was hiding. He could tell Madara wasn’t okay at all, and just wanted him to open up. “Madara… talk to me. What’s going on?”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“You’re lying to me. Madara, I know you.”

“Oh, do you? Do you really?”

“Things might’ve changed, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still know you. What I do know is that you’re changing… I rarely see your usual, genuine smile these days. You’re more closed off than usual. Your voice, I just… I can hear the sadness in it sometimes… You disappear for long periods of time. You tried to give away your precious books. Oh! You stepped down as the head of the Uchiha clan! Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

Madara turned to avoid eye contact and mumbled, “Again, with the damn books.” 

“It’s not about the books, Madara.”

Madara didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to get into it. It’s too late. Whatever he was going through didn’t matter and talking about it won’t change anything. He’s already made his decision, and he’s leaving everything else behind. He has to. He believed nothing good would come out of staying in Konoha. Peace will never be achieved. He’ll probably never fit in. His clan has already betrayed him. He’ll probably never have Hashirama. He’ll never be able to escape his dark fate. It was hopeless. But what wasn’t hopeless was the Infinite Tsukuyomi; that’s his newfound purpose. 

Irritated, Madara stood up to take his leave, but Hashirama quickly shot up in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. 

Hashirama continued, “It’s about you, and how I can see that something is eating you up inside. And if you just let me—”

“Drop it, Hashirama,” Madara grumbled as he tried to walk away, but Hashirama immediately stepped to the side to block Madara’s path once again.

“Why? Why do you keep doing this?” 

“I said, drop it!” Madara snapped. 

“I’m not going to drop it. Not until you tell me what’s going on. Talk to me. Why did you step down as the leader of the Uchiha clan?”

Madara softly exhaled and clenched his jaw. He could feel his blood start to boil at Hashirama’s insistence. He responded, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Does it affect you???”

“In a way… yes.” To Hashirama, the fact that Madara stepped down as leader, in addition to attempting to give away his precious books, makes it seem like he’s withdrawing. This worried him, and he definitely didn’t want Madara slipping away. 

“Well, well, my apologies. I’m sure the new leader they choose will cause no trouble. Don’t worry,” Madara said dryly as he attempted to walk away.

“That’s not what I meant,” Hashirama said as he blocked Madara’s path for the third time.

Madara let out a deep sigh. “Hashirama, please, leave me alone.”

“I’m not going to.” Hashirama then thought to himself, “I’m not giving up on you, Madara.” 

Madara brought his gloved hands to his temples and started rubbing them. God, Hashirama was getting very irritating. “I can’t do this right now, Hashirama.”

“Look… I know you no longer have Izuna here with you—"

“Don’t bring Izuna into this,” Madara snapped.

“I’m sorry. It's just… I can be here for you. And if you just… open up to me, I can help fix your problems.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed, his voice harsh, “Are you so arrogant that you think you can fix all my problems?”

“O-Of course not, but—”

“Do you really think you can just make everything okay?!” Madara slowly raised his voice, succumbing to the heat of his emotions.

“No! But I know I can try. And I’ll try, and try, and keep trying. I can, and will, do my very best to listen to you and address what’s bothering you because I care about you, Madara. I don’t want you to suffer alone in silence. I’m worried… and I want to do everything in my power to be there for you because I...”  Hashirama’s voice trailed off. He then continued in his head, unable to say the rest out loud, “…love you.”

Madara could feel himself melt as he stared into Hashirama’s longing eyes. At that moment, he could feel his walls slowly start to crumble despite his long battle to keep them up. His chest fluttered, and his cheeks reddened as he processed the unexpected words that came out of Hashirama’s mouth. Slowly, his tense shoulders relaxed, his eyelids slightly drooped, and the tension in his furrowed eyebrows eased. 

Madara didn’t know what to think. He didn’t like that suddenly his mind was muddled. Madara felt that it was unfair for Hashirama to say those words to him, because, really, what would come out of opening up to Hashirama about his struggles and putting that burden on him? What could Hashirama really do for him? Why now, when he’s made up his mind to leave? Why now, when he’s reached a point of no return? Madara felt like he was beyond saving. Nothing good lasted for him, the loved ones who cared about him were dead, and Madara felt that Hashirama was beyond his reach. All these moments they’ve been sharing together these days were just samples… 

Yet, here Madara was, fighting back the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach. It wasn’t fair that Hashirama had this effect on him. It wasn’t fair that Hashirama still tugged at his heart. A man who was more than he was. A man he could never have. A man whose light was too bright for him, not meant for him and his dark fate.

Madara shifted his gaze to the side, breaking eye contact with Hashirama. “Fucking damn it,” he whispered.

Hashirama noticed Madara’s slowly changing demeanor—no longer anger, but… sadness? Submission? Indecision? What was it? He kept his gaze locked on Madara, who was now looking away from him. He looked so… vulnerable. 

Hashirama had the strong urge to pull Madara towards him, caress his cheek, kiss him, wrap him in a warm embrace, and reassure him that everything would be okay. Before he knew it, he slowly started lifting his hand up from beside him, his heart pounding against his chest.

“Don’t you have a wife to go home to? It’s getting late,” Madara said. 

Hashirama immediately froze. That’s right, he does. Mito. It seems Madara didn’t notice Hashirama’s movement. Hashirama silently brought his hand back down and softly sighed. 

Madara didn’t want to be in Hashirama’s presence anymore. He just needed to get out of there. He started walking away, dragging his feet along the rocky surface. 

Hashirama turned as he watched Madara take his leave. He wished he was able to get Madara to open up this evening, but he felt like he was at least getting somewhere. And that was okay for now. Soon, he’ll press him enough to get answers. Soon, he’ll succeed. Soon, he’ll force his way into Madara’s heart. So this was okay for now. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hashirama asked. 

Madara didn’t respond.

Suddenly, Hashirama appeared in front of Madara, but that didn’t seem to faze him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hashirama asked again. He was getting an answer, whether Madara liked it or not. However, Madara simply walked around him and kept going. Hashirama shifted to face Madara.

“Madara.”

No response.

Hashirama then grabbed Madara’s wrist, catching him by surprise.

“Hashira—!”

He pulled Madara towards him, causing their bodies to clash before a small space was created, their faces just inches apart. Hashirama longingly gazed down into Madara’s eyes, briefly glancing down at his tempting lips before re-establishing eye contact.

“I’ll see you… tomorrow?”  Hashirama softly whispered.

Madara could feel his cheeks flush and his heart began to race. He was so close.

“F-fine!”

Madara yanked his wrist out of Hashirama’s grasp and created more distance between them. Rubbing his wrist, he mumbled, “I’ll be around…” 

Curse Hashirama. Besides, what is Hashirama going to do? Madara felt that as long as he told him what he wanted to hear, he’d leave him alone. If he wanted to, he could leave the village whenever despite whatever he tells Hashirama. But why hasn’t he? All this time… why hasn’t he?

Hashirama noticed Madara rubbing at his wrist. “S-sorry, did I hurt your wrist?”

“N-No!” Madara remarked. “You just caught me by surprise. Who do you think I am anyway? Don’t start mistaking me for these regular shinobi, Hashirama.” 

Hashirama softly chuckled. “Of course not. No one else is more fitting of being my rival after all. Regardless, next time I’ll be gentle.” 

Madara’s face grew slightly flushed. Next time? “Y-You will do no such thing!” 

Madara immediately turned around and started walking off. However, he could hear soft chuckles coming from Hashirama’s direction. He looked back at Hashirama and said, “What??”

Scratching his head with a smile, Hashirama responded, “Nothing, sorry, I’m just… happy. You really scared me earlier so I’m just glad you’re still here.” He then dropped his hand back to his side as his smile grew wider, “And hearing that you’ll still be around makes me happier… I’ll take your word for it.”  

Madara’s eyes widened as he took in Hashirama’s words. He’s such a trusting, optimistic bastard. How has someone not taken advantage of him by now? Madara couldn’t understand how Hashirama could trust his words. 

Hashirama slowly backed toward the edge of the cliff and waved goodbye before letting himself fall out of sight, leaving nothing but the setting sun in Madara’s field of vision.

“Hmph. I’ll take your word for it,” Madara mocked. He then felt the urge to check if Hashirama was still there. Silently hoping, Madara walked to the edge and peered over, only to see Hashirama was really gone. He felt a sinking feeling in his chest at the thought of his absence. Madara sighed and sat down, ruminating on his feelings.

“Curse you, Hashirama. Saying you’ll take my word for it. I could be lying, you idiot… I’ve already made up my mind. But why? What is it? Why can’t I leave? Why haven’t I gotten his cells yet and left? Why? When I’ve found my purpose? My resolve? Why?”

Hashirama slowly made his way home. He was exhausted and deep in thought about his time with Madara earlier. As he recalled their conversations, he couldn’t help but think about a specific moment with Madara—when Madara’s face softened, and his voice changed, as if, just for a brief moment, he was letting his guard down and showing Hashirama his true emotions. He felt so close, so close to entering his heart. 

And then Hashirama couldn’t help but think about the moment he acted before thinking and pulled Madara close. Madara’s lips were… so close and so tempting. Hashirama wanted to steal a kiss so badly. He brought his palm to his face and bit his lip as he fought back his sensual thoughts.

Hashirama finally made it home and entered, catching a glimpse of Mito in the kitchen. It looked like she had just finished cooking.

Mito turned around at the sound of the opening door and smiled. “Welcome home! Dinner?”

Hashirama flashed a half smile, riddled with the guilt of his complicated feelings. He didn’t have much of an appetite and wanted to end the day quickly so he didn’t have to face extreme guilt while interacting with Mito. He responded, “I’m sorry, Mito. I’m not really hungry. I think I’ll shower and go to bed.”

Mito’s smile slowly faded, a little bummed that Hashirama wasn’t in the mood to eat a special meal she made for him. “Okay… I’ll just pack this up and you can eat it tomorrow. How was your day?”

“It was… good… tiring,” Hashirama responded as he walked to the bathroom. He could barely stomach continuing the conversation with his wife knowing his mind had been filled with all different kinds of thoughts about Madara these days. He locked himself inside the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror.

Gripping the side of the sink, Hashirama thought, “What do I do?” Hashirama grabbed his toothbrush and began brushing his teeth, repeating the same question in his head over and over again. Once done, he undressed and hopped into the shower. As he let the hot water run down his body, Hashirama ran in circles in his mind. “I love Mito, I do. But I also love Madara. This isn’t fair to her. She doesn’t deserve this. But I can’t help how I feel… I thought this feeling would go away… but it’s only getting stronger… What do I do? What do I do? Why has it come to this?”

Hashirama rested his head against the shower wall and sighed deeply. After finishing his shower, he got out, dried himself, and slipped his boxers on. He made his way to the bedroom, where Mito already was. She was lying in bed in their lamp-lit room. Hashirama quietly slipped into bed next to Mito and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek, whispering, “Good night.” 

He reached over to turn off the lamp before fully settling in bed. The room was silent and dark, with a faint glow from the moon and distant streetlamps filtering through the windows. Hashirama slowly closed his eyes in hopes that he could fall asleep soon, but he could feel Mito shift beside him. Crap. Soon, he felt her lips against his neck, and her leg wrapped around his.

Hashirama could feel his heart sink inside his chest. He was hoping Mito wouldn’t initiate sex tonight. It was getting harder and harder for him to be intimate with Mito. It’s not that he wasn’t attracted to her. She’s a very attractive woman and has always been beautiful to Hashirma. But the guilt was slowly eating him alive. He didn’t like denying Mito. She was his wife after all, and he always wanted to attend to her sexual needs. But tonight, he couldn’t. Not when his feelings for Madara were getting clearer to him now.

“M-Mito… I’m sorry, I’m really tired tonight.”

“Mmm,” Mito moaned as she brushed her lips against his jawline.

As soon as Hashirama turned his head to speak further, Mito stole a kiss. Hashirama initially hesitated but finally gave in. Mito brushed her hand across Hashirama’s chest and pulled him closer.

Hashirama soon broke the kiss and whispered, “Mito, I can’t tonight, I’m sorry…”

“I should tell her,” Hashirama thought to himself.

“Mmm, but I want you…” Mito whispered as she slowly snaked her hand down to the band of Hashirama’s boxers. “We haven’t done it in so long…”

Hashirama gently grabbed Mito’s hand and brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss. “I can’t do this to her,” he thought. Hashirama then gave Mito another kiss and said, “Next time.”

“Promise?”

As much as he wanted to, Hashirama couldn’t promise. He couldn’t promise that these feelings for Madara would go away.

“…Next time we can.”

Mito propped herself up on her elbow and locked eyes with Hashirama. Her eyebrows furrowed as she scanned Hashirama’s face as if looking for the hidden meaning behind his words. 

“Promise me,” Mito said, now with more assertion. 

“I…” But Hashirama couldn’t promise. He just couldn’t. He continued, “...can’t promise that I won’t be really tired next time…” 

Mito’s eyes slightly narrowed. She didn’t appreciate Hashirama avoiding a promise. Was he hiding something? Mito opened her mouth to speak but decided not to say anything. She laid her head down on his chest and closed her eyes, dissatisfied but still glad her husband was here in bed with her. 

Looking up toward the ceiling, Hashirama frowned. Mito didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve a husband who loved someone else. She didn’t deserve a husband who struggled to keep the thought of someone else out of his head. She was kind, caring, beautiful, loyal. She didn’t deserve any of this at all.

Hashirama sighed and reached over to turn on the lamp that sat on their nearby nightstand. He slowly sat up, causing Mito to move her head over to her pillow. For a moment, Hashirama sat in silence, working up the courage to say something. He let out a slow exhale and turned to Mito. 

“Mito?”

“Hmm?”

“…Can we talk?”

Chapter Text

“I’m in love with someone else.”

“…What?”

Mito sat up and turned to Hashirama, who was looking down at his lap. After a few seconds of silence, Hashirama slowly turned his head until he met Mito’s eyes, which shimmered from the tears that welled up. Intense pressure slowly built up in his chest as Hashirama’s eyes slightly widened. Unable to bear the sight of Mito’s hurt face, he turned away and bit his lip. This was it; the conversation had been brought up and now he must face it.

“Hashirama… what did you say?” Mito asked, her voice shaking.

Hashirama slowly shifted his gaze back to Mito, who now had a tear rolling down the side of her rosy cheek. He parted his lips to speak, but nothing left his mouth. “Mito, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he thought to himself.

Mito sniffled and wiped away her tears. She tried her best to keep her composure, but still couldn’t believe the words that escaped Hashirama’s mouth.

“Speak Hashirama, she deserves this conversation,” Hashirama thought. He fiddled with his thumbs, internally pushing himself to respond to Mito. He finally worked up the courage to answer, “Mito… I’ve been meaning to tell you this. I’m sorry… I think I’m in love with someone else…”

“Excuse me.” Mito quickly got out of bed and left the room, closing the door behind her. She couldn’t spend one more minute in that room, not after what she had just heard.

Hashirama sighed and buried his face in his hands. Damn it, what has he done? Now that he’s finally put his feelings out there, he must see it through. Mito’s reaction crushed him, but he was sure she was probably hurting way more than he was. Why wouldn’t she? Her husband just told her he was in love with someone else.

Hashirama forced himself out of bed and walked over to the dresser, grabbing a shirt and pants to put on before leaving the bedroom to find Mito. As he walked into the living room, he saw her curled up on the couch, crying into her hands. He slowly made his way to the couch and sat down, prompting Mito to quickly halt her whimpers and wipe away her tears. She looked up at Hashirama with red, swollen eyes, her cheeks were flushed and moist from the residual tears. 

“Mito…”

“Who?”

“Huh?”

“Who’s the person?” Mito asked, her voice cracking from the crying she had been doing earlier.

Truthfully, Hashirama didn’t want to get into the specifics. He was hoping to have this discussion without bringing him into it, though it might not be realistic. Hashirama wasn’t the best at hiding things and Mito was always good at reading him and getting things out of him.

“Mito, I—”

“Is it Madara?”

Hashirama grew silent and his heart sank inside his chest. He felt a rush of heat throughout his body as his heart started pounding. How did she know? He slightly parted his lips, but no words came out. Hashirama wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and any attempts to say something were halted by the lump that formed in the back of his throat.

“I knew it…” Mito whispered.

Surprised, Hashirama responded, “H-How did you—?”

“How long?”

“…How long what?”

“How long have you been in love with him, Hashirama? Don’t play dumb,” Mito pressed.

To Hashirama, it was complicated. Because for a while, he wasn’t able to put a name to the feeling, so he really couldn’t say. Hashirama looked away and softly said, “I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Mito shifted her body to re-enter Hashirama’s field of vision. Her voice now sounded more assertive yet hurt. She continued, “How long, Hashirama? Weeks? Months? Years?” Mito wasn’t in the mood to show any mercy to Hashirama at the moment.

“I genuinely don’t know, Mito.”

“Can you at least look at me when I’m talking to you??”

Hashirama immediately turned his head and locked eyes with Mito. “S-Sorry. I-I don’t know… I genuinely don’t know.”

But asking Hashirama to look at her might’ve been a mistake because the moment Mito met eyes with him—her husband, who had just admitted to being in love with someone else—she felt as though she had been stabbed in the chest. Mito sighed in frustration and tilted her head back, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall down her face. Her mind was muddled, and she was overwhelmed by feelings of sadness, frustration, and betrayal.

“I knew it. I knew something was up, but I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that you would love someone else. I didn’t want to believe you would do this to me.”

“Mito, I never intended for things to turn out this way. I—”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Mito interrupted, her chest feeling as if someone was crushing it as she held back more tears.

“Because… I wasn’t entirely sure what the feeling was. I thought it would go away, but it didn’t. I tried to move past it, but I couldn’t. And eventually, I just couldn’t keep it from you any longer,” Hashirama responded sincerely. He was hoping that Mito believed him when he said that.

Mito sighed and brought her knees to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees. She grew silent for a brief moment in an attempt to process everything that had been said so far. Finally, Mito asked, “So, are you seeing him? Are you guys sleeping together?”

“N-No!” Hashirama blurted. “None of that, I promise. He doesn’t even… know how I feel. I haven’t told him.”

Mito raised her head and met Hashirama’s eyes. “So, is this why you’re telling me? So, you can go tell him how you feel?”

“No… I’m telling you because you are my wife. I love you, and I care about you, and I couldn’t keep leaving you in the dark… You don’t deserve that.”

As much as Mito wanted to be upset about that answer, she couldn’t because she knew Hashirama was being genuine, since that’s just the type of person he was.

“Okay… well you’ve told me. What did you expect to get out of this? Now what? Now what do we do?”

Hashirama searched for the answer to her question. He honestly didn’t think this far ahead. But what he did know was that he just didn’t want to leave Mito in the dark. His feelings for Madara were growing stronger and stronger, which was a disservice to him and Mito’s marriage. Damn it, this conversation was a lot harder than he anticipated. Not only did Hashirama feel intense guilt, but he also felt shame. He hated the fact that things turned out this way. He hated that he put Mito in this position. He hated himself for it.

After a brief silence, Hashirama finally responded, “You just… you deserve better than a husband who’s in love with someone else…”  

Mito clenched her jaw. What did he mean by that? Mito loved Hashirama and was dedicated to spending the rest of her life with him. To Mito, Hashirama was the perfect man for her. She didn’t want things to end. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to get over your feelings for Madara?” Mito asked, silently hoping Hashirama would say ‘yes’ so they could put this behind them. 

Hashirama could feel his heart sink in his chest. “Mito… I… I can’t stop thinking about him…”

Suddenly, Mito’s entire body felt heavy, and her stomach churned. Why did things come to this? Mito could barely speak when she forced the next words out of her mouth. “So… are you proposing a divorce?”

Mito’s words cut deep. That wasn’t necessarily on Hashirama’s mind, but on second thought, that’s pretty much what it sounds like. Hashirama didn’t know how to respond. A divorce wasn’t on his mind, and he didn’t think things this far ahead.

“Do you want a divorce, Hashirama?” Mito asked impatiently.

“I-I don’t know… do you?”

“If we divorce, are you going to pursue Madara?”

“I… I can’t promise I won’t…” Hashirama really couldn’t promise. Every day he felt himself gravitate more and more toward Madara.

Mito could feel immense tightness in her throat. She hated that things were coming to this. She already had a gut feeling all this time, but the reality was still painful. More tears began to build up in Mito’s eyes, the sight of Hashirama now turning into a blur.

“…What did I do? Was I… Was I not good enough for you, Hashirama?” Mito shakily said as she held back the desire to burst into tears.

Hashirama quickly grabbed Mito’s hands and stared intently into her eyes. “Of course you are. You are more than enough for me, Mito. You’re an amazing, beautiful, charming wife. Being with you has been amazing. Coming home to you has always been a highlight of my day. You’re always able to lift my spirits up when I’m down. Your support has meant so much to me. You are more than enough, Mito. Please don’t think otherwise.”

“Then… why Madara?”

“Its… complicated… I’ve… known him since I was a child and we’ve been through a lot together. And… my feelings just ran deeper than I had imagined.”

“So, it’s because you knew him longer?”

“N-No! It’s not because of that. I don’t know, it’s just…”

“Then because you both went through a lot together?”

“No, it’s not— Mito. I don’t, I don’t know why. It just… happened,” Hashirama stammered.

“It just happened? So, you’re telling me you don’t know why you fell in love with Madara while you were married to me?”

“Mito… I—” Hashirama paused, attempting to pinpoint when it all started. Was it during their marriage? He continued. “...My feelings for him might’ve already been there before our marriage.”

“I don’t care when, Hashirama. Before, after, during, in another life, I don’t care. I want to know why Madara.” Mito just wanted to know why her husband was in love with someone else. Seriously, was she just not good enough?

Hashirama couldn’t get into it. It just didn’t feel right to talk, in detail, to his wife about his love for someone else. He responded, “We don’t have to get into—"

“Does he provide for you in a way I don’t?” Mito interrupted.

“Mito, the way you provide for me is perfect.”

“Is he a better person to talk to?”

“I love talking to you.”

“What? Is he funnier? Is he smarter?”

“Mito, you’re funny and you’re smart—"

“Are you more attracted to him?”

“I’m very attracted to you, Mito. That’s never been an issue.”

“Do you think about him during sex?”

“I enjoy having sex with you Mito.”

“It’s been taking you longer to finish lately… and I always thought it was due to stress. Is it because I’m not him?”

 “I have been stressed—”

“Why aren’t you answering my questions???”

“Because… I don’t want you to feel the need to compare yourself to Madara…”

“Well, I want to. I want to know what’s been going through my husband’s head, so just answer my questions… Please…”

“Mito, this wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to be honest and tell you about my feelings, it has nothing to do with who you are as a person. This isn’t… those questions don’t matter. I don’t think you should think this way… I don’t want you comparing yourself because you are amazing just the way—”

“Hashirama Senju. Answer my questions.” 

“I… I don’t think I will.”

Mito rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Hashirama, after doing this to me, the least you could do is answer my questions. You don’t want to leave me in the dark? Then answer them.”

Hashirama paused before letting out a deep sigh. “I genuinely don’t know when my feelings for him started. I’ve considered him to be a close friend ever since I met him. Madara and I are just friends, and we always have been. He doesn’t ‘provide’ for me, but he’s always been easy to talk to and I’ve always felt like I could go to him about certain things. But you are also easy to talk to, Mito, and you have helped talk me through many things, which I appreciate. He is funny, and his humor is interesting, to say the least. And I consider him to be a genius… far beyond me. His tactical skills are incredible. His strategies are on par with Tobirama’s. And he’s so… knowledgeable. B-But again, that doesn’t make him any better than you. I… I am attracted to Madara, but it rarely crossed my mind that I was more attracted to him than I was to you. I try not to think about him during sex, but it very rarely happens, and I'm so sorry. And it takes me longer because I have been stressed, but I’ve also been feeling guilty and confused.”

There was a moment of silence between the two. Mito didn’t know what to expect from asking those questions. She just wanted answers. Her mind was racing, and she needed something. But this, this might’ve made her pain worse.  Judging from the way Hashirama spoke about Madara, it was very clear to Mito that the feelings he harbored for Madara were real.

“…Do you wish you were with him and not me?” Mito finally asked.

Hashirama didn’t want to lie, and Mito had already made it clear that she wanted him to answer her questions directly. “It’s not that I wish I wasn’t with you, but sometimes… I do wish I was with him.”

Mito softly sighed and stood up, releasing her hands from Hashirama’s grasp. “Then go be with him,” Mito said as she walked away.

“Mito—”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Hashirama stood up and started going after Mito, who was headed towards their bedroom. As Mito walked into their shared bedroom, she closed the door behind her, leaving Hashirama outside. He quickly halted to stop himself from running into the shut door. Hashirama gently rested his forehead against the door.

“…Mito?”

There was no response. All he could hear was the sound of Mito’s muffled soft whimpers through the door. He tried to open the door so he could comfort her but found that the door was locked. He could easily try to unlock the door from the outside but didn’t want to push Mito’s buttons.

“Mito…? Can I come in?”

No response.

“Mito, I’m sorry… Can we talk about it further, please?”

No response.

“Mito, please? I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you…”

No response. Just soft whimpers.

“…Do you want me to give you space?” Hashirama asked as he rested his palm on the wooden door.

“Yes, please.”

Those weren’t the words Hashirama was hoping to hear, but he decided to respect her boundaries. He said, “Okay, I’ll give you space.” Hashirama stood in front of the door for a couple of seconds. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew his presence probably wasn’t welcomed at the moment. He then added, “But Mito, I just really want to emphasize that I do love you. Everything I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”  

Hashirama quickly shut up. Before walking off he said, “I love you. Get some rest. I’ll be around when you’re ready to talk.”

Hashirama then turned around and started walking towards their front door. He slipped his shoes on and quietly opened the door before slowly exiting their home.

Hashirama found himself at Tobirama’s doorstep after leaving his home. It was the ultimate place his body wandered to while he walked through Konoha, deep in thought about what went down with Mito. He softly sighed, raised his fist, and knocked on his younger brother’s door, hoping he would answer. He waited a moment, but there was no answer. It was late at night, so Tobirama was probably sleeping. Hashirama waited a few more seconds before knocking again, now a little louder.

Soon enough, the front door slowly opened, revealing a shirtless, sleepy Tobirama, who was rubbing at his tired eyes with the back of his hand.

“Tobirama!” Hashirama greeted as a smile spread across his face. He was relieved to see his younger brother after what happened with Mito earlier.

“Hmm? Is the village in danger?” Tobirama asked, his voice deep and groggy.

“No, but—”

Tobirama immediately closed the door in Hashirama’s face.

Hashirama pouted, he didn’t appreciate Tobirama’s gesture. He raised his fist and knocked on the wooden door once again.

Tobirama opened the door and said, “Brother, it’s late. What do you want??”

Hashirama laughed awkwardly. “Can I spend the night? Actually, can I spend a couple of nights here?”

“Why?”

“Mito and I… kind of got into it…”

“Then I suggest you go home and work things out with her,” Tobirama advised as he attempted to close the door, but Hashirama held his arm out to stop it.

“Please? I told her I’d give her space… and we might be getting a divorce.”

Tobirama quirked an eyebrow. “A divorce?”

Hashirama nodded, his smile fading into a frown as he felt his throat tighten up.

Tobirama noted the shift in Hashirama’s facial expression. He could tell that his brother was hurting, and something definitely went down between him and Mito. He softly sighed. “Come in,” he said as he fully opened the door for his older brother. He turned on the living room lights and sat down on his couch, where Hashirama joined him after closing the door and taking off his shoes.

“So? A divorce? What’s going on?” Tobirama asked.

Hashirama sunk into the couch and sighed, “Things got… complicated.”

“What got complicated?”

“My feelings.”

“What about your feelings?” Tobirama asked. He liked it when people were direct, but Hashirama tended to be roundabout about certain things, which he didn’t like.

Hashirama tried to search for the right words to say. He hadn’t told Tobirama about his feelings for Madara yet, and honestly, he wanted more time to process it on his own before he told him. He scanned the room with his eyes while figuring out what to say next.

“It’s just… I just… There were these developing feelings that I didn’t know what to do about. And lately, it’s become a lot clearer what they are to me. So, I thought Mito deserved to know.”

Tobirama raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So, you finally told Mito about your love for Madara?”

“Wha—” Hashirama quickly turned to Tobirama with widened eyes. “How did you know? You could tell?!”

“Of course I could tell. You’re both oblivious idiots, it’s no wonder you’re friends.”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by a depressed demeanor. Idiots, huh? He then quickly shook the feelings off. “Wait, both? Do you think he feels the same way?” Hashirama asked with a hopeful tone.

Tobirama didn’t want to tell Hashirama that he could tell Madara felt the same way. He figured they should work up the courage to learn from each other themselves. This wasn’t something Tobirama wanted to get between. 

“I don’t know, I’m not around him enough to be able to tell,” Tobirama lied, his voice unwavering.

Hashirama sighed. “He probably doesn’t feel the same way… But Tobirama, I… I really hurt Mito. I mean, not that it shouldn’t have hurt her, of course she’d be hurt about it. I just couldn’t keep hiding it from her. She deserved to know. She’s been such a great wife, and here I was just falling in love with Madara. It’s not even that I don’t love her, I do. But Madara just…”

Tobirama let Hashirama ramble about his thoughts despite his desire to go back to sleep. He had a long day that day and needed the rest, but he knew his brother really needed a listening ear. So, he fought the tiredness and stayed engaged with Hashirama about his troubles. He listened. He listened to Hashirama tell him about his night with Mito. He listened to Hashirama pour his feelings out about Madara. He listened to it all.

“…and now that I’ve told Mito, and now that a divorce is in question, I just… I don’t know where to take it from here.”

“Hmm, do you want a divorce?”

“I… I think I want to be with Madara.”

“So, you want a divorce.”

“Not necessarily…”

“Brother, you can’t be with both of them.”

“I know! I know. I just don’t know what to do,” Hashirama groaned as he buried his face into his hands.

“I feel like you know exactly what you want, you’re just afraid to admit it,” Tobirama said frankly.

Hashirama sighed. Tobirama was right like he usually was. Hashirama wanted to be with Madara, but he hated that he had to hurt Mito in the process. He hated that he couldn’t uncover his feelings and face this earlier. He hated that he ultimately broke his marriage vows. There was no good reason to leave Mito. Mito was fine just the way she was. But Madara…

“What if this was all for naught? Let’s say Madara doesn’t feel the same way, I would’ve hurt Mito for nothing,” Hashirama said.

“I thought you told Mito because she deserved to know, not because you wanted a chance with Madara,” Tobirama responded.

“I did! It would just suck if my love was unreciprocated, you know?”

Tobirama shrugged his shoulders. “Well, love isn’t exactly an easy thing to navigate, and the timing isn’t always perfect.”

Tobirama wanted to be realistic here. It was a difficult situation. Tobirama had the natural urge to think about this logically. It’s unlikely that Hashirama’s love was unreciprocated, but what are the odds that Madara will even allow himself to be pursued by Hashirama? He believed Mito was good for Hashirama and didn’t want to see his older brother fall victim to the curse of the Uchiha clan—a clan that loves hard and will easily fall into hatred when love is lost. Plus, what would the village think when they hear that their Hokage divorced his devoted wife to be with Madara Uchiha? It wasn’t a good look for him. But… Tobirama knew that all of this was something Hashirama probably didn’t want to hear right now. He highly respected his older brother and genuinely wanted the best for him. He did want his brother to be with the person he loved and be happy, genuinely happy.

Tobirama then added, “But… I’m sure things will work out the way they’re meant to. You’ll be okay.”

Hashirama turned to Tobirama, moved by his words. He stared at him with widened, glimmering eyes. It’s not often that Tobirama provides comforting words without barraging him with discouraging facts. He was more realistic, logical. But it was times like these that Hashirama really appreciated. Hearing those words was more than enough to cheer him up.

“Tobirama… Thank you!” Hashirama threw his arms around Tobirama and hugged him tightly.

“G-get off, brother!” Tobirama demanded as he tried to wiggle out of Hashirama’s strong embrace.

Hashirama sniffled and finally gave Tobirama his space, flashing a wide, appreciative smile. “You’re right! You’re right. It’ll work out the way they’re meant to,” Hashirama said. He then added, “But… do you think Mito hates me?”

“Well… You’re probably not her favorite person in the world right now.”

“Yeah, of course. Yeah…” Hashirama’s voice trailed off and his smile faded. He sat in silence for a few seconds, retreating into his thoughts. He was brought back into reality when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Just take it a day at a time,” Tobirama reassured.

Hashirama could feel his smile reappear. Really, he really did appreciate Tobirama. “Thank you, Tobirama. I will.”

But shortly after, Hashirama’s smile slowly faded again as he thought about some of his other concerns; the concerns he hadn’t brought up to Tobirama yet. He said, “But on another note, I am worried about Madara. I’ve been worried about him for a while now actually, but these past few days, he’s been particularly different… Earlier today, he brought up that he found the answer to true peace, and I couldn’t shake this… uneasy feeling I got when he said it.”

Tobirama straightened up, his face serious. This was something he had been prepared to talk about for a while now. “I agree, I’ve also noticed a shift.”

“And did you hear he stepped down as leader of the Uchiha clan??”

Tobirama hummed in response. “I’ve known for a while now, yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?? I had to hear it from Mito.”

Tobirama furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance. “I did tell you, brother.”

“When??”

“The day after it happened. Around almost two weeks ago, after lunch, in your office.”

Hashirama searched through his memories to find what Tobirama was talking about. Almost two weeks ago, after lunch? What was he doing? He finally recalled that he was probably at his desk, napping behind a wall of paperwork. He must’ve been responding to Tobirama in his sleep.

“Right…” Hashirama responded.

“Were you not listening to me?!”

“Of course I was!” Hashirama said as he looked away to hide the guilt on his face.

Tobirama sucked his teeth, “This is why I can’t let you run the village unsupervised.”

“I’m not that bad—”

“The village would crumble.”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by a depressed demeanor. Sometimes it hurt him how little faith Tobirama had in him. The two continued to converse for a few more minutes until Tobirama stood up.

“Well, we should keep an eye on Madara for the time being,” Tobirama said.

“I’ll pay attention, but I don’t think we should jump to conclusions, Tobirama. You have a habit of assuming the worst when it comes to the Uchiha clan.”

“Hmph, I don’t assume the worst. I’m cautious. We can’t just overlook their history. If any of his actions even hint towards harming the village, I’ll have to be ready to take appropriate action.”

“Of course, and I will too,” Hashirama responded.

“Good, as you should.” Tobirama then stretched and started walking out of the living room towards his bedroom. “You can sleep in the guest room down the hall. Goodnight.”

“Thank you, Goodnight.”

Hashirama yawned. He sure was exhausted. He got up and made his way to the guest room, which was clean and organized, he wouldn’t expect less from Tobirama. Hashirama took off his shirt and pants and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his body. His mind raced with Mito, Madara, his feelings, everything, until he was able to fall asleep.

*Knock Knock*

“Mito?”

It had been over a week since Hashirama opened up to Mito about his feelings for Madara. He had been staying at Tobirama’s place ever since to give Mito some space to process everything. However, from time to time, Hashirama still tried to check in on her to see how she was doing. He was worried about her after all and didn’t want to give her too much space and leave her all alone.

During the past few days, Hashirama had still been attending to his Hokage duties. He has also been fulfilling his word to see Madara every day even though Madara was still being stubborn. Hashirama didn’t want to tell Madara about what was going on between him and Mito. He wanted to keep him out of it until everything was settled, especially since it involved Hashirama’s feelings for him.

Hashirama waited patiently for Mito to answer the door, but received no response—no words, no open door. But she was in there, Hashirama could sense it. He decided to knock again, hoping Mito would respond.

Soon enough, the door slowly opened, revealing Mito. She was wrapped in a thick, dark green blanket, and her hair was out of her usual two buns, falling down the side of her face, appearing slightly tangled. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were sunken, and her lips were chapped. Hashirama could easily tell that she wasn’t doing too well, and it made his chest hurt.

“Mito…”

“What do you want, Hashirama?”

“I wanted to come check in on you. May I come in?”

Mito slowly shook her head; she wasn’t ready to face Hashirama yet. She was still grieving the potential end of their marriage. “I’m not ready to talk yet,” Mito whispered.

Hashirama grew silent. He tried to meet Mito’s eyes, but she kept hers averted to avoid eye contact.

“…That’s fine, take the time you need. I’m worried about you though, are you eating? Are you getting enough sleep? Do you need me to bring you anything?”

“I’ll be fine, Hashirama,” Mito responded as she slowly closed the door in Hashirama’s face.

Hashirama’s attempt to respond was halted. He reached his hand out and gently caressed the closed, wooden door and sighed. He wanted to respect Mito’s boundaries, but this was killing him. He really wanted to talk it out with her. But what could he expect? It’s not like he can have it his way in this situation. The best thing he could do right now is to be there for her and respect her timing.

Dragging his feet across the ground, Hashirama left the walkway of their home and walked through Konoha as he became lost in his own thoughts. He soon found a nearby bench and sunk into the seat; his head tilted downwards to block out the scenery in front of him. What has he done? Hashirama beat himself up continuously in his head. He really messed up. It pained him to hurt someone he loved.  

From a distance, Madara slowly walked down a nearby street. He had left his home to make his way to a remote area to train because he had a lot on his mind and really needed to blow off some steam. These past few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about Hashirama, the Infinite Tsukuyomi, and the negative thoughts that plagued his mind.

Madara strolled down the street until he saw Hashirama sitting on the bench ahead of him. He briefly stopped as he wasn’t expecting to see Hashirama there. Fortunately, Hashirama didn’t notice him. He wasn’t in the mood to initiate more conversations with Hashirama because he knew the man would try and push him to spend time with him. That wasn’t what Madara needed right now. He needed to harden his resolve and leave the village.

Madara continued his walk before stopping again once he noticed something was off with Hashirama. He assessed Hashirama’s slouched shoulders, his frown, his saddened eyes. Honestly, for the past few days, he could tell Hashirama was going through something. But, Hashirama never said a word about it. Madara didn’t want to pry, because he knew if he tried, Hashirama might turn it back on him. And it would be hypocritical of him to expect Hashirama to open up, he supposed.

But truthfully, Hashirama was worrying Madara. He was used to Hashirama’s cheerful self after all. Hashirama was a resilient and optimistic man. He was good at seeing the positives in any negative situation he was in. He was good at making it out of his lowest lows and helping others get through their own as well. All of these qualities were a part of the long list of things Madara liked about Hashirama.

Madara continued to stare at Hashirama from a distance, debating whether he should walk up to him or not. He went back and forth in his head, “I should walk away… no I should be there for him. No, I need to break away, detach myself. I need to leave everything behind. I need to pursue my plan. I can’t keep getting pulled back by Hashirama. He has no room for a person like me… His light is too bright for me and my dark fate. But… he said he cared about me… But he could’ve just been saying that. He probably says that to everyone. I should go. I should keep walking. But… I should be there for him… But if he wanted me to be there for him, he would’ve told me what was going on, so no. But that’s ridiculous thinking, Madara. Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with me.”

Meanwhile, Hashirama was still engrossed in his own thoughts, not noticing Madara’s presence at all. He then looked up for a moment, suddenly locking eyes with Madara, who was standing ahead of him. He watched as Madara flinched before looking around awkwardly, appearing a bit flustered. He shifted in his position, looking as if he was about to walk away, but stopped and slowly raised his gloved hand up to wave.

Hashirama softly exhaled and flashed a slight grin, slowly waving back at Madara before turning his gaze back down again, returning to his racing thoughts. It was strange. After everything that went down with Mito, he started feeling way more intense butterflies whenever he saw Madara. If his marriage with Mito does end, he could seriously pursue Madara if he wanted to, and this made his heart race.

But first, he had to settle things with Mito, or else it wouldn’t feel right. Well, it probably won’t feel right for a while, but still, his priorities start with making amends with Mito first. She was the main person on his mind right now.

“That’s weird,” Madara thought to himself.

Madara expected Hashirama to walk up to him, get in his face, and ask him to do something. But this time, he didn’t. Madara briefly contemplated what to do next, but soon found himself walking towards Hashirama. He sat down next to him and remained silent, subconsciously waiting for Hashirama to say something. But no words. Nothing left Hashirama’s lips.

Madara looked over at Hashirama, examining his solemn facial expression. He could tell that Hashirama was in his head right now. He should ask. He should be there. Madara finally asked, “Is everything okay?”

Hashirama’s eyes slightly widened as he snapped out of his own bubble. He turned to Madara and grinned, “Yes! Sorry, I’m just tired.”

Madara slightly smirked. “You’re being dishonest. I can tell, you know?” he teased, alluding to the nagging he would get from Hashirama these past few weeks.

“Oh?” Hashirama grinned. “That makes the two of us then I guess,” Hashirama responded as he smirked.

Madara pouted and turned his head away from Hashirama. See? There was no way he was going to let Hashirama turn this back on him. To his surprise, Hashirama didn’t say another word. He was expecting Hashirama to turn the question back on him and ask if he was okay. But nothing. What was wrong? Madara didn’t like to admit it, but it hurt him to see Hashirama like this.

Madara looked back over at Hashirama to see that he was back to his own thoughts, looking down toward his lap. Madara wasn’t sure what to do. Usually, Hashirama was pretty open about the things that bothered him, but this time around was different. He wondered why. Madara glanced down at Hashirama’s hands, noticing as he subtly twiddled with thumbs, a nervous tic Madara was aware he had. Was he nervous about something?

“Is something important coming up?” Madara asked.

“Um… No, not that I can think of.”

Madara hummed in response. The two sat in silence for a few moments. Madara wasn’t the best at consoling people, especially when he didn’t know what was going through the other person’s mind. He wished he knew what was wrong though… what was going on in that head of his?

Madara shifted in his seat to find a more comfortable position, causing their thighs to touch. They both felt a zap rush through their bodies from the contact. Hashirama felt the urge to lean into Madara’s touch and pull him into a hug. But he desperately fought that desire. Instead, he kept his leg there, taking in Madara’s touch.

Meanwhile, Madara’s mind raced with all the things that could, but will never, be. Though he wasn’t the most affectionate person, Hashirama’s touch could be so… comforting. Madara kept his thigh against Hashirama’s, savoring his touch. But despite being this close, Madara believed Hashirama was still so far out of reach.

After they sat in silence for a few moments, Madara sighed and finally stood up.

“Well, if you need anything…” Madara’s voice trailed off. He was initially going to finish the sentence off by saying he was there for him, but why would Hashirama need anything from him? Apart from a listening ear, Madara didn’t feel like he had much to offer. Moreover, he still made the decision to leave the village after all, so he won’t be around for long... Right? So, would it be cruel to say he was there for him? But here he is, still here, in the village that he’s been saying he’d leave. Curses.

Madara shoved his gloved hands into his pocket and started walking away.

“Thank you, Madara. I’ll come to you if I do,” Hashirama responded as if he heard the full sentence in Madara’s mind.

Madara’s eyes widened, and his chest fluttered as he stopped in his tracks. He then hummed in response and continued walking, leaving Hashirama alone on the bench.

Hashirama smiled as he watched Madara walk away. There was no doubt that he loved that man. But first, he had to work things out with Mito and reflect on what he truly wanted for himself moving forward. Maybe then…

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hashirama called out, almost forgetting his daily ritual.

Madara stopped and turned to face Hashirama, meeting his gaze. They stared at each other in silence before Madara turned back around to continue walking.

Unappreciative of Madara’s lack of response, Hashirama asked again, “I’ll see you—”

“I’ll be around,” Madara interrupted before disappearing into the busy streets of Konoha.

Hashirama leaned back against the bench and smiled. “I’ll take your word for it,” he thought. As he stared ahead at the street where Madara once stood, Hashirama couldn’t help but think about Madara and his touch. Before his mind could wander further, he shook out those thoughts. Right now, he needed to focus on Mito… and reflect.

Mito, he needed to work things out with Mito. And once he does, maybe then…

Chapter Text

*Knock Knock Knock*

“Mito?”

