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I want to welcome back our lovely followers and greet anyone who’s checking out our podcasts for the first time! Today we are continuing our series with stars who came out and will welcome one of the most in demand stylists of Land of Water: Yuki Haku.

Haku will talk about his first crush and mentor and how he made him realise the importance of self-acceptance. He will talk about his harsh childhood and how it made him the man he is today.

And of course - you can’t talk with Haku without talking about the place of clothing that are traditionally considered female in a man’s wardrobe. 

Play>>

Hashirama lay on his side and watched the hand of the alarm clock slowly creep forward. It was 6 am, on a Saturday morning, yet Mito was already out of bed. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to lie in, even though he doubted she slept more than he did.

Last night was a catastrophe. Even worse, it was only one in the series of catastrophic nights. Four years into their marriage, Hashirama apparently reached the point when he was unable to have sex with his wife.

He almost wished there was something wrong with him, medically speaking, but Hashirama was thinking, brooding and wallowing a lot on this lately and he had to admit it was about something else. The only fair thing to do was to talk to Mito, no matter how painful it might turn out for both of them.

She was chopping veggies in the kitchen when Hashirama braved to exit their bedroom. She frowned furiously down at the cucumber and didn’t look up at him. Hashirama felt like the right idiot, standing there in his boxers and t-shirt he wore for sleeping, thinking he should have dressed up for this conversation first.

“We need to talk,” he said quietly, as there was no point in delaying this. Mito put the knife down with a lot more force than what was necessary.

“Oh, do you think so?” she asked with bitter sarcasm. Her face was pale, and her eyes were red, making Hashirama feel like an absolute scumbag. He was practicing what to say in the privacy of his mind for the last hour, phrasing how could he break the news in the gentlest way, but he forgot all that and he just blurted out the truth.

“I think I’m gay,” he said the same time Mito proclaimed,

“You are cheating on me.”

They gaped at each other. 

“What?” he asked, and his voice came out high pitched. “I’m not!”

“What do you mean… are you having an affair with a man?”  Mito demanded. She shook her head angrily, her flaming red curls flying unbound around her face. Hashirama always thought she should let her hair down more often, it made her look fiercely beautiful, but this really wasn’t the time to tell her this.

“I’m not having any kind of affair with anyone, Mito, I swear! I was just thinking a lot, lately, as, you know how I have problems with… performing… and I realised,” damn this was hard and it wasn’t going well at all, not that Hashirama could realistically expect it to. Mito was looking furious, and he felt he might break down and cry. “I am more attracted to men than…”

“Me.”

“To women! It’s not you, you are beautiful and gorgeous. The problem is with me.”

“We have a daughter, Hashirama. Mayra is three.”

“I know!”

“How could you… how could you lie about something like this? Why did you lie about something like this?”

“I didn’t!” Hashirama protested, but that wasn’t quite right, was it. “Or… I think I was lying to myself and by extension to you as well. I know it doesn’t matter, but I really never wanted to hurt you or Mayra. I’m sorry.” He was crying now and dammit, that wasn’t making anything better. “I really never wanted to hurt you, or Mayra,” he repeated. “I’m sorry.”

Mito finally left the kitchen and came up to him. She didn’t protest when Hashirama hugged her, and only sighed in annoyance when he sobbed into her shoulder.

“I’m very angry with you,” she said, but her voice was almost gentle. “Can you please stop crying, I don’t really feel like comforting you, right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Hashirama said again, wiping his eyes. He had no idea what else to say. 

“That’s fine, but Hashirama, you realise you did hurt me, even if you didn’t intend to. And it’s going to take a toll on Mayra, no matter how careful we will be. What do you even plan to do now?”

“I’m not sure,” Hashirama confessed. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. Can we sit down and talk?”

Mito looked at him as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Hashirama couldn’t blame her. He felt horribly guilty, but also as if a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders. He much preferred living an honest life and he was sure they would be able to work this out with Mito. She was a strong, smart woman after all, it wasn’t for nothing that Hashirama married her in the first place.

How to react if someone from your circle of friends or family comes out to you

While coming out is pretty difficult as life events go, being on the receiving end of a coming-out confession can be just as tough. How to react? What to say and what not to say? Should I tell them “I knew all along”, “It doesn’t matter” or joke that I always felt they were checking out my arse/boobs or are these Really Bad Ideas?

Dr Kato Shizune is a Senior Lecturer in Social Psychology at the University of the Mid-Fire Country, Konoha, who specialises in human identities and sexualities. We asked her for advice on how to best support someone who's come out to you.

Don’t forget - listening to professional advice is a good idea, however you are the one who knows the person the best. Be open, be supportive and try to avoid reactions that come across as fake.

Click for details!

“I still don’t get it, man,” Asuma said, scratching his beard. “How can you not know something like this?”

Hashirama slid lower on his chair and took a sip of his beer. He didn’t even know how many he had already. He was tipsy enough that he wasn’t getting up to pee even though he really had to, but not drunk enough to make this whole conversation with his friends more bearable. He hoped to find the amusing side of his situation at the bottom of a pint, but so far, he searched for it in vain.

“I know it’s strange, but… it took me a while, I really can’t say anything else.”

“But we are thirty-one! How did you… you know. With Mito. We used to talk about the boobs of the girls in school all the time!”

“You mean you used to talk about them all the time,” Kushina pointed out, which was how it had been. The three of them went back all the way, they knew each other from high school years. There used to be a bigger gang, but as these things go, many of them grew apart. However, Asuma, Kushina and he remained close. They were meeting less frequently since everyone got married, of course. Kushina’s son was a year younger than Mayra, and Asuma’s wife was seven months pregnant. Nowadays they usually met with their partners accompanying them - which would now need to change, of course. Just another inconvenience for Mito, who was the cousin of Kushina, too. Hashirama drained the remaining of his beer and signalled for the waitress for another one. 

“This is a mess,” he groaned, stopping the ongoing bickering between his friends.

“Damn right, it is,” Kushina agreed. “Hashirama, darling, don’t get us wrong. We have absolutely no problem with you being gay, but you know this is hard on Mito, and Mayra is too young to really understand what’s going on.”

Hashirama let gravity do its job. His forehead hit the table with a thud. It was sticky, getting his skin and hair all dirty. He didn’t feel like straightening up, though.

“I know, right? I know.”

“But don’t you like chicks at all?” Asuma was obviously still not over this part and not contributing at all to how Hashirama could clear the mess he created up, at least a little bit. “You had girlfriends before. What did you do when you had sex with… auch, what was that for?” This was aimed at Kushina, who kicked him under the table.

“I can obviously have sex with women,” Hashirama grimaced, sitting back more-or-less upright in his chair again. “But it’s not really what I desire. It’s complicated, really.”

“But you like to do it with a bloke, right?” Asuma really wasn’t someone who let himself be deterred. “You enjoy sex with a bloke?” 

“Well, I assume I would.” They stared at him for a long moment, so he added, “What?”

“We thought you had someone,” Kushina said slowly. “That you met a guy. That’s why you broke up with Mito.”

“I didn’t cheat on her!” Why did everyone think that? “We have this agreement now, but I haven’t started to date anyone, because it’s still so weird.”

“Right. But you have done things with guys at one point or…?”