It was the end of the day, and Hashirama stood at the doorstep of his home after deciding to check in on Mito after a long day of fulfilling his Hokage duties. In his hands were a bouquet of flowers he specially picked from his garden, as well as a container holding some of Mito’s favorite home-cooked foods. Ever since his confession, he had been committed to visiting Mito regularly to see how she was doing. However, Mito still wasn’t in the mood to talk to him. The last time Hashirama spoke with her was that night, and this killed him. But again, he still wanted to respect Mito’s space and process, knowing he had no right to demand anything from her after what he put her through.

Despite Mito distancing herself from him, Hashirama continued to show up for her by bringing her flowers and food, leaving them at the front door. Hashirama wasn’t sure if she was eating or even taking care of herself properly. He hadn’t even seen her outside since that night as well. But he assumed that she was at least opening the door and accepting his offerings when he left, because every time he came back with more flowers and food, the previous ones he brought were always gone.

After waiting a few seconds, Hashirama knocked on the door again, not really expecting Mito to open it. He sighed after receiving no response and gently placed the flower and container of home-cooked food on the doormat. Placing his hand on the door and closing his eyes, he checked to make sure she was in there, alive and breathing, which she was. Thank goodness.

“I left some food for you to eat. I’ll leave you alone now, let me know if you need anything and I’ll be here. I love you…” Hashirama said before slowly walking back into the streets, dragging his feet along the ground as he ran in circles in his head. What should he do? What is she thinking? Is she okay?

Good thing he had nothing else to do today. Hashirama surprisingly finished his required work for the day, wasn’t training any of his students today, and technically didn’t have someone to go home to. He then remembered he hadn’t seen Madara all day, so figured he should stop by.

Madara… Hashirama missed him. He admitted that these days, he hadn’t been spending as much time with Madara as usual. He has been so caught up in things with Mito that he sometimes couldn’t allow himself to indulge in Madara’s presence. There were multiple reasons: Part of it was because he was worried about accidentally telling Madara everything that was going on with him and Mito. Another reason was that he felt guilty savoring Madara’s presence, knowing how it made him feel, while there were still loose ends to tie up with Mito. It just didn’t feel right until he could make things right with her. Lastly, being around Madara these days just ignited more intense reactions—more yearning.  So Hashirama has been unintentionally creating more space, hoping that soon he can get even closer… closer in mind, heart… and body.

Hashirama slowly strolled the bustling streets of Konoha, taking in the sight of the scene in front of him—buildings and street vendors, villagers chatting and laughing amongst one another, children running up and down the streets, old women slowly trekking while carrying bags of groceries. A peaceful aura radiated from it all, causing Hashirama to grin, grateful for the relative peace he has worked to achieve for now. As villagers passed by, Hashirama nodded and waved, exchanging cheerful greetings. Despite the somber feelings that simmered inside his heart, he still managed to put a smile on his face, maintaining a happy demeanor for the passersby, appearing like a strong, reliable, and resilient leader.

Soon, the noise of the busy streets slowly faded as Hashirama traveled into the quieter areas leading up to the Uchiha district. As he entered, Hashirama thought, “I wonder if Madara is home.” He walked past a couple of Uchiha clansmen, greeting them with smiles and respectful nods. 

Hashirama slowed down once he noticed multiple official-looking Uchiha men shuffling out of a building. “They must’ve had a meeting,” he thought. He waited to see if Madara would exit at any point, but he didn’t. Hashirama wasn’t sure if he should be surprised. He was aware that Madara stepped down as the leader of the Uchiha clan but still wasn’t sure why. While yes, he heard of the rumors proposed by Mito and Tobirama, he wanted to hear it directly from Madara. But of course, Madara was being stubborn and Hashirama still hasn’t been able to wiggle it out of him.

Madara…

Hashirama grabbed his chin with his right hand, deep in thought. What was going on in Madara’s head? What wasn’t Madara telling him? Despite his mind being occupied with Mito these days, Hashirama was still concerned about Madara. He still had this uneasy… gut feeling that Madara was slipping away and could eventually disappear.

Hashirama let out a deep sigh. It was a lot to think about: juggling his possible divorce, attending to his Hokage duties with Tobirama constantly in his ears, processing his intense feelings for Madara, and worrying about Madara’s wellbeing. Oh, how he wishes he could just go back to the days when life was simpler… ah yes, when he was sleeping in the womb of his mother.

Finally, Hashirama arrived at Madara’s front door. He was excited when he could sense Madara’s presence but also felt a hint of nervousness. His stomach did flips at the thought of Madara opening the door and greeting him. Before Hashirama could knock, he felt a menacing presence nearby, as if someone just poured a pound of sand all over his body. He quickly turned around, only to see no one. The feeling was almost instantly gone, and Hashirama couldn’t sense anyone. Hashirama looked around for a while, searching for the source of that suspicious presence, but nothing.

“Huh… did I imagine it?” Hashirama whispered to himself. He waited for a few more seconds, concluding that the feeling really was gone. Weird. He finally raised his fist and knocked on Madaa’s door, hoping he would answer. After he didn’t get a response, he knocked again. Madara was going to open this door whether he liked it or not.

To Hashirama’s surprise, Madara opened the door before he could knock for a third time. A warm, fuzzy feeling quickly developed in his chest at the sight of Madara. Even though Hashirama saw Madara briefly yesterday, it still felt like he hadn’t seen him in forever, he still felt this exciting feeling. Madara was wearing a casual outfit: a dark blue colored shirt with an Uchiha crest on the back and some black pants. His hands weren’t gloved, so Hashirama figured he must’ve been home for a while. Oh, how Hashirama wished he could feel Madara’s touch. No. Hashirama tried to shake the thought off. He refused to allow himself to indulge in those thoughts. Not now.

Meanwhile, Madara stood there, waiting for Hashirama to say something, but he just… didn’t? Madara raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going on in his head while using that moment to take in the sight of Hashirama. He was wearing his usual casual day-to-day outfit: loose, flowy pants with a green kimono-style top and beige haori, a loose-fitting jacket.

“Um… hello?” Madara finally said after getting no greeting from Hashirama.

Hashirama quickly snapped back into reality, not realizing how long he had just been standing there. “O-Oh, sorry, hi!”

Madara sighed and crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. “Yes?”

“Yes what?” Hashirama asked.

“What brings you here?”

“Oh! Yes, sorry, I’m a little scatterbrained right now,” Hashirama said as he laughed it off.

“A little?” Madara thought, judging him heavily.

Hashirama continued, “Nothing really, I just wanted to see you for the day.”

Madara wasn’t surprised at this answer anymore because Hashirama had been doing this often. “Okay… well, you’ve seen me.”

“Right,” Hashirama responded. His mind was still a bit muddled. He wanted to stick around, but he knew staying with Madara longer at this moment would only fuel his guilt: the guilt of indulging in this pleasure while Mito was still ignoring him, hurt, and feeling betrayed at home. Hashirama then added, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Huhh??” Madara wasn’t expecting Hashirama to leave so quickly. He anticipated Hashirama to try and converse more, force himself in, and make himself at home until Madara kicked him out. But this time, Hashirama was willfully dismissing himself so soon after such a brief interaction. Madara noticed for the past two weeks or so that their interactions have been growing shorter and shorter, especially since the time on the bench when Madara noticed Hashirama’s sad expression. Since then, Hashirama still seemed off but hasn’t opened up to him about it. Regardless, Madara didn’t like this distance that was growing again between them. It was like his samples were coming to an end, and the real thing was out of reach.

“Are you… good? I expected you to do your annoying thing where you force your way into my house,” Madara said, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Hashirama laughed nervously while scratching the back of his head, “Hahaha, yes! I’m fine, I’m fine. Great, actually! Don’t worry about me.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed. Hashirama was terrible at lying, and he knew Hashirama wasn’t being truthful. “Sure,” he said, unconvinced.

Hashirama could tell that Madara wasn’t falling for his act, so he attempted to save himself by babbling about anything that came to mind. “Really! Sorry, I’m just… busy! Yeah, busy. You know, Tobirama and his demands, and all the meetings, and you know training my students, and responding to villagers’ requests. And I have to get back home to my…” Hashirama’s voice trailed off. He was about to say ‘wife,’ but managed to stop himself because technically it wasn’t true, and he didn’t want Madara thinking about Mito.

“Right. Well, don’t let me keep you,” Madara said flatly, masking any trace of hurt in his voice despite the heavy feeling in his chest. Of course that was the case. That’s always been the case. Before the night Hashirama got drunk and Madara helped him home, this was more or less the norm. Hashirama was a light that shone so bright it illuminated the entire village. He had his own life, his own loved ones, and people who looked up to him. A light that was never meant for Madara and his dark fate. But this was how things were supposed to be right? It’s why Madara came to the conclusion to leave the village. He had no one, and nothing left, and so had a reason to break free and bring his ultimate dream to fruition. Hashirama didn’t need him.

Madara stepped back and started closing the door before Hashirama quickly added, “B-But, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Whatever,” Madara responded as he attempted to push the door shut but was stopped by Hashirama’s hand.

“I think we’ve done this enough for you to know I won’t take that as an answer,” Hashirama said.

Madara sucked his teeth. “Do you really have the time to be doing this right now?”

“Of course I do.”

“I don’t know, it didn’t sound like you did earlier,” Madara remarked as he pushed the door harder, with his hand.

“That doesn’t matter,” Hashirama responded as he pushed harder to withstand Madara’s force.

They both pushed the door with increasing force, neither willing to yield to each other. Madara was now pushing the door with both hands while Hashirama leaned the side of his body against the door to oppose his force.  

“Hashi… rama… leave me… alone,” Madara grunted as he pushed against the door, now pressing the side of his body against the door to oppose Hashirama’s force.

“Ma…dara… will I… see you… tomorrow?”

The two gritted their teeth, slowly pushing against the door harder and harder to overcome each other’s force, the door slightly shifting back and forth. Madara could feel himself slipping backward until his foot caught his nearby shoe, causing him to stumble backward and onto the ground. The sudden absence of Madara’s force caused Hashirama to stumble forward, forcefully swinging the door open and breaking the hinges of the door. The broken door slammed onto the ground as Hashirama staggered forward and fell down toward Madara. He was able to catch himself on all fours, hovering slightly over Madara’s body with their faces just inches apart.

Their eyes slightly widened, and they could feel their cheeks grow warm and their hearts begin to race, neither able to say a word. Hashirama admired Madara’s beauty from up close. His hair was slightly out of his face, revealing both of his beautiful eyes and long, thick eyelashes. And his lips… Oh, how Hashirama wanted to lower his body onto Madara’s and pull him into a kiss. Madara was also having a hard time resisting his desires, as his eyes wandered between Hashirama’s lips and the rest of his face. They soon met each other’s gaze, staring longingly into the dark pools of each other’s eyes.

Finally, Hashirama asked, “A-Are you okay?”

Breaking out of his daze, Madara muttered, “I’m fine.” He turned away to avoid further eye contact. He couldn’t handle it. Hashirama was too close. His eyes landed on the damaged door on the ground beside him and his longing desire was slowly being replaced by irritation.

“Hashirama!” Madara exclaimed as he pressed his bare hand against Hashirama’s chest to push him away. Part of Madara’s bare hand touched part of Hashirama’s exposed chest, sending a pleasurable thrill down Hashirama’s body. Madara continued, “Look what you did to my damn door!”

Hashirama quickly glanced toward the door before turning his head back to look at Madara. “Wait, ME?!” Hashirama exclaimed as he shifted off Madara.

“Yes, you,” Madara said as he stood up.

Hashirama stood up after him and asked, “How was this my fault?!”

The two bickered about who was to blame for the door. Madara argued that Hashirama was the one to swing it open, while Hashirama argued that Madara was the one to suddenly stop pushing with no warning in the first place.

They went back and forth until Hashirama finally concluded, “BUT no worries. I will fix it.”

“Fix it? My door? How? When?” Madara questioned, annoyed.

“Right now.”

“You can fix this door?” Madara asked with little faith in Hashirama’s abilities.

“Madara, Madara, Madara.” Hashirama playfully shook his head while clicking his tongue. “You’ll learn to stop underestimating me. Do you have a toolbox?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why not?”

“What kind of man doesn’t have a toolbox?”

Madara raised an eyebrow. “Why would I own a toolbox?? Do you have a toolbox?”

“Of course I do,” Hashirama responded. He then smirked and shook his finger, “You thought you were gonna me with that one, didn’t you?”

Madara’s eye twitched as Hashirama burst into laughter. Irritated, Madara threatened, “You better fix this door before I give you something else to fix.”

Hashirama’s laughter halted as he flinched before being overcome by his habitual depressed demeanor. “Okay, okay, okay, I’ll go get some parts to fix the door…” Hashirama said, sounding dejected, as he slowly turned around and dragged his feet out the entrance. With a smirk, he then added, “…and my toolbox.” Hashirama giggled when he could feel Madara glare at him in response, and quickly scurried away before Madara could say or do anything.

Madara sucked his teeth and went to sit down on his couch until Hashirama returned. He looked over at the spot where Hashirama once stood and sighed. Why does being around Hashirama make him feel so… good? Madara groaned as he leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He hated the way Hashirama made him feel.

After about an hour, Hashirama came back with some new door hinges, screws, and a doorknob, along with his toolbox. He greeted Madara and placed the items on the floor near where he would be working. Activating his wood-style jutsu, Hashirama created a new wooden door.

“So, you’re really going to fix this door?” Madara asked as he walked over to join Hashirama’s side.

“Yes, I don’t go back on my word,” Hashirama responded as he sat down.

Madara hummed in response and sat down near Hashirama. “So, you fix things.”

“Hmm… I guess you can say that.” Hashirama started arranging the pieces and tools he’d need to fix the door and continued, “When I was younger, my father used to say, ‘What’s the point in making wooden parts if you don’t even know how to put them together?’  So, I learned how to do basic carpentry.”

“Ehh? I didn’t know that about you…”

Hashirama grinned. “I don’t do it often, because I want to give true carpenters their deserved work opportunities. I also don’t talk about it I guess, so I don’t blame you for not knowing.” Hashirama finally finished arranging everything. “Okay!” he exclaimed. He slipped off his haori, exposing his arms, then tied his hair up into a man bun, allowing some short strands of hair to fall down the side of his face. Once ready, he started getting to work.

Madara was captivated by the sight of Hashirama. Hashirama was usually goofy, smiley, exuding infectious charm. But there was also always something about the serious and focused Hashirama that was so… alluring to Madara. His tied-up hair, his focused eyes, his slightly pursed lips, his busy hands—it was all so mesmerizing. Oh, how he wanted to be wrapped in Hashirama’s strong, tanned arms.

As Madara fantasized about Hashirama, he could feel his cheeks flush as a wave of pleasure traveled down his body and to his crotch. He quickly turned away so as not to let his mind wander further. What was he doing? He shouldn’t even be thinking this way. Why was he indulging in these thoughts when he knew Hashirama was way out of his reach? When he knew he made the decision to ultimately abandon him and the village?

The two sat in silence for a while, Hashirama focused on fixing the door while Madara watched. Hashirama finally broke the silence, leading to casual light-hearted discussions between them. They didn’t mention any of their troubles and just talked about anything else that came to mind, which felt… nice. It was as if nothing else mattered in the world, and it was just them, conversing and savoring each other’s company.

After being with Madara for some time, Hashirama could feel a small sense of peace creep into his troubled heart. Being with Madara, getting lost in conversation, and not worrying about anything else in the world just felt… nice. He wanted more times like these, and he was almost glad he broke the door because it allowed him to spend this time with Madara he would’ve otherwise skipped out on.

As Hashirama carefully screwed the last screw into the door frame, he couldn’t help but smile. Once done, he slowly opened and closed the door to make sure it was fully functional before turning to Madara and flashing him a satisfied look. He released his hair from the bun and shook his head as his hair gracefully fell down the side of his face and down his back.

“All done! By yours truly,” Hashirama announced as he playfully bowed.

Madara walked towards the door and slowly opened and closed it to test it out. “It feels different,” Madara said.

Hashirama pouted. “Why can’t you just be grateful?”

“Huh?? Why should I be grateful to the person who broke my door?”

“It wasn’t even entirely my fault! Could you have fixed this door?”

“Actually, I could’ve.”

“Huhh??? Says the person who doesn’t even have a toolbox!”

The two men found themselves going back and forth again, transitioning into playful banter, both readily responding to each other with clever remarks. Suddenly, a brief, soft chuckle escaped Hashirama’s lips.

“What’s so funny?” Madara asked.

“Nothing… Nothing… this just… feels nice,” Hashirama said as he grabbed his haori and slipped it back on before bringing his finger to his cheek and nervously scratching it. “I guess I’ve just missed you is all.”

Madara’s eyes slightly gaped. He didn’t know how to respond but hearing those words made his chest flutter, especially with everything that’s been going on lately. He didn’t even realize there was a slight grin on his face. Madara finally responded, “And you express that you miss me by breaking my door?”

Hashirama quickly prepared to defend himself but stopped when he noticed Madara’s grin. His eyes widened. It wasn’t a fake grin or one of those recent grins that made him feel uneasy. It was a genuine grin. Hashirama slowly relaxed and softly chuckled, “I guess so.”

Madara quickly straightened his lips when he noticed he was grinning and started walking toward the door. “Anyway, you should leave. You have a wife to go home to, right?”

“R-Right…” Hashirama stuttered as he followed Madara toward the door. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Hmph. Fine, I’ll play your little game this evening. Only because you fixed my door.”

“So... I’ll see you—”

“Yes, Hashirama, I’ll be around,” Madara interrupted, annoyed that Hashirama wouldn’t just accept an implied answer.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Hashirama smiled and waved goodbye before taking his leave and heading back to Tobirama’s place for the night.

Madara slowly closed the door and leaned against it, thinking about what Hashirama said. That he missed him. Those words rang in his ears, bringing him a little joy in his despaired-filled heart. But Hashirama has been pulling away for a while, making it a little hard for Madara to believe in his words. But maybe, things will start being different again… Little did Madara know that the next day, things would go back to how things had been: very brief interactions.

For the past several days, since the evening of the broken door, things have been rather… bland between Hashirama and Madara.

Hashirama fell into a pretty regular routine: woken up by Tobirama at the crack of dawn to report to the Hokage office, followed by hours of office work and endless meetings. On days when he decided to check in on Mito, he would go to his garden—located in a quiet spot near the Hokage Tower—and pick out a special arrangement of flowers. Afterward, he’d pick some food up for Mito, whether takeout or homemade, and make his way to their house after a long day. Occasionally, he would fortunately run into Madara during these trips from time to time, briefly saying hello and pestering him until he agreed he’d see him the next day. Once at his house, Hashirama would knock, but when there was no answer, he’d leave the flowers and food on the doorstep and take his leave.

For the rest of his day, Hashirama would spiral in his mind, hoping Mito was doing okay since he wasn’t getting any verbal feedback from her. Then he’d either find himself doing extra Hokage work, training his students, or sulking in bed until he fell asleep and repeated everything the next day. On days when he didn’t stop by to see Mito, he’d pretty much spend that time occupying himself to escape his racing thoughts until he remembered to find Madara. Seeing Madara was the highlight of his day, but a feeling he wouldn’t allow himself to indulge in too much. So, whether he found Madara walking the streets or at home, he’d briefly greet him before going off about his day.

Hashirama really wished Mito would talk to him, yet he hadn’t heard a word from her since that night, nor had he seen her outside at all. He tried to ask her friends whether they had hung out with her recently, but all of them expressed how they hadn’t even seen her lately and how they were starting to worry. Hashirama always tried to reassure them without disclosing too much. Since things were still heavily up in the air and no one knew what was going on between them, Hashirama kept it to himself, with the exception of venting to Tobirama, out of respect for their privacy.

On the other hand, Madara was really feeling Hashirama’s relative absence once again. His days have been more or less the same, only with less Hashirama. He’d wake up, mope, train, mope, consume himself in the contents of the Uchiha Stone Tablet, tell himself that he’s the savior of the world, convince himself to finally leave, and mope some more. Sometimes, he would run into Hashirama and have brief conversations. Other times, Hashirama would come to his home, but wouldn’t stay long.

But it isn’t a mystery to him that Hashirama has been off. He’s noticed this, of course. Noticed how troubled he seemed. But Hashirama already knew he could come to Madara if he needed anything, so Madara figured he wasn’t needed by Hashirama this time around. And maybe not anymore…

One day, as Madara lay in bed, he could feel his frustrations building up. Curse him for allowing himself to be pulled in by Hashirama. And curse him for faltering. He had a goal to achieve. Madara quickly shot up in bed, thinking of what to do next. He could finally just get Hashirama’s cells like he needed and get the fuck out of there.

Madara tapped his thigh with his finger. “I need the cells to awaken the Rinnegan. When I awaken the Rinnegan, I’ll summon the Gedo statue… when I summon the Gedo statue, I’ll collect all the tailed beast… and once I do that, I can cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi,” Madara mumbled to himself. He paused. “I need to get to work.”

Madara quickly got out of bed, pacing around his bedroom. “But wait, once I have Hashirama’s cells… how will I awaken the Rinnegan? Do I need to wait? Do I need to go through tragedy at a similar level needed to awaken the Mangekyou Sharingan? I need to do some research.”

Madara quickly shuffled out of his room and towards his front door, slipping on his gloves and shoes before going out into the world. He walked the streets of Konoha until he reached the library. As he entered the library, he went straight to the rows of tall bookshelves, ignoring Himari’s, the librarian’s, greeting.

“Rinnegan… Rinnegan… Rinnegan,” Madara quietly whispered to himself as he scanned the towers of books in front of him. He ran his gloved finger along the side of each book, looking for titles that sounded like they’d have useful information for him. Madara traveled down the rows, periodically slipping books off the shelves and adding them to the slowly growing stack in his hands. Once he felt like he gathered enough, he took the books to the front to get them checked out, gently placing the stack on the desk.

“Will this be all?” Himari asked as she flashed a polite smile.

“Mhm.”

“Great, let me get these checked out for you…” Himari proceeded to check the books out for Madara. There was silence between them for a while as Himari performed her task. She briefly looked up to notice Madara staring off to the side as if he was lost in his own thoughts or something.

In an attempt to engage in small talk, Himari said, “Lovely weather we’re having today, right? It’s all nice and sunny.”

Madara’s gaze shifted to Himari, his eyes slightly narrowed. “We haven’t achieved true peace yet and you’re trying to talk to me about the weather?” He said, which came out a little harsh.

“S-Sorry,” Himari stuttered as she checked out the last book. “A-All done!”

Madara grabbed the stack from the desk without saying another word and left the building. Himari released a deep breath that she didn’t even realize she was holding. She felt herself briefly lose balance, placing her hands on her desk to support herself. Madara could be quite scary.

As Madara walked down the steps and into the street, he saw Isamu Uchiha, the new Uchiha clan leader, approaching. Great. One of the last people he wanted to see.

Isamu Uchiha was on his way to a building near the library when he happened to see Madara Uchiha. Ever since the day Madara stepped down, he hadn’t really interacted with him, and Madara hasn’t shown any interest in interacting with the clan leaders, or the clan in general. But as the new clan head, Isamu figured he should at least acknowledge Madara’s presence.

As the two approached each other, Isamu gave a slight nod, but Madara kept staring straight ahead without acknowledging him. Isamu quickly glanced down at the books in Madara’s hands before they finally passed each other and walked their separate ways.

Isamu paused once he finally processed what he had just seen. “What is Madara doing with books about dojutsu and the Sage of the Six Paths?” he thought. Isamu wondered in his head, taking a mental note of their interaction before continuing his trip to his destination. What was Madara Uchiha up to?

Once Madara arrived home, he went to his living room and spread the books across the floor. He checked out more of them than he expected but now wasn’t the time to fixate on that. Madara grabbed the book closest to him and opened it, proceeding to read it for the rest of the day, well into the night.

Chapter Text

“Wake up, brother!”

Hashirama groaned as he slowly woke up to Tobirama’s nagging voice. Not now. He pulled his bed sheets over his head to block out the sound of Tobirama’s words. However, the covers were quickly pulled off him, and the cold air hit his bare skin, causing him to shiver.

“Wake up. We need to get into the office,” Tobirama demanded.

Rubbing his eyes, Hashirama slowly sat up and looked over at the clock that hung on the wall. He frowned at the time and mumbled, “Tobirama, it’s 6:30 AM. My first meeting isn’t until 9 o’clock.”

“Yes, but you need to get some work done before then. You still have a lot of catching up to do,” Tobirama responded as he crossed his arms and looked down at Hashirama.  

Hashirama buried his face into his hands and whimpered. “Tobirama, please, just 10 more minutes,” he pleaded as he attempted to pull the covers back over him and lay back down, but Tobirama showed no mercy. He yanked the covers off the bed and threw it on the ground.

“No. Get up. I’ll be back here in 5 minutes if I don’t hear you in the bathroom,” Tobirama said sternly as he walked out of the room.

Hashirama groaned as he collapsed back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling with his groggy eyes. Tobirama was such an early bird, and he always got to the Hokage tower relatively early to get started on his work. Now that Hashirama was temporarily living with him, he’s been dragging Hashirama to work early along with him to get work done. Hashirama sighed and sat back up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He really didn’t feel like getting up. Waking up these days had been difficult for him because as soon as he opened his eyes, all of his worries immediately flooded his mind, making his chest feel heavy. 

Before Hashirama could stand up, he thought to himself, “Wait a minute… I’m the Hokage. And I have free will…” Convinced, Hashirama grabbed his covers from the floor and pulled them back over his body as he rested his head on his pillow to go back to sleep.  

Five minutes later, Tobirama came back to Hashirama’s room. His eye twitched in irritation when he saw his older brother comfortably snug in bed. His initial thought was to force Hashirama to get up, but Tobirama ultimately decided to show him some mercy for now. He knew Hashirama had a lot on his mind these days and was going through an emotionally rough patch. Well, at least he’d successfully been able to get Hashirama to complete more work than he usually does these days. At the end of the day, Tobirama knew Hashirama would step up for the village when it truly mattered, so he decided to just let it go this morning. 

Tobirama sighed. “I’ll go ahead without you then. But you better not be late for the first meeting at nine o’clock,” Tobirama said as he closed the door.

A smile slowly crept onto Hashirama’s face, thankful for the extra time Tobirama decided to give him this morning. He soon drifted off to sleep for what felt like only a few minutes. But when he opened his eyes again, he looked at the clock to see that it was 8:45 AM. 

“CRAP!”

Hashirama immediately shot out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to freshen up. With his toothbrush in his mouth, he ran back to his bedroom and grabbed his clothes, wiggling into them while attempting to brush his teeth at the same time. Once his clothes were on, he looked around the room while brushing to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything before running to the bathroom to spit and grab a hairbrush. Scurrying to the kitchen while brushing his disheveled hair, Hashirama grabbed a cold rice ball from the fridge and shoved it into his mouth. He threw the hairbrush onto the kitchen counter before running to the main entrance and clumsily slipping on his shoes. As he ran out, he slammed the door shut, taking a few steps forward before remembering to go back and lock the door.

Hashirama then rushed to the Hokage tower, opting to jump from building to building instead of running through the streets to avoid having to weave through villagers. When he finally made it, he ran through the halls, quickly greeting those he passed by. When he finally arrived at the meeting room, he slammed the door open and skidded to a stop in the middle of the room. Hashirama looked over at the nearby clock on the wall, which read 8:59 AM.

“SAFE!” Hashirama exclaimed as he pumped his fists in the air. Bringing his hands down to his hips, he flashed a satisfied smile. He turned to see Tobirama, who was the only other person in the room, sitting at the table.

“Tobirama! Good morning!” Hashirama cheerfully greeted as he walked over to have a seat next to him. “Um… so… what was this meeting for again?” Hashirama asked, flashing a sheepish smile.

Tobirama gave him a disapproving look and rolled his eyes. “To formally meet the new leader of the Uchiha Clan, Isamu Uchiha.”

“Oh! Right, right! I knew that!” Hashirama said as booming laughter escaped his mouth, echoing through the room until his laughter gradually faded. “Isamu Uchiha, huh?” Hashirama noted as he leaned back against his chair. That name continued to echo in his mind. He was well aware of who Isamu was. In fact, he knew everyone in the village. To Hashirama, it made sense why Isamu Uchiha was chosen as the new leader. He was a highly regarded, well-respected man. However, he wasn’t up to the same caliber as Madara. No one can top Madara in Hashirama’s eyes. It was still difficult for Hashirama to accept that Madara just stepped down. Why would he do that? And unfortunately, he’s had no luck getting an answer out of Madara.

The two men sat in silence for a moment before it was interrupted by a brief knock on the door.

“Excuse me,” a voice traveled from the other side of the door. The door slowly opened, revealing Isamu Uchiha. He walked in and bowed to greet Hashirama and Tobirama, who stood up from their seats to return the greeting. They then sat down at the table, ready to engage in conversation.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Lord Hokage, Lord Tobirama,” Isamu said before they all dove into discussion. The men spoke about a multitude of things revolving around the affairs of the Uchiha clan and Konoha, each individual remaining respectful towards each other and showing genuine interest in each other’s thoughts. These discussions went on for about thirty minutes before they shifted to another topic. 

“But overall, Lord Hokage, Lord Tobirama, on behalf of the Uchiha clan, I assure you we will do the utmost to ensure peaceful collaboration and coexistence within Konoha,” Isamu said.

Hashirama waved his hands in front of him and chuckled, attempting to create a more relaxing environment. “No need to be so formal, Isamu! The Uchiha clan is a valuable member of Konoha! Let’s put the history of the previous era behind us and move forward. You are all our precious comrades, and together we can work toward protecting what matters the most: the village, and protecting the peace of everyone who resides here—men, women, and children!”

Isamu was a bit taken aback at Hashirama’s nonchalance. He was always aware of how powerful and highly respected Hashirama was. Before Konoha, he had faced the Senju in battle multiple times and was always in awe to see Hashirama and Madara fight against each other at a level far beyond the rest of the clan. So once Isamu started to get to know Hashirama, he was not expecting such a boisterous, friendly, and goofy personality.

“I second everything Hashirama said,” Tobirama added. He proceeded to ask about the status of the Military Police Force, which he and Isamu started to talk about in detail. Hashirama took this as an opportunity to zone out for the next few minutes as he looked over to the window and appreciated the vast blue skies. Oh, how nice it would be to be outside.

“Lastly, I wanted to talk about Madara Uchiha,” Isamu said.

At the sound of Madara’s name, Hashirama quickly turned his head back to face Isamu.

“What about him?” Hashirama asked in an unexpectedly serious tone. It was like Hashirama’s whole demeanor shifted. 

“As you know, Madara Uchiha stepped down as the leader of the Uchiha clan. I want to emphasize that any of Madara’s actions moving forward are not associated with the Uchiha clan nor is it a representation of the sentiments or motives of the Uchiha clan in any way.”

Oh? To Hashirama, it sounded like a very intentional statement, and he was curious to know what brought it about. He asked, “Why do you say that?”

Isamu continued, “I, along with other members of the clan, have been suspicious of Madara Uchiha’s motives.”

Tobirama’s eyes narrowed. “Suspicious?”

“We think he may be plotting something, potentially bringing disorder to the village and perhaps beyond.”

Hashirama’s heart sunk at the words that escaped Isamu’s mouth. However, Tobirama didn’t even look a bit surprised, almost as if he expected to hear what Isamu said.

Isamu continued, “Madara Uchiha’s behaviors have been questionable, I’d say more now than before. He stopped showing interest in the affairs of the clan and started distancing himself. We’ve noticed he disappears for long periods and time. Recently, I passed by Madara on his way out of the library with many books about dojutsu and the Sage of the Six Paths. What man, who has already attained and mastered the highest level of the Sharingan, the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, needs to do more research on dojutsu? It makes me believe that he’s plotting something, something that may require whatever he’s currently researching.”

Tobirama brought his hand to his chin and started to reflect on Isamu’s words. Indeed, it did sound suspicious, and all of it affirmed Tobirama’s suspicions as well

Isamu continued, “And thus, I suggest we surveil Madara Uchiha as he may become a threat to the village.”

Tobirama hummed in response. He’s been wanting to do this for a while now and figured now was the best time to start before they missed anything. Tobirama responded, “I agree, surveillance on Madara Uchiha is necessary.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hashirama said.

Both Tobirama and Isamu turned to Hashirama, surprised by his opposition.

“But Hashi—”

“I said, that won’t be necessary,” Hashirama interrupted as he turned to Tobirama with a serious expression on his face, causing Tobirama to yield. Hashirama’s face soon relaxed and he sighed, leaning back against his chair as he continued, “It’s too soon to jump to conclusions without getting a clearer picture. How are we so sure of anything you two are suspecting? Besides, don’t underestimate Madara. Do you think he wouldn’t notice if you assigned someone to watch him?”

“With all due respect, Lord Hokage, I think we have enough evidence to validate our suspicions,” Isamu argued.

Hashirama held his hand out and grinned. “Let me handle Madara. Don’t worry about it, Isamu.” 

Isamu shifted in his seat. He wasn’t expecting Hashirama to take this so lightly. He then glanced at Tobirama, who was silently staring at Hashirama with a critical gaze. Isamu let out a subtle sigh before turning back to Hashirama.

“Very well then. I trust that you will handle Madara Uchiha,” Isamu responded, though reluctantly. 

“Great!” Hashirama responded enthusiastically despite the tense aura that filled the room. There was a brief silence as the air in the room grew heavy until Hashirama lightened it up with his laughter. “Let’s not be so tense guys! It’s a beautiful day outside, a great time to be alive! There’s no need to worry!”

Tobirama sighed while Isamu let out a brief chuckle.

“I suppose so,” Isamu said, relaxing his tense shoulders. He supposed he should just leave things to the Hokage, acknowledging that he played his part for now in the matter. If Hashirama said he would handle it, then Isamu hoped that was the case. Besides, given Madara’s caliber, there was no one else better to face him if worse came to worst. 

“Are there any last things you wanted to bring up, Isamu?” Hashirama asked, eager to end the meeting soon.

“No sir.”

“Wonderful, well—” Before Hashirama could bring things to an end, he remembered something. “Actually… Speaking of suspicions… Isamu, have you noticed any suspicious, almost like… foreign, presence around the area where you and most of the Uchiha clansmen live?” He was referring to that menacing presence he felt several days ago the evening he fixed Madara’s door. 

“Suspicious foreign presence?” Isamu gave it a thought, trying to recall whether he’d noticed anything lately. “I don’t believe so.”

“I see… Well, forget about it then! It was nice speaking with you today, Isamu,” Hashirama said with a smile, trying not to raise any new worries among them. He wanted to believe he must’ve imagined it, but given how intense that feeling was, he hadn’t been able to.

All three men stood up from their seats. Isamu bowed and said, “Thank you for your time today, Lord Hokage, Lord Tobirama. I look forward to working with you.”

“Like I said, no need to be so formal,” Hashirama responded with a smile, holding out his hand for a handshake. The men said their goodbyes before Isamu dismissed himself.

Once the door finally shut, Tobirama turned to Hashirama. “How exactly are you planning to handle Madara, brother?” he finally asked.

“Hmm…” Hashirama turned to face the window, taking in the view as he continued, “By getting to him and learning what’s in his heart.”

“Getting to him??”

“Yes, I can tell something is wrong with Madara, but I don’t know what yet. So, I will keep trying to get to him until he opens up to me.”

“Brother! How many times do I have to tell you that that tactic doesn’t always work with people? You can’t get to everybody. Sometimes you need to be cautious and resort to action. You can’t always assume people are inherently good. Not everyone is willing to collaborate and walk the peaceful path you wish to take. If you keep thinking this way, people will take advantage of you.”

“I know that, Tobirama. But I’m serious about this. I’ll get to him. I can feel it.”

Tobirama sucked his teeth. “You better not let your love for Madara cloud your judgment, Hashirama. You’re the Hokage first.”

“I’m well aware of that Tobi,” Hashirama said as he looked over at Tobirama, who was giving him a stern look. He smiled and placed his hand on Tobirama’s hair, ruffling it, “Why the long face, Tobi? You should stop being so serious all the time,” he joked as he pinched Tobirama’s cheek and continued, “It’ll age you, you know?”

Tobirama swiped away Hashirama’s hand. “Stop it. I’m not a child,” he mumbled. “On different matters, what is this suspicious foreign presence that you speak of?”

“Oh, right. I meant to tell you earlier, but it slipped my mind. Probably because I haven’t felt it since. But while I was at Madara’s a few days ago, I felt something. Like something was there, something evil. It was only for a brief moment, but it was definitely there.”

“Hmm…” Tobirama hadn’t sensed anything out of the ordinary in the village, and he considered himself to be a skillful sensor-type ninja. Is there someone evading his senses? “Maybe we should deploy some ninjas to survey the village.”

“I agree, let’s do that.”

“Right, I’ll also keep a closer eye on things,” Tobirama said as he started walking towards the door.

“I’ll keep a lookout as well. Oh, and Tobirama, I was serious when I said not to send anyone to surveil Madara. Let me handle this.”

Tobirama hummed in response as he exited the room.

Hashirama collapsed back down into his seat, letting out a deep sigh. This uneasy feeling started creeping into his chest again as he thought about how Madara was brought up in their meeting. Hashirama wasn’t completely oblivious, he understood why Isamu and Tobirama would have their suspicions because he’d also noticed a shift in Madara. Could this be related to this answer of true peace Madara said he found? Was Madara up to something? Regardless, what Isamu and Tobirama, and probably what everyone else was failing to see, was that Madara was hurting. He could hear it in his voice, feel it when they exchanged fists, and see it on his face when he let his guard down. Madara could be sinking, trying to claw himself out of a dark abyss. Yet, he won’t let Hashirama reach out and help. But Hashirama hasn’t given up yet. He knows he’ll be able to get to him. He’ll make sure that he’ll get to him. No matter what.

Hashirama glanced out the window, focusing again on the beautiful blue skies. He sighed at the thought of his busy schedule today. He also planned to check on Mito today but didn’t have any high hopes about her speaking with him today. His days haven’t been the best lately, but what made them worth it was seeing Madara, even if it was just for a moment. 

“I can't wait to see Madara today…” Hashirama whispered to himself. 

“Fuji, your mission is to keep an eye on Madara Uchiha and report any suspicious actions directly to me,” Tobirama commanded. He was standing in his private office, speaking with a shinobi, who was kneeling in front of him. The man had long brown hair tied back into a low ponytail and pale eyes with a subtle lavender tint. 

“Yes sir,” Fuji Hyuga responded. 

“I’m assigning you this mission because you’re one of our best spies here in Konoha. Make sure Madara doesn’t catch you. Understood?” 

“Yes sir.” 

Tobirama paused for a moment, remembering the conversation he had with Hashirama earlier. He knew Hashirama didn’t want surveillance on Madara, but he couldn’t justify just sitting back. 

“Is there anything else I need to know, Lord Tobirama?” Fuji asked.

“That is all. Don’t underestimate Madara Uchiha. You and I are both aware of what he’s capable of. Proceed with caution. Your mission starts now. You’re dismissed.” 

“Yes sir!” Fuji responded before disappearing.

Tobirama sighed and thought, “I’m sorry, brother, but I must take the necessary precautions for the sake of the village.” 

Chapter Text

“Bro…ther…”

Madara quickly turned towards a familiar, high-pitched voice. He found himself in a dark vast forest, all alone, but wasn’t sure how he got there. 

“Brother… help me…”

Madara turned again. The voice sounded like that of one of his younger brothers, but he couldn’t see anyone. “Shio?” Madara called out. 

“Brother… help me. Am I going to die?”

Madara kept looking around as his chest grew heavy and his heart raced, desperately searching for where the voice was coming from. Shio sounded like he was in danger. His voice was weak, pleading. Where was he? Where was his voice coming from? 

“Brother… please, help me. I don’t want to die,” the fearful voice echoed through the dark forest.

“Shio? Shio!” Madara yelled as he started running through the dark forest, weaving through trees and running through bushes, desperately searching for his younger brother. But no matter how far he ran, how many turns he made, and how many bushes he rummaged through, his younger brother was nowhere to be seen.

“Brother…”

“Shio! Where are you? Tell me where you are!” Madara’s voice grew louder and louder as panic started overwhelming him. 

“Brother! No, no, please. Leave me alone. I don’t want to die, no!” The voice’s plea was followed by a piercing shrill that rang in Madara’s ears. 

“SHIO!” Madara’s heart sank at the sound of his brother’s scream. His breath grew heavy as his anxiety skyrocketed. He ran around what felt like an endless forest without any luck in finding his younger brother. Madara continued to desperately call out to him.

“Shio! Shio! Where are you?! Shio! Shi—”

“Bro…ther…”

Madara paused at the sound of a different familiar voice; it was deeper, more mature. And Madara could easily tell it was Izuna’s. He slowly turned around, his heart pounding, and was terrified at the sight before him: A bloodied-up Izuna with a sword piercing his chest.

“Izu…na…?”

“Bro—” Blood gushed out of Izuna’s mouth and he began to sway.

“Izuna!” Madara immediately started running toward Izuna, but it felt like no matter how long he ran, he wasn’t getting any closer to him. He kept frantically calling out to his younger brother as he watched Izuna slowly fall backward until his body hit the ground.

“Izuna! Izuna! Izu—” Madara tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground, a grunt escaping his lips. He quickly looked ahead to see Izuna’s lifeless body, his eyes devoid of any spark. Madara’s eyes widened, and his breathing grew uneven. Izuna was dead. He was dead and Madara couldn’t save him. 

“Izuna…” Madara’s voice quivered. “Izuna! IZUNA!”

Madara quickly woke up, panting. His heart was pounding and his body felt extremely warm, with sweat beading on his forehead. He found himself on the floor and propped himself up, quickly looking around to see that he was in his living room and surrounded by books he had recently checked out from the library. 

“It was just another nightmare…” Madara whispered to himself. He looked over at his window to see that it was nighttime. He figured he must’ve fallen asleep while reading his book. Madara sighed and leaned back against his couch, steadying his breath in hopes that his heart would stop racing. As he sat in silence, Madara closed his eyes and tried to forget his nightmare until he felt a sudden gnawing hunger. Softly groaning, Madara realized he hadn’t eaten all day, which was starting to become a really bad habit. 

Madara pushed his body off the floor and slowly walked over to his kitchen. He opened the fridge to see there was barely anything in it: just some water and a half-eaten carrot. He then opened his pantry and cabinets, but no food, just soy sauce and other spices. Madara groaned. “Hashirama’s cooking would be so good right now,” he thought. However, he quickly shook that thought away. He needed to get food, his body felt so weak. 

He reluctantly made his way to his front door, slipped his gloves and shoes on, and walked out to get some food for him to eat. But as soon as he left his house, he froze. He felt eyes on him. He felt like someone was watching him. No, he was sure someone was watching him.  

“Huh?” Madara turned towards his right and looked up towards the roof of a distant building. It was dark outside so it was harder to see everything, but Madara could sense that there was definitely someone there watching his every move. He swiftly arrived at the top of the building and stood behind the crouching shinobi, startling him when he turned around. Grabbing him by the neck, Madara slowly raised him off the ground and glared at him, flashing his Sharingan. 

“Who sent—” Madara paused when he realized it was a Konoha shinobi, Fuji, who specialized in tracking/spying. His eyes slowly widened, and his throat tightened as he processed what was going on. Meanwhile, the shinobi frantically grabbed at Madara’s arm as he grunted, struggling to breathe. His swaying legs trembled at Madara’s threatening presence and his vision began to blur. 

Madara locked eyes with Fuji and finally asked, “Who sent you?” 

The shinobi remained silent, refusing to share the details of his mission. This was a mission Lord Tobirama had just assigned to him that day, and he was ashamed that he was caught this quickly. He continued to squeeze Madara’s arm, hoping he would let go. But Madara was so frustrated and confused that he didn’t realize he was strengthening his grip around Fuji’s neck, further cutting off his circulation.

“I said, who sent you?” Madara asked again, now more demanding as his Sharingan slowly transformed into the Mangekyou Sharingan. 

This instilled great fear in Fuji because he knew if Madara really wanted to, he could kill him in an instant. But he at least wanted to put up a fight. Fuji gathered chakra in his hand and attempted to strike Madara, but Madara quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him.  

“Fuji Hyuga, you don’t want to make me angry,” Madara said with a threatening tone, his eyes narrowing.

Feeling terrified and defeated, Fuji quickly confessed, forcing the words out of his tight throat. “L-L-Lord… T-Tobi… rama…” 

“Tobirama?”

As the color slowly left Fuji’s face, he began to feel light-headed, and his vision slowly began to fade while his byakugan slowly deactivated. He mustered up the last of his energy to plea, “P-Please don’t kill me… I h-have a f-family… P-P-Please…” 

Madara’s eyes widened when he realized what he was doing. He quickly let go of Fuji, causing him to fall to the ground. Fuji took a deep breath and exploded into a coughing fit, trying his best to fill his lungs with air. Madara slowly backed up as he felt a lump develop in the back of his throat. Killing Fuji was not his intention, but he couldn’t help but feel rage course through his veins. He looked down at his gloved hand before turning his gaze back to the struggling shinobi on the ground. Madara stared at him with sullen eyes, reflecting on how the village’s distrust toward him was becoming more blatant. But does this mean that included Hashirama as well? Is Hashirama also giving up on him? Did Hashirama order Tobirama to send Fuji?

Madara slowly walked towards Fuji and crouched down. He asked, “Did Hashi… did the Hokage order this?”

“I-I don’t know… my orders came directly from Lord Tobirama himself.” 

“I see…” Madara did feel a bit relieved, but just because they came directly from Tobirama, didn’t necessarily mean Hashirama had nothing to do with it. Madara tried to make sense of it all. Could Hashirama be pulling away because he was starting to distrust him like the rest of the village and the Uchiha clan? Is that why he’s been acting differently lately? Is Hashirama becoming just like everyone else?

Suddenly, Madara dropped his head and stared down at the ground before erupting into a low and menacing chuckle. Who was he kidding? Why did it even matter? Madara remembered he had already found his new purpose, his new goal. So why would it matter if Hashirama trusted him or not? If anything, now Madara was probably giving him a valid reason to distrust him. Madara slowly stood up as his chuckle transitioned into thunderous laughter that echoed in the air around him, sending chills down Fuji’s spine.

As he laughed, Madara thought to himself, “That’s right, none of this matters. I’m the savior. Hashirama this, Hashirama that. Forget him. I don’t need him, and he surely doesn’t need me. And you know what? That doesn’t matter because I’m leaving! No one wants me here anyway. But they’ll grovel at my feet once I show them the answer to true peace!”

Madara’s laughter abruptly stopped when he heard Fuji drag himself across the ground. He quickly turned around, startling Fuji. Madara walked towards Fuji, however, Fuji continued to drag himself backward, afraid of being caught. This continued until Fuji reached the edge of the building and suddenly, there was no ground below his upper body. Before he could fall, Madara grabbed his shirt and bent over until their faces were close. Fuji’s eyes widened; his upper body was suspended over the edge of the building while his legs were still planted on the edge of the roof. If Madara really wanted to, he could drop Fuji—and that thought frightened him.

Madara pulled Fuji in closer to him and sneered, “And make sure you tell that bastard Tobirama that if he has a problem with me, he can come to me himself and settle it.” 

Madara then pulled Fuji toward him and tossed him fully back onto the roof of the building to safety. He stared at Fuji for a moment and sighed. “Fuji, aren’t you supposed to be one of Konoha’s best spies? How disappointing. Train and get better so you don’t run into trouble and make a fool of yourself. The next person who catches you may not be so forgiving as to let you live. Didn’t you say you have a family? Don’t leave them behind,” he lectured before beginning to walk off. He then thought to himself, “Tch. Even Hashirama could probably do a better job than that.”

Fuji’s eyes widened at Madara’s words. Though his words sounded a bit harsh, Fuji could sense a hint of empathy and care in them. He quickly got up on his feet and bowed. “Yes sir!”

Madara clicked his tongue in irritation. He shoved his gloved hands into his pockets and walked towards the edge of the building, jumping off and landing gracefully on the ground. He started walking out of the Uchiha district, now focused on getting food and going back home. As Madara strolled, he kept his head tilted down to avoid eye contact with any passersby. Despite this, he could still feel the cold stares of his clansmen and still hear their subtle whispers. It was foolish of them to think Madara couldn’t tell what was going on. Did they really not know he could feel them looking at him that way? And after what just happened, Madara was already not in a good mood.

As he made his way into the busier streets of Konoha where most of the street vendors were, he felt like he was walking through what felt like a sea of hostile eyes. He wasn’t sure if that was really the case, but that’s how it felt. He was surrounded by the chatter and laughter of the villagers but could hear the occasional pauses whenever they passed by. However, Madara chose to ignore them. He just wanted food, that’s all he came out here for and he didn’t want to do or say anything else. He stopped whenever his eyes landed on a street vendor selling yakisoba. That’ll do for now. Madara placed his order at the stand before going to lean against a nearby light pole to wait for his food.

As Madara waited, his eyes wandered the area around him until they landed on the moon above.

“A full moon… what I’ll use to cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi. The moon… huh?” Madara whispered to himself. He found himself getting lost in the sight of the moon for what felt like forever.

“Order number 79!”

The sudden loud call slightly startled Madara. He averted his gaze from the moon and went back to the food stand. Madara grabbed the to-go bag of his yakisoba and started heading back home. He kept his head tilted down to avoid the stares. He swore it felt like he was getting more than usual. What has he done to deserve such treatment? He wished they wouldn’t look at him like that. He wished they would accept him. He wished his clan didn’t betray him. He wished he didn’t lose his brothers. He wished Hashirama loved him. He wished he was happier. He wished there would be true peace. He wished things didn’t turn out the way they did. The longer he walked, the sharper the pain in his chest felt and the heavier his body grew.

“Stop,” Madara thought. “Stop it, stop looking at me like that. Stop, stop, stop, stop, sto—”

“Madara!”

Madara stopped, and with slightly widened eyes, turned around toward the familiar voice. It was Hashirama. He watched as Hashirama approached him, noticing the flowers and food in his hands. They must be for Mito.

“Hashirama…” Madara whispered once Hashirama joined his side. Initially, he was a little relieved to see Hashirama, but that relief was slowly replaced with hurt when he remembered the incident with Fuji earlier. Was Hashirama really turning on him now?

“I’m glad I ran into you here!” Hashirama looked down at the bag of food Madara was carrying. “Oh! Is that yakisoba from Mr. Nakamura’s food stand? They’re the best!” Hashirama flashed a smile.

Madara hummed in response. He continued to walk, not really in the mood to interact, not when he felt like he was losing Hashirama too. Hashirama glanced at Madara, noticing that he seemed more gloomy than usual. This worried Hashirama, because usually Madara was pretty good at putting up a front. Hashirama couldn’t help but think about his meeting with Tobirama and Isamu Uchiha earlier that day. Their suspicions… What was on Madara’s mind? Hashirama wondered how he could get to him. He fiddled with the bouquet of flowers in his hand as his mind raced.

The two men continued to walk in silence a little longer until Hashirama finally decided to break it. “So… how was your day?” he asked.

“It was fine,” Madara responded softly not breaking his eye contact with the ground.

Hashirama waited to see if Madara would say anything else, but no words. “Just fine?” he asked, hoping Madara would expand.

“Mhm.”

“Well, how are you, Madara?”

“I’m fine.”

Hashirama’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. “You’re not fine, Madara. Tell me the truth. How are you, really?”

Madara sighed. “Hashirama, I’ll slit your throat and throw you into the river if you keep asking me these questions.”

Hashirama flinched. “Okay, he seems angry. Maybe now isn’t the best time to probe,” Hashirama thought. He nervously chuckled and looked straight ahead. But why was Madara angry? Hashirama glanced at Madara again and asked, “Madara… did something happen?”

“Did something happen, Hashirama?” Madara asked.

“I-I don’t know, that’s why I asked…”

Madara walked in silence for a moment, debating on whether he should bring up the incident with Fuji. But he then figured there was no point. Whether Hashirama was involved or not, it was clear that Madara wasn’t wanted in the village at all anymore. He responded, “Nothing happened.”

Hashirama stared at Madara for a few seconds before reluctantly moving on. He looked for the right words to say to get Madara to open up about what’s been going on without asking him probing questions. “Okay… You know, I had a meeting earlier today with Tobirama and Isamu.” As soon as those words left Hashirama’s lips, he could feel an intense aura radiating from Madara. He glanced over and noticed Madara’s clenched jaw. He continued, “And you know… Isamu was pretty worried about you.”

Madara couldn’t help but scoff. “Do you really think I would believe that that bastard was actually worried about me?” Madara thought.

“What?” Hashirama asked.

“Nothing. I’m not interested in the contents of your meeting, Hashirama.”

“But—”

“I said, I’m not interested!” Madara snapped as he glared at Hashirama.  His face softened when he realized he had come off a little cruel. He then turned his gaze back to the ground ahead of him and remained silent.

Hashirama flinched, clearly taken aback, before he finally responded, “...Very well then...” They both walked in silence for a few moments, the sound of the bustling streets fading slowly as they made their way into the more residential areas of Konoha. Hashirama occasionally glanced at Madara during the walk before he finally looked up at the full moon and smiled.

“The moon looks lovely tonight, doesn’t it?” Hashirama said.

“The moon?” Madara whispered as he slowly looked up at the moon. Ah yes, the moon. Madara stopped walking and stood still, as he felt himself getting lost in the sight of the moon again. It was beautiful, it was bright—bright enough to cast a dim light in the night sky. Despite how dark everything around it was, the moon still shone, illuminating what seemed like an endless vast dark blanket. Ah, so there can be light in the dark, huh? The more he stared at the moon, the more he could feel the walls around him break down. The grasp on his bag of food slowly loosened, and his eyes slightly widened as his brows furrowed. He was reminded of his life, his nightmares, his losses, his loneliness, and his despair. But like the moon illuminating the dark night, is there hope in his dark fate? 

Hashirama paused when he noticed Madara was no longer beside him. He turned back to see Madara staring up at the moon with a saddened expression on his face. Hashirama’s eyes slightly gaped, and his chest felt heavy.

“Madara… whats wrong…?” Hashirama asked, very concerned.

Madara slowly tilted his head down and locked eyes with Hashirama. “Hashi…” he muttered, his voice sounding weak. “Do you think… do you think there can still be light in my dark fate?” Madara said in a barely audible tone.

Hashirama could barely hear what Madara was saying, he walked towards him to hear him better, “Hmm? Do I think…?”

Madara didn’t have it in him to repeat the question. Who was he kidding? Of course there isn’t. Madara believed he wasn’t destined for happiness. And the only way he could challenge his fate was by becoming the savior of the world and casting the Infinite Tsukuyomi. Madara looked away, hoping to move on from it. But he couldn’t help but keep thinking about the incident with Fuji earlier.

“Hashi… Do you trust me…?” Madara asked.

“Of course I trust you, Madara! Why wouldn’t I?” Hashirama answered immediately, with full intention and sincerity.

Madara looked up at Hashirama once again, examining his face, looking for any hint of deceit. But his words were unwavering, his facial expression serious. Madara couldn’t sense any lies in the words that left Hashirama’s lips. Madara felt a little relief but still hesitated to trust. How could he trust? No one wants him here.

Hashirama waited to see if Madara would say anything, but nothing. He shifted the food and flowers to one arm and attempted to place his free hand on Madara’s shoulder, but Madara swatted it away.

“Madara, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, forget about it,” Madara mumbled before turning away toward a nearby street.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Hashirama watched as Madara walked away. He wanted to go after him but remembered the flowers and food he had in his hand, reminding him that he was on his way to check in on Mito. He wanted to prioritize Mito, but he couldn’t just let Madara walk away after that. He wanted to drop by Mito’s before it got too late, but Madara was walking away from him. Hashirama felt a little anxiety rise as he looked between the food and flowers in his hands and Madara. After looking back and forth for a few seconds, Hashirama finally made his decision.

“Madara, wait!” Hashirama called out as he went after Madara until he caught up by his side again. “I’ll walk you home,” he added.

“I don’t need you to walk me home,” Madara mumbled.

“Well, I want to.”

“Don’t you need to get home?” Madara asked as he glanced at the flowers and food in Hashirama’s hands.

“Home… can wait,” Hashirama responded with a smile.

“Hmph. Whatever.”

The two slowly walked alongside each other on their way back to Madara’s place. Madara stayed relatively quiet while Hashirama tried to keep a conversation going, though receiving pretty minimal feedback from Madara—mainly just one- to two-word responses or a brief sentence. Hashirama was worried about Madara’s lack of engagement, and the way he kept his head tilted down the majority of the time, his long black locks covering the sides of his face.

When they finally reached Madara’s front door, Madara opened it and stepped in, turning around to face Hashirama to say his goodbyes. Hashirama looked at Madara, trying to read his face and look for any changes, but it was still the same solemn expression. He wanted to hold him in his arms and tell him that everything would be okay. He wanted to touch him. Just… touch him so badly.

Madara tilted his head down breaking eye contact, unsure what to say in the moment. But he was taken aback when he felt a warm palm on his forehead. Madara slowly looked up and locked eyes with Hashirama, who was staring at him purposefully.

“Hmm… good, no fever. I was worried you might’ve been sick,” Hashirama said with a smile, leaving his hand on Madara’s forehead. He lied. He didn’t think Madara was sick but wanted an excuse to touch him and get him to look up.

The warmth from Hashirama’s hand made Madara feel like his body was floating. He could feel butterflies form in his stomach and his heart race. He didn’t even think of moving Hashirama’s hand. He wanted it to stay there, and he wanted to lean into that warmth, lean into his touch.

Hashirama then asked, “So, since you’re not sick, then Madara, what's wrong?”

Madara stared into Hashirama’s eyes, unsure what to say or how to say it. 

“I…” Madara’s voice quickly trailed off.

But Hashirama was prepared to listen, waiting in anticipation, not moving an inch or planning to remove his hand anytime soon. He softly sighed and closed his eyes, leaning forward until his own forehead rested on the back of the hand he had on Madara’s forehead. Their faces were barely far apart enough to keep their noses from touching.

Hashirama whispered, “I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours.” He then raised his forehead from his hand and looked into Madara’s eyes. “As I said not too long ago, Madara, I don’t think I can just make everything okay, but I know I can try. Again, I can, and will, do my very best to listen to you and address what’s bothering you because I care about you and want to be there for you. I don’t want you to suffer alone in silence… Talk to me.”

Madara could feel his throat tighten and his chest ache. The butterflies ran rampant in his stomach from how close Hashirama was, the genuineness in his deep voice, the warmth radiating from his hand, the pink and plumpness of his lips. Madara caught a glimpse of the moon behind them. The moon. The bright moon that illuminated the darkness. Could there be light in Madara’s dark world too? Could Hashirama be his light?

As Madara gazed into Hashirama’s eyes, he could feel this sudden desire to claw himself out of the dark abyss. To reach out towards the light. He thought, “Hashirama… help me… help me… help me… help me…” Madara slightly parted his quivering lips, trying to bring his thoughts to words.

“Hashi… Hel—”

“Hashirama!”

Hashirama quickly turned around and removed his hand from Madara’s forehead, his eyes landing on Tobirama, who was approaching him. He was confused about what Tobirama was doing all the way out here and why so late.

“Tobi? What is it?”

“I received an urgent message from the Daimyo of the Land of Fire. We need to discuss this at the tower,” Tobirama responded as he approached, stopping to leave a good amount of space between him and Hashirama and Madara.

“An urgent message? What happened?” Hashirama asked.

As the two brothers talked with each other, Madara stared at the back of Hashirama’s head, tuning out their conversation. Interrupted again. It was like the universe was laughing at him. Madara figured he should’ve known that this was how things were meant to be. That no one can do anything for him. That he truly is all alone in this accursed world. And why would he even entertain the idea that Hashirama could be his light? For the moon is only bright because of the sun, and Hashirama was the sun. Where there is the darkness of the night, there is no sun. Therefore, Hashirama’s light was too bright for him. It was never meant for him and his dark fate. As the realization sank in, Madara could feel his chest grow heavy once again, no longer lifted by the lightness of Hashirama’s warmth. His eyes traveled down until they landed on Tobirama.

Tobirama.

Madara could feel his blood begin to boil as his eyes narrowed, staring Tobirama down. It took everything in his power not to lunge at Tobirama and kill him. And after that stunt, Tobirama wasn’t even looking at him? Madara clenched his fist, causing the bag of food to shift and release sound, catching Hashirama’s attention.

“S-Sorry, Madara, I—” Hashirama paused when he noticed a shift in Madara, from sadness to anger. He saw how Madara was glaring at Tobirama. He looked at Tobirama and then back at Madara. Did something happen?

“Hashirama, this can’t wait,” Tobirama demanded.

“Right, let me just say goodbye—"

Madara sucked his teeth, closing the door before Hashirama could say anything else to him. Hashirama knocked, prepared to stay until Madara reassured him he’ll see him tomorrow.

“Madara? I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hashirama asked. But silence remained on the other side of the door. He could still sense Madara right there though. “Madara?”

“Brother!” Tobirama called out.

Ignoring Tobirama, Hashirama continued with a grin, “Madara, don’t make me break your door again. This time, I might not fix it.”

“Don’t you dare break my door,” Madara finally responded.

Hashirama softly chuckled, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

No response.

Hashirama sighed, “You leave me no choice.” Hashirama grabbed the doorknob and twisted it.

“Fine, fine, fine! I’ll be around. Just… leave me alone.”

Hashirama smiled, “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hashirama,” Tobirama called out again.

“I’m coming, Tobi, I’m coming. Jeez,” Hashirama responded as he walked away from Madara’s front door.

Leaning his back against the door, Madara listened as the sound of Hashirama’s footsteps slowly grew further and further away from him until it eventually dissipated. And there he goes. Madara sighed and tossed the bag of yakisoba onto his dining table, no longer having an appetite to eat. He went to his living room where all the books lay on his floor and grabbed the current book he was reading before collapsing onto the couch. Any attempts to read were ruined by his racing thoughts, as he found himself skimming the same sentence over and over again.

Madara tightly gripped the edges of the book as frustration built up inside of him. He thought it was foolish of him to even entertain the idea that there could be light in his dark fate. It was foolish of him to think that anything would ever change, that things would just look up for him. And he hated, hated the way Hashirama made him feel. He could still feel the warmth from Hashirama’s warm palm on his forehead and couldn’t get the thought of Hashirama’s smile out of his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about those longing black eyes, and that gentle voice.

The universe was laughing at him, wasn’t it? Madara’s shoulders slowly started to tense. Ultimately, Madara felt betrayed. How could he feel this way when even Hashirama might’ve turned on him? How could he feel this way when the village turned on him? How could he feel this way when his clan turned on him? At the thought of the Fuji situation, Madara clenched his jaw as anger settled on his face. He needed to get out of the village. He needed to leave.

Meanwhile, a black creature, who went by Black Zetsu, stealthily stood outside of Madara’s house, peering into the window with a menacing grin. He made sure to mask his presence, which he was very good at, so that no one could sense him, not even Madara. Black Zetsu quietly chuckled to himself as he watched Madara.

“Yes, Madara Uchiha. Get angry, despair, hate. Hate and despair so much that you have no choice but to leave and work toward casting the Infinite Tsukuyomi. Mama… I’ll be able to resurrect you soon,” Black Zetsu whispered to himself, very amused at the path Madara was slowly going down. He was satisfied with the progress thus far and couldn’t help but chuckle. Watching Madara fall deeper and deeper into despair was exhilarating. Soon, he believed Madara would reach a point of no return, and do all the work to get Black Zetsu closer to fulfilling Kaguya Otsutsuki’s desire.

xxx

Hashirama and Tobirama walked together on their way out of the Uchiha District, discussing the message the Daimyo of the Land of Fire relayed to them.

Hashirama digressed. “By the way, Tobirama… did something happen between you and Madara?”

“What do you mean?” Tobirama asked.

“It’s just that… Madara seemed more off than usual this evening. And then when he saw you, something shifted… He glared at you.”

“He always glares at me like that.”

“This was different, Tobi. More intense.”

Tobirama shrugged his shoulders. “If something did happen, I have no knowledge of it.”

Tobirama wanted to avoid any suspicions from Hashirama given that he didn’t tell Hashirama that he went against his wishes and assigned Fuji to keep an eye on Madara. Now that he thought about it, Tobirama couldn’t sense Fuji around the area at all. It’s either Fuji was very skilled at concealing himself, or he got caught. Tobirama was hoping it was the former rather than the latter.  

“Wait, before I go back to the tower, can I drop these off for Mito really quick?” Hashirama asked.

Tobirama glanced at the flowers and food in Hashirama’s hand, wondering why he hadn’t done it already. “I thought you were already on your way to do that when I last saw you.”

Hashirama flashed a sheepish smile and chuckled, “I was! I was! But I kept running into people, and then I ran into Madara and decided to walk him home.”

Tobirama softly sighed. “Fine. Has she even spoken with you yet?”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor. “No…”

“So, are you just going to keep going there until she does?”

Hashirama immediately perked back up and responded, “Of course! She’s my wife.”

“For now.”

Hashirama was, once again, immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor. “Mmm… don’t remind me…” he responded with a moping tone. “But I don’t want to just leave her alone. She might be ignoring me for now, but I don’t want her to think I don’t care about her, because I do. And I just want her to know that I’m still here and still want to talk things through. Actually, I really want to force myself inside the house, but I know her… I know she needs space, so I don’t want to disrespect her boundaries. But at least—”

Hashirama immediately paused when he felt a familiar, heavy feeling throughout his body. A menacing presence. The same one he felt not too long ago.

“There it is again.”

Hashirama immediately dropped the flowers and food in his hands and took off towards that presence, leaving Tobirama behind without warning.

“Wait, brother! There what is?” Tobirama called out, subsequently running after Hashirama.  

As Hashirama ran further and further into the Uchiha district, he tried his best to focus on that presence he felt. However, the feeling quickly disappeared again, and he found himself near Madara’s house. Hashirama relentlessly looked around, searching for what could be the source. But nothing.

Tobirama finally caught up. “What is it, brother?”

“It was here, I could feel it. It was around here somewhere. But now I can’t sense it.”

“What was here?”

“I don’t know what it was, but it didn’t feel human. It was the same thing I felt a little while ago. The thing I asked Isamu about earlier,” Hashirama responded as he surveilled the area.

Tobirama quietly watched as Hashirama looked around. Judging by how determined and focused Hashirama looked, Tobirama knew he wasn’t playing around. He kneeled, placing his finger on the ground and focusing on whether he could sense anything unusual nearby.

Hashirama glanced at Tobirama. He hoped Tobirama would be able to catch it since he considered him to be a much better sensor than he was.

“Well? Anything?” Hashirama asked.

Tobirama shook his head. He didn’t sense anything.

“It was here…” Hashirama insisted. “I swore it was here and now it's… not… now I can’t sense it anywhere at all…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Tobi, I’m sure.”

Tobirama thought to himself for a moment. How did he miss it? How come he wasn’t sensing it? Tobirama sighed. “We already have ninjas looking around the village, but they’ve only just started, and I haven’t gotten reports from them yet. I’m going to swing by the barrier team to see if they’ve noticed any suspicious activity in and out of the village. I’ll meet you back at the tower.”

Hashirama nodded in response and watched Tobirama take his leave. He stood around the area for a little longer, waiting to see if he could sense it again. He activated his sage mode to improve his sensing, but nothing. And if there was something, it must’ve already gotten out of the sensing range of his sage mode. Hashirama sighed. What was it? Hashirama looked around one last time until he realized something: he sensed this near Madara’s place last time as well. Was Madara okay? As the panic quickly settled in, Hashirama ran to Madara’s front door and started banging on it.

“Madara? Madara?? Are you okay?”

After no response, Hashirama started banging on the door harder. “Madara?! Madara?!? Mada—”

“WHAT?” Madara yelled as he swung the door open.

“Are you okay?!” Hashirama questioned, anxiety very evident in his voice.

“What?? Hashirama, what’s wrong with you?? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Hashirama paused, taking a good look at Madara, up and down, for any signs of possession, struggle, or injury. Madara seemed okay. He could feel his anxiety slowly starting to fade.

Madara started to feel a bit uncomfortable under Hashirama’s investigative gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“S-Sorry! Nothing, I just… I’m glad you’re okay. For a moment, I thought… I don’t know, I thought you might’ve been in danger, but I guess it was a false alarm…”

“False alarm?” Madara raised an eyebrow and then sighed. “Don’t do that ever again. You scared the shit out of me. I almost choked on my food.” And just when he finally managed to get his appetite back.

The thought of Madara choking on his food made Hashirama burst into laughter, triggering Madara. 

“Huh?? You think that’s funny??”

Madara’s reaction only made Hashirama laugh harder. Hashirama responded through his laughter, “That would’ve been… an awful way… to go…”

“I’ll show you an awful way to go! You better count your days, Hashirama,” Madara rebutted as he waved his fist at Hashirama.

“I’d like to see you try,” Hashirama goaded with a teasing smirk as he laughed.

Madara and Hashirama went back and forth with their banter. Hashirama barely managed to eventually calm down his laughter as he enjoyed his time with Madara.

Hashirama thought to himself, “Thank goodness… Thank goodness you’re okay.” The thought of Madara in danger really scared him. The panic he felt was similar to the feeling he had when he thought Madara left him not too long ago. As he teased Madara, he couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of him. Though Madara looked irritated, he was still so cute. Madara could be quite expressive with Hashirama during moments like these, and his teasing smirks were always so alluring. Hashirama wanted Madara… He wanted him so badly, and it took everything in his power not to pull Madara closer and halt his words with a kiss, carry him to his bed, and show him how much he wanted and loved him. He would do anything for him, drop anything for him. He wanted so badly to unlock his heart. And sometimes he couldn’t help but think about a future with Madara: living together, getting married, raising kids, dying old together. God, Madara had no idea…

Hashirama softly chuckled, bringing his palm to his face, and accidentally whispered, “You have no idea how head over heels I am for you.”

Madara’s eyes widened. “What?”

Oh crap. Hashirama didn’t mean to say that out loud. He quickly responded, “N-Nothing! I said I have to go meet Tobirama at the tower. Oh! And that reminds me, before that, I also have to stop by… home. I have to stop by for Mito. Yes, I should do that as soon as possible. Oh, it seems like I must’ve misplaced the flowers and the food so I should go find that. That’s not good. S-So, I’ll see you!” Hashirama rambled before dismissing himself.

“Right…” Madara responded as he watched Hashirama take his leave, thinking about what Hashirama whispered to himself. Did Madara hear him correctly? The words continuously echoed in Madara’s head.

“You have no idea how head over heels I am for you.”

What did that mean?

Tobirama waited at the tower in Hashirama’s office, tapping his foot as he waited for Hashirama to arrive. How long does it take to drop off some flowers? But then Tobirama figured maybe Mito finally decided to talk to Hashirama. Regardless, now wasn’t the time to get caught up in such affairs when Tobirama and Hashirama had something very important to discuss as soon as possible.

Before Tobirama got to the tower, he checked in with the Konoha barrier team. They didn’t notice anything wrong with the barrier, nor did they notice any suspicious activity. Tobirama was having a hard time understanding what was happening, and why Hashirama could sense it while no one else could.

Suddenly, Fuji appeared, kneeling before Tobirama.

“Fuji? Do you have a report for me?”

“Lord Tobirama. I apologize, but not long into my mission, I was caught by Madara Uchiha. Words cannot describe how ashamed I am of my failure.”

Tobirama sucked his teeth in irritation. Damn it. He didn’t expect Fuji to be caught this quickly. Perhaps he did underestimate Madara, even after Hashirama warned him. He realized Madara must’ve been glaring at him so intensely because he had already caught Fuji by then. Tobirama grabbed his chin with his hand and began thinking about what to do next. Should he find someone else to watch him? Who else could be skilled enough to not get caught? Maybe a ninja from the Aburam clan? They can be quite stealthy with their bugs. Or should he have random villagers reporting any suspicious activity? How about the clansmen of the Uchiha clan? Would Madara suspect them? Hashirama was very close to Madara, so Tobirama thought maybe he could convince Hashirama to actually watch him?

Tobirama refocused on the shinobi in front of him and asked, “Were you able to gather anything, Fuji?”

“No sir… When I started, he fell asleep while reading a book, and then slept for hours. When he woke up, he left his home and that’s when he caught me. But judging from the way he checked his kitchen before he left, it seems like he was on his way to get dinner.”

“Hmm… true, that’s not much to go off of.”

“But I will say… he did seem… unstable,” Fuji added as he remembered Madara’s random, chilling laughing fit.

“Unstable?”

“Yes sir, after catching me, there was a moment when he asked about the Hokage and then laughed out of nowhere. It was… unexpected.”

Tobirama hummed. “Unstable… Could he be falling victim to the Uchiha curse of hatred?” he thought to himself.

“A-And…”

“Hmm?”

“He told me to tell you this, and I’m just quoting, but he said that if you have a problem with him, you can come to him yourself and settle it.”

Tobirama sighed. “Thank you, you’re dismissed. And disregard this mission. It seems we both underestimated Madara Uchiha.”

“Yes sir,” Fuji responded before dismissing himself.

Tobirama grew deep in thought, processing the information he just gathered. If Madara really was falling victim to the Uchiha curse of hatred, then all the more reason to worry. There’s no telling what he’ll do as a result. But for now, Tobirama opted to just focus on the current situation at hand—the matters that needed to be settled after hearing from the Daimyo of the Land of Fire.

Tobirama waited for Hashirama with crossed arms as he leaned against the desk, tapping on his arm faster and faster while slowly losing patience. Finally, he snapped, “Where is he?!”

Chapter Text

It was the night after the Fuji incident, and Madara was sitting on his couch, attempting to read his book. He had been home all day, reading away. But the further into the evening it got, the more restless Madara felt. He hadn’t been bothered by Hashirama all day, and he expected Hashirama to seek him out, to come by his place and do the stupid check-in and hit him with the ‘see you tomorrow?’ question. What was more frustrating was that Madara couldn’t help but fixate on it. It’s not like he wanted Hashirama to drop by. It’s not like he wanted to see him. Well, that’s what he was trying to convince himself to believe.

Madara couldn’t help but think about the night before; when Hashirama touched his forehead, when he told him that he cared about him, when he banged on his door in panic, and when he whispered… Madara touched his forehead where Hashirama’s hand once was and could feel butterflies in his stomach. What did Hashirama mean when he said what he said? Though it was a barely audible whisper, Madara still definitely heard it. Were his ears deceiving him? Did he hear him correctly? Was he being delusional?

Madara thought back again to that night:

*Flashback starts*

Hashirama softly chuckled, bringing his palm to his face, and accidentally whispered, “You have no idea how head over heels I am for you.”

Madara’s eyes widened. “What?”

*Flashback ends*

What did Hashirama mean? Head over heels? Head over heels, good? Head over heels, bad? Did he even say head over heels? Madara wasn’t sure how to interpret it, and he hesitated to interpret it in his favor. Besides, how is he even so sure Hashirama hasn’t turned on him yet? After the Fuji incident last night? Madara groaned and buried his face into his book. He immediately looked up at the door when he thought he heard something, but after a moment of silence, he realized it was nothing. He sighed and looked over at his clock: 10:20 PM. Why hasn’t he stopped by? Was Madara right? Did Hashirama really turn on him? Is this it?

Madara stood up and started pacing around his home, half-expecting Hashirama to knock on his door at any moment now. But he couldn’t sense Hashirama coming near his place. Where was he? What’s the point in Madara sticking around if Hashirama doesn’t come see him?

Madara cursed under his breath, annoyed that he was even thinking this way. Maybe he should go see him. Madara started walking toward his front door. No, he shouldn’t. For what? He turned around and walked back to his couch, sitting down and leaning his head back. He stared at the ceiling. This was fine. This is how things are meant to be. Instead of ruminating on why Hashirama hadn’t come to see him, he needed to think about his plan. Yes, true peace, the Infinite Tsukuyomi. The Rinnegan. Hashirama’s cells. Hashirama’s cells…

“Hashirama’s cells…” Madara whispered.

Madara immediately sat up. He needed Hashirama’s cells. He quickly stood up, walked over to a drawer, and rummaged through his ninja tools. Hashirama’s cells. Madara grabbed a kunai, tilting it until he saw his reflection on the blade. If he wanted to act out his plan, he needed to get Hashirama’s cells. Meaning, he needed to go see him. Yes, that’s all there was to it. He’s just going to find Hashirama and collect his cells. Nothing more, nothing less. Yes. That’s what he’ll do.

Madara slipped the kunai into his sleeve and headed toward his front door. After slipping on his gloves, he put his shoes on and left his home. Good, no more Fuji. As he walked down the streets, he slowly left the Uchiha district and found himself walking in the direction of Hashirama’s house. It was relatively quiet outside, with very few villagers around the area.

Though Madara tried thinking of the steps he would take to catch Hashirama off guard and acquire his cells, he couldn’t help but get caught up in the thoughts of Hashirama in general—his smile, his laugh, his gaze, his lips. Head over heels. What did he mean by that? Madara immediately shook those thoughts off once again, fidgeting with the kunai hidden in his sleeve. He’ll just catch Hashirama at the right time and slice a chunk of his flesh off. Then he’ll go about his night, leave the village, and set his plan into motion. That’s right. He doesn’t want to see Hashirama. He just wants Hashirama’s flesh. That’s all he tried to convince himself he wanted. He didn’t care about anything else.

“Madara?”

Madara immediately froze. His heart pounding, he slowly turned around to see Hashirama approaching him, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a takeout container filled with food in the other. More flowers and food?

Hashirama smiled, pleased to have run into Madara yet curious as to why he was out so late. “Yo!” He greeted. As he made his way to Madara, he continued, “What are you doing out late? Were you looking for me?”

Madara crossed his arms as his eyes narrowed, unwilling to admit that he was. Besides, who did Hashirama think he was anyway? “What makes you think I was looking for you?” Madara asked.

Hashirama pointed in the same direction Madara was headed and responded, “Well, you were heading in the direction of my house.”

Madara’s eye twitched. “Is your house the only thing in that direction?” Madara retorted.

“Hmm…” Hashirama hummed, not completely convinced by Madara’s words, but he decided to give it to him for now. “Fair point.”

Truthfully, Hashirama was glad to see Madara. He had a very long day and was actually planning on stopping by Madara’s place after he stopped to check in on Mito.  But this was great, seeing Madara sooner rather than later was great. As Hashirama joined Madara’s side, he said, “Walk with me?”

Initially, Madara hesitated to join him. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. And he hated that he was even feeling that way. But he needed Hashirama’s cells, right? So, he might as well. This is what he came here for… right? Madara briefly watched Hashirama take a few steps forward before finally deciding to join him.

“Hmph. Fine. But only because I’m already heading in that direction,” Madara answered as he caught up to Hashirama.

Hashirama softly chuckled. “Right, right.”

The two walked side by side in silence for a moment, matching each other’s pace, surrounded by the sound of crickets and the soft crunches of the ground beneath their feet. Hashirama occasionally glanced at Madara, noticing he didn’t seem as down as he did the day before, which was reassuring. Ever since his slip-up last night, he’d been replaying the moment in his head, hoping Madara didn’t hear him. 

Confessing his feelings to Madara was something Hashirama figured he would do eventually, but it still didn’t feel like the right time. He still had to settle things with Mito, his wife, and still needed to figure out how to get Madara to open up to him. And even if he does achieve those things, how would he go about telling Madara how he felt? How will he get over that fear of rejection, knowing that there’s a great possibility that Madara didn’t feel the same way? I mean, why would he?

All of these thoughts overwhelmed Hashirama as he let out a soft sigh, catching Madara’s attention.

Madara glanced over at Hashirama. “What is it?” he asked.

“N-Nothing, I’m just a little overwhelmed with life. But, speaking of life, how was your day?”

“Hmm? My day?” Madara took a moment to think about how his day went. He didn’t do much.  All he did was read, sleep, and wallow on his couch. What a depressing day. “It was… fine.”

“Fine?” Hashirama looked over at Madara, attempting to read his face to get a better idea of what ‘fine’ meant to him. But Madara’s face was neutral. He continued, “Come on, I need more than that. Give me the details.”

“Details?”

“Details!”

Madara sighed. “I didn’t do much. I just… read.”

Hashirama raised his eyebrows, surprised that Madara told him about the reading. “What did you read?” Though Hashirama already had a good idea of what, since it was mentioned by Isamu during their meeting the day before.

Madara took a brief pause before answering. “I read about the Sage of the Six Paths,” he mumbled.

Hashirama recognized he was being truthful. Isamu Uchiha did notice books about the Sage of the Six Paths in his hands. But unlike Isamu and Tobirama, Hashirama didn’t want to assume that Madara was up to no good. Besides, if he was really a threat, would he be this honest?

Meanwhile, Madara grew suspicious about Hashirama’s questions, wondering if it supported his theory that Hashirama had possibly turned on him. Why else would he be probing? Was Hashirama trying to get information out of him as part of some plan he devised with Tobirama?

“What have you learned so far?” Hashirama asked.

“Not much I didn’t already know.”

“What brought this about? Why are you reading about him?” Hashirama asked with genuine interest.

“…Curiosity. Why do you ask?”

Hashirama flashed a smile, “Curiosity!”

Madara stared at Hashirama before humming in response.

Hashirama then added, “Since you’ve taken on reading recently, would you like your childhood books back? I still saved them from the time you tried to give them away.”

“No. I told you I have no use for them anymore,” Madara grumbled, annoyed that Hashirama was still holding on to them instead of just allowing him to let go.

“Well, I’ll just keep holding on to them until you’re ready to accept them back.”

“I guess you’ll be holding on to them for the rest of your life.” 

A soft chuckle escaped Hashirama’s lips. “Hopefully not.”  

They walked for a few steps in silence before Madara spoke. “How was your day?”

Hashirama glanced at Madara. “My day? Hmm…” He looked straight ahead. “My day was… pretty busy. I worked like a ninja hound today. I didn’t know I was capable of working this much. It’s like I hit a new record now and then.”

Madara softly chuckled, “I feel like your standard of working like a ninja hound is doing a quarter of the work you’re supposed to be doing as the Hokage.”

“T-That’s not true! If anything, I did way more than I needed to today. I mean seriously, ever since I’ve been staying with Tobi—” Hashirama quickly shut up. Hashirama still hadn’t told Madara about what was going on between him and Mito, nor did he tell him that he had been staying at Tobirama’s house since then. He wanted to keep Madara out of it and wasn’t planning on letting him know about it until things were settled.  

Madara glanced and Hashirama with a raised eyebrow. “Ever since you’ve been staying…?”

“N-Nothing, never mind. I just… I’ve been spending a lot more time with Tobirama lately and I’ve been working more because of that.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed, still curious about what Hashirama was going to say but not enough to probe him about it. “Okay…”

Hashirama hummed in response, hoping to avoid speaking on the topic any further so he didn’t accidentally make another slip-up.

They both walked in silence for a little while again before Madara glanced at the flowers and takeout box in Hashirama’s hands. It was a pretty large bouquet of an assortment of flowers, and it wasn’t the first time within the past few days that Hashirama was carrying some around. 

“Flowers and food again?” Madara pointed out.

Hashirama looked down at the items in his hand. “Yeah, they’re for Mito.”

“For Mito, of course,” Madara thought. The painful reality hit him in the chest—the reality that Hashirama could never be his. He’s already built a life for himself: loyal villagers, a devoted wife, a brother by his side, and a clan that respected him. But memories of last night quickly flooded Madara’s mind again. He remembered Hashirama’s words. “You have no idea how head over heels I am for you.” Those words. What did Hashirama mean by it? Madara didn’t want to admit that the curiosity was tearing him up inside, and Hashirama hadn’t done or said anything to confirm what he heard. So does that default to denial? You know, perhaps he just misheard Hashirama after all.

Madara responded, “You’ve been getting her a lot of flowers lately. Is something special going on?” He figured it couldn’t be their anniversary. Madara knew very well when their wedding anniversary was because he remembered their wedding day vividly. That day his heart unexpectedly felt heavy, and though he wanted to feel happy for Hashirama at the time, he couldn’t help but feel like he lost something.

Hashirama nervously chuckled. “I wouldn’t say special.” A guilty expression slowly spread across his face, which Madara took notice of.

“Ah, so she’s upset with you.”

Hashirama stopped walking and was quickly overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor. “Upset would be an understatement.”

Madara stopped to face Hashirama, taking notice of his low mood. “An understatement?”

“Yes,” Hashirama mumbled as he dragged his feet across the ground to catch up with Madara, swaying side to side with his shoulders slouched and his head tilted downward. He sighed and straightened up, walking alongside Madara once again. “But I don’t really want to get into it right now. I just hope she’ll at least accept these.” Hashirama then thought to himself, “And talk to me.”

Madara looked down at the flowers again without saying a word. Honestly, he never understood the appeal of flowers, he just knew that giving flowers was considered a nice gesture. “They look… nice. I’m sure she’ll love them.”

“Why’d you pause?” Hashirama asked.

“What do you mean?” Madara asked.

“You paused. Why’d you pause?”

“What? I didn’t pause.”

“Yes, you did. You don’t think they look nice?” Hashirama asked as he started examining the bouquet, trying to figure out whether Mito would like them or not. I mean, he hasn’t gotten any real feedback from Mito anyway. All he’s been able to do is drop them off without hearing from her. 

“I said they looked nice.”

“Yeah, but you paused. You’re lying. You don’t think she’ll like them?”

“Hashirama, I literally said I think she’ll love them.”

“Then why’d you pause?”

Madara’s eyebrow twitched. “I just never understood the appeal of flowers. So, I don’t know, but I’d assume she’d like them.” But when Madara didn’t receive a response, he turned to see Hashirama looking down at his flowers in silence. Ah, shit. He didn’t mean to make Hashirama second-guess his choices. Madara started thinking of ways to make Hashirama feel better until he heard a faint snicker coming from his direction.

“What?? What’s so funny??”

Hashirama smirked, “So you admit you did pause.”

Madara’s face dropped as he glared at Hashirama. “Shut up, Hashirama. You’re irritating,” Madara snapped. “And here I was worrying about you,” he thought.

Hashirama chuckled and playfully nudged Madara’s shoulder with his own. “Am I?”

“Yes, you are,” Madara grumbled in response as he nudged back.

“Mmm, if I’m so irritating then why are you still talking to me?” Hashirama teased.

“You’re right,” Madara said as turned around.

Hashirama paused. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Why? Are you going to miss me?” Madara taunted as he walked away.

“Oh? Is that what you’re hoping for?” Hashirama smirked.

Madara whipped around and blurted out in defense, “N-No! Nonsense!” Madara huffed, trying to mask his flustered expression. He turned back around and started walking away once again, this time with more purpose. Hashirama always had a way of rattling him, in fact, he was the only one who could make him feel this way—and Madara hated it.

Hashirama giggled. “Wow, I thought you agreed to keep me company on my walk home? Didn’t know my best friend was someone to go back on his word,” Hashirama jokingly said, whistling as he continued walking towards the direction of his home. “I didn’t expect that from him. I’ll never let him live this down. You know what? Maybe I should just find a new one…” Hashirama taunted.

Madara rolled his eyes. Knowing him, Hashirama really wouldn’t let him live this down. And admittedly, Madara really didn’t want to leave Hashirama; he wanted to continue walking with him. He turned back around and joined Hashirama by his side again as he mumbled, “You know, if you wanted me to stay with you so bad, you could’ve just said so.”

“You’re right, next time I’ll say that,” Hashirama responded with a playful wink.

Flustered, Madara turned his head away. “Don’t wink at me like that, it’s disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Hashirama retorted.