“I haven’t!” Hashirama opened his arms in a drunken, dramatic gesture, almost knocking the tray with their new drinks from the waitress hands. He apologised for about ten times, rushed out to the restroom to finally relieve his bladder and washed his face. A memory occurred to him and he stared into the dirty mirror for a long minute. He was even more of an idiot than everyone thought he was.

“Actually,” he said, sitting back down at their table. “There was this boy, when I was fourteen. He was my first crush, I guess. We kissed.”

“Wow, that’s totally not gay,” Asuma laughed. 

“Okay, but… Well, nothing ever came out of it. Our parents had some long-standing business rivalry going on and I think he was forbidden to write back to me. Because I was writing to him. I mean, you knew my old man, he of course didn’t allow me to, but I didn’t care too much about that. I was quite heartbroken, at the time.”

“So, you kissed this boy and was heartbroken when he rejected you, but you didn’t assume you were gay,” Kushina clarified on a dry tone. Putting it like this, it was really rather stupid. Hashirama shrugged. What could he say? “I guess he went and lived a very heterosexual life as well.”

“Oh, no, he didn’t. He was quite open about being gay, later.”

“You’re in touch? Did he inspire you realising your own sexuality in the end, or…”

“No, no…I haven’t met him ever after. It’s just… he became kind of famous.” Or infamous, rather. He always read the articles about Madara and hoped that he was alright, despite appearances. He hoped he was happy with the life he chose to live, no matter how over the top it seemed to Hashirama. He always followed wherever he appeared in media, because… he didn’t even know why, he just did.

“Alright, you can’t do this to us. Who is he?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Hashirama pulled himself straight. As straight as he managed - maybe he was more drunk than he realised. Kushina blew him a raspberry. 

“Asuma, help me here.”

“...I don’t actually want to know.”

“Men!” She threw her hands up in the air. “What are you even good for?”

“By the way,” Asuma said quickly in an obvious attempt to change the topic, “What did Tobirama say when you told him?”

Hashirama groaned and slumped down on the dirty table again.

“I haven’t told him yet.”

10 Oldest Companies in Fire Country

#4 - Senju&Senju

Founded almost 400 years ago, the Senju&Senju might not be our oldest on the list, but it’s certainly one of the best known. Originally specialised in metal craft, like weaponry, the company’s profile changed many times over the centuries. 

Today they are best known for their finance & investment portfolio. It’s less common knowledge they are involved in reforestation projects and are generally very dedicated next to a greener, more sustainable operation.

They have merged with long-standing business rival (who would have been number 5 on our list if this didn’t happen), Uchiha corp. three years ago. As The Konoha Insider analysed in their excellent article, Senju&Senju had incredible growth and business success under its current leadership. However, despite the changing times, it’s still owned and led by the Senju family. Current CEO is Senju Tobirama, who’s been nominated most successful business leader two times in a row. Read more about the young and charismatic leader here.

<<# 5 | #3>>

“Hashirama? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Tobirama… I… Gotta tell you something.”

“Are you hurt? Are you in trouble?”

“No, no. S’just. We need to talk.”

“It’s 2 a.m., Hashirama. I assume this is really urgent?”

Shit, was it really that late? Hashirama had just got home from the pub, where Asuma and Kushina insisted he needed to talk to his brother as soon as possible. Far too sloshed to think it through rationally, Hashirama called him as soon as he arrived back to the apartment he started to rent when he moved out from their house with Mito.

“M’sorry, Tobi, I’ll call you back in the morning. It can wait.” He listened to the younger man cursing. Tobirama rarely swore, but when he did, he was really creative about it. 

“Are you drunk?”

“Yeah,” Hashirama confessed. “I’ll sober up and call you back, alright?”

“I’m awake now, so you might as well tell me what was so bloody urgent.” He heard his brother moving around in his apartment, turning on lights and getting himself a glass of water. Hashirama took a deep breath and came out.

“I’m queer.” 

“Queer as in weird?” Tobirama asked after a pause. 

“As in ho-mo-sexual,” that was a complicated word to get out at 2 am and after so many beers, but Hashirama managed it. Tobirama sighed.

“And you realised that tonight and decided to call to tell me.”

“Actually, I realised it a few weeks ago. Told Mito and I moved temporarily out to figure stuff out, then the guys in the pub tonight told me I have to tell you too, so, I’m telling you.”

“That’s… well. You always knew how to complicate things, brother.”

“S’not that I’m happy about this, Tobi!” Hashirama was hurt. He felt large, drunken tears threatening to spill. He never was great in keeping his emotions in check and that was increasingly true when he was drunk.

“I know that, but I wish you were faster about it. I should have talked to you, but with Mayra being born, I thought I was wrong.”

Hashirama’s mind, slowed by so many beers, took its time to process this. He gasped when he realised what Tobirama meant.

“You mean you knew?!”

“I always thought it was pretty obvious, but, as I said, when you married Mito and had your daughter, I thought I was mistaken.”

“You have never said anything!”

“Well, what was I supposed to say? I thought you would just figure it out at your own pace.”

Hashirama couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. He heard the dry chuckle of his brother from the other end of the line and suddenly he was overtaken by gratitude for him. Tobirama could be a little overbearing and tended to have a very different opinion than him on what was Hashirama’s own business. Hashirama had complained so many times about it, and then, when he just left him for his own devices, it turned out he shouldn’t have.

“Look, Hashirama. I had a challenging week in the office, but tomorrow, or shall I say, today, is Saturday. Get some sleep, and I’ll drive over sometime before noon. I’ll bring you something for hangover as well.”

“Thanks, Tobirama.”

“Try not to do anything stupid till then.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

Where to party tonight - Laser Circus

We are continuing are reviews on the LGBTQ+ friendly places of Konoha we recommend (or sometimes DON’T recommend) for a night out. Last week we took a look at places where you can meet with friends, be them straight, gay or any other combination, and have an undisturbed talk. 

Today we will review something spicier. The Laser Circus was opened five years ago in a successful attempt to import some of the famous party culture of Kumogakure. The owner, who prefers to simply go by the alias A, has similarly successful nightclubs in the Land of Lightning. Laser Circus opening was a BANG and its wall of pride shows famous guests like Iwa Deidara, all members of the Sound Four and Uchiha Madara, so your caches to run into a celebrity while partying is pretty high - if you can find them in the crowd.

Go to photos - warning for partial nudity if you are at work

All you need to know about Laser Circus - Opening hours, Prices, What to expect

The club was crowded and noisy. A mass of bodies moved on the dancefloor, in sync with the pounding beat that was the music. There were young men clad in very little and older men in expensive looking garbs. Hashirama thought he should have listened to Kushina and allowed her to drag him to do some shopping. He felt horribly out of place in his old jeans and his favourite khaki polo shirt. He wished the music would be a bit quieter and more, you know, music-like, as how was he supposed to talk to anyone like this? 

He thought coming up to Konoha would be a good idea as his small town offered very limited places for gay people to meet. Tobirama offered him his couch for the night on the condition that Hashirama wouldn’t tell him about his escapades. Hashirama was properly excited for this whole thing, but now that he was here, he was starting to doubt it was a good idea, after all. Still, he was no coward to run without even trying his luck.

He located the bar, so he pushed his way through over there. Someone pinched his arse, but he couldn’t tell who it was in the crowd. 

“First time here?” the bartender asked with a friendly smile which made him feel slightly better. 