“What are you, a child? Is that the best comeback you come up with? How childish.”

“You’re childish.”

“You’re childish!” Madara snapped.

“Oh? Is that the best comeback you can come up with?” Hashirama mocked.

“Shut up, Hashirama!”

Hashirama burst into laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Madara grumbled.

“I’m kind of funny.”

“You’re the least funny person I know.”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor. “That was kind of cruel.”

“Hmph.”

“…Especially coming from someone who I crack up all the time.” Hashirama continued with a smirk.

Madara’s eye twitched. “I purposefully laugh to make you feel better about yourself,” he asserted.

“Sure, Madara, sure.”

Madara hated to admit it, but he was enjoying his time with Hashirama. All the uneasiness he felt earlier was slowly fading away. It just felt so… nice to be by his side. Madara recalled the reason he decided to seek out Hashirama and remembered the kunai hidden in his sleeve. He really could take a piece of Hashirama’s flesh right now. Hashirama was off guard and may not see it coming. Madara could just do it, right here, right now. But for some reason, he had no desire to bring out his kunai.

“Madara?”

Madara snapped out of his head. “Hmm?”

“I said, how’s Takaya doing? Has he come back around yet?”

“Takaya?” Oh yeah, Takaya, one of his hawks. Madara then faced Hashirama with slightly widened eyes. “Wait, you remembered?”

Hashirama gave Madara a confused look. “Of course, I remembered. Why wouldn’t I?”

Madara could feel his face flush. Hashirama was right. Madara just never expects people to remember anything about what he says, especially now more than ever. “I don’t know…”

“So, has he? Or is he still being stubborn?”

“Takaya is still being stubborn. He hasn’t come back around yet. That ungrateful little bastard. He would still be shitting up a storm if it wasn’t for me.”

Hashirama softly chuckled. “I can’t even imagine having to be the unlucky one to stand below him…”

“Agreed. Rest in peace to his victims.”

“Is he violent when he’s sick?”

“No, but I wouldn’t want to stand below him during a violent episode of diarrhea.”

Hashirama softly chuckled. “I’d imagine his victims would die from shock. That’s a terrible way to go.”

Madara softly chuckled, “Right.”

Hashirama glanced at Madara and smirked, “See? You laughed. You do think I’m funny.”

Madara turned his head away from Hashirama and pouted. “It was an uncontrollable involuntary bodily response.”

“What an interesting way to admit that I’m funny.”

“Shut up, Hashi. Don’t let your delusions get to you.”

The two continued to converse as they neared Hashirama’s home, enjoying each other’s company. The worries that plagued their minds slowly faded, replaced by the contents of their conversations and the occasional thoughts of admiration for each other. The occasional glances, the soft smiles, the subtle hand gestures; it was like there was nothing going on behind the scenes.

As Madara listened to Hashirama talk, the thought of acquiring his cells kept coming back up in his mind. He had to remind himself to stick to his plan, his purpose, no matter how good he was feeling at the moment. Because that was why he came, right? He sneakily slipped the kunai into his hand, gripping the iron weapon as he peered at Hashirama from the corner of his vision. He could do it right now if he wanted to. Hashirama was in his own little world, gleefully talking about a funny encounter he had with a villager. So, Madara really could do it. He could. But, why isn’t he? Madara constantly told himself to make a move as his grasp tightened around the kunai.

“Oh! Looks like we’re nearing my house.”

Fuck. Madara quickly slipped the kunai back into his sleeve. They both came to a stop near the fence just a few feet away from the corner that turned into Hashirama’s walkway to his front door. Hashirama turned to face Madara and smiled.

“Thank you for walking with me. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Madara mumbled. For some reason, he didn’t have it in him to attempt to take Hashirama’s cells at that moment. And now their time together for the night was coming to an end. Madara let out a subtle sigh and turned around, walking away.

Hashirama watched as Madara walked toward the direction they came from, a grin slowly crept onto his face.

“Madara!” Hashirama called out.

“Hmm?” Madara turned around.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Hmm…” Hashirama smirked. “I knew you came all the way out here just to see me.”

Madara flinched. Crap. He made a slip-up. “N-No I—”

Hashirama let out a laugh. “Busted, aren’t you?”

“Huh?!” Madara immediately zoomed towards Hashirama. Grabbing Hashirama’s collar, Madara pushed him against the fence, their faces near each other. The only thing keeping their bodies separated was the bouquet of flowers and the takeout in Hashirama’s hands.

Madara stared at Hashirama with narrowed eyes, irritated. “I didn’t come all the way out here to see you. I’m simply taking a different route.”

“Yeah??”

“Yes! Are you so arrogant that you think I’d go out of my way to see you? Huhh??”

“Oh crap…” Hashirama thought as he stared into Madara’s eyes. He was so close. “You can’t do that… Madara. You can’t grab me like that. You can’t look at me like that. It turns me on… You can’t stand so close to me like that or else I’ll be tempted to… kiss you.” Hashirama fought back every desire to steal a kiss from Madara and tried to rid himself of those thoughts.

“Answer me!” Madara demanded as his grip on Hashirama’s shirt tightened. “Oh, fuck. What have I done? He’s so close… and he’s in my grasp. The things I could do to him right now…,” he thought as he fought every desire to look down at Hashirama’s lips.

“I was just pointing out the obvious,” Hashirama answered, trying his best to hold back any shakiness in his voice.

“The obvious??”

“Mmm. You’re getting heated, Madara. Did I strike a nerve? Was I right?” Hashirama said with a smirk.

“H-Heated?! I-I’m not— You’re being— Shut up!” Madara stuttered, flustered by Hashirama’s words.

Hashirama chuckled as he watched Madara avert his gaze. It was amusing seeing Madara getting flustered given that he was usually a very collected man. His laugh slowly faded as his eyes wandered down to Madara’s lips. Hashirama’s silence prompted Madara to look back, his eyes landing directly on Hashirama’s lips. They ogled each other’s lips, not realizing that the other was doing the same thing.

“I want to kiss him so bad…”

“I want to kiss him so bad…”

They both thought in unison.

Hashirama was so entranced by Madara that he accidentally let the takeout box slip out of his hands. Quickly, the two men grabbed the box before it could hit the ground, their fingers in contact with each other. They both slowly lifted it back up to safety.

“Thank you…” Hashirama said as he looked down at the takeout box. Thoughts of Mito instantly overwhelmed his mind, accompanied by a heavy feeling in his chest. As the sadness settled, a frown slowly appeared on his face and his eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s the point of bringing Mito something if you’re just going to drop it?” Madara asked as he released his grasp on Hashirama’s shirt.

He looked up to see a shift in Hashirama’s face. It was full of sorrow. Not that habitual look he would get from time to time, but genuine sadness. He recalled this same look whenever he found Hashirama on the bench a few weeks ago. Is he still bothered by the same thing he was back then? Was that the reason why Hashirama had been pulling away lately? Maybe because of something going on in his life rather than his distrust in Madara? As selfish as it may seem, Madara would rather that be the case, because the thought of losing Hashirama to the other side was simply too painful. However, the thought of Hashirama hurting without reaching out was also painful.

Madara sighed and crossed his arms. “Okay, that’s it. You’ve been very depressed lately and haven’t been open about it. What’s going on? And don’t you dare try to turn this around and make this about me. I don’t care. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Hashirama sighed, “I don’t want to get into it—”

“I don’t care, spit it out.”

Hashirama softly groaned as he slid down the fence until he was seated on the ground. “It’s complicated…” he mumbled.

“Telling me ‘It’s complicated’ won’t do. Tell me what’s going on, Hashirama,” Madara said as he looked down at Hashirama.

“Hypocrite…” Hashirama thought as he pouted. He then looked up at Madara to meet his gaze, feeling a sudden wave of pleasure wash over him. Sitting down was a mistake. The way Madara looked down at him was so… Hashirama pushed the thought out of his head. Now wasn’t the time. He looked back down to prevent his mind from wandering.

Madara squatted down in front of Hashirama to meet his gaze. “I said spit it out.”

Hashirama pouted and turned his head. But he then felt gloved fingers gently grip his chin, forcing his head back forward until he locked eyes with Madara’s deep black pools, subtly tinged with demand and care.

Oh.

“I said, spit it out, Hashi.”

Hashirama swallowed a lump that settled in the back of his throat. He didn’t want to tell Madara what was really going on, that he confessed to Mito about his feelings for him and now Mito won’t speak to him, that there’s a potential divorce pending. But being vague won’t hurt. He sighed. “Things with Mito and I are… very rocky right now. Very, very rocky… and it’s all my fault.”

Madara slowly released Hashirama’s chin. “Well, what did you do?”

Hashirama took a moment to think about what to say. “Um… well… I… uh…”

Madara sighed and stood back up, walking over to Hashirama’s side and sliding to a seat right next to him.

“Can the situation really be that bad?”

“Mmm… it’s pretty bad…” Hashirama responded with a pout.

Madara briefly glanced at Hashirama before looking back forward. How can he help him at this moment? Then, his words just slipped out. “Well… whatever it is, I’m sure you will get through it. I don’t know what went down between you and Mito, but you’ve both overcome hardships before, right? I can tell that you’re… surprisingly a good husband to her, though you could be home more often. I can tell that you’re very caring and loyal, and whatever happened, I’m sure she still loves you. Plus, you’re resilient, this isn’t something you’re incapable of overcoming. As my rival, I know all too well about your resilience.”

“Do you really mean all of that?” Hashirama asked.

“W-Well even though you’re irritating, you’re not… a bad guy,” Madara said as he looked in the opposite direction.

Hashirama looked at Madara with gaping eyes, his heart pounding against his chest as if trying to escape. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He looked down at the bouquet of flowers in his hand and finally hummed in response. “Thank you, Madara.”

Madara hummed in response as he fiddled with the fabric of his pants. The two sat in silence until Madara finally looked over at the bouquet of flowers in Hashirama’s hands.

“So… you’ve been getting her flowers to make up for things. Are they from your garden?”

“Mhmm… partly. But, yes! They are from my garden. I picked them out for Mito. Actually, all the flowers I pick out for her in general are from my garden. I hope she likes them… even though you don’t think she will.”

“I never said that. I said they were nice.”

“You paused!”

Madara’s eye twitched. “I said I just don’t get the appeal! Besides, I don’t know anything about flowers anyway.”

Hashirama’s jaw dropped. “Clearly, I have failed you. Here, look. Let me familiarize you with some,” Hashirama said as he pointed at a flower in the bouquet. He didn’t bother shifting the bouquet to the middle of them because he admittedly wanted to feel Madara’s touch.

Madara leaned in to get a closer look, his body now slightly pressed against Hashirama’s. He listened as Hashirama gave a rundown on the names of each flower in the bouquet, along with where they typically grew and what they were most known for. He could hear the passion in Hashirama’s voice as he easily spoke about the flowers. Hashirama was passionate about many things, but Madara found that Hashirama could probably talk about his gardening, wood carving, his brother, and the village for hours. Oh, and gambling of course. But Madara never approved of that habit of his.

“Wait, what about that one?” Madara asked after Hashirama wrapped up, pointing at a flower in the middle of the bouquet. “You forgot this one. I’ve never seen this one before.”  

“Oh, this? It’s a Lewisia. It typically symbolizes strength and resilience. It can persevere in very harsh environments, which makes its beauty stand out even more. I’d like to think it also represents hope… that despite all the bad conditions this flower typically goes through to grow, it can still bloom into something beautiful.”

“A Lewisia…” Madara whispered as he analyzed the flower. Its petals had a vibrant burst of orange and fiery red hues, a soft gradient transitioning from a deep crimson at the base to a golden-orange at the tips. The petals slightly curved outwards, appearing like a sunburst. It was like the flower was screaming ‘I made it and I’m here’ despite everything it went through. “It’s pretty…” 

Hashirama took notice of Madara’s interest and smiled. He grabbed the stem of the flower and slowly pulled it out of the bouquet before presenting it to Madara. “Here.”

“Huh?”

“Take it.”

Madara reluctantly accepted the flower from Hashirama’s hand. “Is it okay for me to take this?”

“Mhm, it’s for you now.”

“I see…” Madara said as he eyed the flower in silence. He then added, “What do I do with this?”

“What do you mean what do you do with it? Have you never received a flower before?”

“I have but… I usually just throw it out the next day.”

Hashirama flinched. He reached for the flower in Madara’s hand, “I’ll just take that back then.”

Madara tightened his grasp around the stem and moved it out of Hashirama’s way, preventing him from taking it back. He smiled, “I’d like to keep it.”

“Mmm… fine, but I better not see it in the trash the next day.”

Madara softly chuckled as he twirled the stem of the flower between his gloved fingers. A flower, from Hashirama. 

Hashirama watched as Madara eyed the flower. What a beautiful sight. He released the flowers and food from his hands before bringing his fingers out in front of his face, miming the action of taking a photo. He made a click noise.

“What was that for?” Madara asked.

“Nothing, just storing the picture in my memory,” Hashirama answered as he tapped his temple.

Madara let out a soft laugh.

“What??”

“You have the memory of a goldfish.”

“Wha— Now that’s not true. That’s an exaggeration.”

“Yeah??” Madara teased him by asking Hashirama to recall something he’d never even said before. He watched as Hashirama internally panicked before throwing out a wild guess. “Nope.”

Hashirama was overtaken by a depressed demeanor.

“I actually never said that. I was just messing with you.” Madara flashed a teasing smirk.

“How cruel!”

Madara burst into laughter while Hashirama pouted. Madara’s laughter slowly faded before he decided to wrap things up. He was getting too comfortable, having a bit too much fun, getting too distracted. He had to let Hashirama go to his wife and make amends after all. Hashirama isn’t even slightly his. And never will be. He stood up and grabbed Hashirama’s held-out hand, providing him support to stand up.

Hashirama thanked Madara for the help but would not let go of his hand when he felt him attempt to let go. It was reassuring to see that Madara seemed to be doing a little better today compared to yesterday, but he still wanted to know what was wrong, and whether that still carried on to today.

“Madara? About yesterday…” Hashirama said.

Madara could feel his heart begin to thump in his chest. About yesterday? Was Hashirama going to bring up those words Madara heard him whisper last night? Or was Hashirama going to confess to setting up the Fuji incident? Which was it? Madara could feel his body grow warm as he waited in anticipation for Hashirama to continue.

“…You seemed… off. At some points, very upset, and others, very sad. You seem to be doing better today, which is reassuring but are you really okay?”

Oh, neither.

Madara sighed. “I’m fine. I was just hangry and I needed to eat and sleep it off.” But truthfully, he never really did gain his appetite back after Hashirama banged on his door, nor did he get much sleep that night.

Hashirama wasn’t convinced. He studied Madara’s face, still unwilling to let go of his hand. “Spit it out.”

“Nice try, doing that on me isn’t going to work.”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor. Well, fair point. He then perked back up, still refusing to let go of Madara’s hand, but noticing Madara wasn’t even resisting. “Then… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

That question again. These days, Madara wasn’t sure how to feel about that question. He always anticipated it. It made him feel somewhat good that Hashirama wanted to see him the next day. But at the same time, he felt wary. Madara knew he had to leave the village to go after his new goal. He couldn’t keep sticking around.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” Madara asked.

“Because I want to.”

Because he wants to. Ever since that drunken night… Gosh, Hashirama was stubborn.  “…I’ll be around.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Hashirama let go of Madara’s hand.

“Whatever,” Madara responded as he walked away, not in the same direction as, but past, Hashirama’s house. 

Hashirama watched as Madara walked away. “Where are you going? Your home is the other way.”

“I’m not going home. I’m going where I said I was going earlier,” Madara snapped as he walked further and further away from Hashirama, not turning around to give Hashirama a piece of his mind this time around.

Hashirama softly chuckled. He’s so stubborn. He’s so cute. Hashirama decided to let Madara be.

The annoyed look on Madara’s face slowly faded into a smile as he looked down at the flower in his hand, walking toward who knows where, since he was dead set on not going home now to prove a point. Suddenly, Madara remembered the kunai in his sleeve and sighed. He hated the way Hashirama made him feel. 

After the sight of Madara slowly faded into the distance, Hashirama took a deep breath and slapped his palms against his cheeks to prep himself to check in on Mito. He picked up the bouquet and food and finally turned the corner into the walkway of his home. 

 Hashirama slammed the door open when he arrived at Tobirama’s house, quickly slipping his shoes off and rushing inside. He briefly greeted Tobirama, who was cleaning up the kitchen, and rushed to the guest bedroom where he had been staying. After closing the door, Hashirama leaned against it and slid down to a seat, burying his face into his hands at the thought of Madara.

Ever since his encounter with Madara that night, he couldn’t stop thinking about him—Madara being so close to him, Madara’s lips, Madara’s smell, Madara looking down on him from above, Madara grabbing his chin—it all drove him crazy. He failed to hold back the boner that arose. But damn it, now wasn’t the time for all of that. Not when things were still unsettled with Mito, not when Mito still wasn’t talking to him, not when Hashirama still hadn’t unlocked Madara’s heart, not when that unknown suspicious creature still hadn’t been caught.

But Madara…

Hashirama softly moaned when he felt a pleasurable thrill run down his body as his boner kept rising. He tried his best to fight back the desire to indulge, but he couldn’t. The more he thought about Madara, the more satisfying pressure he felt in his crotch, and the more he needed release.

Hashirama slid his hand into his pants, pulling his boner out and wrapping his finger around his shaft. As he slowly started moving his hand up and down, he leaned his head back against the door and bit his bottom lip, stifling the moans that threatened to escape. Tobirama was home, and he didn’t want to be heard. Hashirama’s breathing grew heavy as he pumped his cock, quickening his speed as the pleasure slowly started overwhelming his body.

Oh, how he wanted Madara to grab him like that again. How much he wanted to taste him, embrace him, kiss his smile, make love to him. A soft moan managed to escape Hashirama as thoughts of making love to Madara flooded his mind. He stroked himself faster, feeling the intense pleasure start to reach its peak. Oh, how he wanted Madara to pull his hair and moan his name while he fucked him. He wanted to slam himself inside Madara over and over again and watch how good he could make Madara feel.

Reaching his climax, Hashirama couldn’t help but let out a deep moan as his body tensed and he came onto his hand and pants.

Steadying his breath, Hashirama slowly opened his eyes. “I really hope Tobirama didn’t hear that…” he whispered. But honestly, he needed that release. He didn’t realize how much tension had built up to this point.

Hashirama looked down at his soiled pants and sighed. “Good thing I planned on doing laundry tonight.”

Chapter Text

“That’s right… I haven’t seen Hashirama today…” Madara thought to himself as he lay in bed, shirtless, an open book resting against his bare chest, staring at the ceiling. Moments ago, he was reading about the Rinnegan before his mind wandered to Hashirama. Hashirama…  

It had been a few days since the incident with Fuji, followed by the encounter with Hashirama the night after. Since then, Madara couldn’t help but think about a lot of things: Hashirama’s words, whether Hashirama was turning on him, Fuji Hyuga and Tobirama, Hashirama’s sadness. Hashirama’s sadness. Learning that things weren’t okay between Hashirama and Mito sort of put things into perspective for Madara. Hashirama wasn’t okay, and maybe that’s what caused Hashirama to become a bit distant. But how can he be there for him? And does Hashirama even need him?

Madara propped his body up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. It was the afternoon, and he had stayed inside all morning, which was a common occurrence for him these days. He had no desire to do anything, no desire to really see anyone, no desire to eat, no desire to be a functional citizen of Konoha. His mind was a jumbled mess alternating between his depressing problems, Hashirama, and the Infinite Tsukuyomi.

Madara let out a soft sigh and collapsed back onto the bed. He felt paralyzed, lacking the energy to do anything. His eyes wandered around until they landed on Izuna’s katana, displayed on the dresser across the room. Izuna. Madara began to slowly feel ashamed, ashamed of the state he was in, ashamed of the state of the Uchiha clan. This isn’t what Izuna would’ve wanted. Yet, he dared to continue to lay around and do nothing. But what does it matter? Madara tried, but the universe was against him. Madara didn’t have anyone anymore. The Infinite Tsukuyomi. Salvation for the Uchiha clan. Salvation for the world. The Savior. Madara mustered up the little energy he had to prop himself up again. The Rinnegan. The Tailed Beasts. Hashirama’s Cells.

Hashirama… 

Pictures of Hashirama’s saddened expression crossed Madara’s mind again. He then thought of all the times Hashirama tried to be there for him and groaned. That idiotic, stubborn, trusting, caring bastard. And as that idiotic, stubborn, trusting, caring bastard’s friend, Madara felt that he should be the person to care for Hashirama. Right? Besides, this isn’t how he envisioned leaving the village. Hashirama was supposed to be set, secure, and happy. He was supposed to be just fine when Madara left. Madara couldn’t leave knowing Hashirama wasn’t doing alright.             

“Maybe I should check on the idiot after all,” Madara mumbled as he stood up from his bed. He stifled a yawn as he changed into his day clothes before leaving his bedroom. He slipped on his gloves and shoes before walking out of the house, facing the blazing sunlight that briefly blinded his eyes. 

Irritation quickly welled up inside of him while he walked outside. Ever since he caught Fuji, Madara hadn’t sensed a particular person watching him. However, he could tell that he was still being watched. The slightly longer glances he received from his clansmen and other Konoha shinobi. The slightly increased number of bugs, likely belonging to the Aburame clan, that Madara saw now and then, on the ground, on the walls, flying by him. All the signs were subtle, but they were still there, and Madara could sense them. I mean seriously, who do they take him as?

Madara sucked his teeth. Whatever. Fuck it all. He was accepting that this was how things were just meant to be. Soon enough, he’ll leave everything behind. But for now, his mind was focused on Hashirama. He felt uneasy knowing Hashirama wasn’t doing very well. Madara racked his brain to figure out how he could cheer Hashirama up. I mean, there’s not much he could do when it came to marital issues, and Madara has never even been in a long-term committed relationship to know what can be done about certain situations.

An idea popped into Madara’s mind as he walked by the Yamanaka flower shop. He turned toward the entrance and walked in, immediately hit with the floral aromas that permeated the air.

“Welcome!” A blonde, purple-eyed kunoichi, Emi Yamanaka, greeted.

Madara nodded in response before looking around the shop. He very rarely visited the flower shop. The only time he was there was when Hashirama dragged him along. There was an array of things to look at—flowers, vases, seeds. Surely, there’s something in here that Hashirama would appreciate. He took his time and eyed each flower he passed by along with the corresponding seeds displayed by them. Getting him seeds would be best since he likes to garden.

As Madara paused to assess a blue flower, he could feel a presence creeping up beside him.

“Getting flowers for someone special?” Emi asked with a smile.

Madara glanced at Emi before looking back at the flowers in front of him.

“No. I’m looking for seeds… for a friend,” Madara responded.

“Seeds? For a friend?” Emi asked. Her face lit up. “Are you getting them for Lord Hokage by any chance?”

Madara’s face flushed. How did she know? “Um, yes—”

Emi let out a brief squeal and blurted, “I have the perfect thing! Wait here! Don’t move!” She ran off to a special room near the back of the store, leaving Madara behind.

Madara let out a sigh. He wasn’t sure what Emi was up to and didn’t like to be left hanging. But at least she didn’t look at him with hostile eyes, unlike many of the villagers nowadays. It was refreshing. Madara patiently waited until Emi ran back out, holding a small picture and a small bag of flower seeds in her hands. She held them out for Madara, who accepted them.

“You should give him this! We just received these seeds not long ago and haven’t grown them yet for display. They’re seeds from a distant village, and we have nothing like them here in Konoha yet. They grow sunflowers! They’re called sunflowers because they always face the sun. Isn’t that neat??? I’m sure Lord Hokage will love it. Here, this is the picture of the flower.”

Madara looked at the picture. It was a flower, with a brown core and bright yellow pedals. It was beautiful, like Hashirama. And it always faced the sun? To Madara, Hashirama was like the sun. So, these seeds were the perfect gift. Madara slightly grinned. “I’ll take it.”

The two walked up to the front counter. As Emi was ringing up the order, she paused.

“You know what, actually it’s on me. Don’t worry about it,” Emi said with a smile.

Madara raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I don’t mind paying…” he said as he fished in his pockets for his wallet.

“I’m positive.” Emi winked. Lord Hokage had a special place in her heart. She also loved when men poured into their friendships and got flowers for other men, it was so rare nowadays. She was also close friends with Mito Uzumaki and heard a lot about Madara through her. Upon further inspection, Madara really didn’t seem like a bad guy. And he was pretty hot. But oops, she probably shouldn’t be thinking that way since she was currently seeing someone.  

“Okay, thank you.” Madara immediately made his way out of the store. What was that about? He didn’t expect Emi to cover for him. What reason did she have to do such a thing? Maybe because it was for Hashirama? But, oh well. No point dwelling on it now.

Madara slipped the picture of the flower into his pocket while looking at the bag of seeds in his gloved palm. It’s almost amazing how something could grow from these little things. Though he never understood the appeal of flowers themselves, he guessed he could understand the appeal of gardening. He would never get into it though.

As Madara headed toward the Hokage tower, he thought about how Hashirama would react to his little gift. Would he like it? Would he accept it? Would he flash that cute smile he loved so much? Would he feel better after receiving it? Who knew?

It wasn’t long until Madara was met with the very man he was looking for.

“Madara?”

Madara lifted his eyes from the seeds to meet Hashirama’s gaze. He wasn’t expecting to run into him on the street. “Oh, Hashirama.”

Hashirama grinned and waved. “Yo!” He walked up to Madara and looked down at what was in his hand. “Hmm? Seeds? What are these for? Are you planning on planting them? Speaking of which, do you still have the flower I gave you? You didn’t throw it away, did you?”

Oh yeah, what did happen to the flower Hashirama gave him? Madara was pretty sure he set them down on a counter somewhere. But he was sure he didn’t throw it away. “No, I didn’t throw it away. And these seeds… they’re actually for you.”

“For me…?” Hashirama's eyes slightly widened. It wasn’t often that he received gifts from Madara.

Madara hummed in response. “I know you’ve… been down lately, so hopefully these will cheer you up a little bit,” Madara said as he held the small bag of seeds out toward Hashirama and looked away, avoiding eye contact.

Hashirama grabbed the seeds from his hand and eyed it. They were unfamiliar to him. “I’ve never seen ones like these before… what do they grow into?”

Madara remembered the picture of the flower he slipped into his pocket and started to reach for it. However, after giving it a second thought, he stopped. “Hmm… why don’t you find that out yourself.”

“Ehhhhhh?” Hashirama pouted.

“And no cheating,” Madara added. He knew very well that Hashirama could just use his jutsu to grow the seeds in an instant but thought it would be worth letting it grow naturally. Wasn’t that supposed to be the fun of gardening or whatever?

Hashirama sulked. “Please? The suspense is going to kill me.”

“Good,” Madara said, his voice unwavering.

Hashirama’s pout slowly turned into a soft grin. A gift… from Madara. “Thank you, Madara. I’ll cherish this,” he said as he looked at the seeds then looked back up until he met Madara’s gaze.

“Cherish? That’s a little much for some seeds, no?”

Hashirama shook his head. “Not just the seeds, but this gesture.” Hashirama meant it. Kind gestures like this meant a lot to him, especially coming from Madara. He could tell that Madara put some thought into it. That Madara went out of his way to try and cheer him up after everything Hashirama told him a few nights ago. Deep down, Madara really was a kind and caring man, no matter how much Madara tried to deny it, and the fact that he cared enough about Hashirama to get him a gift made Hashirama’s heart race.

Madara could feel his cheeks start to flush at Hashirama’s words. That smile of gratitude of his was enough to make him melt. Ah, curse Hashirama for having this effect on him. He just wanted to cheer Hashirama up, that’s all. He couldn’t leave the village knowing Hashirama wasn’t okay. That’s all there was to it. Cherish the gesture? Nonsense.

Madara was so in his head that he didn’t even realize he hadn’t responded to Hashirama yet. For a moment, they were just gazing into each other’s eyes, as if the world around them didn’t exist. Madara finally broke eye contact. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

Hashirama softly chuckled. “He’s so shy,” he thought.

In an attempt to shift subjects, Madara added, “Oh, Emi Yamanaka says ‘hi.’”

“Emi?” Hashirama’s face slowly shifted into a guilty expression, which Madara took notice of.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Hashirama nervously laughed. “It’s just that… I remembered I owe her money,” Hashirama said as he scratched the back of his head.

“You owe her money? How much?”

“Oh… it’s not much… just… 100,000 yen…”

“100,000 yen?! Why??” Madara blurted, in disbelief at Hashirama’s debt.

Hashirama flashed a sheepish smile while pressing the tip of his index fingers together in embarrassment, “Well… I was out gambling, and I needed more money because I kept losing…”

Madara’s look of disbelief slowly turned into a look of disapproval as he crossed his arms and stared Hashirama down.

“B-But don’t worry! I’ll pay her back!” Hashirama said, bursting into laughter.

“Maybe I should go back and pay Emi for the seeds after all,” Madara thought. He kept looking at Hashirama disapprovingly and said, “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Hashirama’s laughter immediately paused before he was overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor, his head tilted downwards, and his shoulders slouched. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” Hashirama moped.

Madara shook his head. “Jeez, that’s a new record for you, Hashi.”

Hashirama lifted his head and added, “Actually, I’ve done much worse!”

“That’s not something you should be proud of.”

Hashirama was overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor once again. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Hashirama had a serious gambling habit and honestly, Madara was surprised Hashirama hadn’t gambled the entire village away yet. Tobirama was probably serving as Konoha’s saving grace.

Hashirama never admitted this to Madara, but he loved it when he called him ‘Hashi.’ It felt very personal, and the way it rolled out of Madara’s lips was endearing. He wanted him to call him that, yell it out, moan it in bed. Hashirama immediately shook that thought out of his head. He couldn’t let himself get carried away.

Hashirama finally refocused on what he was originally setting out to do: check in on Mito. Running into Madara this early in the day was just a very pleasant surprise. Though he didn’t want his time with Madara to end, he had to dismiss himself. “Thank you again, Madara, for the gift, but I must go now.”

Madara was a bit taken aback that Hashirama was dismissing himself so soon. I mean, this was a common occurrence these days, so he shouldn’t be surprised but he still felt some type of way about it. This was all frustrating for Madara because he understood that this was his reality. And that space from Hashirama was what he needed to solidify his resolve to leave the village. But still…

Madara hummed in response. “Let me not keep you.”

Hashirama smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Here we go again. The internal conflict. Madara stood in silence for a moment before finally responding. “…I’ll be around,” he said softly. Fuck, why does he always do that?

Hashirama waved goodbye and walked off. “I’ll take your word for it. Just please, stick around a little longer. Please… while I make things right with Mito,” Hashirama thought.

Madara watched as Hashirama walked away, the physical distance between them growing larger and larger. Madara was reminded of when they first parted ways as kids. That’s when things really took a turn. They’d always been on opposite sides of conflict, and when they finally reunited, the distance grew between them once again.

Now that Hashirama walked off, Madara was reminded of the eyes that were watching him. Has Hashirama turned on him? Was Hashirama keeping a close eye on him? Does Hashirama also see Madara as a threat? Suddenly, the watchful gazes of the occasional villagers felt more intense.  

Madara shoved his gloved hands into his pockets and began walking home, keeping his head tilted downward as his soft, black locks curtained his face, hiding his slightly solemn expression. Why did his chest hurt? Why, when he’s already accepted his reality? When he’s already decided he’d take on a new path and move forward? Why?

Evening arrived, and Hashirama slowly made his way back to Tobirama’s place, feeling exhausted and defeated. After seeing Madara, he visited Mito only to be ignored again. Then he was caught by one of his students, Hiruzen, and ended up training with him until the end of the day.

Once Hashirama entered Tobirama’s home, he slipped off his shoes and dragged his feet, making his way to the bathroom, greeting Tobirama on the way in. He showered and got dressed before coming back to the living room and dramatically collapsed onto the couch next to Tobirama, who was reading a book.

Hashirama let out a long sigh. “It’s been almost a month and Mito still won’t talk to me,” he moped.

Keeping his eyes glued to his book, Tobirama responded, “What do you expect?”

Hashirama softly groaned in response. He tilted his head towards his younger brother. “Tobirama… am I a bad person?”

“Well, you said your vows and married Mito, fell in love with someone else, told her you were in love with someone else, discussed a divorce, then left her alone in the house that night.”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by a depressed demeanor. “For the record… she wanted space. And a simple ‘yes’ would’ve sufficed,” he mumbled.

“I would say it’s not that simple,” Tobirama said as he flipped the page in his book.

“What do you mean?”

“While you did break your vows with Mito, at least you respected her enough to be honest instead of leaving her in the dark and chasing after another man.”

“You’re right… At least I didn’t cheat…”

“Well, no, you did cheat.”

Hashirama straightened up, ready to defend himself. “But I didn’t get physical—”

“Emotionally.”

Hashirama paused, then let out a sigh. “You’re right.” Curse Tobirama for being right. But from the start, Hashirama felt like it was wrong. He just thought he’d be able to get over the feeling, but unfortunately, it never went away. And once it got to a point where he knew he wouldn’t be able to move past it, he decided to tell Mito. But he knew it didn’t change the fact that he broke their vows and hurt her.

Hashirama sunk back into the couch in defeat. “…What should I do?” Hashirama asked, feeling dejected.

Tobirama sighed and closed his book. It seemed like this was eating away at Hashirama, so he probably needed his full attention. “What do you think you should do, brother?”

“Mmm…” Hashirama thought about what to do next. Surely, he knew that things wouldn’t be all rainbows and butterflies after confessing to Mito, but actually living through it was harder than he anticipated.

Hashirama sighed and finally said, “Maybe I’ll just take it all back… Time travel…” Hashirama slightly grinned as he thought about the conversation he had with Madara a few weeks back. He quickly wiped those thoughts away because now wasn’t the time to think about him.

Tobirama raised an eyebrow. “Time travel? That’s wishful thinking.”

Hashirama softly chuckled. “A good friend of mine told me that it’s probably possible. But I digress.” A frown made its way back on Hashirama’s face, “maybe I really should just take it all back and tell her I didn’t know what I was thinking.”  

Tobirama slightly furrowed his eyebrows. “You can’t do that. The damage has already been done, and you’ve probably already breached her trust. You’ll just be lying to both you and her. Mito is a clever woman; she wouldn’t even believe you. Besides, if you’re still masturbating to the thought of Madara, then you’re too far gone.”

Hashirama flinched. “…You heard that?”

“I truly wish I didn’t.”

Hashirama leaned forward, buried his face into his hands, and groaned. “I don’t know what else to do, Tobi,” he mumbled.

“You need to move forward, brother. You already know what you want, but your inherent nature to appease everyone is stopping you from making that decision.”

“Move forward?” Hashirama slowly lifted his face out of his hands.

“You did what you did for a reason, right? It’s inevitable that things turned out this way. Move forward, give her time, and make amends wherever you can,” Tobirama said.

Hashirama leaned back and sighed. Move forward. What does moving forward mean to him? Should he just keep doing what he’s doing? Should he just keep trying to reach Mito until she comes back around? Should he keep trying to keep his distance from Madara until then? Should he just go after Madara now? No, he shouldn’t. He has to make things right with Mito first. Then he could go after Madara? But Hashirama couldn’t help but get curious about something.

Hashirama turned his head and looked at Tobirama. “Tobi… why haven’t you said anything about this?”

Tobirama raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been giving me advice about what to do, but I know how you feel about Madara. So why are you encouraging me to move forward…?”

Tobirama sighed. “You’re going to do whatever you want whether I try to talk sense into you or not, especially when it comes to love. So, I won’t bother.” It’s true, he did have suspicions about Madara. If what he uncovers verifies those suspicions, things between Hashirama and Madara may play out differently. Tobirama knew Hashirama would ultimately choose the village. But again, Tobirama did want his older brother to be happy, and it seemed like Madara did make him happy, for whatever reason. Tobirama wasn’t even sure if Madara would allow himself to be pursued by Hashirama anyway. Tobirama decided that he’d let the inevitable happen. If Madara ends up being a threat to the village, he’ll take care of it. If not, then… he’ll support his brother, within reason.

Tobirama continued, “Speaking of which… have you managed to ‘get to’ Madara yet? Don’t forget what was discussed in the meeting with Isamu.”

Hashirama brought his palm to his face and sighed. “I know, I know, I know… and no, I haven’t gotten to him yet.”

“Brother, I really think you should consider—”

“I said I’ll handle it, Tobirama. Just leave it to me. Don’t do anything.”

Well, too late. Tobirama had already been watching over Madara behind the scenes. Obviously, he won’t tell Hashirama that though. “How long will it take for you to handle it?”

“It’ll take a little more time. Just trust me.”

“What are you even doing? We can’t just rely on time. Anything could happen at any moment.”

What is he even doing? Hashirama thought about how he’d told himself that he would get Madara to open up to him, but to this day, he still hadn’t. Ever since their talk on the top of the stone hill, he still hadn’t managed to get Madara to open up to him. Seriously, what is he doing? He’d told himself he would handle things with Mito first, but was he taking the right course of action? While he’s taking care of things with Mito, Madara could be slipping deeper and deeper into whatever darkness is in his heart. Hashirama sat up, leaning his elbows against his knees as he grew deeper in thought.

“Brother, you have to put the village first,” Tobirama added.

“I am putting the village first, Tobirama. The village is its people. Why would I make hurtful assumptions when I don’t know the whole truth?”

“It’s an educated assumption.”

“He’s hurting, Tobirama. Can’t you see that?”

“And if he is hurting, the Uchiha Curse of—”

Hashirama sighed, running his hand through his hair. He stood up from the couch, unwilling to have this same discussion with Tobirama again. “I told you not to speak that way about them,” Hashirama mumbled as he left the living room.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room to sleep. It’s late. Goodnight.”

Tobirama stood up, going after his brother. He wasn’t done having this discussion. He felt like Hashirama was taking this too lightly. “Hashirama, I wouldn’t be pressing you like this if I wasn’t concerned.”

“No, you wouldn’t be pressing me like this if it wasn’t Madara Uchiha or any other Uchiha matter of fact.”

“That is false.”

Hashirama gave Tobirama a look: Really?

“I’m being logical, brother. And right now, you’re not—”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, Tobi.”

“You can’t put this off, Hashirama. It’s your duty as the Hokage to tackle these things head-on.”

Hashirama could feel a headache starting to come on. There was just too much going on right now, and he was feeling overstimulated. Mito. Madara. The Village. His students. That suspicious creature who still hasn’t been caught. Hashirama pinched the bridge of his nose.

Tobirama continued, “And if something happens to the village, then what? When the villagers voted for you as Hokage, they put their trust in you to protect the village, to keep the village’s best interest in mind. I already have to keep you in check, make sure you’re on time for things, make sure you’re doing your work, make sure you’re making the right decisions for Konoha. The village is new, and it’s up to us to make sure it doesn’t fall. It’s up to us to spearhead this new era, build up this delicate system, and take down anyone who threatens progression and peace. You can’t let your personal affairs get in the way of this. I get it, you love the man, fine, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he could be a threat to the vi—”

Hashirama finally snapped. “Stop it! Just stop it, Tobirama! Stop the nagging, stop the pressing, stop the accusations, just stop it. I know! I know I’m the Hokage, I know I need to keep the village’s best interest in mind, I know it’s a critical time for the village right now! I know all of this but I’m tired of hearing it from you. You’re driving me insane!”

“If you want me to—”

“Do you want to be the Hokage??”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say—”

“Then shut up, give me space, and just let me handle things. Please,” Hashirama demanded in a rather more serious tone than usual. He was almost surprised at the words that left his mouth.

Tobirama grew silent, clenching his jaw in irritation. “Fine.” He turned around and went to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Hashirama flinched at how surprisingly loud the door was. And Tobirama was mad. Great. Hashirama sighed and walked into his room, gently closing the door behind him. He made a mental note to apologize to Tobirama later. He didn’t mean to snap at him, but it was getting too overwhelming. He collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Remembering the gift he received earlier that day, Hashirama took the small bag of seeds out of his pocket and grinned. As he stared at the gift, he let his mind race about everything that had been going on. He then remembered his conversation with Tobirama earlier before things took a left turn.

“Move forward, huh?” Hashirama whispered.

Chapter Text

“I honestly didn’t even think she was capable of doing that! Good for her though,” Emi babbled as she took a sip of her wine.

“Mmm,” Mito hummed in response, eyeing the half-filled wine glass she held in her hand. She was sitting on her couch with one of her closest friends, Emi Yamanaka, who decided to stop by her house that evening because she hadn’t seen her in a while. Mito’s long red locks fell down her back, not in their usual high buns, and her eyes appeared tired. Meanwhile, Emi was talking up a storm, updating her on the latest village drama.

Emi looked around at all the vases surrounding the living room area, which appeared to be overfilled with flowers. “So many flowers! Has Lord Hok— er— Hashirama been picking them out from his garden?” Emi sometimes struggled to refer to Hashirama by his first name when she was with Mito. It would be weird to address her husband as the Hokage while she’s with her.

Mito looked up and around, as if she was seeing the flowers for the first time. The flowers Hashirama had been leaving for her were building up. “Mmm. Hashirama has been bringing them to me more often these days.”

“Aw, you’re so lucky!”

“Mmm.” If only Emi knew.

“Speaking of flowers, you would not believe who I saw at the flower shop the other day!”

“Who?” Mito asked, sounding uninterested. But it didn’t seem like Emi got the message. Honestly, Emi practically forced her way inside her house. Mito wasn’t in the mood to chat, but Emi was persistent.

“Guess!” Emi responded.

Mito let out a subtle sigh. “Hmm… One of the guards, Haruto? Is he finally asking that girl out?”

“Mmm, good guess but no! It was Madara! He was getting something for Hashirama and—” Emi squealed. “I just love when men pour into their friendships. It’s so rare.”

Great, the last person Mito wanted to hear about right now.

“And I know, I know, about all the rumors about Madara, but he didn’t seem like a terrible guy. What if he’s just misunderstood? You’ve always said Lord Hok— uh— Hashirama admired him as a friend and rival, right?”

Admired would be an understatement, Mito thought. She bit her lip at the thought of Hashirama confessing his feelings about Madara. His words still rang in her head every day. She just couldn’t stop thinking about the way Hashirama talked about Madara that day, the admiration in his voice, the softness in his eyes. The more she thought about it, the more things made sense in her head, and the more accepting of the situation she was, yet the more hurt she felt. Mito took another sip of her wine.

Emi continued, “And don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Madara’s really hot. Would it be crazy if I pursued him?”

“Emi!” Mito blurted.

“What??”

“I thought you were seeing someone?”

Emi rolled her eyes. “Barely! I feel like things aren’t really moving with Aoki.”

“Maybe he’s the type who likes to take things slow. Emi, he’s a kind and good-looking guy.”

“I never said he wasn’t. I don’t know, I’m just not feeling anything for him right now…” Emi shrugged as she took another sip of her wine. “There’s no… chemistry I guess.”

“Maybe just give it more time. You were excited when he asked you out for the first time.”

“I mean, sure, but you know who I could have chemistry with?”

Mito paused, waiting for Emi to answer her own question.

“The Madara Uchiha!” Emi answered proudly, holding her wine glass in the air.

Mito rolled her eyes. “Seriously Emi, don’t bother.”

“Huhh?? First you don’t want to hook me up with Tobirama, now you’re not supporting my endeavors with Madara? Sometimes I feel like you don’t want me to find love, Mito. Hmph. I want to a perfect little happy marriage like yours too, ya know.” Emi pouted.

Mito lowered her eyes to the red wine in her glass as a frown spread across her lips. “It’s not perfect…” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

There was a loud knock at the front door, and Mito immediately knew it was Hashirama. Her heart dropped and she couldn’t move. She still wasn’t ready to face him. Emi looked toward the direction of the door, then back to Mito. She noticed Mito grasping her wine glass a little tighter than earlier.

“Do you… want me to get that?” Emi asked.

“S-Sorry, yes, please, if you don’t mind,” Mito mumbled as the grasp around her wine glass loosened.

As Mito watched Emi carefully put her glass down and head toward the front door, she figured she probably should’ve told her not to let Hashirama in. But, Mito hadn’t said anything about what was going on between her and Hashirama, and didn’t want to raise any suspicions. She put her wine glass down and took a deep breath, mentally preparing to see Hashirama if he lets himself in.

Emi arrived at the front door, surprised at who was standing before her.

“Mito—”

“Lord Hokage??” Emi blurted.

“Oh, Emi. Hello, I didn’t know you were visiting,” Hashirama responded, a hint of disappointment laced in his voice. He thought Mito finally opened the door for him, but he was wrong. He looked down at the flowers and food in his hand before meeting Emi’s gaze again.

“Why are you knocking on the door at your own house?”

“Oh.” Hashirama let out a nervous laugh before flashing a sheepish smile. “I forgot my key!”

Emi hummed in response before stepping aside, creating space for Hashirama to enter. Hashirama hesitated. Given that Emi opened the door, it was obvious to him that Mito probably still didn’t want to see him. He didn’t want to intrude out of respect for her space.

“A-Actually, I was just stopping by to drop these off for Mito. Could you give these to her for me?” Hashirama asked as he held out the bouquet and container in his hands.

“Oh, sure? Aw, these are so cute!” Emi responded as she accepted them. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”

“Yeah, I’m positive. I actually have to run to go… check on something important,” Hashirama said as he started backing away. He suddenly remembered the debt he owed Emi, and the scolding he received from Madara because of it. Hashirama flashed a nervous smile. “Oh yeah, a-and about my…”

“Hmm?”

“N-Nothing!” Hashirama laughed while scratching the back of his head. “Nothing at all!” He finished before scurrying away. It’s probably better not to remind her right now. 

Emi raised an eyebrow, characterizing Hashirama’s behavior as suspicious. She shook it off and used her hip to close the door before walking back to the living room where Mito sat. “Special delivery to the one and only!”

Mito looked up to see the gifts in Emi’s hands. Of course he would bring more flowers. Mito accepted the bouquet and placed the container down on the small table in front of them. As she looked at the flowers, she could feel her emotions start to heighten. They were beautiful, and she loved them. But what immediately came to mind was the feeling of betrayal, the feeling of losing her husband, the knowledge that Hashirama was in love with someone else. Mito bit her quivering lip as her vision began to blur, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to fall down her face.

Emi noticed Mito’s glistening eyes and frowned. “You know… Mito. I’ve been wanting to say something, but I was hoping you’d open up about it eventually. Are you okay? Is something going on?”

And with that, Mito burst into tears. She cried and cried, as hard as she did the night of her argument with Hashirama. Mito desperately wiped at her tears, but they kept falling.

“Mito…!” Emi pulled Mito into a hug, and Mito clung onto Emi tightly, sobbing into her arms. Emi waited patiently for Mito to let it out as she gently caressed her back in a comforting manner. Once Mito’s crying finally subsided, the two women sat in each other’s arms for a moment as Mito sniffled.

When Mito was finally ready to respond, she pulled away from Emi, wiping at the residual tears that rolled down her flushed cheeks. She pushed her red locks out of her face and rubbed her puffy eyes. After that long cry, she somehow felt lighter, as if those tears were building up inside of her and finally broke through the dam that tried to contain them.

“Mito… what’s wrong?” Emi asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

Mito sat in silence, sniffling, avoiding eye contact.

“Is it Hashirama?”

Mito nodded. Sniffled.

“Did you guys get into a fight?”

Mito nodded as she bit her lip.

Emi tilted her head and furrowed her eyebrows. “What about?”

Mito slowly shook her head and looked down at her hands in her lap. She really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Okay… well… given that he’s been bringing you flowers, I’m sure he wants to make up, yeah?”

Mito shook her head again, feeling a lump form in the back of her throat.

“What do you mean? Why are you shaking your head?”

Mito opened her lips to speak, but the words couldn’t come out. She took a moment before attempting to speak again. “What if… this is really it? What am I… going to do?” Mito’s voice was shaking from all the crying she had done earlier.

“Girl, what do you mean? This isn’t it! I’m gonna go get Hashirama right now so you two can talk about it and make up,” Emi demanded as she attempted to stand up, but Mito quickly grabbed her wrist.

“No, no, no, don’t get him. Please, Emi, I’m serious,” Mito pleaded, her throat tightening as more tears started to fall down her face.

“Mito…”

“Emi, seriously… if it’s over, what am I going to do? Will I even be okay?” Mito asked, now crying once again.

Emi wiped at Mito’s tears. “Mito, it’s not going to be over. Hashirama loves you. A fight is something you both can overcome. Come on now, I know you guys.” Emi tried to reassure her. But she was curious as to why Mito was suggesting things would end for them. It seemed a bit extreme. Did something that bad happen? Did someone cheat? Did he hit her? No, Lord Hokage wasn’t the type of man to do such a thing.

“Just… just please, hypothetically, what if it’s really over…?”

“I’m not going to entertain that hypothetical. It isn’t happening, Mito!”

“Emi, please…”

Emi sighed. “Fine. If it’s really over, then Mito, you’ll be okay. You’re beautiful, independent, intelligent, and strong. Honestly, it would be his loss. You have friends here who will support you through it. We won’t let you fall. Plus, you’re a phenomenal woman who is deserving of a man who would appreciate you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. And since you’re a catch, you’ll definitely find that person. I’m sure men will flock to you. If things are really over, yes it will hurt. But with time, things will start to feel better. And if it’s a happy-ish ending, since ending a marriage isn’t very happy anyway, it’s not like you both will disappear completely from each other’s lives. But this is all hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Mito couldn’t help but succumb to her tears while Emi was speaking. She was right. And for the first time since her argument with Hashirama, she felt a little clarity. Mito wiped away the last of her tears and whispered, “Thanks Emi…”

“Mhmm, of course. But, all of that is nonsense because I believe in you guys.”

“Thanks…”

Mito and Emi chatted for a little while longer until Emi had to go. She drank the last of her wine and turned to Mito.

“I have to go now. I’m working the night shift for the barrier team. Are you going to be okay when I leave?”

Mito nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go be great. Thanks for stopping by, Emi, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Emi stood up and started walking away. “Do you think I’ll run into Madara on my way there? What do you think I should do if I do? Should I just—?” Emi stopped and flirtatiously tossed her blond hair over her shoulder before looking back at Mito and batting her long, blonde eyelashes.

Mito softly chuckled, which was the first time she laughed in a long time.

“Mito, come on, this is serious! Should I wink? Or is that too much? Maybe I shouldn’t do anything at all, maybe I should act mysteriously. Do you think he likes mysterious women?”

Mito shook her head. “Honestly, Emi, don’t bother with Madara. Trust me.”

Emi let out a dramatic sigh and pouted. “Fiiiine.”

“You have Aoki!”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t step it up in like a week, I’m ending things.”

“Aoki is a great guy.”

“I’ll end things, Mito!” Emi playfully warned.

Mito grinned. “Then I hope he steps it up.” She took a mental note to talk to him about Emi if she ever manages to step out of the house within the next few days.

The two women said their final good-byes before Emi left. Mito settled onto her couch and sipped some more of her wine, which she barely drank while Emi was there. Initially, she didn’t want the visit from Emi but was grateful that she came. She had been isolating herself for so long that she forgot how good it felt to be around friends. Mito was able to let out a good cry, her mind cleared up a little, and Emi’s words took over her thoughts. She used this opportunity to think things through about her marriage, about Hashirama. What should she do? How will she move forward? Mito spent the rest of her night thinking on the couch, taking a short break to eat the food Hashirama brought her, before she fell asleep in the living room, surrounded by the vases of flowers around her.

As he sat on the ground, Hashirama slowly wrapped his fingers around a flat rock that lay beside him. It was nighttime, and he decided to try and clear his mind by the river he and Madara usually skipped rocks at. But tonight, he was alone.

He slowly retracted his hand and threw the rock, watching as it skipped across the river to the other side, making a clack sound as it touched the ground. Hashirama then grabbed another rock and repeated the same thing over and over again, with no one to catch it on the other side. He simply watched as the rocks piled up.

Hashirama’s mind was muddled. It had been several days since Emi opened the door at his place instead of Mito. It was a painful reminder that Mito didn’t want to talk to him, and that he really did fuck up badly. Guilt consumed his heart, and he racked his brain trying to figure out what to do.

Suddenly, a small gust of wind wisped across Hashirama’s face as a rock flew past him, jumped across the river, and gracefully landed on the other side. Hashirama quickly turned around to see Mito standing nearby, a soft smile on her face.

Hashirama’s eyes slightly widened, and he could feel his chest flutter. It was Mito, in the flesh. It was the first time in a long time that he’d actually seen her—her beautiful smile, her gorgeous red locks, her comforting presence. Excitement welled up inside of him, but it didn’t replace the guilt that continued to plague his heart. A grin spread across Hashirama’s face. “I didn’t know you can skip rocks.”

“It was always you and Madara’s thing. I didn’t want to take that away from you. May I sit?”

“Please!” Hashirama insisted, almost a bit too eagerly.

Mito walked up to Hashirama and sat down next to him. She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, and resting her chin on her knees. Her hair was down, with one side tucked behind her ear. She stared straight ahead, not saying a word.

Hashirama couldn’t help but glance at Mito from the corner of his vision. He noticed that she had been looking better since the last time she saw her; her cheeks weren’t sunken, her eyes weren’t puffy, she wasn’t pale, she looked well-nourished. Good, that offered Hashirama some relief. But he still knew she was hurting. Hashirama wasn’t sure what to say to her. He parted his lips to speak, but nothing came out. I mean, what should he say? Should he apologize? Should he tell her it was all a mistake? Should he ask her how she’s doing? Should he talk down on himself and tell her how much he failed as a husband? Hashirama swallowed, a bit annoyed that when he finally had the opportunity to talk to Mito, he couldn’t say a word.

The two sat in silence for a while, both looking at the tranquil waters that flowed down the river, illuminated by the moonlight.

 “…I think you should go be with him.” Mito finally broke the silence.

Hashirama’s eyes widened at the words that met his ears. What did she say? He turned to face Mito, who was still looking straight ahead.

“I’m sorry, what?” Hashirama said.

Mito softly exhaled as she brought her knees closer into her chest. She responded, “Thank you for giving me the space that I needed. I was finally able to process everything and… I think you should go be with Madara.”

“Wait, w-why? Mito, that’s not why I…” Hashirama’s voice slowly trailed off. He recalled the conversation he had with Tobirama a little while back about moving forward. He knew he wanted Madara, but telling Mito about his feelings mainly stemmed from his respect and love for her rather than his desire to be with Madara. He didn’t want Mito to feel like she needed to give permission. He didn’t want her to think that he didn’t love her, or didn’t respect their marriage. Hashirama continued, “It was never about wanting your permission to go to him. I just wanted you to know how I felt because… I respect you… and I respect our marriage… and I knew having these feelings wasn’t right.”

“I know that, Hashirama, thank you… But I gave it some thought, and I guess deep down I could tell there was always something there between you two. Before we married, I could tell your friendship with Madara ran deeper than what either of you could see.”

Hashirama listened to Mito intently.

Mito grinned as she recalled her early days with Hashirama. “I was so excited to marry you. I know we didn’t know each other that well before we started preparing for marriage, but I always admired you. You were the strong, kind, humorous, charming man that everyone loved. And I thought, wow, how lucky I must be. And the more I got to know you, the deeper in love I fell.”

“Mito…”

“I loved waking up next to you. I loved making your lunches and bringing them to you whenever you forgot them because you were running late to work. I loved our late-night conversations. I loved our laughs. I loved cooking with you and kissing your hand whenever you burned it even though it got better on its own within the next few minutes. I loved our petty little arguments. I loved dragging you out of the pub after you’ve gambled for too long.”

Hashirama could feel himself choke up as he also recalled their time together.

“And… But… I just… The more I saw you and Madara interacting, the more I saw it. I didn’t want to believe it, but I saw it. I wanted you to myself and just hoped it was nothing.”

“Mito, I… Back then I didn’t realize it was much more than that. I promise, I only saw him as just a friend. I loved you, I was invested in you, in us. I loved our marriage.”

“Hashirama, you’re a kind, honest, and loyal man. Oblivious at times, as well. I know you didn’t do this intentionally. I know you loved me. I appreciate you telling me how you felt about Madara.”

“I—”

“And yes, it still hurts. Why wouldn’t it? But you know… I’ll be okay, I promise.”

There was a moment of silence between the two before Mito continued. “And you were right, I do deserve someone who loves me, and only me. So… Hashirama… let’s get a divorce.”

“…A divorce…” Hashirama whispered to himself. He could feel his heart sink into his chest and his throat tighten. A divorce was expected, but the reality of it still hurt. It was the end of something good, something beautiful with someone he loved, and he was the reason.

Mito finally turned to face Hashirama, surprised to see tears rolling down his rosy cheeks. “Are you…?”

“Hmm? Sorry, sorry,” Hashirama quickly wiped away at his tears and added, “It’s ridiculous that I’m the one crying, right? I know,” he said as he softly chuckled.

Mito smiled. Honestly, she had no more tears left to cry. It still hurt, her chest still felt heavy, but she had reached a stage of acceptance. She slowly reached out her hand and caressed Hashirama’s cheek before bringing it back to her lap. She understood why he would cry though. Hashirama was a caring, empathetic man. It was a sad time, the end of a union. But it was for the better. She still loved and cared about Hashirama deeply, and she wanted him to be happy. She also wanted happiness for herself.

But Mito will miss his presence, his warmth, his smile, his touch, lying next to him every night. She’ll miss being the person to hear about his day every day. Gosh, she’ll miss it all. Her train of thought was disrupted when she felt Hashirama scoot in closer. She took the opportunity to tilt her head and rest it on his shoulder, finding comfort in his presence.

“I’ll miss you,” Mito whispered.

“I’ll still always be here for you. You will always have a special place in my heart,” Hashirama responded as he tilted his head, resting it on hers.

Mito hummed in response. She knew Hashirama would be there for her, it just wouldn’t be the same. Regardless, she still appreciated having him in her life. She was ready to let go.

“I love you,” Mito said.

“I love you too,” Hashirama said.

They both sat there in silence, savoring this intimate moment between them, taking in the view of the flowing river and the beautiful full moon in the sky ahead of them.

xxx

Madara slowly strolled through the forestry areas of Konoha at night, hoping to clear his mind. He had been thinking about a lot of things that night, but the main thing that kept crossing his mind was Hashirama. And those words he said…

“You have no idea how head over heels I am for you.”

Madara shook the thought off and sighed. He couldn’t stay in his house, he couldn’t stay in that stifling room in the Naka shrine, right now he just wanted to be in a place that would ease the heavy feeling in his chest: the river where he and Hashirama would usually skip rocks.

As Madara slowly approached his destination, he could sense people already there. He hid behind a tree, concealed his chakra, and peeked around to see who dared to hang around his spot at this time of night. His heart dropped at the sight: Hashirama and Mito, sitting by the river, their heads nestled against each other’s. Madara could feel warmth ravage his body, and a lump formed in the back of his throat.

“Ah, so I definitely misheard him,” Madara thought before he swiftly turned around and walked away. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way. That was Hashirama’s wife after all. Why was he reacting this way? Madara’s pace quickened as he started to feel suffocated by the trees around him. He finally emerged out of the forestry region and onto the streets of Konoha, trying to steady his heavy breath. His chest hurt. Madara gripped at his chest with his trembling hand, before letting go and dropping his arm down to the side of his body. He shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, tilted his head down, and walked straight home.

When he arrived home, he slipped off his shoes and gloves, and immediately made his way to his bedroom, collapsing onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. He had decided that tonight was the last time he would ever let those false words of Hashirama’s cross his mind because clearly, he was wrong about what he said. Clearly, he misheard him. Clearly, he was just being delusional. Clearly, he failed to remember his reality. This was his reality. How bold of him to even assume his fate held anything different. He vowed to never question his fate again. Despite his racing mind, Madara slowly drifted off to sleep.

As Madara lay in his bed sleeping, a black creature slowly emerged from the wall near Madara’s bed, flashing a toothy grin. He quietly chuckled, amused at the recent development. With the lower half of his body still within the wall, he edged close enough for Madara to hear his raspy voice in his sleep, hoping to feed him the words he needed to push him to pursue the Infinite Tsukuyomi plan.

“Yes, Madara. This is reality. The village hates you. Your clan has betrayed you. Hashirama will never love you. Hashirama has turned on you, just like everyone else. You lost all your siblings, you let them all die. You watched as Izuna died, and you couldn’t do anything. Now you’re all alone with nothing left but despair. You are loveless. Your fate is dark. There is no justice. There is no peace. This world is cursed. But you are the savior.”

Madara shifted in his sleep and mumbled, “I’m… all alone… I’m… the savior…”

“Everyone has abandoned you. You have nothing. But you are the only one who can save this accursed world through the Infinite Tsukuyomi. You must leave the village,” Black Zetsu added.

“I… have nothing…” Madara mumbled.

Black Zetsu quickly retreated into the wall when he saw Madara’s eyelids flutter as he stirred in his sleep. Soon, Madara shot his eyes open and quickly sat up, as he gasped for air. He was overwhelmed by the warmth of his body. Madara looked around in the darkness to realize that he was in his bedroom. It was just another nightmare. He sat in silence, painfully aware of his racing heart. His thoughts were quickly flooded with all his troubles, and he couldn’t help but let them take over his mind.

“…I need to leave the village,” Madara whispered.

“I’m home,” Hashirama said as he entered Tobirama’s house. He had just come back from dropping Mito off at their house after their discussion by the river. Hashirama slipped off his shoes and walked inside to find Tobirama reading at the dining table in front of a bowl of freshly made miso soup. He didn’t respond to Hashirama’s arrival.

As Hashirama approached the table, he added, “I was finally able to talk to Mito tonight…”

“Good for you,” Tobirama responded dryly, his eyes remaining glued to his book.

Hashirama sat down and sighed. “Are you still mad at me? If so, I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day. It was just a lot in the moment. But I am sorry, Tobi.”

“It’s whatever, I forgive you,” Tobirama said as he flipped the page of his book. He did forgive him, but he admittedly couldn’t help but still be a little petty.

Hashirama softly exhaled. “Mito and I… are getting a divorce… it was officially decided. We were able to come to a cordial agreement. We’re keeping things private until the divorce is official…”

“That’s good, isn’t it? You’re moving forward,” Tobirama said, still refusing to meet Hashirama’s gaze.

“Y-Yeah… I guess…”

Tobirama finally looked up when he noticed the shakiness in Hashirama’s voice, only to be met with Hashirama’s glistening eyes. “Brother, are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course, why do you ask?”

“Because… you’re crying.”

“Oh,” Hashirama answered softly before the tears finally fell down his cheeks. Hashirama quickly wiped away at his tears and attempted to play it off with nervous laughter. “How silly of me, right? To be crying? When it’s all my fault?” He continued to force out a soft chuckle as he kept wiping his tears, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling and his throat tightened.

Tobirama silently watched his older brother cry in front of him, desperately wiping away at his tears. He softly sighed and stood up, walking over to the stove to dish out some fresh miso soup he made into a bowl. He brought it back to the table and pushed it towards Hashirama, humming to indicate that it was for him.

“Thank you…” Hashirama wrapped his hands around the bowl and brought it to his lips to sip the hot miso soup. He placed it back down and stared into the bowl. “It’s good…” Hashirama said as he watched his tears fall into the soup. They just wouldn’t stop falling.

Tobirama remained silent, yet present for Hashirama. He figured it would be best to just let him let it all out. And that’s what Hashirama did. Tobirama quietly watched as the tears continuously fell down Hashirama’s flushed cheeks.

“It’s going to be okay, brother,” Tobirama said in a reassuring tone.

Hashirama bit his lip and silently nodded, still watching as his tears continuously fell into his miso soup.

Chapter Text

And you know what, Tobirama was right. Things were gradually okay. Since their talk by the river, Hashirama and Mito had been meeting regularly to discuss the divorce cordially. It was like things didn’t change between them, with their usual banter and inside jokes. Though the painful reality still lingered in their minds, they were doing their best to move forward together. 

“Just take it all! The house, the appliances, the furniture, all of it!” Hashirama said eagerly. 

“Hashirama, no!” Mito responded as she tapped her pen against the paper sitting on the table in front of her.

Hashirama and Mito met up for lunch to enjoy a meal together and discuss the divorce. Mito looked like her usual self again, with her long red hair tied up in her two buns and her face full of color. They had been discussing many things, and were agreeable on everything thus far. When they finally reached discussions regarding belongings, their house became something they just couldn’t agree on. 

“Why not??” Hashirama asked.

“Because it’s your house too, and you should consider taking it as well.” 

“But you should take it! It’s okay. I don’t need any of it.” 

Mito gave Hashiram a look: Really? Mito sighed, tapping her pen a little faster now while trying to figure out how to reach a consensus with her stubborn soon-to-be ex-husband. “I just don’t think the decision should be that easy. It was yours before we got married and moved in together. And if I take it, where will you stay until you can get another place?”

Hashirama hummed. “Where will you stay until you can get another place?” 

Mito grew silent. He had a point. She came to Konoha from the Hidden Eddy Village whenever her marriage with Hashirama was arranged. Staying in that house was all she knew. It’s not like she had a backup place to stay, but maybe she could find one. 

Hashirama continued after a moment of silence. “Seriously, Mito, please take it. Don’t worry about me. You need a comfortable place to stay. Plus, Konoha is still pretty new and we’re still actively expanding our housing to accommodate our growing population. I don’t want you to worry about finding a place to stay. I can just stay at Tobirama’s until I figure something out.” 

Mito pouted. Ugh, he makes a solid point. She then raised an eyebrow. “And Tobirama’s okay with you staying with him?”

Hashirama smiled. “Why wouldn’t he be?” Though Hashirama hadn’t really discussed this with Tobirama yet. But, surely he’d be agreeable to it, right? 

Mito burst into laughter. “I just know you’re stressing that man out,” Mito said jokingly. 

Hashirama chuckled while scratching the side of his cheek. “He’s fiiiine, he’s fiiiine,” Hashirama said as he waved his hand dismissively. 

Mito’s laughter slowly calmed down and she bit her lip. She wouldn’t mind taking the house, but it held too many precious, yet painful memories. Too many memories of her time with Hashirama, memories of what she thought would be forever. She wasn’t sure whether she’d be able to keep living there. “Okay, putting the house aside for now, how about appliances?”

“You keep it.”

“Hashirama! Not even your precious kitchen tools?” Mito blurted as she leaned forward, anticipating Hashirama to backtrack. 

Hashirama shrugged. “It’s okay, I don’t need them. I can always replace them. You keep them, Mito.”

Mito pouted. She could see why Tobirama had to go with him to most of his meetings. Hashirama was the type to probably give other villages free access to Konoha’s assets if he wanted to. “Okay, Furniture?”

“You keep them.”

“Your garden in our yard?”

“You keep that one, I have multiple.”

Mito’s eyes narrowed. “Your clothes?”

“You keep— Actually, I’ll take those,” Hashirama responded while flashing a sheepish smile.

“That’s what I thought,” Mito responded while writing on the paper in front of her, she couldn’t help but grin. “Well… it’s funny that this is the most of our problems I guess, you know, since we never got around to having kids.”

“Yeah…” The smile on Hashirama’s face slowly faded. 

They both grew silent. Kids were something they’d always talked about. They both wanted to have kids in the near future but never got around to trying for them because they were focused on settling as a married couple and building up Konoha. The silence lingered between them until Hashiama finally broke it with a sigh.

“You know what, let’s do this. How about we both have equal custody of the house and everything in it, and just decide what to do as we go? I trust that we’ll be able to handle things cordially in the future should we have to address who should keep what.”

Mito smiled. “I like that!” She jotted down the agreement onto the paper.

Hashirama watched as Mito wrote. He always thought she had beautiful handwriting. And this was nice, sitting with her, talking with her, seeing her appear more lively than before. “How are you, Mito? Honestly.”

“Hmm… I’ve been… better, I guess. I’m taking things one day at a time, and things have been getting… better,” Mito answered honestly. The pain was very slowly, but surely, subsiding as she gradually accepted what was happening. It was just nice to sit with Hashirama like this again, even if they were chatting about a not-so-great topic. “And you? How are you? Honestly.”

“Me? I’m… doing okay, I think. Like you, I’ve been better. Do you have any other plans today?”

“That’s good. Actually, yes, I’m hanging out with the girls this evening. I think it’ll be good for me. I haven’t hung out with all of them together in a while.”

“That’s good!” Hashirama said, relieved that Mito was putting herself out there again. He was really worried when she stayed at home all day at the beginning of this entire thing. It wasn’t healthy. So now he’s glad that she’s been going outside more.

“Yeah, how’s Madara?”

“M-Madara? Um…” Hashirama didn’t know what to say. It still felt weird talking to Mito about him. “He’s um… uh…”

“You know you can talk about him with me, right? It’s fine,” Mito reassured.

“Right, um… I just— I don’t know, actually. He’s been acting… weirder than usual lately, and I feel like he’s trying to avoid me even more now. I’ve still managed to see him every day, but I don’t know… Something’s wrong. I know all of this is nothing new though. I still haven’t given up on him. But I still can’t shake this feeling that he’ll disappear…”

Mito fiddled with the pen in her hand, recalling the discussion they had a while back about Madara and his… patterns. She remembered how she told Hashirama he shouldn’t stretch himself too thin for Madara, and how he couldn’t save people who didn’t want to be saved. At the time, she truly believed that, but now she did feel a little bad for saying those words to Hashirama, especially given what she knows about Hashirama's feelings now. Plus, Mito knew the type of person Hashirama was. Mito softly sighed, “Good, don’t give up on him.”

Hashirama looked up with widened eyes, making eye contact with Mito. 

Mito continued, “You think he’s hurting, right? Then make sure you’re there for him.”

Hashirama nodded with a smile and hummed. He will. He will be there for him. He won’t give up on him. Hashirama’s mind drifted from Madara back to Mito. He thought about her potential disappearance and felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Mito actually wasn’t originally from Konoha, she was from Uzushiogakure, The Hidden Eddy Village, where the rest of her clan resided. Hashirama parted his lips to speak. “You… after things between us are officially settled… will you… go back to…?”

Mito grinned. “Go back to the Hidden Eddy? No, I plan on staying here. Konoha is my home now.”

Hashirama felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was aware that it was probably selfish of him to want Mito to stay in Konoha, but thank goodness. He couldn’t imagine potentially never seeing Mito again.

“Okay! On to the next topic: debt,” Mito said.

Hashirama flashed a sheepish smile. “Actually, can we split that—”

“Absolutely not. All of ‘our’ debt is your debt, and all of your debt is going to you.” Mito eagerly wrote it down on the paper and mumbled, “I’m not paying for your gambling habit.”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor.

The two talked further about matters regarding their divorce, and other things, until Mito caught a glimpse of the clock. “It looks like it’s time for you to head out, yeah? I think we’re at a good stopping point.”

Hashirama looked over at the clock. She was right. He had to get going back to the Hokage tower for another meeting. Hashirama practically inhaled the rest of his lunch while they said their good-byes. Mito put the papers back into a folder and slipped it into her bag.

Hashirama stood up. “Thanks for meeting me for lunch, Mito. I’ll see you later?”

“Mhmm!” Mito stood up and held her hand out for a handshake, but instead was pulled into a hug, which surprised her. Hashirama’s hugs were always the best. They were always so warm and comforting. They made her feel safe. And Mito always fit into Hashirama’s embrace just right. Initially hesitant, Mito wrapped her arms around Hashirama to hug him back. They finally broke and met each other’s gaze.

“Have a great rest of your day,” Hashirama said.

“Thank you, you too. Don’t be late!”

“Right, right.” Hashirama chuckled before he quickly dismissed himself.

Mito squeezed the strap of her bag as she watched Hashirama leave. This was really it. Their marriage was really coming to an end. She finally dismissed herself, thinking about how she could spend her time to distract her mind before meeting up with the girls later.

For the next few days, things remained pleasant between Mito and Hashirama. They continued to meet up, talking about the divorce, and other times, talking about anything. So that no one else was in their business, they continued to keep their divorce private until things became official. A divorce between the two would be big, the entire village and beyond would be talking about it, and they didn’t want the pressure of the circulating news to ruin the process. So at this point, the only person who knew about their divorce was still Tobirama, and they trusted him not to tell anyone.

Mito continued to live in their shared home while Hashirama stayed at Tobirama’s. She started to think that maybe she could keep living there. To make things less reminiscent of Hashirama, she tried to move some furniture around, get new bed sheets, and put Hashirama’s things in places where she couldn’t see them. Hashirama did come over from time to time to pick up some of his things, but it was a very, very gradual process.

“So, you’re letting Mito stay at the house while you stay… here?” Tobirama said one day to Hashirama while they were having dinner at his dining table.

“It would only be right. Hopefully you don’t mind?” Hashirama responded, pressing his palms together in a pleading manner.

Tobirama put a piece of fish into his mouth with his chopsticks and chewed in silence. Well, he didn’t really mind but Hashirama could’ve asked him before making that decision. “That’s fine,” he said.

Hashirama’s face lit up. “Thank you, Tobi!”

“Mhm.”

And so Hashirama continued to live with Tobirama. He helped around the house where he could, like he had been doing anyway, but this time he’s been more intentional. Truthfully, he did miss living with his younger brother. It was always interesting seeing Tobirama in his natural habitat, speaking with Tobirama over dinner, engaging in brotherly banter and petty arguments. When Hashirama got married and moved in with Mito, he saw less of Tobirama, so it was nice having this time with him again.

Things were slowly looking up for Hashirama, and his mood improved by the day. Things with Mito were better, and Hashirama found it easier to focus on the other thing that mattered a lot to him: Madara. Hashirama always felt some type of way about Madara, but these days the butterflies really ravaged his stomach whenever he saw him. However, Hashirama noticed there had been a more significant shift in Madara lately. He seemed to have even more on his mind than usual. Every time Hashirama caught Madara outside, it always seemed like Madara was walking with a purpose. Hashirama had been trying to spend more time with him, and while sometimes he successfully got Madara’s attention, other times Madara dismissed himself promptly, no matter how much Hashirama tried to keep him from doing so. Efforts to get Madara to open up these days have also ended in failure.

One day, Hashirama saw Madara walking outside, and he called for him.

“Madara!”

Madara stopped and turned around to see Hashirama trying to catch up to him. He continued walking, ignoring Hashirama’s call.

“Madara,” Hashirama said again once he caught up to him. “Madara, yo!”

Madara said nothing, just kept walking.

Hashirama walked beside him, matching Madara’s pace, refusing to let Madara get away from him. “Let’s… grab lunch together?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

Hashirama furrowed his eyebrows. What could Madara be possibly busy with? He was no longer head of the Uchiha clan. He isn’t involved with village affairs anymore. And he hasn’t been going on any missions. He doesn’t train any students. What is he not telling him?  “Doing what?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Hashirama pouted. “Then… I’ll drop by later this evening?”

“I won’t be home.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll be busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Still, none of your business.”

Hashirama frowned. Madara still hadn’t even made eye contact with him. “Madara, are you ok—”

“I’m fine,” Madara responded robotically. He didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with Hashirama. These days he’d been reflecting on his reality and what’s to come. He was alone. He had nothing. The pain of that reality still struck him. The nightmares kept happening. He felt like the eyes were still watching him. But, he is the savior. So he must leave everything behind and go be that savior. There was nothing left for him, and he couldn’t keep sticking around, he couldn’t keep letting Hashirama distract him. He focused on hardening his resolve. 

Hashirama sighed. When Madara was like this, there was no winning. Or maybe he’s just not trying hard enough. Hashirama thought about what to do. Hashirama glanced at Madara’s shoulder. Lifting his arm up, Hashirama attempted to place a reassuring hand on Madara’s shoulder, but his hand was swatted away by Madara’s before he could do so. Madara finally looked at Hashirama with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Madara asked, his voice sounding a bit harsh.

“I know you’re busy, but at least have a quick lunch with me?”

Madara paused. He really didn’t want to, he refused to allow himself to. But as he looked at Hashirama, he noticed an expression on his face that always got to him. Though Hashirama probably wasn’t aware of this, whenever he really wants something, his eyes get a bit wider, his brows lift slightly, and he always does this tiny pout. And Madara fucking hated how cute it was to him. Cute enough to make him fold. Madara’s eye slightly twitched. Fuck. 

Hashirama could tell Madara was thinking about it, so he waited in anticipation. Hashirama took that as an opportunity to examine Madara’s face. He looked tired, and his eye bags were a little more prominent than usual. His face was tense, with his jaw clenched. What was going on in that mind of his? Was Madara sleeping? Eating? Hashirama just wanted him to open up, why won’t he?

“I’ll pay?” Hashirama added.

Madara sighed, averting his gaze. “Fine. Thirty minutes,” he mumbled.

Hashirama flashed a smile. “I’ll take it.”

“Starting now.”

“Oi!”

Madara sighed as he walked around the village. He hadn’t really been in a great mood these days, not like he’s ever really been in a consistently good mood the past few months anyway. But lately, he’s just felt different. Maybe it was because he’s been more tired. Maybe it was because he decided to no longer challenge his fate. Maybe it was because he decided to leave the village soon, very soon.

Madara surveyed different parts of the village, giving it one last look before he would leave. Konoha. The village he dreamed about with Hashirama when they were kids. The village they built together from nothing. The village that ultimately betrayed him. Madara wasn’t sure if he would miss it. He wasn’t sure if he ever really formed an attachment to the village. In the beginning, Madara worked hard for the village, defending the village, boasting about the village, going around to other villages to make sure Konoha received the respect it deserved. But now, he felt no such desires.

As Madara strolled around the village, he walked by the pub he and Hashirama would go to drink and vent about their troubles. He walked by the library, where he would check out books. He already returned those books he checked out recently. He walked by the Hokage Rock, where he and Hashirama would sit together while overlooking the village. He walked by the Hokage tower where they had spent a lot of their early days together. He walked by the graveyard, where a lot of their fallen rested. He walked by the Yamanaka Flower Shop where Hashirama would always drag him, and where he got Hashirama that gift. He walked by the Uchiha Police Station, where, well, he didn’t want to think about that. He walked by the convenience stores, the street vendors, the restaurants and bars, the training grounds, the parks, the houses. It was strange. Though Madara thought he had no attachment to the village, he still felt a weird sensation in his chest.

Madara continued to take in the village until he felt Hashirama’s presence from afar. He looked over to see Hashirama sitting with Mito on a bench. They were smiling and laughing about whatever Hashirama had just said. Fortunately, they didn’t notice Madara. As Madara watched, he could tell that they were getting along now. He recalled when Hashirama had told him that things were rocky and that they weren’t in good standing, so it’s good to see that things were better now. A beautiful couple. A happy marriage. Good for him. This… was good. Madara bit the inside of his lip. Hashirama was just fine now. So, there was no longer a reason for Madara to stick around… right?

Madara softly exhaled. He tried to swallow back the lump that formed in his throat. This was fine. This was good. This was reality.

Madara officially decided. Tonight. He continued walking, leaving the sight of Hashirama and Mito behind. It was time for him, himself, to move forward. To go after his dream. To go on and be the savior of this world.

“Tonight, I’ll leave the village.”

Chapter Text

Madara repeatedly clenched his jaw as he walked through Konoha, on his way home. He was feeling irritated. Firstly, the eyes, he hated the eyes that were on him, watching him. Secondly, he walked past a formal Uchiha meeting earlier that he wasn’t invited to. Well, why would he be? He stepped down and removed himself from Uchiha affairs. But still. Thirdly, seeing Hashirama with Mito earlier admittedly ticked him off. Was he happy for Hashirama? Sure. But it was just another painful reminder of his reality. But at last, Madara was finally leaving the village tonight. He was finally leaving everything behind and moving forward, going after his dream of achieving true peace. His last hope. 

Madara’s mind was racing so much that he didn’t recognize Hiruzen running up to him.

“Lord Madara!” Hiruzen bowed. “I humbly ask if you could train with me today!”

Madara ignored the teenage boy, walking around him without saying a word. 

Hiruzen straightened up and turned around to see Madara walking away. He bowed again, now pleading, “I only ask for a little bit of your time!”

Madara sucked his teeth. “I don’t have time to waste on you,” Madara mumbled, still not stopping to acknowledge Hiruzen. It seemed Hiruzen had the wrong idea. Just because he agreed to train him that day with Hashirama, by force, didn’t mean he would ever again. 

Hiruzen stood straight up again and pouted. He started running after Madara, grabbing onto the back of his shirt without a second thought to get his attention. Quickly reacting, Madara kicked Hiruzen in the stomach, sending him flying into the wall of a nearby building. Before he could slide down, Hiruzen felt a suffocatingly tight grip around his neck, which kept him hovering over the ground. He opened his eyes to meet the merciless gaze of Madara’s sharingan.

“I said I don’t have time to waste on you, foolish child.”

Madara immediately cast a genjutsu, sending Hiruzen into a trance. He then let go of Hiruzen, allowing him to fall to the ground. Staring down at Hiruzen for a few seconds, Madara waited to see if he could break out of the genjutsu. But no. How boring. What a disappointment.

“Hn, he can’t even break the genjutsu. How disappointing,” Madara muttered disapprovingly. His eye subtly twitched when an image of Hashirama nagging him crossed his mind. “Hashirama’s gonna get on me for this I’m sure…” But wait. He won’t have the opportunity to because Madara decided he was leaving tonight. Perfect. 

Sighing, Madara turned around and continued his walk home, leaving Hiruzen behind. Upon entering his house, Madara slipped off his gloves and caught a glimpse of the familiar picture of him and Izuna on the small table nearby.

“I’m home,” Madara mumbled.

He made his way straight to his bathroom and took a long, warm shower. After finishing up, he slipped on some black trunks, a black t-shirt, and some lounge pants. Walking over to the kitchen, Madara opened his fridge. Of course, there wasn’t any food in there. He was feeling pretty hungry and hadn’t had much to eat all day. Madara briefly debated on whether he should make something but decided to choose starvation instead.

He dragged his feet along the floor until he reached his bedroom and collapsed forward onto his bed. Exhaustion quickly took over Madara’s body. He felt this intense desire to sleep since he hadn’t been getting much sleep these days. Madara took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He lay down on his stomach in silence, his cheek resting against his pillow. The sound of the ticking clock filled the room, and the rays from the setting sun peeked through his window.

Despite his desire to fall asleep, Madara was plagued by racing thoughts—thoughts about his loneliness, his clan, his deceased brother, his past, Hashirama, the Uchiha stone tablet, the Infinite Tsukuyomi. He desperately tried to get his mind out of this constant loop and eventually landed on his new dream. To achieve true peace. Soon, when the night arrived, he would leave the village. Soon, he will start to realize his dream.

Madara constantly thought to himself, “I’m the savior. I’m the chosen one. I will bring true peace. I will achieve the Infinite Tsukuyomi. This is the only way. The true way. There’s no hope for this accursed world. I will create it… a world of peace, a world of love…”

A grin slowly crept onto Madara’s face before his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

Hashirama hummed melodically to himself as he molded rice balls in his hands. He had been making food in the kitchen while conversing with Tobirama, who was relaxing on the couch and reading a book.

“And you know, I personally didn’t think I was asking him for too much, but alas,” Hashirama said as he continued his one-sided conversation with Tobirama from the kitchen.

Tobirama hummed in response. The whole time, he had only been responding with hums and one-word answers. He was honestly exhausted, and his introverted tendencies made him want to retreat into his personal bubble. And though he loved his older brother, one benefit of living alone was being able to recharge after long days. But now that Hashirama was temporarily living with him, he couldn’t escape all the talking. Most evenings, Hashirama would talk… and talk… and talk… and talk, which exhausted Tobirama even more.

Hashirama, on the other hand, had plenty of energy, and felt like he was on cloud nine. It had been some time since he reached some closure with Mito, and they had been doing relatively well ever since. Their divorce discussions have been peaceful, cordial, and private, and they were both doing emotionally better these days.

This evening, Hashirama was planning on visiting Madara. He had seen him briefly that morning, but he wanted to see him again. He wanted to spend more time with him. For some reason, he found himself craving Madara's company, wanting nothing more than to see him that night. Hashirama couldn’t stop thinking about him, repeatedly accompanied by the fluttering sensation in his stomach. At times, Hashirama wouldn’t even realize he was smiling. Gosh, he really wanted Madara. He wanted all of Madara. Hashirama didn’t even dare let his mind wander to what he wanted to do to that man. Not now, not while he was in the kitchen.

These days, Hashirama felt less guilty about letting Madara consume his thoughts since things with Mito have been settled and are moving in a good direction. But that also introduced some nerves as well. This meant a relationship with Madara was possible, but what if he didn’t want the same? What if he was getting ahead of himself? These thoughts were enough to make Hashirama’s stomach flip.

Hashirama finished preparing the onigiri and packed it into a food basket. He was planning on bringing them to Madara, hoping Madara would also let him enter his home and spend time with him. Fingers crossed, Madara will open the door and let him in instead of sneaking out of his window like he did that one night. Hashirama even decided he would break the door again if he needed to. 

Hashirama quickly went to take a shower and change into some fresh, clean clothes. He made his way back to the kitchen to grab the basket before heading towards the front entrance to slip on his shoes.

“I’ll be leaving to visit Madara… You may… or may not see me tonight. Unless you want my company?”

Thank God, Tobirama thought. He sighed and responded, “Do whatever you want, brother. I’ll be fine without your company tonight.”

Hashirama smiled. “You know… I kind of miss these days; the days when we’d live together. Don’t you?” Hashirama said as he walked forward, back into the living room, forgetting he had his shoes on.

Tobirama quickly turned his head at the noise of Hashirama’s shoes stepping on his floors. “Get… your filthy shoes off my floors!” Tobirama demanded, his voice growing louder with every word he said.

Hashirama flinched and quickly scurried out of the house. “Sorry!”

Tobirama let out a long sigh and shook his head. “Insufferable,” he mumbled. But on second thought, even though Hashirama drained his social battery, Tobirama did kind of miss days like this. Hashirama did make the house livelier after all. Tobirama could feel a slight grin tug at his lips, but he quickly straightened them and shook his head. “Doesn’t change the fact that he can be annoying,” Tobirama mumbled to himself.

As Hashirama walked away from the house, he kept rehearsing in his head how he would greet Madara when, well, if, he opened the door. He talked to himself, making gestures here and there. When Hashirama realized what he was doing, he sighed. Why am I acting like I’ve never been to Madara’s before? Hashirama thought. He’ll just act normal, like he usually does.

And then what? Maybe he’ll just keep things casual. It would be nice to have a good, lighthearted conversation with him. Or maybe he’ll use it as an opportunity to get Madara to open up to him. Hashirama noticed that Madara had been acting stranger than usual lately, and he was dying to know what was in that head of his. Unfortunately, Madara was a difficult man to crack.

The further Hashirama walked away from Tobirama’s house, the more his body welled up with anticipation. He couldn’t wait to see Madara. Hashirama looked at the basket of food in his hand. Hopefully Madara accepts it. He loved seeing the look on Madara’s face whenever he tried Hashirama’s cooking. Hashirama sighed. Jeez, why was his chest fluttering so much? Hashirama wondered how the night would go. He wondered what they’d talk about. He wondered what they’d do. He wondered what they’d do…

Hashirama stopped in his tracks when a certain thought crossed his mind. He figured he should bring something… in case. Just in case. Just… in case. He turned around and started walking back to Tobirama’s house. Just in case. This could just be wishful thinking, but Hashirama couldn’t resist the thought. Just in case.

When he arrived, he re-entered the house, being sure to take off his shoes before entering any further. Just in case.

“Tobirama?”