“Is it that obvious?” Hashirama laughed nervously. It was so hot in here, his hair was clinging to his cheek already. He wished he was wearing his favourite headband but for some reason Kushina was very firm that he shouldn’t. “Any chance that I could get a beer?”

The bartender leaned against the counter and looked him over in an assessing yet friendly way. 

“I think you should have a cocktail.”

“A cocktail then,” he agreed. “Nothing too sweet, please.”

“No sex on the beach, then?”

“Maybe that would be too much for a start,” he found it easy to smile back. The bartender was a handsome guy in reasonable clothes. He made him something with gin and ginger and flirted with him lightly before he went over to the next customer. Feeling a bit better and more confident, Hashirama sipped his drink, looking around and wondering what he should do next. 

Joining the writhing bodies on the dancefloor was out of the question. Hashirama was a competent dancer when it came to it, but here it was just a bit too much of…everything. Too many people, too loud music, too much exposed, naked skin. It would be like jumping into deep water without learning to swim first. He hoped to be able to chat with a guy or two tonight, maybe get a phone number and discuss a date somewhere quieter where it would be easier to get to know someone. 

“Don’t be fooled by the bartender, he’s nice to everyone,” someone said next to him. Hashirama looked over, then looked again, longer this time. The man who addressed him was really attractive, dark skinned with a bleached mop of hair that fell over his eyes. He had to be roughly around Hashirama’s age, and to his relief he was dressed in a relatively every day-ish way, in dark trousers and a top that left his muscled arms on display. Hashirama beamed a smile at him that he hoped was welcoming.

“I guess that’s his job, but still, it was nice of him. It’s my first time here.”

“Is it now? Let me treat you to a drink then.”

Later into the night Hashirama was forgetting all his initial misgivings about the club. Darui and he had many cocktails and had a decent enough discussion even though they had to shout over the pounding music. He was from Land of Lightning but had been living in Konoha for years. He had a quick, dry wit, and entertained Hashirama with making sarcastic comments on people passing by. With every cocktail they consumed, Hashirama liked him more and more. 

“This is my song,'' he said as the fast melody of Black Lightning started to play, so they went and danced to the unforgiving beat amidst the sea of bodies moving to the same rhythm, pressed close together. Hashirama got embarrassingly excited and with the way there was no space left between them, of course the other man felt it too. He cast a lazy smirk at Hashirama, which seemed to be kind of his trademark expression and dragged him off the dancefloor. 

Whispering into someone’s ear was impossible with the level of noise, so Darui more shouted than simply said, “I don’t kneel on dirty restroom floors, but I have my place nearby if you want to come up.”

Hashirama wanted to. He was drunk on more than just cocktails, he was drunk on freedom and lust and all these possibilities he never allowed himself to consider before. Leaving the club was a small blessing in itself too, the usual buzz of the streets on a Saturday night was a quiet heaven in comparison. “So dull,” Darui said, maybe meaning the relative silence. 

The short walk certainly wasn’t dull, not for Hashirama. Darui asked if he was from outside town or if he just frequented other clubs usually and he told the truth, that he was completely new to the gay scene. Darui looked at him from under hooded eyes, and while his expression was carefully arranged into cool boredom, his gaze was smart and assessing. 

“I’m honoured then,” he said. Not long after this he pushed Hashirama against the wall of a building and snogged him so thoroughly that it was a wonder he didn’t embarrass himself by coming in his pants like a fumbling teenager.

Once they were in his flat, he turned on some dim lighting and put some music on, something blissfully soft, where the singer sang in a smoky voice about the wave of inspiration. He led Hashirama to an overstuffed sofa, undid his pants, kneeled in front of him and sucked him off with an expertise that left Hashirama helpless to do anything else but to grab his bleached hair, gasp his name in warning and come in long, hot spurts. Once the world stopped spinning, Darui straddled his thighs and Hashirama jerked him off, marvelling at the warm, silky feel of the skin of his cock, the hard muscles of his stomach under his wandering fingers, the excitement of having strong arms wrap around his neck when the other man neared his orgasm. Hashirama found him arousing in a way he never found his female partners and he was quite proud of himself when he made him come. 

“Take your time,” Darui said after they cleaned up and Hashirama wasn’t tipsy or stupid enough to miss this as his clue to get going. He tentatively asked for his phone number, but Darui told him kindly but honestly that he wasn’t looking for anything more than a one-night stand. Which was Totally Fine. Hashirama thanked him for the evening and took his leave.

He called a taxi from the street. He was feeling both elated and strangely empty. Physically he was buzzing. Emotionally, however, he was a bit… disappointed. It was stupid, really. As the first night out for someone just out of the closet, it went spectacularly well, didn’t it?

Madara in rehab, not in jail!

We continue our investigation on the whereabouts of Konoha’s favourite bad boy. After interviewing police officers and even going through morgue reports, The Konoha Mirror has found the first real traces where Madara can currently be.

Whether you considered yourself a fan, or just liked to be horrified reading his last escapades, surely you, Esteemed Reader, agree with us that Madara’s sudden disappearance left a gaping hole in Konoha’s nightlife. We all love our villains, especially if they as hot as Mr Uchiha, and we got used to our weekly dose of scandals this man delivered!

While being behind bars or six feet under would have made a logical explanation why we suddenly stopped hearing about him, we found evidence that the reasons might be less tragic. It seems he was recently undergoing a much-needed rehab therapy.

But where is he now? Did he leave rehab as a changed man or can we expect him to reappear on some wild party again soon?

Make sure to buy this week’s issue of The Konoha Mirror or subscribe to our online magazine to find out. Only 150 Ryo!

After a couple more ventures into the gay nightlife of Konoha, Hashirama had to accept that clubbing was just not for him. It was reassuring to know other men found him attractive enough, but people went there for drinking, dancing and sex, and nothing more. All that, the fun, the dancing, the hooking up and the sex at the end of the evening was brilliant of course, but Hashirama wanted more. He wanted a relationship, maybe not a serious one straight off, but to have a man in his life he could meet regularly, share a few meals with, plan something for the weekend. 

Also, knowing this might count him boring or conservative even, these clubs were often just too extreme for him. They were an ideal scene for someone extravagant, someone out there, someone uncaring what the world said about them. Someone like Madara turned out to be. This was the thought which led to Hashirama’s current, mad internet search, trying to find which clubs the Uchiha frequented.

He could find them alright, all the places Madara went and caused a scandal at up to six, seven months ago. Since then - nothing, just a few articles which wondered where he was lately. Some suggested rehab therapy, some that he secretly married and moved to another country. The gloomier ones talked about a serious illness - wouldn’t be a wonder, they pointed out, with that drug and alcohol overuse. After all, such a lifestyle is more than unhealthy.

Hashirama sighed forlornly. He hoped Madara was alright. Although they just spent that brief summer break together, he never forgot the other boy. He had been hurt, of course, when Madara proclaimed they weren’t friends, but he also understood why he did it. He’d hoped for so long that Madara would find the way to reach out to him, that he would write back and somehow, despite their families forbidding it, they could keep in touch. But Madara never wrote back and after a while Hashirama stopped thinking about him. He told himself that kissing by the river was just some silly, childish dare on their part, just some teenage experimenting that didn’t mean anything. Only he was lying to himself, but better late than never to realise that.

Tobirama was so shocked when the solicitors of the Uchiha corp. contacted him to tell him the company would be up to sale soon and that he should make an offer. He was even more shocked when the Senju&Senju won the bid. That was shortly before the first articles started to appear about this new, extravagant and scandalous playboy of Konoha City. Hashirama had read them all and wondered what just happened to his old friend to change the way of his life so drastically. He knew him to be a reserved, diligent boy who later had the reputation to be a ruthless, successful leader of the business he inherited. What prompted him to leave all that behind and to start such a completely different, new life?

One of the guilty pleasures Hashirama had was reading tabloids. Mito used to tease him about it all the time when she caught him going through her magazines. She laughed when he quickly closed a tab on his browser when she came into the room, saying if it was any other man, she would think he was watching porn, and not some silly article on Konoha Fair online. Well, Hashirama had never really discovered the appeal of porn - not the heterosexual ones at any rate - but he did love the celeb gossips, the horoscopes and the lifestyle tips. 

It had been Mito, who first pointed Madara out to him in a mag, saying she never understood when someone made it to trash news by doing nothing but causing scandal. 

“If he was an actor, or a musician or something,” she frowned. “But I’m not sure this guy ever did anything else other than being rich and handsome.”

Oh, I know him, Hashirama thought when he looked over to the picture she was pointing at, but for some obscure reason he didn’t say it. Madara was indeed handsome in that photo, wearing very skinny black trousers and a black shirt that had most of its buttons undone. His hair already started to grow long, back then, and it was wild, shadowing most of his face. Hashirama remembered the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he wasn’t really sure what he was feeling. He thought it was simply due to the surprise of seeing a ghost from the past like this.

Since then he’d read, watched and listened to all the news, photos and videos of Madara. He liked to think it wasn’t stalking, he was simply interested in a man who once had been, however briefly, his friend. He watched with worry as Madara became thinner and thinner over the course of three years, watched the dark circles becoming prominent under his eyes, watched the often manic glint in his gaze. He hoped that despite the appearances he was alright, that he was happy this way.

This was why he was kind of hoping to meet him in one of the clubs in Konoha. He imagined spotting him and walking up to him. “Madara?” he would say. “You probably don’t remember me, but we met ages ago. I’m Senju Hashirama, that boy from seventeen years ago. How have you been?” and Madara would maybe laugh and say he did remember him. Maybe they would sit down and talk about that brief summer they spent together, maybe they would even chat about the present and what the future might bring. Wouldn’t that be nice?

But Madara apparently hadn’t been seen for months. Hashirama hoped this meant he was taking better care of himself. He really wasn’t looking healthy at all in the last couple of photos he could find of him. 

He searched for an older one, one of his favourites. Madara wore a dark, modern, very form fitting suit, snapped at the opening ceremony of some fashion show or something like that. He had make-up on, and Hashirama found the contrast that made with the otherwise masculine outfit very appealing. There was a follow up photo from the afterparty. Madara obviously had a couple of drinks by then but wasn’t as intoxicated as he was on some of the worse shots. He got rid of his suit jacket and shirt already and was in a mesh-shirt that didn’t do much to disguise his muscled chest and the tattoo above his heart. 

Hashirama could safely admit now what he couldn’t, even just to himself, before - he found him incredibly hot. He sighed dreamily. He liked to think he wasn’t a shallow person who was only interested in looks, but he had just never seen a more beautiful man than Madara. There was something about the way he looked both self-assured, arrogant even, but also vulnerable. There was something about the sharp cut of his jaw and the rise of his elegant eyebrows. There were the revealing clothes and provocative behaviour, the makeup and the way he managed to smoke cigarettes in a very suggestive way, but Hashirama was sure he would find him beautiful no matter what he wore. If he was fanboying, so be it, nobody was here to catch him out on it. 

He clicked through a couple more photos. Many of them featured Madara with his arms around some guy or another, a few pictured him kissing them too. All different men, partners for the night. Many of them had their hands on Madara’s arse and there was one where, although they faced away from the camera, it was pretty obvious that down the front of his trousers as well. 

They weren’t treating Madara with respect at all, he thought, frowning. Hashirama would never just grope him where everyone could see, taking advantage when he wasn’t fully at his senses. Hashirama would treat him with the reverence he deserved. He would…

Well, there were a lot of things he could imagine himself doing to Madara, and they left him flushed and with a hardening cock. It might had been kind of pathetic to sit in front of his laptop and jerk off to these random photos and fantasies, he thought, but to hell with it. Nobody would ever have to know. He brought his favourite ones up on the screen, made sure the box of paper tissue was at hand’s reach, undid his trousers and set to work. 

What’s the Hardest Age for Children to See Their Parents Split?

The short answer is that divorce affects children of all ages. It’s probably hardest on elementary-age kids, for reasons we’ll outline below. But if you and your partner have determined that it’s not going to work out, it may be best to go your separate ways knowing that kids are resilient and there are strategies you can use to ease the associated (difficult) emotions.

Age 3-5

Between the ages of 3 and 5, children are developing more of an understanding of the abstract. They’re asking lots of questions and figuring out how they fit into the world around them. This doesn’t mean they understand the concept of divorce. In fact, they’re likely relying heavily on the security and stability of their parents’ presence as they branch out into new and unknown experiences and feelings. A sense that all isn’t OK with their parents may lead your child to react with crying, fear, and innocent insistence that you just stop fighting and go back to the “way you were.”

Read more | Go back to all age groups

“How’s dating going?” Asuma asked with a brave smile. He was making an admirable effort to keep talking about Hashirama’s love life, or lack thereof. It always made Hashirama smile fondly. He knew that while his friend had nothing against gays, he also couldn’t really grasp how someone could prefer men over women. On a scale where 1 was fully homosexual and 10 was fully heterosexual, Asuma was 11.

“Not too good,” he confessed. “I gave up on these clubs and signed up for a dating site, but… I only seem to attract weirdos.”

“Dating sites are tricky,” Minato said sympathetically. “Kushina has a friend who has the same problem. Most of her stories are funny, but there are a few scary ones too.”

“Is she getting all these dick photos as well?”

Asuma choked on his beer while Minato blushed.

“I’m… not sure, she never said so.”

“Well, I do.” Hashirama said sourly. “I get a notification that someone sent me a private message and I think oh great, someone would like to talk. But no, it’s all dicks, flaccid and erect and all stages in between. You would think it’s good practice to send a photo of your face first, no? I mean, how would I even recognise them if we meet and they have their pants on?”

“Hashirama, please,” Asuma wheezed. “I’m still adjusting to you being gay, spare me the details.”

“I spared you,” Hashirama was merciless, but at least he was finally getting some fun out of this. “I didn’t show you any of the photos, did I?”

They were all gathered in Kushina’s and Minato’s garden for a summer grill party. Mayra was playing something that involved a lot of running around and screaming with Kushina’s son, a very lively, blond boy. The wives were setting the table with a lot of interruptions of cooing at Kurenai’s few months old daughter, while the men were in charge of grilling the meat. Well, Minato took care of that, so Hashirama was chopping the veggies for the salad and entertaining the guys with the horrors of gay dating, while Asuma stood around and provided moral support. 

It was awkward with both him and Mito being here, of course, but both she and Hashirama were trying hard for Mayra’s sake. And it wasn’t that they were on bad terms - in truth, Hashirama’s feelings didn’t change for his wife. He respected and loved her - but he could now acknowledge that he was never in love with her and never really desired her, which was, of course, a bitter pill to swallow for Mito. Which meant their interactions were often tense and awkward, but at least they rarely had any argument that got out of hand. Mito was a wonderful woman, really. 