Tobirama sighed and closed his book, leaning his head back against the couch. God, please have mercy on me, Tobirama thought to himself. He just wanted one quiet night, just one. “What, brother?”

“Um… Do you have…”

Madara slowly opened his eyes to a dark room, faintly illuminated by the moonlight that shone through his bedroom window, signaling that night had arrived. Madara figured he must have fallen asleep. He slowly sat up and was immediately hit with a gnawing hunger. Oh yeah, he chose starvation. Madara rubbed his tired eyes before looking out the window, fixing his gaze on the moon. The moon. It served as a reminder that he needed to get going. It was time to leave.

Madara slowly got out of bed, flicked on the lights, and walked to the corner of his room to get his empty backpack. He should start packing now. Madara figured he could just pack essentials. If he needed anything else, he could just get it during his journey. While he packed, he remembered he still needed Hashirama’s cells. Oh well, he could just come back to the village and get it when he’s ready.

As he packed, Madara constantly reminded himself what this was all for. He told himself to harden his resolve, that he was the savior, that he was the chosen one, that he would bring peace to the world, that it didn’t matter that he had nothing left. It didn’t matter that his clan betrayed him, or that the village didn’t want him. It didn’t matter because better things awaited. True peace. A grin slowly crept onto his face until his eyes landed on Izuna’s katana, which was displayed on his dresser. Izuna. Madara noted to himself that he better not forget Izuna’s things.

Madara reached for the sword but stopped midway when he heard a knock on his front door. He immediately knew it was Hashirama—his aura, his chakra signature, all too familiar, all too warm. Madara could feel his chest flutter at the thought of Hashirama, immediately growing annoyed that he felt this way. What was Hashirama doing here anyway? Didn’t he already see him this morning? Doesn’t he have other things to do?

The knocks persisted, and Madara softly groaned. Now wasn’t the time. Madara was leaving tonight. He’s decided. Hashirama wasn’t supposed to be here. The knocks continued, and Madara sighed. Maybe if I sit still and ignore him long enough, he’ll go away, Madara thought.

But the knocks only grew louder and more frequent, and Madara was well aware the stubborn man was not going anywhere. And quite frankly, he didn’t feel like sneaking out of a window this evening either. Madara begrudgingly got up and walked towards the door, swinging it open in irritation.

“What???”

Hashirama’s hand was held up in preparation for another knock when he met eyes with Madara. He slowly put his hand down as he took in the sight of Madara—his exposed neck, his tired eyes, his slightly messy hair, his full pink lips, it was all so alluring. Hashirama smiled and raised the basket in his other hand. “I brought food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Madara responded while attempting to close the door, but Hashirama held his hand out to prevent the door from shutting all the way.

“Wait!”

Madara opened the door. “What??”

“You don’t have to eat it right now. Just save it for later, yeah?”

“Then what do you want?”

“Mmm… remember when you said if I ever needed anything?”

Madara mentally sighed. Oh yeah, he did say that. But that was a couple of weeks ago and Hashirama seemed to be just fine now, so what does he want? “Okay, what do you need?”

“Your company!” Hashirama exclaimed with a smile.

Madara raised an eyebrow. “Company?”

Hashirama nodded eagerly.

Madara took a moment to think. His initial thought was to shut the door in Hashirama’s face again, but he knew Hashirama wasn’t going to let him do that. Company? Hashirama wanted his company now? Of all nights? It was inconvenient timing. Madara wanted to finish packing and leave the village. He decided. He didn’t need Hashirama coming in and messing up that flow. Madara chewed on the inside of his cheek, indecisive. He looked up at Hashirama, who waited patiently for Madara’s response with a grin and eager eyes. Hashirama has no idea, Madara thought. No matter how much Madara wanted to say no, his body felt something different, as if telling his brain to let Hashirama in. Madara sighed. Even if he did say no to Hashirama’s request, Hashirama would likely force his way in anyway. Besides, what’s one last hoorah before Madara leaves the village? One last conversation? One last sample…?

Madara stepped aside, gesturing Hashirama to enter. Hashirama didn’t waste any time, thanking Madara as he made his way inside, making sure to take off his shoes before entering any further. He caught a glimpse of the picture of Madara and Izuna that sat on the nearby stand and grinned.

“This is a really nice picture,” Hashirama said.

“Thanks,” Madara mumbled as he grabbed his nearby gloves and slipped them on. Putting on his gloves whenever he was about to leave home, or with people, has become a habit for him. He feels exposed without them. He barely realizes when he does it anymore.

Hashirama glanced down at Madara’s hands and frowned, which Madara took notice of. He hated that Madara wore gloves all of the time. It felt as if they robbed him of Madara’s touch. Every handshake, every clash of fists, every shove, even the smallest accidental brush, all of it was blocked by that thick fabric, preventing Hashirama from feeling Madara’s warmth.

“What?” Madara asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Hashirama waved off as he made his way to the dining table and placed the food basket on top.  Madara followed, his hunger sparking curiosity about what Hashirama brought.

“So… what’d you bring?” Madara asked, trying to sound uninterested.

Hashirama grinned while opening the basket. “Onigiri! Want to see?” He carefully took the container out of the basket and opened it to show Madara.  

As Madara looked down at the appetizing rice balls, he could feel his mouth start to salivate.

“Want to try some?” Hashirama asked.

“If you insist,” Madara responded as he slowly grabbed an onigiri and brought it to his lips. He took a bite and was surprised by the flavors that filled his mouth. Suddenly, his hunger was intense, and he felt the urge to devour every single rice ball in that container. How was Hashirama capable of making a dish so simple taste so good? “This is good,” Madara blurted.

“Isn’t it??” Hashirama smirked. “But… since you said you weren’t hungry, then I’ll just have to take it—” Before Hashirama could finish his sentence, he felt Madara snatch the container out of his hand. He put his hands up playfully in defense. “Woah, Woah! Relax! Don’t worry, it’s all yours, buddy,” Hashirama said teasingly.

“Shut up.” Madara could feel his cheeks flush.

Hashirama chuckled in response as he grabbed a seat at the table. Madara huffed while placing the onigiri down before grabbing some water for both of them. He slid the glass of water on the table toward Hashirama and took a seat, focusing his attention on the onigiri in front of him.

Hashirama placed his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek against the heel of his hand, pleasantly watching Madara eat the food he made him. He could tell Madara was enjoying it, which made him feel happy.

As he ate, Madara grew aware of Hashirama’s gaze. He intentionally started eating slower and looked up, locking eyes with Hashirama. He then looked down at his food, looked up at Hashirama, and slowly slid the container toward him as an offering. But Hashirama shook his head, noting that he ate before arriving. Madara shrugged, admittedly relieved because he wanted the onigiri all to himself. Madara took another bite of one of the rice balls and cleared his throat.

“So… why did you really stop by? Is something going on?” Madara asked.

“No, I just wanted to bring you food in exchange for your company,” Hashirama responded with a smile.

Madara’s eyes narrowed. Suspicious. What? Is he gathering information on him or something? “Why?”

“Why not?”

“But why?”

“I can’t visit a friend?”

Touche. Madara took another bite of his onigiri. “Hmm… You seem to be doing better these days. I’m assuming you and Mito made up?”

Hashirama scratched the side of his cheek and shifted in his seat. “Right, yeah, well, yes! We did. Sorry, I never told you, huh? Well, yeah, things were… settled, well, settling. Thanks, by the way, for listening to me that night.”

Madara hummed in response, his mouth full of food. “So, you won’t tell me what happened?”

“Mmm… There’s nothing to tell really.” Hashirama still couldn’t tell Madara what was happening with Mito. I mean, Mito and he agreed to keep their divorce process private until everything was finalized after all. But also, what was he supposed to say? ‘Oh, yeah, we’re getting a divorce because I told her I was in love with you!’ Hashirama inhaled at the thought. He still didn’t know how to go about telling Madara how he felt about him, nor did he know when. The thought of confessing his love made him nervous, to his surprise.

“That’s obviously a lie,” Madara said.

Hashirama smirked. “Yeah? How about you tell me what’s been going on with you? Like I’ve been asking for weeks now?” he asked.  

Madara turned his head, “Whatever, don’t tell me then.”

Hashirama briefly chuckled, relieved that Madara didn’t press further. Yet a bit upset that Madara still refused to answer his question. In an attempt to shift subjects, Hashirama said, “By the way, Madara, I ran into Hiruzen on my way here.”

Madara subtly flinched.

Hashirama continued, “Why’d you put him under a genjutsu?”

Madara sucked his teeth. Snitch, he thought.

As if Hashirama was reading Madara’s mind, he added, “He didn’t willingly snitch on you. After breaking the genjutsu, I had to force it out of him. He was a tough nut to crack though.”

Madara sighed. “He kept asking me to train, but I wasn’t in the mood.”

“So… you beat him up and put him under a genjutsu he couldn’t get out of himself…?” Hashirama smirked.

“No! I didn’t beat him up, I kicked him. And what? I was testing him,” Madara said in an attempt to avoid blame.

Unconvinced, Hashirama tilted his head to the side and gave me a look, as if to say ‘really?’

Madara rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, sure, it was a bit much. I was irritated and he wouldn’t leave me alone.” Madara took a quick bite of his onigiri and swallowed in irritation before adding, “and he tried grabbing my attention from behind, you know how I feel when people sneak up behind me.”

Hashirama chuckled. “Madara, if you don’t want the younger generation to be scared of you, you have to be nicer.”

“I am nice.”

There was an almost comical silence between the two.

 “Nice-er,” Hashirama clarified.

Madara shrugged.  “The world is a cruel place you know. Even though I am nice, not everyone is ‘nice.’ They should get that into their heads.”

“Sure, but because the world is a cruel place, don’t you think we at least owe it to them to be a safe space?”

Madara sighed. “So, you were here to lecture me, got it. I don’t want to hear it,” he responded as he took another bite of his onigiri.

“No, no, running into Hiruzen was just a coincidence. I came because I… missed you…” Hashirama said, his voice lowering to a mumble as he said those last few words.

“You saw me this morning,” Madara said flatly.

“I-I know! You can still miss a person within a few hours, Madara.” Hashirama pouted.

Madara knew that all too well, in fact, he often finds himself missing Hashirama pretty soon after he departs. He would never admit that to him though, he barely likes to admit it to himself. “Whatever,” he responded.

The two continued to converse about other things—current events, Madara’s hawks, Hashirama’s garden, etc.—avoiding topics related to the village affairs. While they chatted, they didn’t miss out on the opportunity to savor each other’s presence. They absorbed each other’s smiles, repeatedly glanced at each other’s lips, internally took note of each other’s mannerisms. Immense feelings of yearning rose within the two as their minds danced around unspoken thoughts. It was like Madara’s dining table served as their own secluded intimate space; it was just the two of them together without the noise of the outside world. Despite how calm and collected they appeared on the outside, they desperately fought the unrelenting desire to reach across the table and surrender to the longing that burned within them.

“So, what did you do today after I saw you?” Hashirama asked.

Madara paused. Well, he mainly just roamed the village, taking it all in in preparation for departure. Madara remembered he was packing before Hashirama showed up at his door unannounced. So, what should he say? He wasn’t going to tell Hashirama he was leaving. He was planning on departing without a word. “Hmm… nothing really. I did some training.”

“Oh! Are you working on a new technique?”

“Not necessarily.”

Hashirama’s face lit up. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a combined jutsu!” Hashirama pointed out his two index fingers and brought them together as he said, “What if you could get your Susanoo to envelope my Wood Golem technique?”

Madara slightly raised his eyebrows. He never thought of that. It actually wasn’t a bad idea. Hashirama’s Wood Golem Jutsu was a powerful jutsu, about the same size as Madara’s Susanoo, enough to probably fight evenly with a tailed beast. The thought of Hashirama’s Wood Golem technique inside of his Susanoo was quite… enticing. It reminded Madara of how bad he wanted Hashirama himself inside of him. Madara could feel a wave of pleasure wash over his body at the thought.

“That would be… quite the jutsu,” Madara finally responded.

“Right? We’d be unstoppable!” Hashirama thought Madara’s Susanoo combined with his jutsu would be a brilliant idea. Madara’s Susanoo around his wood style… his wood style inside Madara’s Susanoo. It was just like how Hashirama wanted his own wood inside of Madara. The thought itself triggered a pleasurable warmth that traveled from his stomach down to his crotch.

“I suppose we can give it a try one day,” Madara said. But he was simply entertaining the idea for Hashirama’s sake. Truth is, they probably won’t try it since Madara was leaving the village that night.

“Mm. Yeah, we should. You know, I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be inside of your Susanoo…” Hashirama said, referring not just to the inside of Madara’s Susanoo, but admittedly inside of Madara himself.

“Inside of my Susanoo?” Madara proceeded to think to himself, or what if inside of me? Either way it would probably be…

As Madara thought, Hashirama couldn’t help but drop his gaze down to the side of Madara’s exposed collarbone. He would love to kiss him there. As his eyes wandered upwards, he noted all the places he would plant kisses on Madara. He looked up at the little divot between his collarbone and shoulder. He’d kiss him there. He looked up at the side of his neck. He’d kiss him there. He looked up at the corner between his neck and jaw. He’d kiss him there. He looked at Madara’s jaw line. He’d kiss him there. And finally, he looked at Madara’s lips. He’d kiss him there.

Madara finally spoke, “hmm… warm, probably.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

The two paused for a brief moment.

“Would it be able to handle my Wood Golem Technique?”

“Are you underestimating me?”

“Of course not.”

They locked eyes, tension developing between the two as they both fought back boners that threatened to make an appearance. Hashirama repeatedly tapped his leg as an outlet for his built-up tension, trying his best not to allow his eyes to wander any lower than Madara’s nose again. Meanwhile, Madara subtly shifted in his seat, rocking his thigh side to side.  

Madara cleared his throat. “Admittedly, I’ve never tried to do a combined jutsu with my Susanoo, so I do wonder if it’s possible.”

“We can make it possible,” Hashirama quickly responded.

“Oh? Seems like you really want this technique to work.”

“I’m desperate…” Hashirama responded breathily, though unintentionally.

There was a moment of silence, neither of the two sure whether they were still talking about creating a combined jutsu. Hashirama tried to maintain steady breathing as he felt this magnetizing pull towards Madara. Madara was just so… words couldn’t even describe how he felt about him. And although recently Hashirama had reached some clarity about his feelings for Madara, he wasn’t sure if his love was reciprocated, and that drove him insane.

Hashirama just wanted to know… What is Madara thinking? What’s in his head? What’s in his heart? What’s going on with him? What drives him? Who does he cherish the most? Does he love someone? If so, who? Does he love me?

Overwhelmed by the questions that raced through Hashirama’s mind, he blurted, “Madara… do you love someone?”

Chapter Text

“Madara… do you love someone?”

Madara’s eyes slightly gaped; he wasn’t expecting that question at all. He slightly parted his lips to speak, but nothing came out. Truth is, he does love someone, and that someone was Hashirama. But he could never say it. He will never say it. What good will come from saying it when he knew what his fate was? Apart from Hashirama, he loved no one. Well, no one who was alive anyway. All of his loved ones were gone… taken away from him by the cruelty of war and the accursed world.

“All my loved ones are dead,” Madara finally responded coldly as he lowered his eyes to the last onigiri sitting in front of him.

Madara’s words triggered a chilling silence between the two. Hashirama instantly regretted asking the question, worried that he might’ve brought up haunting memories for Madara. Yet, a feeling of shame also overtook Hashirama when he felt a bit upset that Madara didn’t mention him. How could I be so selfish? Hashirama thought.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Hashirama asked cautiously.

“What is there to talk about?” Madara asked, almost a little too harshly, as he grabbed the last onigiri and took a bite.

“S-Sorry, I just… I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories, so if you wanted to talk—"

“I’m fine.”

And there he goes, doing it again. Deflecting. Refusing to open up. This killed Hashirama on the inside. He just wanted to be there for Madara, so why won’t Madara let him? “As your friend, I’m always here to—”

“As my friend, you can stop pressing me. I told you, I’m fine.”

“I can tell you’re hurting, Madara. Let me be here for you.”

“There’s nothing to be there for. All there is to do is keep moving forward.”

Moving forward. Hashirama swallowed, fiddling with his thumbs. “And what does moving forward mean to you?” Hashirama asked curiously. The thought of ‘moving forward’ has been on Hashirama’s mind a lot lately. It was an interesting coincidence that Madara brought it up. 

Madara took another bite of his onigiri. “Pursuing my dream.”

Hashirama slightly tilted his head. “Your dream… of… true peace?”

“Exactly,” Madara smirked. That’s all Madara felt like he had left, reliably. He could lean on this dream and achieve his purpose, so it made his pain feel a little less harsh. It was a spark of hope that kept him going. A reminder that his life still had meaning. Yet, why hasn’t he left the village? Madara cursed in his head. He knew why. But tonight, he was hardening his resolve and leaving for real this time, for good.

Hashirama thought back to their time together on the stone hill a few weeks ago. He recalled the moment Madara told him he had found the answer to true peace before bursting into an almost menacing chuckle, which was unsettling to Hashirama. “You know… you never really did tell me what the answer was, the answer that you found to true peace. What was it? What are you planning?” Hashirama asked.

Madara turned his head. “That’s none of your business,” he remarked as he took another bite of his rice ball, leaving only a small piece left.

Hashirama sighed. He couldn’t help but have an uneasy feeling about this. As much as he didn’t want to assume anything bad, like Tobirama and Isamu Uchiha were doing, he admittedly couldn’t completely rule it out. Why wasn’t Madara telling him what he had planned? Of course, Hashirama himself also wanted to achieve true peace. It was a dream Madara and he shared when they were kids, and uniting multiple clans and spearheading the start of Shinobi villages was the first step. He would love to keep working towards this goal with Madara, but it felt like Madara was at risk of straying away from the righteous path.

“Madara… you know I don’t want to assume, but I hope you’re not up to anything… worrisome.”

Madara’s eye twitched. Worrisome? What could possibly be so worrisome about achieving true peace? Madara briefly chuckled. He finished the last bite of his onigiri and smirked. “Most people already assume the worst in me anyway. What’s one more? Go ahead, I dare you,” Madara goaded.

Hashirama could sense a hint of pain in Madara’s voice despite his attempt to mask it. “Madara, I didn’t mean— you know I’m not going to do that—”

Madara let out an exaggerated sigh. Great, now he’s horny and he’s irritated.

“I’m not assuming the worst, Madara,” Hashirama tried to reassure.

“Mhm.”

“I just… want to know what’s on your mind,” Hashirama added.

There was no response from Madara.

Noticing that he might be pushing Madara’s buttons a little too far, Hashirama attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction. He glanced down to see the empty container in front of Madara and smirked. “So, you were hungry. I knew it.”

Madara pouted. “Shut up, get out of my house.”

Hashirama burst into laughter. “I’m just messing with you!”

Madara shifted out of his seat and sucked his teeth. “I’m serious, it’s getting late,” he responded as he stood up, turning his body away from Hashirama to hide his semi-hard on. He needed to kick Hashirama out so that he could finish packing and leave the village. He allowed himself to indulge in Hashirama’s presence for a short while, but that’s it. It’s time for him to go.

“Wait,” Hashirama said as he grabbed Madara’s gloved hand, preventing him from walking away from the table.

Madara looked down at his hand in Hashirama’s and raised an eyebrow. “What??”

“A little longer?”

“Huh??”

Hashirama flashed a sheepish smile. “I just want to talk… a little longer,” Hashirama said as he shifted his gaze toward his and Madara’s hands. God, he hated that Madara wore gloves. Hashirama started reminiscing on his old days with Madara, when they first shared their dreams about true peace with one another. “Do you remember?”

“Do I remember… what?” Madara responded, trying to suppress the excitement that threatened to rise from Hashirama’s touch. Why is he still holding my hand anyway? Madara thought.

Hashirama grinned. “Do you remember when we decided we would change the world? Achieve true peace? It was an ambitious dream to have as kids.” Hashirama softly chuckled. “But I think we’ve made some good progress, yeah?”

Madara softly sighed. What? Was Hashirama attempting to have one of these talks again? Madara sat back down, his hand still in Hashirama’s, knowing it was time to claim his hand back, but not acting on those thoughts. Instead, he acted on his feelings, and his feelings were telling him that he wanted to continue feeling Hashirama’s hand around his. Madara finally spoke, “You call this good progress?”

“Mhm,” Hashirama hummed as he traced the subtle seams of Madara’s gloves with his eyes. “I think… things are better now than they were before, because of us and what we did.”

Speak for yourself, Madara thought. Nothing really changed for Madara. This wasn’t peace. This was an illusion of peace. Different circumstances, different flavors of conflict. Madara still felt like he was living in hell, only now he was alone.

As Hashirama kept his gaze downward, he added, “And I think we can keep working towards our dream together to achieve more.”

No, we can’t, Madara thought. “We don’t need to.”

Hashirama met Madara’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I told you, I already have my answer to true peace. A guaranteed answer. And I’ll achieve it myself.” That’s right. He’ll leave and fulfill his purpose. He’ll leave tonight. He’ll become the savior of this world. So Hashirama should just… “You just worry about the village,” he mumbled. 

Hashirama didn’t like that answer. Because it excluded the most important word to him: together. What he wanted the most was to keep moving forward with Madara. Keep pursuing his dreams with Madara. Keep running the village with Madara. Keep talking with Madara. Keep laughing with Madara. He wanted them to do life together. Hashirama looked back down at his hand holding Madara’s, their hands resting against the middle of the table. Together. And he wanted to do life together because he loved him. Hashirama couldn’t help but gently brush his thumb side to side, tenderly stroking Madara’s hand. He wondered when his love for Madara started. When Mito asked him that one night, he couldn’t think of an answer, and he still can’t.

“I wonder when it all started…” Hashirama accidentally whispered under his breath.

Madara’s arm tensed up at Hashirama’s shifting touch as he felt a pleasant rush throughout his body. His lips slightly parted as he took in this feeling. He wanted to feel Hashirama’s touch move up his arm and caress his body. He wanted to do the same back. Madara’s thumb twitched. He resisted the urge to reciprocate, but his thumb still managed to move, brushing against Hashirama’s hand. Wait, what is he doing? And, wait, what did Hashirama mean? Madara finally spoke, “When what all started? And let go of my hand.”

“Sorry,” Hashirama said as he let go of Madara’s hand, bringing his own down to his lap. Also crap, he didn’t realize he said that out loud. Hashirama struggled to come up with the next words to say. Was now the time? Was now the time to tell him how he felt? If so, then why was he struggling to find the words? “Um… I-I just, I wonder when we became really close friends. You know, when you meet someone, you don’t typically start off close, but you know, I think for me, it might’ve really been when I first met you.”

Hashirama did think that he felt drawn to Madara the first time he met him. He was drawn to the way he carried himself, his personality, the way he spoke, the way he looked. After meeting him for the first time, he knew he wanted to see him again. And the rest was history.

“When I first met you, I hated you,” Madara said bluntly.

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor.

Madara continued, “You were annoying, loud, impulsive.”

With every additional word, Hashirama’s head dropped lower and lower.

Madara slightly grinned. “But that feeling didn’t last long, I suppose.”

Hashirama looked up with hopeful eyes.

“Don’t be mistaken, I still feel it from time to time, like now,” Madara teased.

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor once again.

Madara softly chuckled.

“You can be pretty mean sometimes, you know that?” Hashirama said sullenly, with a pout. 

Madara smirked and crossed his arms. “But on a real note, I’m sure all of it is a gradual process. There may not be a specific day or time when people become close friends. Kind of like love.”

“Love?” Hashirama looked up at Madara, his chest fluttering. “What do you mean?”

“It’s also a gradual process. For instance, can you pinpoint the day you fell in love with Mito? Sure, you can probably remember the time you came to the realization, but the feelings themselves gradually grew in the background.”

Hashirama turned his head to the side, avoiding eye contact with Madara. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Madara never failed to bring up Mito.  “I suppose so,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Madara raised an eyebrow. The energy he was getting from Hashirama was very similar to what he had felt before. “Am I wrong?”

“N-No! I just, you’re right,” Hashirama responded. Thoughts of his pending divorce flooded his mind. He wanted to honor Mito’s request and keep the divorce private until it was official, but maybe he should tell Madara. It’s Madara. The man he trusted. The man he was in love with. The man he wanted to be with. The very reason why he was getting a divorce in the first place.

Madara lowered his eyes, and a heavy feeling settled in his chest. Well no shit he’s right. He remembered he was leaving the village tonight. Damn it. Madara hated to admit it, but he was going to miss Hashirama. But he needed to go. It’s clear what his purpose was. It’s clear where he stood in this world, in the village, in Hashirama’s life. He wished things were… different. But this was reality. He couldn’t keep stalling; he couldn’t keep indulging in Hashirama’s presence, he couldn’t keep stationery. He had to move forward. Madara swallowed back a lump and cleared his throat.

“Listen, Madara—”

“You should go, it’s getting late,” Madara said as he stood up.

Hashirama reached his hand out, attempting to grab Madara’s hand again. “But, wait—"

Madara quickly retracted his arm, refusing to get caught by Hashirama again. “Stop it,” he said as he leaned forward, flicking Hashirama in the forehead.

“Ouch.”

“Get out of my house. Besides, shouldn’t you go home to your wife? I don’t need to hear you complain about how she claims you’re never home.” But it’s not like he’ll ever hear that again. He’s leaving after all.

Rubbing his forehead, Hashirama asked, “Can I at least stay a little longer?”

“No.”

Hashirama pouted as he watched Madara walk away from the table. “But I don’t want to leave.”

Stopping in his tracks, Madara turned his head and stared at Hashirama with narrowed eyes.  “Since when did I care about what you wanted?”

Hashirama flinched before being overtaken by a depressed demeanor. “Okay, okay,” Hashirama muttered with a sullen tone. He begrudgingly got out of his seat and slowly followed Madara in silence. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay with Madara. He wanted to hold him in his arms and tell him everything would be okay. He wanted to talk to him, kiss him, love him, love on him. He wanted to be together.

Hashirama bit his lip as he watched Madara from behind, retreating into his own thoughts. He didn’t know what to do in the moment, and was plagued with many bodily sensations. He could feel an intense warmth radiate through his body as the butterflies wrestled in his stomach, accompanied by the pleasant tingling that traveled down his pelvis. Hashirama grew very aware of his heartbeat, which seemed to be picking up its pace. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to lay it all out on the table. He wanted Madara to know how he felt. He wanted Madara’s touch. He wanted to become one with Madara. But he couldn’t manage to put it into words.

Hashirama’s eyes slowly wandered down Madara’s body, from his shoulders, down his back, and to his ass. He had a really nice ass. Hashirama swallowed, quickly looking back up at the back of Madara’s head. His heart now felt like it was pounding in his chest, as if trying to escape. Jeez.

Move forward.

Hashirama went in circles in his head, trying to decide what to do next. What should he say? What should he do? Every question piled up until it all collapsed into a jumbled mess, muddling his mind. Move forward. He wanted to say something. He felt this physical urge to do something. Say something. Do something. Say something. Do something. Say something. Do—

“Hashirama?”

“Hmm?” Hashirama quickly snapped back into reality, not realizing he had stopped walking.

“Were you even listening to what I was saying?” Madara asked, looking back at Hashirama.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Hashirama flashed a sheepish smile. “What’d you say?”

Madara silently eyed Hashirama. He seemed a bit… off. Maybe not off enough for a regular person to tell, but off enough for Madara, who knew Hashirama very well, to tell. Madara was just saying that, in hindsight, he also believed he started to consider Hashirama as a close friend the day they met. But there was probably no point in repeating such words. After tonight, Madara will probably never see him again until he comes back to collect Hashirama’s cells, and even then, he’ll leave right after. Madara sighed before turning his head back around. “Nothing, forget it. And why’d you stop? Don’t make me force you out of my house.”

Goodbye, Hashirama.

“I’m going, I’m going…” Hashirama said as he took a few steps forward, watching Madara from behind. He could feel his breathing grow heavy. He wanted Madara. He needed Madara.  Hashirama parted his lips to speak, but nothing would come out. He watched as Madara reached for his door, and for some reason, he developed this gut-wrenching feeling, as if it was now or never. Wait. No. Don’t.

What’s his problem? Madara thought as he finally arrived at his front door. Just as he was about to grab the doorknob, he felt a grip around his wrist and was forcefully turned around until he was facing Hashirama.

Huh?

Madara furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, quickly growing aware of how close their bodies were—just a few inches apart.

Hashirama’s eyes slightly widened, surprised at his own actions, as if his body just acted on its own. It felt like he had no control over his it; he couldn’t get his body to stop. And frankly, he didn’t want it to stop.

“Hashi—”

Hashirama stepped forward. Madara stepped backward. They did this until Madara’s back made contact with the door, stopping him from moving away any further. As Hashirama pressed his hand against the door, above Madara’s head, he slowly leaned forward until his face was just inches away from Madara’s. He found himself entranced, captivated by the dark depths of Madara’s onyx eyes. Hashirama simply couldn’t resist any longer. He needed him.

As Madara stared back into Hashirama’s eyes, he could feel his chest start to flutter. Hashirama’s stare was intense, enough to make Madara’s knees feel weak. And he was… so close. Madara had no clue what was going on, his mind racing with a million questions in an attempt to process the moment. What was Hashirama doing? What was Hashirama thinking? This was ridiculous. But for some reason, Madara couldn’t move, as if Hashirama had him under a spell.

Hashirama slowly leaned in. Flustered, Madara placed his gloved hand on Hashirama’s chest, preventing him from leaning in any closer.

“H-Hashirama—”

Hashirama gently grabbed Madara’s wrist and removed his gloved hand from his chest, pinning it beside Madara’s head against the door.

“W-What are you—"

Hashirama grabbed Madara’s free gloved hand and slowly brought it to his lips. He carefully bit down on the fabric of the tip of his glove, avoiding Madara’s finger, and slowly slid it off to finally expose Madara’s bare hand.

“…doing…?” Madara finished, his voice soft and breathy as he watched Hashirama.

Hashirama guided Madara’s bare fingertips towards his soft lips, met with brief resistance, but was able to gently kiss them. Without breaking eye contact with Madara, he brushed his lips down to Madara’s palm and planted another kiss. He kept going, leaving a trail of soft, tender kisses down his wrist and to his forearm. Each kiss sent a pleasant thrill down Madara’s frozen body.

Hashirama intertwined his bare fingers with Madara’s and pinned that hand against the door as well. Now, both of Madara’s hands were in Hashirama’s, pinned against the door, Madara completely in Hashirama’s possession. Hashirama had no words. Overwhelmed by his feelings, all he could do was express them through actions. He wanted to show Madara how much he loved him; he wanted to show him how much he wanted him.

Meanwhile, Madara still couldn’t get a grasp of what was going on. He was simply in shock. His body felt a magnetizing pull towards Hashirama, his heart racing under Hashirama’s longing gaze. But his mind, his mind was jumbled, his neurons rapidly firing to process Hashirama’s actions. Surely, this wasn’t real. Surely, this wasn’t his reality. Was he dreaming? Was Hashirama under some sort of genjutsu? Was he under some sort of genjutsu? Did he already cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi? No, because if he did, he would be the one overseeing everything. So, what was going on? Hashirama would never do this. Just moments ago, they were sitting at the table having a conversation. Now, this?

Madara swore he wouldn’t fall for his delusions ever again. Was the universe taunting him?  Was the universe laughing at him? As Madara’s mind raced with conflicting thoughts, he suddenly became aware of how close Hashirama was slowly getting, inching closer and closer. Madara’s heart skipped a beat, and in a flustered confusion, he turned his head sharply to the side. What was happening? The air between them was charged with tension, a tension that had Madara in a chokehold.

Hashirama took notice of Madara’s resistance and instead leaned in toward Madara’s ear, his lips brushing against it. “Do you… want me to stop?” Hashirama whispered.

“Hashirama, what are you…” Madara’s voice trailed off.

Hashirama found himself falling back into reality. What was he doing? Hashirama was too far in, and he didn’t want to hold back now. But he figured maybe he got a little ahead of himself. Who was he to think Madara would want what he wanted? Hashirama was well aware that rejection was a possibility, that despite how much Hashirama loved him, there was a possibility that Madara wouldn’t love him back. But that was a risk Hashirama was willing to take.

As Madara slowly sank into the feeling of Hashirama’s proximity, it became clear to him that this was reality, his reality. All of this was real—Hashirama’s deep voice, his warm breath against his ear, his musky scent, his soft lips that brushed against his ear lobe. It was all real. And his urges, his urge to submit to his desires, to submit to Hashirama, were all real. His beating heart, the warmth in his cheeks, the feeling of Hashirama’s hands in his, the pressure from his growing boner, they were all very real bodily sensations. All the feelings for Hashirama that Madara desperately tried to suppress were resurfacing, which wasn’t good. He needed to keep suppressing them. Of course, he would suppress them. Why wouldn’t he? Madara thought, who was he to think he’d mean anything more to Hashirama?

But at that moment, Madara wanted Hashirama so badly. He wanted to kiss him, to fuck him. He needed him. But why now? Madara cursed in his head. Why today? Why tonight? When he already decided he would leave the village? When he finally hardened his resolve to leave everything behind and go after his goal? His dream? True peace?  But he needed him. But, he shouldn’t… right? But he wanted him… he wanted his love, his warmth, his light.

But Hashirama’s light was too bright, it was never meant for him. And good things never happened to Madara anyway.

At the thought, Madara weakly resisted Hashirama’s annoyingly strong grasp, but only briefly. He quickly felt his knees weaken; his body being drawn to the presence before him. He couldn’t resist. He needed Hashirama.

A lump formed at the back of Hashirama’s throat when he felt Madara’s resistance. Well, he had his answer. A man can only dream, he supposed. Though Hashirama was hoping to continue, he wasn’t going to force himself on Madara. Hashirama swallowed and softly exhaled. He silently beat himself up in his head, thinking about the intense awkwardness that all of this would probably produce after he pulls away. Then, what would he say? Hashirama started loosening his grip on Madara’s hands.

“S-Sorry, Madara, I’ll stop. I don’t know what I was doing. I—”

“N-No…” Madara softly muttered as Hashirama spoke.

Hashirama’s eyes widened at the unexpected response. Did he hear that correctly? Were his ears deceiving him? He pulled his head back to look at Madara; he looked… different than how he did earlier. His facial expression was softer, more wanting, his lips slightly parted, his cheeks reddened. The rise and fall of his chest was deeper. What a sight.

Intense warmth overtook Madara’s body, and his breathing slowly grew heavy as he stared longingly at Hashirama’s lips.

For the two of them, it felt like time had stopped, and that it was only them in a timeless void.

Finally, Hashirama and Madara locked eyes.

Before they knew it, their lips crashed into each other’s.

It felt like the gates to the years of yearning they stored for one another were finally unlocked. Like an endless flow of water bursting through a broken dam, a force too intense to be stopped. Hashirama pressed his body against Madara’s, pinning him further against the door. Their lips moved against each other hungrily as they savored the taste of one another, Hashirama kissing off the residual taste of umami from Madara’s soft lips.

But it wasn’t enough, they needed to be closer. Hashirama let go of Madara’s hands, immediately wrapping one hand around Madara’s neck and one around his waist, pulling him in closer and deepening the heated kiss. As Madara wrapped his arms around Hashirama, he shifted, causing their bulging crotches to rub against each other. A wave of pleasure washed over their bodies as they softly moaned into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck…” Madara whispered. It was all too much. He needed all of Hashirama, and he couldn’t stop.

Madara tugged at the bottom of Hashirama’s shirt, prompting Hashirama to quickly take it off while Madara took off his own. Before their lips could find each other’s again, Hashirama grabbed Madara’s remaining gloved hand and started slipping the glove off. He hated Madara’s gloves, they always robbed him of Madara’s touch.

Madara looked down at his gloved hand in Hashirama’s before looking back up at Hashirama. Fuck, he hate how sexy he looked. He hated the effect Hashirama had on him. His reddened cheeks, his glistening pouty lips, his yearning eyes, his broad, well-built shoulders; it was all so incredibly, annoyingly irresistible. Once the glove was off, Madara was pulled into another ravenous kiss, which he didn’t hesitate to sink into.

Their bare hands wandered each other’s bodies, taking note of every dimple, every curve, every scar. Hashirama took in the feeling of Madara’s hand, slowly caressing up his chest and neck until it sank into the back of his head, fingers entangling in a handful of Hashirama’s soft, brown locks. God, the touch Hashirama had been yearning for. Hashirama ran his hand down Madara’s chiseled back, sending satisfying chills down Madara’s spine.

Hashirama broke the kiss, leaving a trail of soft pecks across Madara’s chin. Madara reflexively tilted his head, granting Hashirama access to travel down his neck with wet kisses. Hashirama then stroked Madara’s neck with his tongue, parting his lips to suck on his soft skin. As Madara softly moaned, he pulled at the hair in his grasp while Hashirama ran his hand up the back of Madara’s head, grabbing and pulling his hair to gain more exposure to his neck. He couldn’t resist. He gently bit down and sucked at the same spot on Madara’s neck over and over again, harder and harder, until a bruise appeared. Mine.

Their lips found each other again, kissing as their breathing grew heavier. Madara bit down on Hashirama’s lower lip, gently pulling before sinking back into the kiss. As their embrace tightened, they moaned, gaining access to each other’s mouths. Their tongues eagerly sought the other and twirled around each other rhythmically, like a dance.

Madara stepped forward, Hashirama stepped back, until they reached the bedroom, neither of them daring to break the intoxicating kiss. Once inside, Hashirama shifted their position, now leading Madara toward the bed until the back of his legs bumped the edge. Madara succumbed to gravity, lowering himself onto the bed as Hashirama followed. As Hashirama hovered over Madara’s body, they gazed longingly into each other’s eyes. Hashirama’s brown locks slid gracefully off his shoulder and down the side of his face, the ends landing just beside Madara’s face.

There was a moment of silence, neither of the two uttering a word about the situation, as if they feared it would pull them down from the clouds they were floating on. As if they would plummet to the ground, ending this long-awaited moment. As if they would wake up from a dream if they dared to speak.

Madara no longer had the resolve to resist, he gave up that idea as soon as their lips met. It was inevitable because of his love for Hashirama. And now here he was, under Hashirama, succumbing to the effect the man had on him. It was shameful. It was confusing. It was infuriating. It was… electrifying. Every touch, every kiss, was so irritatingly electrifying. And he couldn’t stop. But what did this all mean? This moment? Madara still struggled to make sense of it all. It was a reality he couldn’t come to terms with. A reality too good to be true. And good things never happened to Madara, so what did his dark fate have in store for him now?

And then it dawned on him that he’d never done something like this before. Sure, he’s kissed a couple of people, but he never showed interest in anything more. He was too busy watching over his family, leading his clan, getting stronger, fighting wars. He didn’t show interest in dating, intimacy, or sex. More so, no one was worthy of that attention from him. No one was capable of bringing that desire out of him. No one but Hashirama, the only person he ever even imagined going that far with, the very man who was hovering over him at that moment. Seriously, what the fuck was happening?

Hashirama debated on telling Madara how he felt, right then, right there. But he couldn’t. If he said something, would this end? He didn’t want it to end. He was still shocked that it even started. He wanted to know what Madara was thinking, why Madara didn’t stop him, why Madara kissed him back with such… passion. Those lips… he wanted… to feel… those lips again.

Hashirama slowly leaned in, pressing his lips against Madara’s as he lowered his body. As their lips moved in an intoxicating crescendo, they slowly rocked their hips, their boners rubbing against each other’s. Their deep moans filled the room as they got lost in the overwhelming ecstasy. They couldn’t stop. The warmth, the yearning, the pleasure, it all brought out such animalistic desires. Far too gone to turn back now.

Hashirama pressed his lips against Madara’s neck and softly whimpered. “Madara… I want you so bad…” The breathy words slipped out of his mouth without him realizing.

Madara moaned in response, unconsciously bucking his hips upward into Hashirama. He’d never felt such intense pleasure and lust before. Words couldn’t describe how much he wanted Hashirama. Madara felt Hashirama’s kisses run down his neck and chest. He opened his eyes to meet Hashirama’s gaze as those lips brushed against one of Madara’s nipples. Madara sharply inhaled. Oh? That felt… good?

Hashirama intentionally watched for Madara’s reaction as he took his nipple into his mouth, sucking it gently. Hashirama wanted to learn his body, make him feel good. He observed Madara as he flicked his pink nipple with his wet tongue, bringing his hand to the other nipple and flicking it repeatedly with his finger. He loved seeing Madara shift under him, evidently holding back a moan. Hashirama moved his mouth to the other nipple while he ran his hand towards Madara’s crotch.

Madara bit back a moan as he sank into the pleasurable goodness. He wasn’t expecting to like this. His breath hitched when he felt Hashirama’s hand grab his cock through his pants. Fuck.

Hashirama released Madara’s nipple from his mouth and left wet kisses along his chest, down his abs until he reached the band of Madara’s pants. He wanted a taste. Hashirama quickly grabbed Madara’s pants and started slipping them off while Madara lifted his hips to help him. Hashirama took a moment to take off his own pants and threw them to the side.

Hashirama hungrily looked down at Madara’s crotch, only trunks left as he eyed Madara’s visible boner, fighting to be released from the cloth restricting it. Hashirama tucked his finger under the band of Madara’s trunks and paused, looking up to meet Madara’s gaze. “May I?” he asked breathily, fighting back the desire to rip it off.

Madara could feel his cheeks grow hotter as he stared at Hashirama, who subtly licked his lip and bit it. Once his trunks are pulled off, his whole body will be exposed. Vulnerable. Completely giving himself to Hashirama. The idea of giving his first time to his long-term rival shook his pride a bit. But his body wanted it. He couldn’t resist. Madara turned his head away reluctantly and slightly lifted his hips, granting Hashirama permission to take off the last barrier between them.

Hashirama eagerly slipped off Madara’s black trunks, watching as his hard cock sprung out, oozing with pre-cum. He hummed pleasantly as he threw Madara’s trunks to the side, lowering himself down towards Madara’s lap while grabbing Madara’s muscular thighs. Hashirama stuck his tongue out, and slowly tracing the bulging vein up Madara’s cock until he reached his glistening tip. Madara softly whimpered, bucking his hips upward in anticipation of Hashirama’s mouth. With his tongue, Hashirama circled the head.

“Fuck, Hashi, stop teasing me,” Madara softly groaned as he stirred underneath Hashirama, his thighs tensing, his body begging for more.

Hashirama smirked, gaining extreme satisfaction from witnessing Madara subtly writhe under him. He loved witnessing the typically collected, confident, prideful man succumbing to the anticipated pleasure Hashirama wanted to bring him. Finally, Hashirama took Madara into his mouth, immediately taking in his entire length.

Eyes shutting, Madara threw his head back deep into his pillow, and a moan escaped his lips as this new, intense, exquisite feeling took over his body.

Madara’s soft cries aroused Hashirama, motivating him to keep going as he sucked Madara’s cock with tightened lips, his eyes locked on Madara’s face. He wanted to hear more. He wanted to make Madara feel even better. 

Madara clenched his sheets as he took in the feeling of Hashirama’s mouth around him. The friction, the wetness, the warmth, it all felt so good. Madara parted his lips and sighed, lifting his head to make eye contact with Hashirama.

Hashirama released Madara’s cock from his mouth, not daring to break eye contact. He wrapped his fingers around Madara’s shaft and rested the tip against his bottom lip as he exhaled. Madara shuddered from Hashirama’s warm breath as he ran his hand up Hashirama’s neck, sinking his fingers deep into his hair and grasping it. He wanted more. Madara guided Hashirama’s head down, and Hashirama complied.

Madara thrusted his hips upward, forcing himself deeper into Hashirama’s mouth. They moved in rhythm with one another as Hashirama moaned around Madara’s cock, drool dripping down his chin as he hungrily took in Madara’s glistening cock in its entirety, over and over again.