It was good to have this family afternoon together as well. Even though their friends were tiptoeing around the whole situation, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Hashirama feared it might get. A year passed since he moved out and things were maybe slowly setting in. Now only if he had some luck in dating as well!

“It's good that we are all here,” Mito told him when they found themselves alone. “Mayra was talking about it for weeks.”

“It was a tough year for her,” Hashirama said with regret. It was a tough year for all three of them, really. Mito, with the bomb that was dropped on her and becoming the primary caretaker of their daughter. It was hard on Hashirama too, with moving out and trying to start things anew. Still, they were adults while Mayra just turned four. It was bad for Hashirama not to be with her every day and of course it was even worse for her. 

She ran up to them now, and Hashirama picked her up and spun her around. She screamed in joy as loudly as only four years old could and demanded Hashirama to hold her, so he did. She told them in an excited chatter all the fun she was having. She didn’t really let him go for the rest of the afternoon, falling asleep in his lap at one point. He carried her out to Mito’s car and woke her up to say his goodbye with regret.

“Where are you doing, daddy?” she asked, more asleep then awake. 

“It’s time we all head home for the night, honey.”

“But I want to stay with you,” she said petulantly. 

“I know Mayra, but it’s time for you to head home and sleep. We can go next weekend to the zoo,” Hashirama promised her. 

“But why don’t you come home with us?”

“You know how we talked about this. I’m living alone now, because…”

“I don’t care,” she shouted, then suddenly burst into tears. “I want you to come home with us!”

Feeling unsure and heartbroken, Hashirama looked at Mito for help. She appeared sad but determined and her quiet strength was a reassurance. He let himself be gently pushed out of the way as she crouched down to calm their upset daughter.

Sleep avoided Hashirama that night. Surely, he tried to reassure himself, wanting to be honest must have been the right decision. There must be happiness down the road, somewhere, for him and for the people he cared about.

Konoha Reads Review:

Get a F***ing Grip by Rasa Temari

Meant to be provocative and ironic, Rasa Temari explores the lowest depth of and highest peaks of our lives through a handful of personal examples. Incredibly witty, insightful and powerful, Get a F***ing Grip is a book about what goes through your head when you fall down, and how that will be the determining factor when you try to get up. 

If you are looking for a sympathetic ear, this is not a read for you as the author is very firm on her views that everyone must be responsible for their own faith. Still, the book is far from being cruel and is incredibly helpful - if you have the willingness to get that grip and change your own life for the better.

Reader’s rating: 7/10

Our rating: 8/10

“First of all, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Nobody finds a man wallowing in self-pity attractive.”

“I’m not wallowing in self-pity, Tobirama!” Hashirama denied, affronted, although maybe he had been a little, lately. But it was within reason, wasn’t it? He just had no luck with this dating thing. Recently he ended an affair that lasted less than six weeks with a man, who turned out to be married. To be fair, so was Hashirama, but they had already started the divorce process with Mito, while this guy had no intention of ever cluing in his wife and children. Hashirama felt horrible when he found out he was just a lover to be kept in secret. 

The worst thing was? This relationship, if he could even call it that, was the longest he had in these last two years. There had to be men looking for something serious out there, somewhere, men who wanted to give Hashirama a chance, right? Right?

Feeling depressed and discouraged, he invited Tobirama over for dinner. His little brother listened to his woes, then told him what he always did when Hashirama was depressed and discouraged over something - to get a grip.

“Oh, aren’t you? All I hear is you crying over your unsuccessful dates and such. Why don’t you forget the sites and try to talk to someone in real life? You have like a zillion of hobbies, don’t you? Talk to guys who drop by for flowers and your cosmetic products at Leaf Village. Go to a yoga class. You even went to a cooking course, didn’t you? I mean, this was truly excellent,” he pointed at their empty plates and Hashirama preened a little under the praise. He was quite proud how much his cooking skills have improved since he lived alone.

“I can’t just walk up to someone and try to pick them up, Tobirama. How do I know if they are gay or not?”

“Surely men managed to hook up before the internet was invented, brother.”

“But I don’t know how they did it! I don’t have a… you know. Gaydar. Oh, I have an idea! You knew what I was long before I did, so maybe if I take you with me…” Tobirama pinned him in a look that said he was being an idiot, so he deflated a little. Maybe that wouldn’t work. Of course, Tobirama had a point, but… “What if I affront someone? What if someone, I don’t know, punches me?”

“Maybe I should really stick along to see that,” Tobirama snorted and Hashirama made a rude gesture. Sometimes it was just liberating to be a brat with your little brother. Tobirama announced he needed a smoke, so they moved out to the tiny balcony. The February air was quite chilly, which had two benefits. One, Hashirama’s somewhat strange neighbour wasn’t outside and two, Hashirama could tease Tobirama about his new, very expensive coat with its extravagant fur collar.

“Just because you don’t  know what fashion is even if it bites you in the arse,” Tobirama scoffed, “not all of us must dress like grandfather did. There’s a stereotype blown for you about gay men and fashion sense.”

“Speaking about our love lives, how is yours?”

“We are not speaking about our love lives, brother. We are speaking about yours only.”

“Because you don't have one!”

“Which is how I prefer it. Leave it, Hashirama. I’m happy this way.”

Hashirama left it - for the time being. Tobirama slept on his couch as they had some wine and the drive would have been long, and he tried to show his gratitude for his advice by making a very generous breakfast for him the next morning.

“Honestly,” his brother said with his mouth full. “Gay men can’t be that different from straight ones. Just make them this food. A way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

“Some of us dress like grandfather and some of us talk like him,” Hashirama chuckled and it was Tobirama’s turn to make a rude gesture. “But joke aside, Tobi, I think you are right. I just need to find someone I can talk to. Someone I have a vibe with. Someone who is made for me.”

“That’s the spirit. Are you still eating that?”

“You can have it,” Hashirama said and watched in pleased amusement as his little brother tucked in most of his share of scrambled eggs too. 

He felt better after this conversation. Tobirama was right. He was too desperate, wanting to rush things. He had to make a connection with someone first and take it slowly from there. Spring was upon them and being busy at the garden store helped. He unsubscribed from the dating site and decided to walk his days with an open eye and open mind. Nothing came out of it straight away, but the whole point of it was to be patient. 

April arrived with mild weather and he took a Wednesday off from work, even though he had nothing to do in particular. Kushina suggested he needed some “me time”, so he did just that. He drove down to the coastline, and sat down on the rocks at the beach, watching the waves rise with the high tide. He thought it would be nice to live by the sea one day. Maybe when he retired. He could have a little cottage somewhere, shared, hopefully, with a partner of life. But that was for the future and Hashirama promised himself to focus on the present. Still, it would be nice.

Tobirama always called him a dreamer, sometimes meaning it in a fond way, sometimes being irked by it. He was a dreamer, he supposed. He never was satisfied with the cards that were cast for him, he always wanted to change things for the better. He was an optimistic man by nature, and even if he was bound to be depressed and feel sorry for himself, as his brother so bluntly put it, he always shook that off.

He smiled now, watching the sea. It was easy to feel carefree here. The coast always made him think of childhood, the good parts of it, anyway. The parts that didn’t involve his father. The best holiday times were always the ones when he could spend it away from him. 

That made him think of the village Aunt Toka used to live in. It would also be a great place to buy a little cottage at, once he retired. He spent great holidays there with Tobirama, although, of course, the most memorable summer was when he’d been sent there alone. His father might have meant it as a punishment, but that was how he met Madara. No matter how bitterly their brief friendship ended, Hashirama always cherished the memory of that summer. 

He checked his watch - it was just half eleven, he had plenty of time before he needed to pick Mayra up. The village was less than an hour drive from here and he hadn’t been there for ages. 

He always liked to listen to sudden inspirations. He hurried back to his car, humming a happy little tune under his breath. It would be nice to visit again, maybe have a walk by the river and relive some pleasant, nostalgic memories. 

He didn’t know why he felt so, but he was convinced stopping in the village was the best thing he could do. 

FIN

Art by the absolutely amazing csianme

posted with the permission of the artist

Chapter Text

“Hello? This is Hashirama. Is this Uchiha Madara’s phone?”

“Very funny. Are phone pranks still in fashion?”

“No, it’s not… Oh, he hung up.”

It was a wonder he didn’t cause any accidents on his way home. Luckily the traffic was sparse on Sunday afternoon, so Hashirama’s daydreaming behind the wheel wasn’t as dangerous as it could have been. 

The week had been a roller-coaster of emotions. It started with his whimsical decision to stop by the old village and to get a coffee from The Bistro. He never, in his wildest dreams, imagined he would meet Madara there. Or maybe in his wildest dreams he did, but those were fantasies, right? 

Reality was so much better.

Madara wasn’t at all how those horrible magazines painted him to be. He was like Hashirama remembered him, from their childhood. He was reserved, smart, with a sharp wit. They talked for maybe an hour, and Hashirama felt they never stopped knowing each other, that they were meant to meet again, there, where they met for the first time, by the river.

Hashirama was on cloud number nine till the next day, when he tried to call him, just to get a “this number is not recognised” message. He tried again and again, even different variations of the number, as maybe he typed it in incorrectly when Madara told it, getting a few annoyed responses from random strangers he managed to call this way. It dawned on him that maybe Madara gave the wrong number on purpose, but why? They got on so well, didn’t they? Surely he wasn’t opposed to seeing Hashirama again, was he?

He recalled their conversation in his mind again and again, but he couldn’t see any signs that Madara wanted to be rid of him. It went so well, up till the point when Mito called and…

Fuck.

Until Mito called and he told Madara he had a wife. Which was technically true, but… Well, you can’t just go and tell someone you met again after such a long time that “hey, I’m married but getting a divorce, as I realised I’m gay way too late in life.” But it might have been good to give some kind of an explanation, to avoid coming across as someone looking for a flirt outside of his marriage. 

In desperation, he tried all platforms of social media he could think of, hoping he could get hold of Madara somehow, but he had no luck. For someone who used to be all over the tabloid news, Madara, for all intents and purposes, had disappeared from the public eye. Hashirama had screwed his chance up for good.

Friday was a misery. His team at work cast worried glances at him and kept asking if he was alright. Hashirama considered just telling them he was feeling unwell and going home, but he knew he would only be looking at old photos he could find of Madara and be angry at himself. 

Wallowing in self-pity ended up as his programme for Saturday, anyway. He kept scrolling through his search results of Madara in his browser, looking out for his old, favourite shots, sighing and pining hopelessly. Which was maybe a little creepy and pathetic, if he wanted to be honest with himself, but it seemed that after letting his chance slip through his fingers, this was all he had of Madara. He didn’t know how to contact him, he didn’t know what he was up to nowadays…

But wait a second.

Hashirama sat up straight, suddenly filled with purpose. Didn’t Madara say he often went to that little restaurant with the cats? Maybe he’d be there again. Maybe he lived nearby. Maybe the old lady would actually know where he lived.

Hashirama was moping on his couch like a fool, when he actually had a chance to act and find Madara.

In half an hour he was driving back to the little village, palms sweaty and heart beating fast in excited hope. 

It was a whirlwind from there, but the kind of whirlwind that picked him up, spun him around a few times, then dropped him somewhere magical. 

The old cat-lady did know where Madara lived. She looked at Hashirama in an assessing, hard way, listened to him stammer like an idiot about an old friendship and a wrong telephone number, then gave him the directions. He found Madara's little house easily then. His childhood friend was at home and although he was obviously less than thrilled to see him, he let him in.

Hashirama had little time to wonder if Madara just recently moved in - the house was very barren, he didn’t even have furniture in his sitting room - because the next thing he knew, Madara was offering him sex, and while the pace was way too fast, saying no to that offer would have been akin to refusing to draw in breath after coming up from a long stay underwater.

Sex with Madara wasn’t simply good. It didn’t simply please his body, didn’t only quench his lust as sex with other men did. It felt the right thing to do. Same as he felt when he met him in the Bistro a few days ago, stumbling to bed with Madara tasted like Fate. Hashirama wasn’t sure if he managed to mask how nervous and over-excited he was. Making Madara come was a feat he felt ridiculously proud of, even if it was regrettable how fast he followed suit. He would have loved to draw the act out, to enjoy it for as long as possible. He, at that point, could only hope to get a second chance. 

He ended up staying the night, which he hoped was a good sign, then a large portion of the following day, talking to Madara as they were sitting outside in the tiny, overgrown garden. There was no furniture on the porch either, but it was still a welcoming, friendly place. Hashirama knew a lot about gardens and this one felt like home in a way the house itself didn’t. They talked, just as easily as a few days ago, in The Bistro, then Hashirama got Madara’s actual phone number and an agreement on a second date, so no wonder he was so elated that concentrating on the road was difficult. 

Madara didn’t want to go out for dinner, but he was happy for Hashirama to come over again. He was… he was so thin, wasn’t he? Not as unhealthy looking as he had been in some of the party pictures that showed up in magazines, but definitely in need of some hearty meals. Hashirama fine-tuned his cooking skills a lot since he lived alone, but it would be creepy if he showed up on their second date with a bunch of ingredients and took possession of Madara’s kitchen. He could do that at a later stage. He had not a shred of doubt that there would be a later stage. 

Tobirama could roll his eyes as much as he wanted over Hashirama’s belief in esoteric forces. Hashirama himself liked to say he learned to listen to an inner voice, an instinct, if you will. After that first night together that inner voice kept telling him that Madara and him were meant to be together. If this made him naively romantic, so be it. He still knew he was right. 

A nagging thought occurred to him that convincing Madara of this might be a challenge, but he would just need to prove himself extra hard, and it would be alright, wouldn’t it?

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean? I’m helping you pack, as you asked.”

“No, you are not. You are dusting the same three books for minutes now, or rather, you are just staring off to space with that weird expression on your face.”

“I don’t have an expression!” Hashirama denied but his brother just rolled his eyes. He moved on with the dusting, knowing very well he was spacing out. Tobirama had so many books and his mind kept escaping somewhere happier. 

“You are in a really good mood.”

“I’m just happy you found a new place you like.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s why you were smiling down at my books so sappily. Give that to me,” he snatched the heavy volume of The Comprehensive Study of The 100 Most Successful Businesses in the World from his hands and fitted it into the cardboard box Hashirama was struggling with. He was so much more efficient in this, Hashirama wasn’t even sure why he asked for his help.