Madara could always only imagine Hashirama giving him head, but this time, this time, it’s reality, his reality. “Hashi…,” Madara breathed as he clutched desperately to Hashirama’s brown locks, his rhythmic thrusting breaking as he felt the built-up pressure reach its peak. A deep, drawn-out moan escaped Madara’s lips, and his body tensed, washed over with intense, electrifying pleasure as he came into Hashirama’s mouth. Hashirama slowly sucked Madara’s cock, working him through his climax as he swallowed the cum that spilled into his mouth.

Hashirama released Madara from his mouth and shifted back up to marvel at Madara recovering from his orgasm. What a sight.

Madara steadied his heavy breath as he drank in the sight of Hashirama, the way his reddened lips glistened as saliva dripped down his chin, his yearning, seductive eyes, his tousled hair. Mmm. This was a sight Madara definitely couldn’t get enough of. A sight that stirred something inside of him. Madara pulled Hashirama in for a kiss, admittedly desperate for his lips.

Hashirama whispered against Madara’s lips, “I love how you taste.”

“Yeah?” Madara muttered.

Hashirama hummed in response. He could barely bare the feeling of his own throbbing cock begging for a feel, begging for friction, warmth. Begging for Madara. Hashirama slipped his own trunks off and threw them to the side before lowering his body, grinding his throbbing boner against Madara. Their lips brushed against each other’s as they softly moaned. Hashirama slipped his hand between Madara’s thighs, spreading his legs further apart. He needed to be inside of him, right then, right there.

“Oh,” Hashirama murmured before pulling away. He sought out his pants and took out a tube of lube that he borrowed from Tobirama earlier.

Madara propped himself up on his forearms and watched suspiciously as Hashirama squeezed some lube onto his fingers. Why the fuck does he have lube with him? Does he just carry lube around? Or did he… plan this? Madara’s eyes furrowed as he processed the sight before him, which Hashirama took notice of.

“What?” Hashirama asked as he closed the bottle of lube and threw it to the side.

“Why do you have that?”

Hashirama looked down at his fingers and then looked at Madara. “Trust me, you don’t want to do this without lube.”

“That’s not what I—” Madara sighed and brought his palm to his face, hiding his flushed cheeks. He continued, “That’s not what I meant, Hashirama. Do you just walk around with lube in your pocket or what?”

It was the first conversation they had had since before they first kissed, yet neither of them directly addressed the situation at hand. And they knew why. It was because neither of them wanted to stop.

Hashirama softly chuckled. “No, I don’t,” Hashirama answered. He just brought it in case. He crawled back on top of Madara, eager to be inside of him at any moment, as the pressure in his crotch overwhelmed him.

Madara lowered his head down to his pillow and stared at Hashirama. “So—"

“Are you a virgin?” Hashirama asked innocently.

Madara’s eyes slightly gaped as his cheeks grew hot and a wave of heat traveled down his body. He broke eye contact and abruptly turned his head to the side. Was it that obvious? “T-T-That’s none of your business.”

So, yes, Hashirama thought. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched Madara get flustered underneath him. It was cute. The way Madara reacted. Hashirama knew his stubbornness and pride would never allow him to openly admit such a thing. But that was okay. He brought his lips to Madara’s reddened ear and whispered, “Then I’ll be gentle.”

Gentle?! “I don’t need you to be gentle,” Madara grumbled. Who does Hashirama take Madara for? Madara snapped his head back, reinstating eye contact with Hashirama, as if he was challenging him. “I—” Before Madara could say anything else, his words caught in his throat when he felt Hashirama’s wet finger against his hole. Another new sensation. And just like that, he was lost in his own arousal.

“Hmm?” Hashirama hummed teasingly as he massaged Madara’s tightened hole with his lubed fingers. He watched as Madara bit back a moan before he stole a kiss from him, who didn’t hesitate to kiss back. Once he felt Madara relax, he gently pressed a finger inside Madara. Madara gasped as he felt Hashirama’s finger slide in slowly.

Patiently thrusting his finger inside of Madara, Hashirama felt him relax before sliding in a second finger. When he felt like Madara was ready, he slipped his fingers out and propped himself up on his knees, positioning himself between Madara’s legs.

Madara could feel his heart pounding as his eyes slowly wandered down Hashirama’s body. He hated to admit it, but he looked like a God. A face and body fit for a man of his caliber. It was no wonder he was heavily admired by so many. His eyes finally landed on Hashirama’s cock. Well, fuck. It was bigger than Madara anticipated, but honestly, he expected no less from his rival. He still wanted it, all of it. He could feel his hole pulsating as he waited in anticipation. He looked up at Hashirama’s face, who was also staring at him, his eyes scanning Madara’s body.

“What?” Madara asked, a little uncomfortable at Hashirama’s ogling eyes.

Hashirama grinned while admiring Madara’s body. He loved the way Madara’s long, luscious black hair blanketed his pillow, falling around his handsome face, with beautiful, black eyes. His defined muscles, his smooth skin, his big cock, which was now already hard once again. Madara was truly beautiful, like a gift from the divine. And Hashirama felt lucky to be able to witness him in his entirety. “You’re breathtaking.”

Madara’s eyes slightly widened, and he turned his head to the side. His cheeks flushed, and his ears reddened.  “Just shut up and fuck me,” he mumbled.

Hashirama smirked. He was so cute. He learned forward, brushing his lips against his neck, and whispered, “Yes, sir.” Hashirama positioned his cock at Madara’s entrance and slowly eased inside, watching as Madara closed his eyes, inhaling as he involuntarily tensed up.

Madara didn’t anticipate the discomfort. Hashirama could feel Madara tighten around him. He stopped and lightly caressed Madara’s cheek with his thumb before leaning in for a kiss, pressing his body against Madara’s. He whispered, “Try to relax… I got you. It’ll feel good, I promise.”

Madara’s eyebrow twitched. Who was he talking to like that? He thought defensively, initially hesitating to accept Hashirama’s comfort for the sake of his pride. Though he was annoyed, there was still something… endearing about the way Hashirama tried to comfort him. It exuded the intimate warmth Madara had always wanted from Hashirama. Something he never thought he’d have. But wait… was this just another sample the cruel world was serving him? Madara didn’t want to think about it, he just wanted to get lost in the moment. He allowed himself to sink into Hashirama’s tantalizing kiss. 

Once Hashirama felt Madara relax, he continued to penetrate Madara. Madara softly groaned as he felt Hashirama edge deeper and deeper inside of him.

Finally, Hashirama was halfway inside Madara, fighting back every urge to immediately start thrusting his entire length inside. Hashirama slowly pulled out before sliding slowly into Madara again, earning a soft groan from him. As he slowly penetrated Madara, Hashirama moaned. He felt so good. The warmth and friction from Madara’s tight, wet hole sent shocks of ecstasy throughout his body.

A sudden moan escaped Madara’s lips, and his body jolted once Hashirama hit a sweet spot that made his core feel fuzzy. This was another new sensation; an overwhelmingly good sensation.

“Mmh, right there?”

“Right there,” Madara said breathily.

Hashirama observed Madara as he continued to hit that same spot, finding pleasure in both the feeling of Madara around him and the sexy look on Madara’s face. Their lips met, their kiss interrupted by their moans as their bodies brimmed with breathtaking pleasure. Madara was no longer able to conceive any organized thoughts; all that was running through his mind was that he wanted more.

 “Faster… Deeper…,” Madara moaned.

Hashirama rocked his hips faster, slamming his cock deeper and deeper inside of Madara as his balls slapped against him. Madara caught Hashirama’s neck in his mouth, sucking and biting senselessly, causing Hashirama to softly whimper. It was all so intense. They wrapped their arms around each other tightly, their bodies beaded with sweat, deeply moaning each other’s names as they got lost in their euphoria, making sweet, hot, sexy love.

They both felt their arousal start to peak. Suddenly, Madara’s body tensed, and he threw his head back, erupting into a resonant moan as his cum oozed onto his stomach. Hashirama’s rhythm broke as he tried to get a few more strokes in. Overwhelmed by the feeling of Madara’s clenching hole and the sound of his enticing voice, Hashirama felt a sudden rush of intense pleasure and sweet, sweet release. He slammed his cock into Madara one last time, tensing up as a deep moan escaped his lips, shooting his cum deep inside of Madara.

The two lay in Madara’s bed in silence, finding themselves nuzzled against each other as they caught their breaths. Madara’s cheek rested on Hashirama’s warm chest, his leg over Hashirama’s. He got lost in Hashirama’s heartbeat as he felt Hashirama’s hand run down his long, tousled black hair and down his back, which soothed Madara.

As Hashirama caressed Madara, he thought, Wow, I really love this man. He allowed himself to process what had just happened. He just slept with Madara… Madara Uchiha, his best friend, his rival, the man he loved. And it was amazing. And it was reciprocated. Something more between them was there; he could feel it. Now, it was time to say something. It was time to tell him. It was time to initiate the conversation. Hashirama’s hand movements stopped, and his nerves started to build up. He needed to say something.

Once Madara fully came down from the high of his orgasm, he couldn’t help but feel panic settle in as he realized what had just happened. He just slept with Hashirama… Hashirama Senju… his best friend, his rival, the Hokage, Mito’s husband, Tobirama’s brother, the man far out of his reach, the man he told himself he’d leave behind to achieve true peace. What the fuck was he doing? What did all of this mean? Despite his brain’s inclination to ruminate, Madara felt his panic ease and his mind slowly clear. He didn’t dwell on the thoughts that the village hated him or that his clan betrayed him. He didn’t reflect on Izuna’s death or the painful fact that he could never have Hashirama. He didn’t think about his loneliness, his dark fate, or this accursed world.

When Madara felt Hashirama stop, he assumed he had fallen asleep. Madara just wanted to stay in Hashirama’s arms. He wanted to savor the moment, a moment he’d probably never have again. It’s okay… he’ll just leave the village when he wakes up. Extending his indulgence in this one last sample won’t hurt… Madara felt his eyelids grow heavy as he focused on Hashirama’s heartbeat, which, oddly enough, didn’t seem to be slowing down. The sight before him slowly blurred, before fading into darkness.

“Madara… Can we talk?”

Madara’s eyes shot open. Shit, he was still awake?? Madara suddenly felt like he was finally coming to his senses, thought processes immediately falling into his usual maladaptive patterns, his panic reemerging. He shouldn’t be here. Madara needed to get out of there. He pushed himself off Hashirama, getting out of his bed.

Hashirama reached his hand out for Madara. He didn’t want to be separated. He wanted Madara to stay with him in bed, cuddle with him, talk to him. “Madara, wait—”

“Don’t touch me,” Madara snapped as he dodged Hashirama’s hand. “I’m tired of you doing that. Stop grabbing me.”

Hashirama sat up. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“Shut up!”

Madara sought out his trunks and slipped them on. His mind raced. What did they just do? Why did he fuck Hashirama? But wait, Hashirama was the one who came on to him. Madara felt a fluttering in his stomach. So does that mean…? Madara immediately erased that thought. Impossible. Madara had already vowed he would never fall for his delusions again, because they didn’t have a place in his dark fate, a fate he had accepted. Hashirama would never… so why? He turned to Hashirama. “Why did you come on to me?” Madara demanded.

“‘Why?’” Hashirama’s cheeks flushed. He rubbed the back of his neck as he nervously chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious…?”

Madara’s eyes narrowed. “Obvious??”

Hashirama hummed in response. He swung his legs to the side of the bed and pulled the covers over his naked lap. “I want to talk about it,” Hashirama said, hoping Madara would sit back down and give him his attention.

Madara sucked his teeth. He paced in front of Hashirama, ignoring his request, overwhelmed by numerous feelings: disbelief, suspicion, curiosity, doom, yearning, shock, embarrassment, love. This was a mistake. Because surely, things weren’t that simple. Surely, the universe was laughing at him. Because good things rarely happened for Madara, and if they did, they never lasted. So what was the catch? Madara tried connecting the dots, forcefully bringing together pieces of a puzzle whose image was unclear. Whose image he desperately tried to decipher, even if it had nothing to give. Then something clicked, like a puzzle piece that wasn’t the right shape, but just close enough to fit into the hole.

“...Are you okay?” Hashirama asked.

“So is this your plan?” Madara asked accusingly.

“Huh?” Hashirama responded.

“Is this your plan?? Huh?!” The volume of Madara’s voice rose.

“Madara… what are you talking about?” Hashirama was genuinely confused.

“Don’t think you can fool me, Hashirama. So what? This is what you’re doing now? Huh?? You’re going to fuck me to stop me from leaving the village?! HUH?!”

Hashirama immediately felt his heart sink inside his chest. What? His body was overtaken by a rush of heat as he processed what he had just heard. A lump formed in the back of his throat, and he struggled to release the words from his mouth.

Madara paused, realizing the words that slipped out of his mouth.

Finally, Hashirama spoke with a subtle shakiness to his voice, “So…you’re… you’re planning on leaving the village…?”

Well, fuck. Hashirama was never supposed to know that.

Chapter Text

What did Madara say? Hashirama thought as he attempted to fight off the anxiety welling up inside of him. He waited for Madara to respond, but the answer wasn’t coming quickly enough. “Madara, you’re leaving the village?” Hashirama asked, a hint of pain laced in his voice.

Madara sighed. “Forget I said anything, it’s nothing,” he responded as his eyes scanned the floor, searching for Hashirama’s trunks so that he could force him out of there.

But Hashirama couldn’t forget. He refused to let Madara dismiss his words as if they meant nothing, as if he didn’t just say he was leaving him, as if he didn’t just confirm that he was planning on… disappearing. The high from the sex they had earlier quickly wore off. Hashirama could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and suddenly the air around him felt thick, almost suffocating. “No, tell me,” Hashirama demanded.

“It’s nothing, Hashirama,” Madara said as he picked up Hashirama’s hunter green trunks and tossed them toward him. “Put your clothes back on.”

Hashirama caught his trunks and responded, “You can’t just say that and expect me to pretend like it’s nothing.”

Madara brought his fingers to his temples and groaned. He was already confused and frustrated, still barely processing the fact that he slept with Hashirama, the fact that it all happened so fast, and that he didn’t stop it. The fact that he didn’t want to stop it. And the fact that, actually, neither of them stopped it, despite the many opportunities to do so. What did that mean? The universe was laughing at him . What kind of sick, twisted scheme did his dark fate have in store for him? It had to be a part of some plan.

“Are you really leaving the village, Madara?” Hashirama asked again as he stood up off the bed, the covers slipping off his lap. He stood before Madara, completely naked, impatiently waiting for Madara’s response. 

Madara quickly averted his gaze, avoiding the sight of Hashirama’s naked body. “Hashirama, I said forget it and please put your fucking clothes back on.” Madara just wanted Hashirama to stop, to stop asking him that, to stop interfering. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of there. Madara looked toward the floor, hurriedly searching for his own shirt. Where the fuck was his shirt ? Madara's eyes landed on his pants, which were lying on the floor across the room. Too far . Madara huffed, turning around to head toward his dresser for some clothes.

Hashirama finally slipped his trunks back on and watched as Madara rummaged through his dresser. Madara sighed, remembering that the majority of his clean clothes were in another room since he failed to bring them back to his bedroom after doing the laundry. He started walking toward his bedroom door.

Hashirama stepped forward in a panic, and a sinking feeling ravaged his chest. “Are you leaving??”

“I said—”

Before Madara could speak further, he felt a grip around his wrist. He turned around to face Hashirama while immediately pulling his hand out of his grasp.

“Stop it, Hashirama. I said don’t touch me. Just stop it, forget it,” Madara said. He was quickly growing more and more irritated. The air around him felt warm, and a flash of heat washed over his body.

“No. Are you—”

“Forget it.”

“No—”

“Hashirama, just—”

“No! Madara, are you leaving—?"

“Fine!” Madara snapped. “Yes, yes , I’m leaving the village and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve already made my decision. There. Happy? Now leave me alone.”   

Hashirama froze, taking in the words that left Madara’s mouth. It was what he was fearing after all, that gut feeling he’s felt for a while now. Madara… leaving the village? Disappearing ? “…Why…?” Hashirama asked weakly.

“It’s none of your business,” Madara responded flatly. He wasn’t having this discussion. Telling Hashirama was simply a slip of the tongue, and he never intended to expand further. Why would he? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore.

“Why are you leaving the village?” Hashirama asked again, a little firmer.

“Why does it matter??”

“Why does it matter?” Hashirama repeated, his eyebrows furrowing. Why was Madara assuming it didn’t matter? Why was Madara acting like it wasn’t a big deal? It mattered a lot. It mattered to him. All of it mattered. Hashirama’s facial expression slowly shifted, from soft to hardened, from pleading to demanding. Enough was enough . Hashirama wasn’t going to let Madara avoid this any longer. All this time, he’d been trying to get to Madara, to hear what’s in his heart, but he could never succeed. But tonight? Tonight, he was going to get it out of Madara whether he liked it or not. “Madara, I’m tired of you evading my questions. I let it slide before, but not anymore. So tonight, you’re going to tell me.” Hashirama’s voice was stern.

Madara scoffed. Please . He dismissively waved Hashirama off as he attempted to walk away, but was stopped by a strong grasp around his wrist. Madara paused. He tried to release himself but failed. Hashirama was holding on pretty tightly. He turned around to see Hashirama giving him a stern look, a look he rarely sees. It almost felt… threatening, like Hashirama had no intentions of backing down until he got what he wanted. Madara felt frustration rising inside him as he was taken over by an instinct to challenge him. He tried to pull his hand back again, refusing to submit to Hashirama.

“Hashirama, let… go ,” Madara demanded as his eyes slowly narrowed, his onyx pools transitioning into a bright red hue.

Hashirama’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

Madara immediately flared his chakra, triggered by Hashirama’s refusal. Dark blue hues radiated from Madara’s body. Hashirama, however, was not yielding, flaring his own chakra in response to match Madara’s energy.

The bedroom began to rumble, its walls fighting against the intense shockwaves that radiated from the two strong men. The wood creaked, slightly cracking as it started to succumb to the intense pressure.

Madara and Hashirama glared into each other’s eyes, searching for any signs of submission from the other. However, neither of the two was willing to back down, standing firmly on their own stance. Hashirama was prepared not to let go until he got what he wanted, and Madara was prepared not to expand further on his slip-up.

“Let go,” Madara demanded once again.

“No,” Hashirama said as he tightened his grip around Madara’s wrist.

Madara’s jaw clenched. He took things a step further, manifesting an incomplete Susanoo as dark blue ribs grew around him. Black markings appeared on Hashirama’s face in response. He was prepared to fight Madara if he needed to, even if that meant blowing Madara’s entire house apart, because there was no way he was letting Madara get away from him. No way was he letting him go, letting him disappear.

“Hashi—”

“Madara. I’m not letting go until you tell me what’s going on.”

Madara sucked his teeth. Can Hashirama just give it a rest? “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

“Good.”

Madara could feel his eye twitch. Good? He intensified his chakra, raising the temperature in his Susanoo, which he was unaffected by. However, Hashirama wasn’t immune. He was not budging, not even when he could feel his hand grow warm, and not even when the faint sizzling sound from his burning hand traveled to his ears. Hashirama winced in pain, but maintained his tight grasp. Madara was taken aback by Hashirama’s persistence. He tried to pull his arm away, but Hashirama pulled harder to prevent him from escaping.

Jeez, this was irritating . Madara began to lose all of his patience. “Hashirama, let go!” 

“No, tell me what’s going on. Tell me why you’re leaving,” Hashirama said, ignoring the pain in his burning hand.

“It’s none of your business,” Madara snapped.

“It’s always been my business.”

“Huh?? What makes it your business?!”

“You’ve always been precious to me—”

“Stop it! Shut up! I don’t want to hear it,” Madara exclaimed as he continued to fight against Hashirama’s force. None of it mattered. Precious?? Madara was alone. He had no one. Madara knew his place in Hashirama’s life, in the village, in the clan, in this world. As Madara’s feelings heightened, the heat in his semi-Susanoo rose, burning Hashirama’s hand even further.

“Madara—”

“You don’t understand.”

Hashirama briefly paused, searching for the right words to say. The smell of his burning flesh permeated the air. “If you don’t think I’ll understand, then help me understand.”

“You’ll never understand!” Madara increased the intensity of his flared chakra. He was prepared to fight Hashirama right then if he had to.

Hashirama ramped up his chakra flare in response to match Madara. The tatami mat flooring broke underneath their feet, unable to resist the incredible pressure they gave off. Before Hashirama could respond, a clink was heard from the side of the room.

They both looked toward the sound, and Madara immediately felt a sinking feeling in his chest. It was Izuna’s sword, which was sitting on the floor, blown off from the small stand it was initially propped up on. Madara’s eyes gaped, and his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Slowly, his Sharingan and Susanoo disappeared, his chakra flare dwindling until it was no longer present. At that moment, Madara was only concerned about Izuna’s sword. Hashirama matched Madara’s energy, disengaging his sage mode and relaxing his chakra flare until it disappeared as well.

“Izuna…” Madara whispered, worry etched in his voice. He tried to run over to the sword, forgetting that Hashirama was still grabbing onto him. He felt himself jolt back toward Hashirama. Frustrated, Madara turned to Hashirama and yelled, “Let go, Hashirama!” 

Hashirama initially hesitated. He knew how much Izuna and his sword meant to him, and he could feel Madara’s frustration. But Hashirama hardened his resolve, he wasn’t letting go. 

“No,” Hashirama refused, his voice stern. 

Madara let out a loud, deep grunt of frustration as he pulled at Hashirama’s grasp. Hashirama was getting on his last nerve, and he could feel his composure start to collapse. He needed to go to Izuna. He needed to save him . Madara desperately pulled, he tried to unpeel Hashirama’s burned fingers from around his wrist, he punched Hashirama’s fingers, he tugged at Hashirama’s wrist. But Hashirama simply wasn’t budging. 

As Hashirama watched Madara struggle before him, he couldn’t help but feel deeply saddened. He witnessed how Madara, who was usually well-composed, was breaking down in front of him. Plus, Hashirama knew Madara’s strength, he knew what Madara was capable of. He knew very well that Madara was capable of releasing himself, but his force was getting weaker and weaker. He must’ve been so hurt, his heart must’ve felt so heavy, to the point where it weakened him and affected his ability to think.

Madara struggled against Hashirama’s grasp, losing patience, losing hope. He looked over at Izuna’s sword on the floor. Izuna . Madara gave one last unsuccessful tug before giving in and collapsing to his knees. He tilted his head down, causing his black hair to shift over his face, hiding his expression. God, he was so damn frustrated . Madara’s throat tightened. He just wanted Hashirama to leave him alone. He just wanted to pick up Izuna’s sword and put it back where it belonged, but he couldn’t even do that. Just like how he couldn’t even save Izuna. Just like how he couldn’t save the rest of his family, how he couldn’t lead the Uchiha clan to victory, how he couldn’t stop his clan from betraying him, how he couldn’t earn the trust and respect of the village, how he couldn’t achieve true peace.

Hashirama looked down at the silent, defeated man on his knees. His eyes widened as he watched tear drops fall, staining the broken tatami mats below Madara. This was the first time Hashirama had ever witnessed Madara cry, and a wave of sorrow overtook him. He wanted to pull Madara into his arms and reassure him that everything would be okay, but given the situation, that probably wasn’t the best thing to do.

Hashirama looked over at Izuna’s sword on the floor and activated his wood style. A small wooden branch emerged from the floor, gently wrapping around Izuna’s sword and lifting it toward the top of the dresser. He placed the sword back on the stand, where it originally rested.

Madara quickly wiped at his tears and looked toward the sound. He saw Izuna’s sword being placed back on its stand and watched as Hashirama’s wooden branch receded into the ground. Madara looked back toward the ground, avoiding Hashirama’s gaze, and huffed. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to…” Hashirama said.

Madara wiped the rest of his tears from his cheeks to ensure none were left. He figured Hashirama probably saw his tears and already felt embarrassed. Tonight was enough vulnerability he was willing to show to last a lifetime. He stood up, his wrist still in Hashirama’s grasp. Madara noticed how burned Hashirama’s hand was. Why would he go so far? He clenched his jaw in irritation. Why couldn’t Hashirama just leave him alone?  

Hashirama watched Madara slowly stand up, tracking him with his gaze until they landed on Madara’s face. He took in the sight of Madara’s reddened, puffy eyes, his moist cheeks, his clenching jaw. Hashirama watched as Madara’s lips slowly parted.

“Hashirama… if you don’t let me go, I’m going to kill you.”

Hashirama responded, unyielding, “I’d like to see you try.”

Suddenly, Madara loudly grunted as he swung his free arm at Hashirama, his hand balled into a fist. Hashirama reflexively blocked Madara’s punch with his palm, resisting Madara’s force. His punch was weak , Hashirama thought.

“Are you insane ?!” Madara snapped.  Now he was angry. He could feel his rage build up inside of him as he continued to lose his composure. The overwhelming feelings of fury, frustration, and despair welled up inside of him, like a balloon being continuously filled with air, ready to pop at any moment.

“As you are now, you’ll never defeat me, Madara.”

“ Huh ?!” Madara swung his leg toward Hashirama, but his kick was effortlessly blocked.

“You’re hurting, Madara.”

“Shut up!” Madara desperately tried to release himself from Hashirama. The balloon kept filling and filling.

Hashirama held on tightly, he wasn’t letting Madara go. “You can’t hide it from me.”

“Let me go!”

Filling and filling.

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me why you’re—”

“I said it’s none of your business!”

Continuously filling .

“It is my business. Tell me,” Hashirama demanded.

“Hashirama! Stop!”

Filling, filling, filling .

“Madara, tell me!” Hashirama started raising his voice.

“No! Let go—”

“Tell me!”

“Hashirama, I swear—"

Filling…

“Tell me!”

“Leave me alo—”

“Tell—!”

Pop .

“I HAVE NOTHING!”

Hashirama’s eyes widened. “Wh—”

“I have nothing ! I have nothing, Hashirama! There! Is that what you wanted to hear??? There’s nothing left for me here. There’s nothing left for me in this God-forsaken village. There’s nothing left for me in this God-forsaken world! I. Have. Nothing .” Madara’s blood boiled.

Hashirama slowly peeled his burned fingers off Madara’s wrist and dropped his hand down to his side. What did he mean he had nothing ? “…What do you mean? You have the village, you have your clan, you have me…”

Madara looked at Hashirama in disbelief. He paused for a moment before he let out a soft chuckle. The words that left Hashirama’s lips were almost comical.  Madara brought his palm to his face as his chuckle grew deep. His unsettling laugh grew louder and louder as he threw his head back. “See?!” Madara yelled as he snapped his head toward Hashirama. He continued in a chillingly calm voice, “I told you you wouldn’t understand.”

Hashirama swallowed back a lump in his throat. “But—” Hashirama cut off his sentence abruptly when Madara’s intense glare fell on him.

Madara’s eyes narrowed. “ But ?” Madara repeated. There were no buts. Did Hashirama really believe what he said?

“ Fuck this village, Hashirama,” Madara said.

Hashirama furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t appreciate Madara’s disrespect toward the village they worked so hard to build together. “Madara—”

“You think I have the village?!” Madara interrupted, his voice growing louder again. “You think I’m an idiot!? Are you that oblivious that you don’t see what’s going on?? Or is it that you know exactly what’s going on, but you’re too much of a bitch to address it? Huh?? Or do you even care?? And you call yourself the Hokage?? Huh?!”

Hashirama stared at Madara in silence, lost for words. “O-Of course I care… I…” Hashirama’s voice trailed off.

Madara paused to pace back and forth. Now he was heated, blinded by rage that wouldn’t subside. Does Hashirama really think I have the village ? Madara thought. For fuck’s sake . Madara stopped in front of Hashirama and continued, unable to contain his outburst.

“The villagers never respected me. The villagers never wanted me here. When they see me, they act like they see the devil! And for what? I did everything I needed to do to survive during the Warring States, just like any other clan leader. The Uchiha fought just like every other clan! The Uchiha fought, just like the Senju! I fought, just like you! Yet, we get marked as untrustworthy! Evil! So, you think I have the village when the villagers don’t even want me here?!”

Hashirama could feel a dull ache in his chest. He would be lying if he said he didn’t notice, because he knew some people harbored a baseline distrust in Madara. He had heard enough of it from Tobirama and Mito, and had heard them in conversations of passersby as well. But Hashirama hoped that with time and understanding, everyone would drop that distrust in him. He was hoping that as long as he kept advocating for Madara on his end, things would fall into place. But Hashirama at least thought that Madara did have some of the villagers’ respect. He was a co-founder after all, and was pivotal in establishing the village.  Hashirama parted his lips to speak, cautiously attempting to choose the right words to say. “Madara, I’m sure not everyone in the village feels that way.”

“Hnn? How do you know, huh? Do you think I’m stupid , Hashirama? Is that what it is?”

“No—”

“Name one person who has spoken highly of me. Not neutrally, but highly.”

Admittedly, Hashirama couldn’t name a single person.

“That’s what I thought,” Madara said.

“B-But, I’ve always spoken highly of you. I’ve always advocated for you. You’ve done great things for the village, and I’m sure people recognize that.”

Madara scoffed. Whatever Hashirama was trying to do, it wasn’t helping. All that came out of Hashirama’s mouth was just nonsense to Madara at that point. “You think I don’t notice their eyes? Sure, they may smile, they may wave, they may greet, but their eyes tell no lies.” Madara felt a sudden pang of heightened rage. He yelled, “Their eyes are cursing me, Hashirama! You don’t think I can see it in their eyes?! And you think I have the village?!”

 Hashirama took in everything Madara was saying. He didn’t recognize how deep it ran. “Madara… with time, things could change—”

“ Time ? Change ? Hashirama, nothing will change. It’ll only get worse. Hell, now even my own clan doesn’t want me here. They’ve betrayed me!”

What? Hashirama furrowed his eyebrows. “Betrayed…? Is that… why you stepped down? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”

“They didn’t want me, Hashirama! And you know who I blame?” Madara paused for a brief moment. “I blame this damn village! The government! Tobirama! You !” 

“…Me…?”

Madara started pacing back and forth again. “The rest of my clan might be idiots, but no, not me. Do you think I don’t know what you Senju are doing?? Do you think I don’t know about the policies? Fuji? The police force? The housing arrangements?”

Hashirama stood there in silence. He didn’t have a response because he had no clue what Madara was talking about. Policies? Fuji? The police force? The housing arrangements?

“Policy after policy after policy, all Tobirama is doing is pushing the Uchiha clan into a position of no return, into a position of submission, subject to your scrutiny! You think I don’t know what the goal is?? You think I don’t know about your goal of keeping the Uchiha clan under wraps?? Huh?? You preach peace and unity among clans, among the village, but create policies and positions that clearly show that you don’t trust us! And you say that I have Konoha?!”

In defense, Hashirama quickly responded, “Madara, I swear, that’s not what our intentions—”

“Have you asked Tobirama? Have you even thought about it? Making the Uchiha clan the police force to put us in a position for villagers to dislike us? To put us in a position where we are to be watched and where we have to ‘ behave ’ just to keep us in check??”

Hashirama’s eyes widened. “I… I didn’t realize that…”  

Madara scoffed as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “So you are an idiot. Of course. You always have been.”

While Hashirama took a mental note of everything Madara said, he couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated. “Why didn’t you say anything??”

Madara rolled his eyes and sighed. “There was no point.”

“No point? Are you a child?”

“Huh?? A child?!”

Hashirama stepped forward. “If you felt some type of way, you should have come forward! All this time, I’ve been asking you if everything was okay. I gave you an opportunity to speak up, but you refused to tell me. If that’s the issue, if it’s just issues with the village and our policies, then we can fix it—"

“It’s not just the stupid village and the policies, Hashirama! I don’t care about the damn village or the policies!”

Hashirama grew a confused expression on his face. How is he saying that when he just went on a rant about it? For him to be upset about it, clearly, he cares. “Madara… I’m, I’m not following…”

Madara sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He mumbled, “None of it matters anymore…” Madara paused before continuing, his voice growing louder and sharper with each word he spoke. “I’ve lost everything… My parents. My siblings. Izuna. My clan. Everything! Something you would never understand!”

Hashirama listened. A heavy feeling weighed down his body as he witnessed Madara in this state.

Madara continued, “I’ve lost hope in this accursed world! My fate is dark, Hashirama. Black. Lightless. I was never meant for good things. I was never meant for happiness. You will never understand the weight I carry and drag along with me each and every damn day.” Madara clenched his jaw and continued, “My life will never be good. I’ll never find internal peace. I’ll never have a family to love ever again. I’ll never have—” Madara abruptly stopped mid-sentence as he locked eyes with Hashirama. He prevented himself from finishing that last sentence because it was something he didn’t want to say to Hashirama, and that was the fact that he would never have him. Hashirama was Konoha’s light, a well-respected clan leader, a beloved brother, a husband to a dedicated wife. He was never meant for someone like me , Madara thought.

Madara averted his gaze and bit his lip.

Hashirama took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. The weight on his chest was almost unbearable, but it was probably nowhere as heavy as the weight on Madara’s chest. “Let me help you, Madara,” Hashirama finally said in response.

This triggered Madara. “ Help ? Let you help me? What can you do for me, huh??” Madara edged closer to Hashirama’s face, giving him an intimidating stare as he balled his hand into a fist. “You think you can help me?! You think you’re the savior? Well, guess what, you’re not the savior! I AM!” Madara pointed at himself and continued, “I’m the savior, Hashirama! Not you! I’m the savior! I will save this world! I’m the chosen one!”

He then pointed at Hashirama. “ Not You ! You know what you are?” Madara cracked a slight, crazed smile, and a hollow chuckle slipped from his lips, empty, unmoored, broken. “A failure . You’re a failure. You couldn’t even tell what was going on! You let Tobirama do as he pleased! You couldn’t even achieve true peace! Children are still dying!” Madara’s voice started to crack as a lump formed in the back of his throat. His voice slowly lowered. “You couldn’t even save your clansmen who died on the battlefield. You couldn’t even save mom… You couldn’t even save your siblings…” Madara slowly lowered his head. “You couldn’t even save… Izuna… Everybody hates you… You’re nothing…” his voice slowly trailed off into a soft mumble. “You’re nothing… You have nothing… No one wants you here… You’re all alone…”

A saddened expression formed on Hashirama’s face. He whispered, “Madara…”

Hashirama wrapped his arms around Madara and pulled him into a warm embrace . So this was what was in Madara’s heart? Hashirama hugged him tighter, an embrace that said what words couldn’t. A hug that said, ‘you’re not alone,’ and ‘I’m here for you.’

Madara no longer had the energy to fight it. He didn’t have the energy to reject Hashirama. He allowed himself to sink into Hashirama’s warmth as he closed his eyes. There was something so comforting about Hashirama’s embrace. His firm hold, his warm skin, his comforting scent, enough to touch the coldness… the loneliness in his heart. Madara then thought to himself, But no, Hashirama… you’re not the failure. I am…

Madara buried his face into Hashirama’s shoulder and retreated into his dark mind. All he felt was an overwhelming heaviness. His throat was sore from the yelling. A sadness coiled itself around his throat like a constrictor as he desperately tried to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. He wasn’t going to cry, he refused to cry. He refused to show any more vulnerability that night. He felt exposed—his mind, his heart, his body. And it didn’t help that he was still only wearing his trunks.

Madara’s arms stayed beside him, and for a brief moment, he wanted to wrap them around Hashirama. He slowly lifted up his hands but stopped. He couldn’t . Madara dropped them back down to his sides.

After a long moment of silence, with Madara still in his arms, Hashirama finally whispered, “I’m sorry, Madara. I’m so… so sorry. You must really hate me, huh?” Hashirama waited for a response, but nothing. He continued, “I know there’s only so much I can do… but I hear you, I’m listening, and I’m here for you. Please… Please, forgive me. Please, don’t stray away from the Madara I know. Let me help… Let me make amends…”

There it was again . Hashirama attempting to make things all better. But what he failed to realize was that it was too late. Madara had already made up his mind. Although he made a slip-up and poured out the things that were on his mind, it didn’t make him feel any better. Just as he expected . It all just didn’t matter anymore. He’d already sunk deep into the darkness of his own heart as he’d come to realize that nothing ever went as planned in the world. The world was dark. His world was dark. And though he didn’t know why tonight happened, how Hashirama and he ended up sleeping together, he knew, in the context of his dark fate, that it probably meant nothing. He figured the universe was laughing at him, giving him a taste of what he’ll never have, ever again. And he’s not entertaining it.

It was time for Madara to move forward, to go after his dream.

“You want to know how you can help…?” Madara muttered.

Hashirama’s eyes widened. He pulled away from Madara and gripped his shoulders, staring into Madara’s sullen, tired eyes in anticipation. “Yes! Tell me. How can I help?”  

Madara slowly walked over to a nearby box where he kept his ninja tools and picked out a kunai. After rummaging further, he pulled out an empty vial. He walked back over to Hashirama, who looked down at the items in his hands in confusion.

Madara held up the kunai and vial. “Cut off a piece of your flesh for me,” he said flatly. That’s all he needed, the cells of Hashirama Senju. It was all he needed to awaken the Rinnegan so he could cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi and put an end to this nightmare of a world and birth a new, promising one.

Without a second thought, Hashirama took the kunai from Madara’s hand and raised his arm in front of him. He winced as he slowly sliced off a chunk of flesh from his forearm. He grabbed the vial and placed his flesh inside, handing it back to Madara.

Madara looked down at the vial, now harboring Hashirama’s flesh, in his hand. That was easy . He looked up to meet Hashirama’s gaze. “You’re not going to ask me what it’s for?”

Hashirama shook his head. “Do I need to? I trust you.”

Madara looked back down at the vial. “You idiot…” he whispered with a hint of sadness in his voice. Was Hashirama really so trusting of him that he’d do anything? Hashirama doesn’t know about his plan, nor does he know that Madara had no reason to stay in the village now that he had his cells. Madara carefully eyed the flesh inside the vial. How could he just… give it to him like that? He moved his gaze from the vial to Hashirama’s forearm, where the flesh was cut off. Hashirama was using his opposite hand to apply pressure to the area. Madara then looked toward Hashirana’s burned hand. Why… He slowly scanned up Hashirama’s bare chest until he reached his neck, where he saw a hickey. Huh, when did he give him that ? Memories of their night together slowly flooded Madara’s mind. Fuck. Not now . He didn’t want to think about it. Madara brought his palm to his face and exhaled.

Hashirama watched Madara in silence, hoping that he’d continue to open up about what was on his mind. He could tell that Madara was deep in thought. Everything that was said earlier was more than he had expected, and he wanted to hear more. He wanted to hear all of it. He wanted to know everything, so he could address everything and stop Madara from leaving the village.

“W-What’s on your mind right now?” Hashirama finally asked.

Madara locked eyes with Hashirama at the sound of his voice. Truthfully, he was exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically. He didn’t have the energy to keep going at it, not with someone who wouldn’t understand. Madara walked past Hashirama, heading towards his nightstand as he responded, “Mmm… that you seem rather calm for someone who just had an affair. What? Are you guys fighting again?”

Hashirama flinched. Right, Madara doesn’t know about their pending divorce . Hashirama turned toward Madara and nervously chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck. “Right… about that…”

“It’s whatever, I don’t care.” Madara crouched down in front of his nightstand and pulled out the drawer. “Just save your marriage and don’t tell her. Don’t be an idiot and throw away what you have. This won’t happen again, and we’ll never speak of it,” Madara said as he placed the vial with Hashirama’s flesh in his drawer.

Hashiram bit his lip, debating on what he should say next. He wanted to tell him how he really felt, but he… couldn’t. Because at that moment, all he felt was shame. He was ashamed of himself for being blind to Madara’s troubles. How could he have missed so much of it? All of it was slowly eating away at Madara, and Hashirama just… let it happen. Hashirama was just so damn… ashamed of himself. He failed Madara. So, how could he confess his love for him now? He had no right to. He had no right to hope for reciprocated love when Hashirama couldn’t even notice the things that were dragging Madara under. He should’ve tried harder. He failed Madara as a friend. He failed Madara as the Hokage. He wouldn’t be surprised if Madara truly hated him. Why wouldn’t he? Hashirama just wanted to lock himself up in a small bubble and banish himself. He had no right to stand in Madara’s presence. No right to call himself a friend, and definitely no right to be his lover. The more Hashirama soaked it all in, the more shame he felt, growing more and more uncomfortable. He needed to make things right… He needed to make amends.

“Madara…”

Madara looked back at Hashirama. “Hmm?”

No other words left Hashirama’s tight throat. He turned his head, unable to even look Madara in the eyes.

Madara frowned and turned back around. Okay ? He closed the drawer and sighed. Suddenly, he saw Hashirama crouched right next to him from the corner of his vision. Startled, Madara lost his balance, falling back on his bottom. “Hashi, what the—”

“I’ll fix things,” Hashirama declared as he looked Madara directly in the eyes.

“Huh??”

“I’ll fix things, Madara.” He officially decided. Hashirama was determined. He was forcing himself to look directly at Madara, he wasn’t going to avoid his eyes. He wasn’t going to run away, he was going to face it. He decided to own up to his shortcomings and make up for them.

“I told you it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“But it does,” Hashirama said as he edged closer to Madara, maintaining eye contact. “It does matter, Madara, and I’m going to do something about it. I’m going to address everything, I promise. I’ll make things better here in the village.”

Madara slowly backed up. Hashirama was getting rather close. And why was he staring at him like that? Madara slightly turned his head, attempting to break eye contact. “Like I said…”

Hasharama shifted to reestablish eye contact with Madara, his face resolute.

Madara thought Hashirama’s stare was uncomfortably too eager. He grimaced. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Hashirama’s dramatic nonsense right now. “Okay, okay, just do whatever you want,” Madara said dismissively, hoping that’ll get Hashirama off his case for the time being.  

Hashirama smiled. He finally backed up, sitting down crisscross in front of Madara, still maintaining eye contact because he refused to look away; he was going to face it.

“Hashi, stop being weird.”

“Sorry.” Hashirama immediately broke eye contact.

Madara sighed. They sat in silence for a few seconds. Now what? Madara then remembered what Hashirama had said before he blew up. “Anyway, what was it you wanted to talk about before I…” Madara waved his hand around to mimic an explosion.

Hashirama’s cheeks flushed. He wasn’t sure what to say. He still felt ashamed and didn’t feel like he had the right to talk about it. He had already decided he couldn’t tell Madara how he felt yet. Madara could actually hate him for all he knew. Plus, Hashirama thought it would be selfish to listen to all of what Madara said, then turn around and make things about him. But, then again, Hashirama did want to know what the sex meant because it was two-sided. Madara kissed him back, held him back, all with equally as much passion. Hashirama stuttered. “I-I just… I wanted to, um, talk about what happened earlier between us… before you uh…” Hashirama waved his hand around to mimic an explosion like Madara did.

Madara could feel his cheeks grow warm. He didn’t want to talk about it because talking about it meant he had to face what he had done and why . But he couldn’t tell Hashirama how he really felt. And frankly, he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He wanted to move forward, leave everything behind. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to hear what he already knew, and he couldn’t bear for his fate to disappoint him again. He has accepted it. Madara turned his head and finally responded. “Nothing happened between us…” He could feel his cheeks flush some more. “You came on to me, for whatever reason that I don’t want to know, and I was just… horny. There was nothing more to it, and we’ll never do or talk about this again.”

A sound left Hashirama as he was about to speak, but he changed his mind and shut his mouth, looking down at his lap in disappointment. But what did he expect ? He hummed in response.

Madara looked at Hashirama. He wasn’t expecting Hashirama not to pry. Initially, Madara didn’t think he wanted to know, but now he could feel his chest grow heavy. Why? Why did he fuck him? Why did he look at him with those… longing eyes? Why did he kiss him so softly? Why did he comfort him so sweetly?

“Madara?” Hashirama said. 

“Hmm?” Madara responded, waiting in anticipation for what Hashirama was going to say next.

“…Can I spend the night?”

Madara frowned. “No.” He stood up and started looking for Hashirama’s pants.