“I’ll make us some tea,” he offered instead and Tobirama didn’t protest. “You do like your new place though, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” Tobirama came after him, to make sure he used the right cups, probably. “That’s why I’m moving there. Bigger space, better view, closer to the office. No, the white cups are for coffee, take down the blue ones.”

“This is why you live alone,” Hashirama sighed. “Who has separate cups for tea and coffee?” 

“You also live alone,” Tobirama pointed out. “Just while you decided to do it in chaos, I like to have things in order.”

“Right, right,” he poured the hot water on the leaves and managed to steep them for the appropriate time as Tobirama didn’t comment further. He certainly had everything in order in his kitchen, just as he had in the rest of his apartment. He had all the different sized plates, cups, glassware and cutlery for everything, although Hashirama knew he rarely cooked for himself. He thought about Madara’s kitchen, with its two mismatched cups, worse-for-wear plates and empty shelves. “Say, Tobirama. If someone would show up and casually gift you some kitchenware you were lacking, would you take offense?”

“Please, don’t buy me kitchenware,” Tobirama said sternly. “If I don’t have something, that’s because I don’t need it. You know how much I hate useless things cluttering up my space.”

“I won’t buy you anything,” Hashirama held his hands up, palms facing outward in a gesture of surrender. He learned his lesson a long time ago, and knew that trying to gift his little brother with anything he didn’t specifically ask for was a bad idea. “And we agreed on a night out to celebrate you getting the new apartment, didn’t we? I’m not buying you anything, except booze.”

“Yes,” Tobirama admitted with some reluctance. “We agreed on that.”

“Wow, it’s so nice to see my little brother’s enthusiasm over spending a night out with me.”

“I’m sure it will be fun,” Tobirama said in a tone that didn’t mask how he found the idea a chore. “So, what was this whole thing about kitchenware if you don’t want to buy me another funky utensil?”

“You have to admit, the leaf-shaped spoons were cool! But anyway, just… imagine a hypothetical situation, will you, where you, let’s say, don’t have a coffee-maker or a salad bowl, even if you drink coffee and eat salad. It’s not that you can’t afford them, you just never brought them. Would you be happy for me to give these to you in this case?”

“That’s quite specific for a hypothetical situation,” Tobirama said slowly, peering at him suspiciously. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t just buy the coffee-maker for myself? Maybe I like to get take-away coffee or just drink instant. In this case, I would feel you are just meddling, or trying to tell me I was drinking my coffee incorrectly all along.”

“Oh,” well, that made sense, Hashirama supposed. But… “And what if you’re just unsure how to make your house a home, and that’s why you never brought these things that could bring you comfort? That this is not a… a conscious asceticism on your part, you just never went out to the shop to get them. Would you be happy for me to supply these gadgets for you?”

“I assume you would be happy to supply these?”

“Of course.”

“Yes, in this specific case you gifting me gadgets would make the hypothetical me in this hypothetical situation happy. I could finally fix myself a salad and brew a proper cup of coffee - hypothetical you shouldn't forget to bring the veggies and the coffee beans too, as my hypothetical kitchen is probably not stocked with these.”

“You think it’s a good idea, then?” Hashirama asked excitedly, smiling at the thought of drinking coffee with Madara on his porch. Madara loved his porch and he loved coffee, so what could go wrong? He saw a nice little stovetop espresso maker the other day that would be quite perfect in his tiny kitchen. Then maybe he could get him a garden chair or two for his porch. He was spending a lot of time there, he might as well be comfortable.

Tobirama was looking at him with an expression he could easily recognise from their childhood. He used to look at him like this - with a mixture of suspicion, worry and astonishment whenever Hashirama was about to do something that landed him in deep trouble with their father. He always tried to keep his more risky ideas a secret from Tobirama, to protect him, but his little brother had been too smart and perceptive for his own good. Some things never changed.

“Who’s this guy? He sounds like the right weirdo.”

“He’s not…! What guy?” 

“You were sighing like some swooning hero in a romantic movie when you were supposed to help me dust my books, and now this talk about the coffee-maker. You’re not too subtle when you have a crush, you know.”

“He’s not a weirdo,” Hashirama smiled into his cup of tea.

“Then why do you have to buy him kitchen equipment?”

“It’s complicated.”

“How old is he? He’s not some young uni student who can’t buy his own stuff, is he? Fuck, he is, I knew it, and you are planning to become his sugar daddy!”

“No! We’re the same age, Tobi. I’m not... I won’t… sugar daddy! What are you thinking?”

“Are you surprised? Tell me more about him, then. When did you meet? Where did you meet? What’s his name?”

“Whoa, why are you interrogating me?”

“I’m just chatting. So?”

“We met two months ago, and that’s all I’m going to say for now. We haven’t talked about where we are heading, not yet,  but… I really like him. I hope it can really turn into something lasting.”

“You could still tell me his name, it’s not as if I… I don’t know him, do I?”

“I’ll go back to packing,” Hashirama avoided his brother’s eyes. This was a conversation for the future, when he could be sure Madara didn’t mind him mentioning they were together.

“Hashirama…”

“Come on Tobi, your books won’t pack themselves into those boxes.”

“You see that guy over there? ‘Sssirama, do you see that guy over there? He keeps looking at you.”

Hashirama obediently glanced over to the bar and managed to find a man looking at the general direction of their table.

“I think he’s rather looking at you, Kushina.”

“No, no, silly. He’s totally gay. I can tell.”

Hashirama was even surprised she could see as far as the bar, given how drunk she was. He was doing only slightly better, but he was still confident the poor man they were talking about wasn’t checking out any of them.

“I’m sure you are right then,” he said amiably.

“Why don’t you go and chat with him? He’s handsome, right?”

“He’s good looking,” Hashirama confirmed. “But no, thanks. It’s our night out.”

“I won’t mind. Asuma won’t mind.”

“What won’t I mind?” Asuma asked, returning to their table with new beers they didn’t really need. He was by far the most sober of the three of them, but probably not sober enough to realise that Hashirama was on the edge of becoming wasted and Kushina was well past that edge already. 

“If Hashirama tried to pick up that guy. No, don’t look! Sit down.”

“I thought Hashirama already has a boyfriend,” Asuma sat as he was told, looking confused.

“Oooh yes,” Kushina crossed her arms in annoyance. “The secret boyfriend.”

“He’s not a secret, as you know about him,” Hashirama pointed out. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you made him up just to stop me from trying to get you together with my cousin.”

“I would do that,” Hashirama admitted. “But I didn’t have to, as I’m very much together with Madara.”

It felt good to say his name to his friends, instead of referring to him as “the guy I started to see and maybe it will become something serious, but let’s wait to see, before I tell you anything about him.” 

Hashirama’s intentions with Madara were serious from the moment he sat down to chat with him in the Bistro in April. As for Madara… as far as Hashirama could tell, he was looking for stability in his life, something he sorely lacked before. Hashirama hoped he could be that pillar to support Madara’s quiet, peaceful life.

He knew he didn’t fully grasp the impact of traumas Madara’s sad past left. The glass-incident was a painful example of this. Madara never told him what really happened, so all Hashirama knew was that everything breakable in his kitchen was shattered - that Madara shattered them - and that his lover was badly shaken by the whole episode. 

He had no adequate words to tell Madara that he would do anything in his power to make sure no harm came to him. Madara told him he was comfortable to progress with baby steps only, and as much as Hashirama wanted to confess his burning love to him, he held back, respecting the boundaries set. He hoped he was respecting them, anyway, it was hard to tell sometimes where these boundaries exactly lay. 