Hashirama stood up as well. “Please? It’s late, I don’t feel like going back right now,” Hashirama pleaded. But truthfully, he just didn’t want to leave Madara. He was so afraid that if he left, Madara would leave, and he didn’t want that. 

Madara scooped up Hashirama’s pants and shoved them into Hashirama’s chest, slowly pushing him out of the room. “You can do whatever you want, but you’re not staying in my bedroom,” he demanded before closing the door in Hashirama’s face.

“Okay… I’ll sleep on the couch then?” Hashirama’s muffled voice traveled through Madara’s door.

Madara rolled his eyes. Of course he would choose to stay . Madara leaned his back against the door and responded, “Whatever.”

Hashirama smiled and gently placed his hand on the door. He could still feel Madara’s presence just on the other side. He rested his forehead on the door, desiring to be closer to Madara. “Madara…?”

There was silence on the other side of the door.

Hashirama continued, “Please stay… I don’t know what I would do if you left the village.”

Silence.

“…Please…?”

Madara remained silent as he leaned his head against the door. Gosh, why did he have to slip up ? Because now Hashirama really won’t leave him alone. He could feel Hashirama still standing right outside his bedroom door. Madara really didn’t want to deal with this right now. He was tired and just over it. “Please just go to sleep, Hashirama.”

That wasn’t what Hashirama wanted to hear. “Fine, I will… as long as I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Madara huffed. “If you’re spending the night at my place, isn’t that a given?”

Hashirama softly chuckled. “Who knows, you might try and escape through the window like last time.”

“Well, I don’t have the energy to do that again, so…”

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Madara remained silent.

Hashirama felt anxious. He really needed an answer this time around more than ever. Now that he knew that Madara had thoughts of leaving the village, he needed to hear Madara say he’d be around. “I just want an answer, Madara. You said you wouldn’t leave me… remember?” Hashirama said as he reached for the doorknob. He was going to get an answer tonight, whether Madara liked it or not.

But Madara hesitated to answer. He looked over at the backpack on the floor that he had started packing before Hashirama showed up. He needed to leave . He looked towards the nightstand where he kept the vial of Hashirama’s flesh . And there wasn’t a reason to stick around anymore . But Madara still couldn’t shake this… reluctance to leave. He cursed in his head. He needed to harden his resolve. Madara thought about Hashirama. He looked at Izuna’s sword. He looked at his backpack. He looked at his nightstand. He thought about Hashirama. Madara grew frustrated, burying his face into his palm. He could feel Hashirama twist the doorknob.

Madara softly groaned. “I’ll be around…” Madara mumbled. Fuck, why did he say that ? Why does he keep agreeing?  He pressed his weight against the door, hoping Hashirama wouldn’t try to open it.  He didn’t want to see him. Not after everything that happened that night, not after everything that was said.

Hashirama let go of the doorknob and smiled. “I’ll take your word for it.” He waited to hear from Madara, but there was nothing, so he went ahead and made his way to the living room, grabbing his shirt off the floor along the way. As he put his clothes back on, he winced from the stinging pain in his hand, forgetting that I was burned. He then made his way to the couch and tried to make himself comfortable.

As Hashirama lay there, he couldn’t help but recollect the events of the night. The sex. He couldn’t help but think about the look on Madara’s face before they finally kissed. The yearning he felt from Madara. His touch. His moans. Oh, how sexy his moans were. And how surprisingly vocal Madara was. Hashirama could feel his cheeks flush and his crotch tingle as he thought about Madara, how warm and tight he felt around his cock. Hashirama placed his unburned hand on his face and softly groaned. He needed him again. He wished he was in Madara’s bed, holding him until they fell asleep.

Hashirama asked himself what the sex meant. Did it mean that Madara felt the same way about him? Why else would he kiss him? Hold him? Make love with him? Was it really just nothing like Madara said? What if it really did mean nothing… Hashirama wouldn’t be surprised given everything that was said tonight.

Hashirama’s mind then wandered to everything Madara opened up about, how angry he sounded, how… hurt he seemed. Just words and words of ways Hashirama had failed him. God, he was just so ashamed of himself. Hashirama slowly slid his hand from his face and down to his chest as he looked up at the ceiling with determined eyes. Madara had finally let him in, and now he knew what to do. As the Hokage, as Madara’s friend, and hopefully his future lover one day, Hashirama knew he had to address things and make things right. Madara was suffering in silence this whole time, and he didn’t want Madara to fall deeper and deeper into that suffering, no matter how much he was pushing everyone away. He wasn’t going to give up on Madara. Not ever. He wasn’t going to let Madara be alone.

While Hashirama started thinking about ways to make amends, sleep quickly overtook him, and he drifted off.

xxx

Madara slowly woke up. It was the middle of the night. He must’ve drifted off to sleep when he collapsed on his bed earlier. He lay there in silence, with nothing but the sound of his clock ticking away endlessly. His body felt heavy, and he was riddled with fatigue. With his head resting on his pillow, he looked over at his open backpack. Oh yeah, he was supposed to leave tonight. Memories of the night started flooding Madara’s mind, and he almost couldn’t believe it. Was it all just a dream? Did he really sleep with Hashirama? Did he really tell Hashirama everything that was said? 

Gradually, the smell of Hashirama greeted Madara’s nose. Fuck, it wasn’t a dream . His bed sheets smelled like Hashirama, he smelled like Hashirama, and he could still feel Hashirama all over him. Madara groaned and sat up on the edge of the bed. As he stood up, he felt a tube-like object under his foot and looked down to see the bottle of lube that Hashirama brought. Madara groaned again. He removed his bed sheets and put out some fresh ones. But changing the sheets wasn’t enough, he needed to get the cum and smell of Hashirama off of him. 

Madara went to the bathroom and slipped off his trunks before hopping into the shower. For a moment, he stood in silence, allowing the hot water to run down his hair, face, and body. He couldn’t stop thinking about the sex. God, Hashirama’s kisses were so… His touch was so… His moans were so… The head was so… The way Hashirama felt inside of him was so… Everything just felt so… good. But why did he initiate it? No, Madara didn’t want to think about it. 

Madara annoyingly turned off the shower and grabbed his towel. He stepped out and put some clothes on before using his towel to dry his hair. As he walked out of his bathroom, he peeked into the living room to see Hashirama sound asleep on the couch. His eyes landed on Hashirama’s burned hand and lacerated forearm. 

While walking off, he paused when he heard groans coming from Hashirama.  

“Madara…” Hashirama mumbled in his sleep.

Madara looked over to see that Hashirama was still asleep.

“Mmm… Madara… don’t leave me… please…”

Madara sighed. You idiot . He walked back to his bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit before coming back to the bedroom and sitting on the floor in front of Hashirama. Madara gazed at Hashirama’s face, hating how beautiful he found him. He finally opened the first aid kit and found some gauze. He figured he’d better wrap up Hashirama's hand and arm so it’s protected and doesn’t get infected. Madara gently grabbed Hashirama’s hand and examined it. It was already starting to heal. Sheesh, what a monster. Hashirama was known to heal very quickly. It was another feat that Madara admired about him. He expected no less from his rival. 

As he slowly wrapped up Hashirama’s burned hand, Madara was surprised that Hashirama wasn’t waking up. “Someone could kill you in your sleep if they wanted to,” he whispered teasingly. He finished wrapping up Hashirama’s hand and made his way to the cut Hashirama had made. Once done, Madara packed up his first aid kit and fetched a blanket for Hashirama. 

Madara sat on the floor in front of Hashirama, staring at his wrapped hand. Really, why would he go so far? His eyes wandered up to Hashirama’s face. He looked so peaceful. He was truly beautiful. Madara couldn’t help but slowly reach his hand out, gently brushing his fingers against Hashirama’s cheek. God, he loved him . But unfortunately, life was unfair, and his fate was unyielding. 

Madara snapped out of it and headed back to his bedroom, collapsing on his bed with a sigh. Reaching for his nightstand, he pulled open the drawer and took out the vial containing Hashirama’s flesh. He twirled the vial between his fingers, his eyes fixed on the flesh inside of it. 

Now that he has this, he can leave.  

His eyes shifted to look at his backpack, then back to the vial. 

“ I can leave… It’s time to leave… I should leave… but… why… can’t I…? ” Madara thought to himself before drifting back off to sleep.

xxx

“No! No! No! No! No!” Black Zetsu stomped on the ground repeatedly in frustration. He was standing not too far away from Madara’s house after witnessing everything that had just happened with Hashirama and Madara. 

“My progress! He was supposed to leave tonight!” Black Zetsu growled. He was irritated at the recent development, disappointed at Madara’s wavering resolve. Black Zetsu had waited all these years to find someone worthy enough to carry out his plan, so every setback frustrated him. 

Black Zetsu tried to reason through the situation. “But, it’s not all for naught. Madara could still pursue the Infinite Tsukuyomi. He’s too far gone. He can’t be saved. It’s too late for Hashirama. Plus, he has already acquired Hashirama’s cells… which is perfect.” A wicked smile appeared on Black Zetsu’s face. “Yes, Madara will still leave. I know it. He’s my precious little project. I just need to keep watering the seed I planted.” 

Black Zetsu laughed, excited about what was to come. “Soon, soon my plan will come to fruition.”

xxx

Hashirama’s eyes shot open, and he quickly sat up and looked toward the window. It was that menacing, foreign feeling again . That feeling was quickly getting away from him, which prompted Hashirama to rush off the couch and out of the house. 

Hashirama glanced around the area, but that strange feeling was already gone, and nobody was around. What the hell is that ? Hashirama sighed in frustration and scanned the area one last time before walking back inside Madara’s house. As he stepped in, he brought his burned hand to his chin to think, but paused when he noticed that it was wrapped. Madara must’ve done this . Hashirama’s gaze then dropped to the couch, where he saw the blanket he had pulled off himself before he ran out of the house. That wasn’t on him before he fell asleep. A smile tugged at Hashirama’s lips. 

Relieved that he could still sense Madara in his bedroom, Hashirama got back on the couch and pulled the blanket over him. He thought about Madara until he fell back asleep.

Chapter Text

Madara found himself in darkness, nothing but endless blackness without a trace of light anywhere to be seen.

“Where am I?” Madara asked out loud, his voice echoing repeatedly around him. Every direction he turned was dark, black, unable to see even his own hands. 

Suddenly, Madara could no longer feel the ground beneath his feet as he fell for what felt like forever before landing on the wet grass of a vast field. He grunted when he felt the wind get knocked out of his chest. The silence accompanied by the darkness was slowly replaced by the sound of heavy rainfall. As Madara opened his eyes, he noted the gloomy atmosphere and that no one was around.

Madara slowly stood up and scanned the field around him once more before walking in a random direction. No matter how much land he covered, it didn’t seem like he was getting anywhere. Madara continued to walk until he heard a voice call for him.

“Brother!”

Madara quickly turned around to see a familiar man, Izuna, from afar, flashing a cheerful smile and waving at him. As he watched Izuna run toward him, Madara raised his hand to wave back, greeting his brother with a smile.

 “Brother!” Izuna called out once again, sounding thrilled.

“Izu—!” Madara’s voice suddenly cut off, and his eyes widened when he saw a sword pierce through Izuna’s chest.

Huh?

A gush of blood escaped Izuna’s mouth as he hunched over, swaying back and forth until his body slowly started falling toward the ground. Madara quickly ran toward Izuna, yelling out his name, just barely able to catch him as he slid to his knees, holding Izuna in his arms.

“Izuna! Izuna!” Madara called out, watching as Izuna’s breathing grew uneven.

Panicked, Madara stared at the fatal wound in his younger brother’s chest, watching as Izuna slowly started to lose consciousness. Madara desperately looked around the wet field, searching for anyone who could help.

Suddenly, Hashirama appeared in front of Madara, standing in silence, and staring down at him with an unconcerned look on his face.

“Hashi! Help me, please!” Madara pleaded. “Help me, it’s Izuna. He’s dying… He’s dying! Help me!”

But Hashirama didn’t respond. He continued to eye Madara, maintaining an unwavering, neutral expression on his face with no indication of care.

Madara begged, which was typically uncharacteristic of him. But in that moment, he felt powerless with his dying brother in his arms.  “Please, Hashi, help me! Help me!” Madara held Izuna tighter, afraid of what was to come if he didn’t get help soon. “Hashi, please!”

Hashirama remained silent. Instead, he slowly turned around and started walking away.

Madara furrowed his eyebrows, and he could feel his heart drop. “…Hashi…rama…?” Feelings of betrayal quickly overcame Madara. “Where are you going? Hashi! Please! Please, help me!”

But Hashirama didn’t stop. He kept walking away until he was no longer in sight. Madara’s breath grew heavy before looking back down to an empty lap, with Izuna no longer in his arms.

What?

Madara looked around, searching for Izuna.  “Izu? Izu?”

As soon as Madara turned around, he saw Izuna standing in front of him. It was a sight he wasn’t prepared for: Izuna’s eye sockets were empty, blood dripped down the corner of his mouth, his face was pale, and the fatal wound was still present. He appeared like a lifeless man who had risen from his deathbed.

“Brother,” Izuna said as he cocked his head to the side. “Why did you let me die?”

Madara’s words caught in his tight throat. “I… I… I’m sorry, Izuna, I—”

“Why didn’t you save me?”

Madara dropped his head down, staring at the ground, unable to look at Izuna. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Why did you betray me? I told you to take care of the clan.”

Madara raised his head. “I tried, Izuna, I tried to tell the clan. I tried!”

“Why, Brother? Why?.... Why?... Why?” Izuna slowly raised his voice with each ‘why’ that left his mouth.

Madara squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands against his ears, mumbling apologies over and over as guilt slowly crept in and settled into his chest.

“Brother… why didn’t you save us?” The words of multiple children echoed around Madara.

Madara opened his eyes to see all of his wounded younger brothers standing beside Izuna. “Shio… Yasuke… Jiro… I’m sorry…”

“Why didn’t you save us?” The small children repeated as they walked toward Madara, grabbing his arms and pinning him down, rendering him immobile.

“W-What are you doing?” Madara attempted to break free, but he couldn’t. It was like his body was cemented to the ground.

“Why didn’t you save us?” Madara’s younger siblings repeated.

Madara looked forward to see Izuna pointing a sword at Madara. Izuna slowly lifted it, prepared to strike Madara at full force.

“Wait… Izuna, wait, I’m sorry, wait, don’t!” Madara pleaded.

“Why, Brother?” Izuna asked again as he swung his sword.

The last thing Madara saw was the shine of Izuna’s steel blade just centimeters away from his eyes.

“NO!” Madara yelled as he quickly woke up, gasping for air. He swiftly sat up, panting heavily as he clutched his chest. Looking around, Madara realized he was in his room and that it was still dark out, so it must have been the middle of the night. It was just another nightmare . He wiped the beads of sweat that accumulated on his forehead and his neck as he tried to ignore the feeling of his thumping heart. 

Suddenly, Madara’s bedroom door swung open, and Hashirama barged into the room.

“Madara, are you okay?!”

Madara’s eyes met Hashirama’s. Memories of their night together flooded Madara’s mind. Fuck . He forgot about all the… things that went down. Recovering from the nightmare while these memories swirled his mind was a lot at that moment. Madara looked away, avoiding eye contact with Hashirama.

“I heard you mumbling in your sleep and then… you started screaming…,” Hashirama said as he assessed Madara.  “…Was it a nightmare?”

“Hashirama, get out,” Madara said. He really wasn’t in the mood to see or deal with Hashirama.

“But—”

“Get out!” Madara yelled.

Hashirama flinched. He took one step back but stopped before backing away any further. No . Even in the dark bedroom, with limited visibility of Madara, Hashirama could tell that Madara was very troubled. He could feel his anxious aura radiating from his tense body, hear his uneven breathing escaping his lips. So instead of taking another step backward, he moved forward. Hashirama wanted to be there for Madara, and he wasn’t going to let things slide any longer. 

Madara sucked his teeth at the sound of Hashirama’s footsteps. Go away . He grabbed his nearby kunai from his nightstand and threw it towards Hashirama. The kunai barely scraped the side of Hashirama’s face, who didn’t dodge an inch, leaving a shallow cut that slowly dripped with blood. Hashirama kept walking forward.

Groaning, Madara brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his forehead on his forearms. He felt so… vulnerable . So hopeless. The lingering feelings of abandonment and guilt weighed heavily on his heart. And he was not able to put up his crumbled walls. In that moment, Madara just wanted to disappear. He wanted to be alone, as he believed his fate was to be.

“Get out, Hashirama,” Madara said again. “Just get out… get out… get out…” he mumbled, no longer having the energy to force Hashirama out himself.

Once Hashirama arrived at the bedside, he slowly got on, sitting right next to Madara. Surprised at Madara’s lack of resistance, Hashirama took the opportunity to put an arm around him, pulling him close. He leaned in and whispered, “You don’t have to tell me about it, but I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Madara didn’t respond; he let the words linger in his ear. There was something so comforting about his words… something so comforting about Hashirama’s arm around him. He could already feel the heaviness in his chest starting to lighten up, the weight of the nightmare slowly dissipating.

The two sat together in silence until Hashirama started to feel Madara’s weight slowly shift onto him. He must’ve fallen asleep , Hashirama thought. He carefully laid Madara back down and lay beside him. Though this may have been pushing a boundary, in that moment, Hashirama didn’t care. He didn’t want to leave Madara’s side.

Hashirama eyed Madara’s face, slowly bringing his bandaged hand up to his cheek and lightly caressing it. His face was so soft and looked so peaceful, rid of the usual sternness that decorated it during the day. It was a sight he wanted to see every day, every night. He didn’t want this moment to end, and he was committed to staying by his side. So Hashirama stayed with Madara in his bed, holding him until he also drifted off the sleep.

xxx

Madara slowly woke up alone on his bed to the sunshine that slowly illuminated his room, painting it with a mix of yellow and orange hues. The birds chirped enthusiastically outside of Madara’s window, creating almost what sounded like a harmonious melody.

Madara felt oddly more refreshed than usual. It was the best sleep he had had in a while. As he lay there, he could sense someone else was in his house. Hashirama . Madara instantly remembered what happened in the middle of the night after he woke up from his nightmare. He remembered how Hashirama barged in, got into his bed, sat next to him, and held him. He didn’t remember what happened afterwards because he fell asleep. Madara looked towards the other half of the bed and caressed the empty space. It was warm. Did he…? The warmth in Madara’s cheeks rose.

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, Madara sighed, mentally preparing for what was to come as soon as he stepped out of his bedroom. He stood up and stretched before walking out to see Hashirama rummaging through his empty kitchen cabinets.

Hashirama sensed Madara behind him and immediately whipped around. “Madara! You have no food here!”

See? He called it . And Madara was not in the mood to deal with it. “Well, good morning to you too,” Madara said as he yawned while scratching his stomach, giving Hashirama a glimpse of his abs.

 Hashirama paused to take in the sight of Madara: his bedhead, his tired eyes, his abs, the hickeys on his neck. This was definitely a sight he would love to see every morning. Hashirama shoved the thoughts aside and responded, “Good morning. Are you eating, Madara?”

Madara sighed. Seriously, getting questioned by Hashirama first thing in the morning was not what he signed up for. “I am,” Madara said, though truthfully, he hasn’t had much of an appetite these days, and he’s aware that his kitchen is a bit… barren.

Hashirama looked Madara up and down, noticing that it did look like he had lost some weight. How could he not have noticed? Hashirama could slowly feel guilt creeping into his consciousness.

Madara noticed Hashirama staring at him silently, which made him a bit uncomfortable. “What??” he asked.

“Are you lying to me?” Hashirama responded. “How can you eat when there’s no food in your kitchen?”

“I ate last night, didn’t I?” Madara responded wittingly, referring to the rice balls Hashirama brought him when he first arrived yesterday evening. He walked into the kitchen toward his fridge to get a pitcher of water.

“Yeah, food that I brought.”

“Well, there you go.”

Hashirama gave Madara a look: Really?

Madara walked over to the kitchen counter beside Hashirama, noticing the look he just gave him. “Does that not answer your question?”

Hashirama huffed and pouted as he turned his head away. Curse Madara for playing clever with him .

Madara poured himself a cup of water and drank it, quenching his thirst. They stood there next to each other in silence for a few seconds, but for what felt like forever. Madara faced the counter, while Hashirama leaned against the counter, facing the other way. Amid the silence was this unspoken tension between them, a taboo topic that neither of them addressed.

Finally, Hashirama spoke, “So… how was your sleep?”

“Fine,” Madara responded. He had been avoiding eye contact with Hashirama this entire time, not wanting to be reminded of everything that happened last night.

Hashirama hummed in response. After he fell asleep beside Madara last night, he found himself waking up intermittently, taking the opportunity to check in on Madara before going back to sleep. Fortunately, Madara seemed okay during each check-in. There was no more mumbling or stirring in his sleep. But man, Madara’s screams really startled him last night, and his deeply shaken appearance awakened a deep ache in Hashirama’s chest. He wondered how long Madara had been having nightmares. He did notice Madara had been appearing more tired these days. Has he not been sleeping well lately because of the nightmares?

“How long have you been having nightmares?” Hashirama asked.

Madara shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about it. Madara had already opened up way more than he intended to and showed enough vulnerability to last a lifetime. But he was at least glad Hashirama hadn’t brought up the… events of last night.

Though Hashirama wished for a better response, he wasn’t surprised at Madara’s reaction. He was at least grateful that he got to hear what was in Madara’s heart, even though he had to practically force it out of him. Judging from what transpired last night, the nightmares may have been related to something that was said. Or maybe there’s more to it? Hashirama thought. Hashirama glanced at Madara. What more could he be hiding behind that wall of his? Hashirama recalled his declaration to Madara last night, how he decided he would address all the things Madara mentioned

“Madara, about last night…” Hashirama began.

Spoke too soon , Madara thought. “Nothing happened last night,” he mumbled as he left the counter to put the water pitcher back in the fridge.

“Well, no, things did happen,” Hashirama said. He wasn’t going to dance around the topic or let Madara get away with denying things again. He really wanted to take advantage of the momentum they gained last night.

“Well, I don’t want to talk about it,” Madara responded as he walked back to the counter to finish his cup of water.

“Which part?” Hashirama looked towards Madara.

Madara choked on his water, surprised at the audacity of Hashirama’s comment. “ All of it,” Madara sneered as he recovered.

“Even the se—”

“Yes!” Madara interrupted.

When Hashirama noticed Madara’s cheeks flush, he softly chuckled. He’s so shy . Hashirama’s eyes slowly wandered from Madara’s reddened cheeks down to the hickeys on his neck. Images of their night together flashed through his mind. His cheeks flushed, and he could feel his crotch tingle. Hashirama bit his lip and turned his head away, attempting to hide his own flushed cheeks. Well, he was willing to put the sex on the back burner, because frankly, he didn’t feel like he had the right to talk about his feelings yet. Not after what Madara said. He wasn’t going to act like Madara’s resentment and despair didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to act like that part of the night didn’t happen.

Once Hashirama managed to calm himself down, he said, “Madara, I was serious about what I said last night, that I would fix things. I promise.”

Madara sighed, “I said it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Even if it doesn’t matter to you, it matters to me. So, I will fix things.”

“Whatever.”

“...So… please… please stay,” Hashirama said as he looked at Madara, who kept his head faced forward, avoiding his gaze. The silence that ensued caused Hashirama’s stomach to churn. He just wanted to know that Madara wouldn’t leave. The longer Madara went without speaking, the more anxious he became. “Please…” Hashirama added.

Madara signed and turned around, leaning against the counter, like Hashirama, with his arms crossed. “Hashi, I don’t want to do this this morning. Give me a break.”

Hashirama remained silent, unsure what to say in response because he was inclined to press further. “But—”

“I said, give me a break.”

Hashirama decided to forego the topic for now, taking a mental note to revisit it later in the day.

The two stood in silence for a little while longer. Hashirama looked down at his bandaged hand and smiled. “By the way, thank you for wrapping my hand up last night.”

“Mhm.”

Hashirama grinned. He looked around until his eyes landed on something. “Wait a minute, is that…?” Hashirama walked toward it and picked it up. It was a wilted flower, lying on a nearby lamp stand. “Is this the flower I gave you?”

Madara glanced at the withered flower in Hashirama’s hand. “Oh, that’s where I put it. You know, it didn’t last very long. Didn’t you say it was ‘resilient?’ That it could persevere in harsh environments?”

“Well, yeah, but it still needs water and sunlight, like any other plant,” Hashirama responded as he walked back to Madara’s side.

“Hm. That doesn’t sound very resilient to me.”

Hashirama was immediately overtaken by his habitual depressed demeanor. He shook his head and brought the withered flower close. “I’m sorry, little one, I failed you. I should’ve never put your life in his hands,” Hashirama sulked.

“Huh?!”

Hashirama turned to Madara and pouted. “Plant killer.”

Madara’s eye twitched. “Whatever. At least I didn’t throw it away.”

“You might as well have,” Hashirama mumbled. “…Plant killer.”

“I’ll show you a real plant killer!” Madara said as he grabbed Hashirama by the shirt.

Laughter escaped Hashirama’s lips.

“What’s so funny?!”

Hashirama couldn’t stop laughing. It was just so funny to mess with Madara.

Madara sucked his teeth and released Hashirama from his grasp. It’s early in the morning, and Hashirama was already on some nonsense. “Whatever. Can’t you just use your little jutsu to revive it?”

Hashirama’s laughter slowly came to a halt. “Hmm… I can,” he said with a smile as he infused chakra into the flower, watching it come back to life. He stared in awe as he saw the flower petals slowly transition from a sad dullness to a burst of vibrant orange and red hues. Hashirama raised the now lively flower to Madara and offered it to him. “As long as I’m alive, this flower shall never wither.”

Madara accepted the flower, his hand brushing against Hashirama’s. He finally looked into Hashirama’s eyes, which was a mistake, because he was immediately pulled in. Every memory he had of last night and every sensation he felt flooded back into him. His stomach riddled with butterflies, Madara could feel his cheeks grow warm, and a pleasant thrill traveled down his crotch. Oh, fuck . Madara couldn’t help but glance at Hashirama’s lips. He wanted him again . 

Hashirama felt no different. He was just as pulled in, just as entranced by Madara’s presence, just as riddled with the memories and sensations of last night.

As the two silently stared at each other, neither of them realized they were giving in to the magnetic pull between them.

They slowly leaned in until they heard a loud knock on the door.

*Knock Knock Knock*

Hashirama and Madara quickly created some distance between them, clearing their throats to play it off.

“Brother!”  

Hashirama immediately recognized the voice behind the front door. “Tobirama?” His eyes widened. “Oh crap, what time is it?!” Hashirama scanned the area, looking for a clock.

“It’s 8:40 AM,” Madara answered.

“Crap!” Adrenaline pumped through Hashirama’s veins as he rushed to the front door and quickly slipped on his shoes. Madara slowly followed behind him with a look of confusion on his face. Hashirama finally swung open the front door to see an angry Tobirama. He flashed a sheepish smile and nervously chuckled. “T-Tobi! It’s good to see you—"

“Do you have any idea what time it is?! Did I not warn you?? Brother, you can’t be late for this important meeting!” Tobirama said.

Hashirama scratched the back of his head with a guilty expression on his face. “I know, I know, I know, I lost track of time! Haha, I— ouch!”

Tobirama grabbed Hashirama by the ear and started dragging him out of the house. He mumbled, “I can’t believe you. How unserious can you be??”

Hashirama had no choice but to follow Tobirama out since his ear was in Tobirama’s grasp. He looked back to see Madara standing by the door. “W-Wait, Tobirama, let me at least say bye to Madara first,” he said, but Tobirama didn’t pay him any mind.

Madara watched Hashirama getting dragged further and further away.

Hashirama reached out. “Madara! I’ll see you—?” Before Hashirama could finish his sentence, he and Tobirama vanished.

Madara stared ahead at where Hashirama once was. The familiar emptiness he felt whenever Hashirama was no longer with him slowly crept into his chest. He always had these conflicting desires: to be with Hashirama and to be away from Hashirama. But the desire to be with him always hit harder these days, no matter how much he tried to push it away, no matter how much he tried to accept his fate, detach, and convince himself to leave the village.

Madara sighed and closed the door. Seriously though, sometimes he truly wondered how the village was still running. A smile tugged at the corner of Madara’s lips, amused at his own joke. He walked to his bathroom to freshen up and finally saw himself in the mirror. It was only now that he noticed the hickeys on his neck. Madara tilted his head upwards to get a better look. Oh my … He eyed the prominent bruises, one on each side. As he gently caressed the bruises with his fingers, he instantly felt the ghost of Hashirama’s lips against his neck. A soft sigh escaped his lips.

Curse Hashirama .

Madara turned on the faucet and splashed water onto his face. He grabbed both sides of the sink and kept his head down, staring at the running water, getting lost in thought. “ What should I do? What was last night about? What did it mean? Should I have… should I have agreed to talk about it? Would it have even mattered? Is the universe just laughing at me? Why did I slip up and tell Hashirama everything? What will Hashirama do? Should I still leave? Should I stay? Why would I stay? I have everything I need… why can’t I leave…? What the fuck is wrong with me? ”

Madara let out an abrupt groan and forcefully shut off the faucet. He grabbed his toothbrush and started freshening up for the day, still plagued by his racing thoughts.

xxx

Tobirama dragged Hashirama into the house and closed the door. He faced Hashirama and gave him a stern look. “What did I tell you about needing to be at this meeting on time?”

“I’m sorry, Tobi. I really just lost track of time,” Hashirama answered sincerely.

Tobirama caught a glimpse of the hickey on Hashirama’s neck. He leaned in to get a better look. “Is that… Is that a hickey ?”

Remembering after forgetting it was there, Hashirama quickly covered the hickey with his hand.

“Are you even serious about being the Hokage?” Tobirama added.

“Of course I am! What? It’s just a hickey,” Hashirama said.

Tobirama sighed. “It’s not just a hickey. You’re meeting with the Daimyo today,” Tobirama mumbled as he walked into his bedroom to retrieve a turtleneck.

“Well, I’m sure the Daimyo gets it on too,” Hashirama mumbled with a pout.

Tobirama returned with a turtleneck and gave it to Hashirama. “You have 10 minutes to freshen up and meet me at the Hokage tower.”

“10 minutes?!” Hashirama blurted.

“You did this to yourself. The Daimyo will be here any minute now, and you can’t be late, brother!”

Hashirama looked down at the shirt with a seemingly saddened expression on his face, which Tobirama took notice of.

“What’s wrong?” Tobirama asked.

“Oh, n-nothing… It’s just that… a lot happened last night.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Hashirama’s cheeks flushed. “No, I’m not talking about this. I meant… I finally heard what was in Madara’s heart last night and…” Hashirama’s voice trailed off. He stared at Tobirama, remembering the things Madara accused Tobirama and him of. He had so many questions he wanted to ask Tobirama. So many questions about the intentions behind his policies and his true thoughts about the Uchiha clan.

Whatever was said, Tobirama could tell that it was troubling Hashirama. But they just simply didn’t have time to get into it. “Brother, I really hate to say this, but you’re going to need to put that to the side for now. Let’s get through the morning first and revisit it later.”

“Right, right,” Hashirama said as he slowly started walking towards the bathroom.

Tobirama sighed. “30 minutes.”

Hashirama turned around.

“I’ll give you 30 minutes, no more than that. I can only stall the Daimyo for so long before he gets suspicious. Just make sure to be at the tower by then.”

Hashirama smiled. “Thanks, Tobi!”

Tobirama hummed in response and took his leave.

Hashirama went straight to the bathroom to freshen up, trying his best not to let the memories of last night distract him. He just had to get through the meeting, and then he could start addressing everything. As he was getting ready, Hashirama couldn’t help but feel anxious. Now that he knew Madara was planning on leaving the village, his mind kept racing with hopes that Madara wouldn’t leave. What is he doing now? Hashirama didn’t know but was really hoping Madara stayed put. He really hoped Madara would give him time to make things better.

Hashrama managed to get ready and arrive at the Hokage tower within the allotted time Tobirama gave him. Tobirama greeted him, and they started walking toward the room where the Daimyo was seated.

As they approached the door, Tobirama turned to Hashirama and asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Hashirama responded. He quickly put on his usual, charismatic smile, shoving thoughts about Madara to the side so he could show up as the Hokage everybody knew, loved, and respected. “I’m ready!”

“There’s always conflict, conflict, conflict, no matter what we do, or how much progress we make,” Hashirama said as he walked alongside Tobirama back to their place. They had just finished meeting with the Daimyo, where they extensively discussed political affairs.

“Yeah, it won’t be easy to make peace. That’s just human nature,” Tobirama responded.

“But we are capable! We can simply stop fighting, handle conflict cordially, and coexist in peace.”

“That’s easier said than done. Not everyone is as kind and selfless as you, brother. There will always be people who will let greed consume them, and they will resort to any means necessary to get what they want. There are people who simply don’t care about anyone else’s well-being.”

Hashirama sighed. Unfortunately, he knew Tobirama was right, but he still wanted to have some faith in humanity,

They finally made it back to Tobirama’s place and changed out of their formal wear. Tobirama made his way to the kitchen to start preparing a late lunch. As he looked around, gathering the necessary materials, he noticed something was missing.

“Wait a minute, brother!” Tobirama called out.

“Hmm?” Hashirama answered as he stepped out of his room.

“Where’s my basket?”

“Your basket?”

“My basket, the one you borrowed yesterday to pack food before leaving.”

“Oh! That basket! Sorry, I must’ve left it at Madara’s.”

Tobirama could feel a little anxiety rise within him. “Go get it back.”

“Okay, I’ll get it,” Hashirama said as he leisurely walked toward the kitchen to find a snack to eat to tide him over until lunch was ready.

“Now!”

Hashirama flinched. “Okay, okay, okay, I’ll go get the basket.”

Tobirama sighed, a bit surprised at his actions. “Thank you,” he said calmly.

“What’s his problem?” Hashirama whispered to himself as he walked back to his bedroom to change into his outside clothes. He didn’t really mind the haste because being apart from Madara made him increasingly anxious the more time went by. Hashirama didn’t want Madara to leave the village after all, and he feared that at any moment, now that he knew what was in Madara’s heart, Madara could just be gone. So, this was good. Leaving to go see Madara was good.

Once Hashirama was dressed, he started making his way to Madara’s. On his way there, his stomach growled. He hadn’t had anything to eat all day, and he was really looking forward to eating lunch soon, but no . Someone wanted their basket . Hashirama’s thoughts were intermittently disrupted by the occasional greeting from villagers who smiled, waved, and said ‘hello.’ To which Hashirama greeted back.

Hashirama’s stomach churned when he finally entered the Uchiha district. This wasn’t hunger, this was anxiety, shame, guilt. He was instantly reminded of all the things Madara said last night. Although the Uchihas were greeting him like nothing was wrong, Hashirama still couldn’t help but feel like the enemy. He forced a smile, greeting them back, taking mental notes of all the changes he needed to make because he didn’t want anyone in the village to feel oppressed. If Madara felt the way he did, who knew what everyone else was feeling? Who knew what was hidden behind those potentially fake smiles?

Madara’s home was finally in sight. Is he in there ? When Hashirama spotted Madara walking out of his house, instant relief washed over him. He was about to call out to him, but he noticed Madara was acting a bit… suspicious. It was as if he didn’t want anyone to follow him. For some reason, something inside Hashirama told him to follow Madara wherever he was going. So Hashirama decided not to speak and instead hid himself.

Hashirama quietly tailed Madara until he stopped in front of a large structure. The Naka Shrine ? He watched as Madara looked around briefly before stepping inside. Hashirama raised an eyebrow. Is he ashamed of going there to pray or something? Once Madara was inside, Hashirama waited a few moments before stealthily making his way inside as well.

It was dark and quiet, and Hashirama couldn’t really see anything, nor could he hear Madara’s footsteps anymore. Where did he go ? Hashirama cautiously walked further inside. He felt a pang of guilt when he realized what he was doing, but he was already too far in, so he had to commit.

Suddenly, Hashirama heard a low rumble and decided to follow the sound. Hashirama caught a glimpse of a ray of light that was slowly fading. A door must be closing . Maybe that’s where Madara went. Hashirama rushed towards the light, slipping inside before the door could fully close.

The room was dimly lit, stifling. Hashirama’s footsteps were quiet as he slowly walked further in, taking in the contents of the room. The torches lining the walls, the Uchiha emblems, the… stone tablet… Madara? Hashirama saw Madara crouching down in front of a stone tablet with writing on it. Hashirama had never been in this room before. He actually didn’t know such a thing existed in the village.

Hashirama stepped forward, “What’s this?”

Madara immediately shot up and quickly turned around, shocked to see Hashirama in the room.

“Hashirama?!”

Hashirama walked toward Madara as he scanned the room.

“What are you—? Why—? How—?? You’re not supposed to be here!”

“I followed you here,” Hashirama said as his eyes landed on Madara. Flutters ravaged his stomach, pulled in by the sight of Madara. It had barely been a few hours since he last saw him, yet he still felt like… this . Gosh, I am truly head over heels for this man , Hashirama thought.

Hashirama quickly averted his eyes to cut off those thoughts, now looking at the stone tablet in front of them. He attempted to read it, but he couldn’t. Hmm?

Madara’s eyes narrowed. “You followed me?”

“Mhm. Madara, what does that—”

Suddenly, a familiar feeling washed over Hashirama. He froze. It was that menacing, foreign feeling again, but this time it was… stronger. As if the presence was standing right behind him. Hashirama quickly turned around, but nothing. No one. He looked around, trying to find the source of that feeling, but nothing.

“What are you doing?” Madara asked, still very much annoyed that Hashirama was in the room with him, in a place only Uchihas were allowed to be in.

“You don’t feel that?” Hashirama asked.

“Feel what?”

“Feel the…” Hashirama’s voice trailed off. Why was he the only person who could feel this ? He continued looking around the room, going from wall to wall, looking up and down, corner to corner. But nothing. Hashirama ran his hand across the walls, wondering if there was some secret door where the mysterious presence was hiding, but nothing .

Madara sucked his teeth, not in the mood to deal with Hashirama’s nonsense. He focused his attention back on the stone tablet. He came to this room because he was feeling confused, his resolve wavering. Ever since last night, his mind has been muddled, and he didn’t know what to do. So, he came back to the stone tablet, hoping his newfound hope would give him the resolve he needed. Madara toggled with the vial of Hashirama’s flesh in his pocket and bit his lip, drowning himself in the contents of the tablet, the only thing left he felt like he had.

Hashirama still couldn’t find the source of that feeling, and it bothered him immensely. Despite this, he decided to forgo the search for now and join Madara’s side in front of the stone tablet. Another attempt was made to read it again, but it was still indecipherable.

“What’s this? What does it say?” Hashirama asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Madara mumbled. “You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“Sorry, I just… I was stopping by to visit, and I saw you leaving your house, and I… decided to follow you.”

“ Why? ”

Hashirama shrugged. “Gut feeling.”

“Tch. Well, you shouldn’t have.”

They stood in silence for over a minute, both staring at the stone tablet. Madara glanced at Hashirama briefly. He debated on saying something. Was it worth it?

“It’s my answer,” Madara finally said in a whisper.

Hashirama looked at Madara. “Your answer?” Did he mean his answer to true peace ? That must’ve been it. He turned back to look at the tablet and continued, “So, this is what’s telling you to leave the village, huh?”

“It’s telling me how I can achieve true peace,” Madara sneered.

“And how would that be?” Hashirama asked, hoping Madara would finally tell him, especially since he couldn’t read the tablet for some reason.

But Madara remained silent. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to tell Hashirama or not. At this point, he felt like he was just grasping for straws, hoping that he would find his resolve to finally go after this… new purpose of his now that he had Hashirama’s cells. All he had to do was implant the cells, wait to awaken the Rinnegan, and in the meantime, potentially catch all of the tailed beasts. It was a large task, but a task Madara knew he was perfectly capable of. But going after this purpose meant leaving Hashirama, and he still wavered at the idea of this.

Then a thought hit Madara. What if Hashirama… joined him? That’s right… What if Hashirama joined him? Madara then wondered if Hashirama would even understand. Would he even join him? He had a perfect life here after all, and Madara wouldn’t want to pull him away from that. Not that Hashirama would even join him. But what if ? Nah. But … Nope. But Madara couldn’t stop the good memories with Hashirama from surfacing. The conversations, the comforting feeling he gets whenever he’s around him. He couldn’t help but think about last night, the passionate… sex . Madara didn’t know if he should trust this feeling inside of him. His fate was dark. And Hashirama’s light was too bright for him; it was never meant for him. Dark . Dull. Hopeless. He wasn’t destined for good things. And yet… what if there really was something there… with Hashirama… What if…?

Madara crouched down, staring intently at the tablet, catching Hashirama’s attention.

What is he thinking ? Hashirama thought.

“Hashi…” Madara muttered.

“Hmm?” Hashirama hummed.

Madara stood up and faced Hashirama, giving him a determined look. What if? “You said you want us to achieve true peace together, right?”

Hashirama’s eyes slightly widened. Was Madara agreeing to stay with him to achieve that goal? “Yes, of course!”

Madara paused, reconsidering whether he wanted to tell Hashirama about the plan or not. He looked toward the stone tablet. “…The Infinite Tsukuyomi…” Madara whispered.

“Huh? The…?”

“Infinite Tsukuyomi. This tablet was written by the Sage of the Six Paths. The Infinite Tsukuyomi… it promises true peace for the world, and salvation for the Uchiha clan.” Madara felt the excitement slowly rise inside of him as he continued to explain the process passionately. It was the first time he was able to actually speak about it, bringing this hypothetical plan somewhat to reality because he was also pretty sure he was the only one who had deciphered the tablet to completion. Madara went on and on, about the Rinnegan, about catching the tailed beast, summoning the Gedo statue, casting the ultimate genjutsu to ensure guaranteed peace for the world. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him and Hashirama pursuing this dream together. His voice rose in excitement as he explained thoroughly why this was the answer, the ultimate answer.

Madara finally ended with, “So Hashi, join me!” He reached out his gloved hand, hoping Hashirama would agree to be his partner, to move forward with him and achieve true peace; the peace guaranteed by the stone tablet entrusted to him by the Sage of the Six Paths. The answer. Madara smiled widely, anticipating the union between him and the man he admittedly loved. For some reason, he felt oddly good about it, confident. It was like something was telling him that this would work, that Hashirama would join him. Madara dared to challenge his fate; he dared to have hope. 

Hashirama remained silent. He looked down at Madara’s gloved hand before looking back up at Madara’s glowing face. He was still processing everything Madara said. The Infinite Tsukuyomi? A… genjutsu? Is that what he said? Catching tailed beasts? What would this mean? What would this mean for the village? What would this mean for the world? And would this mean that he had to leave the village too? Clearly, this plan meant a lot to Madara. Hashirama hadn’t seen Madara so hopeful like this in a while. And though Hashirama was aware that Madara was damn near done with the village because of what he hadn’t been able to do for him as the Hokage and his friend, he also knew it was this plan that was pushing Madara away from the village, away from him.

Madara was giving Hashirama the opportunity to join him, and Hashirama couldn’t just look past it.

But this plan…

Hashirama thought about how he would feel if Madara left him, and that wasn’t a great feeling at all. It was a gut-wrenching, suffocating feeling that he didn’t think he’d be able to live with. He didn’t want Madara to leave him. He wanted Madara to stay by his side. But what if he joins him? Then he wouldn’t have to worry about Madara ever leaving him because he would be by his side through it all.

Maybe joining Madara wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe then he could be by his side .

But Hashirama couldn’t help but think about this plan of Madara’s. It made him feel uneasy… Madara was preaching about it like it wasn’t a big deal, but a plan like this… 

But accepting the offer would guarantee that he could stay with Madara… He would never have to be apart from him. He would never have to fear him disappearing on him. 

Hashirama glanced back down at Madara’s hand.

Maybe this could be the start of something amazing with Madara.

Hashirama slowly lifted his hand.

Maybe…