Still, Madara started to trust him enough to call him when he needed him, and that was a good start. He let Hashirama take care of his cuts and refill his kitchen. Hashirama brought him that bonsai he had been growing for so long, feeling that if it stayed in Madara’s house, a part of him would always be there, and Madara allowed it to stay. They had that chat about becoming a serious couple, or at least a… self-acknowledged couple, so here was Hashirama now, free to talk about his lover to his friends.

“Hah, so he has a name now!” Kushina exclaimed, making some complicated, drunken gesture with her hands that Hashirama didn’t get. “Go on, talk. What more can we know about him?”

“He’s… where do I even start? He’s smart and handsome. He loves cats, and going for long runs and… he doesn’t exactly love yoga, but we still do it together. He has a small house and a little garden and… I don’t know. He’s really great.”

“Man,” Asuma said after a pause. “I hope you never get to describe me to strangers, I’m afraid how lame you’d make me sound.”

They all laughed. Hashirama felt unreasonably nervous. 

“Alright. Tell us more.”

“He had some really rough times in his life and he’s now… trying to find himself, I think. He deserves some peace and happiness. He’s a good man, but maybe he doesn’t see himself as such. I really want to show him he deserves all the nice things.”

“A complicated guy,” Kushina summarised and Hashirama shrugged. He couldn’t argue with that verdict. 

“Photo?”

Hashirama found the one on his phone he took maybe a week ago. Madara was standing barefooted outside in his overgrown little garden, enjoying the morning sun. He wore loose sweatpants and a black tee that was at least a size too large. As usual, he had a cigarette in his hand, but he was holding it away at an angle from his face. His lips curved upwards as he looked back over his shoulder at Hashirama in that typical half-smile, half-smirk that he found so insanely attractive. He hoped Madara wouldn’t mind him showing this photo. Hashirama thought he looked beautiful in it, but it was also a familiar, cosy one.

Having enough of him hesitating, Kushina snatched the phone from his hands. Asuma leaned over to look at the picture as well.

“That’s quite a pony-tail,” he said. “How long is his hair?”

“It reaches down to the middle of his…”

“You fucker! Madara, he says. This is Uchiha Madara. You gotta’be kidding me! You are not seeing Uchiha Madara, are you?” Kushina waved his phone around. She seemed undecided whether she should laugh or be angry. In the end she settled for more beer, which was probably not the best choice. 

“Who is he?” 

“Hello, you can’t keep living under a rock, Asuma! This guy was everywhere a few years ago.”

“Is he a singer or something?”

“A dancer , more like. A fighter. A… He’s like… tell us who he is, Hashirama.”

“He’s not… he’s not at all like those horrible articles would make you believe, Kushina. Madara had some really hard times in his life, so all that partying, and the fights, the drugs were a misplaced attempt to live his life without others telling him how to. He’s… anxious, really, when he needs to go among people, and he values his quiet privacy more than anything.”

“So, you didn’t meet in a gay club where he either wanted to fuck you or beat the crap out of you?”

“No! Give me my phone back.”

“I rather want to see more photos.”

“Maybe I should know who he is,” Asuma chipped in with a certain level of admiration. 

“He lives in this little village now. He goes running every morning and takes his coffee at this small restaurant with dozens of cats on its balcony. He calls the owner Cat Granny and he’s very fond of her. He has no neighbours, he hardly talks to anyone and he hardly goes anywhere. Whatever you read about him, that’s the past.”

“Alright, alright, if you say so. How did you get to know him?”

“Do you remember when I told you guys how I had a crush on a boy when I was fourteen? It’s him. We met again and… I guess it’s working out.”

“Senju Hashirama. I’ve known you for almost twenty years and you are still full of surprises.”

“It’s not that I like to keep secrets from you two!”

“I know, I know.” 

“Let’s drink to Hashirama’s relationship with Madara,” Asuma suggested and they all did. Hashirama made an attempt to get his phone back from Kushina, but she held onto it.

“This photo is so cute,” she said, zooming in. “Really cosy. But it’s strange, y’know? He used to be so… sexy.”

“He is still sexy! If anything, he’s sexier like this.”

“Compared to what?” Asuma looked between them. “Come on guys, not everyone can be a tabloid reader, clue me in, won’t you?”

“Wait, I’ll find you a few old shots of him.” Kushina opened the browser on Hashirama’s phone to look for something scandalous, no doubt.

“Next time I’ll leave a porn page open,” Hashirama muttered. Kushina’s glance said he needed to step up his game if he wanted to shock her. 

“See there?” she asked Asuma. “That’s him in fancy clothes. That’s him in make-up, kinda hot, huh? Hair’s totally wild too, look at that. I know there were speculations floating around that it’s a wig.”

“It’s not a wig,” Hashirama grumbled and was totally ignored by his friends.

“And that’s him in… well, not a whole lot of clothes, I guess.” Kushina fell silent, looking at whatever photo she brought up with slightly glazed over eyes. Asuma blushed behind his beard, glanced up at Hashirama, back down at the screen, and blushed harder.

“He’s just like any other person,” Hashirama snapped, not drunk enough not to be affronted on Madara’s behalf. “ We have party pictures that would make Asuma blush if he’d remember them, don’t we?”

“You are right,” Kushina admitted, while Asuma asked “We do?”

“I’m sorry for teasing,” she said, finally giving his phone back. “I hope he makes you happy.”

“He makes me very happy,” Hashirama clutched his phone to his chest with sudden, tipsy sentimentality. “He’s… he’s really wonderful. He’s not just handsome, he’s smart as well. He’s a fundamentally good man, and he’s been hurt so much in his life, he needs someone to care for him, and I… I care for him. A lot.”

“Sounds to me that you are in love,” Asuma pointed out the obvious. Hashirama sighed, not seeing any point in denying it. 

“He’s a lucky devil,” Kushina patted his hand. “I hope he appreciates it.”

“Do you think I should tell him? That I love him, I mean?”

“You haven’t yet?”

“No, I was afraid that might be too soon. He asked me to take things slowly.”

“And how’s that going?”

“It’s hard,” Hashirama laughed. “I just want to tell him that I love him and how I want to stay with him forever. But I can see it scaring him big time if I did, so… I haven’t. Not yet.”

“I’m sure everything will work out well. You are nice, Hashirama, just stay supportive and cute. Maybe a haircut…?”

“Leave my hair alone, Kushina. You sound like Tobirama.”

“Speaking of Tobirama, what did he say?” Asuma asked with a grin. Hashirama’s friends found it way too amusing how bossy his little brother had always been. 

“About Madara? I haven’t told him much yet, but I don’t see why he would have anything against him. Madara had worked as a well-respected businessman just a few years ago. Tobirama will, if anything, approve.”

“Good morning, love!”

“It’s half five Hashirama, why are you even awake?”

“You just sent me a text.”

“For you to read it once you wake up.”

“I’ve been up and about. Winter always makes me restless.”

“Winter should make you sleep in, I would think.”

“Anyway, to your text - I will go over tonight. You know that I always have the time for you.”

“...How would I know that?”

“Oh, well… here you go. I’ll always tell you if I have something planned for the evening. I rarely have anything but the weekends with Mayra. If I don’t say anything, just assume I’m free and would love nothing more than to be with you. Oh, hold on a second, I’m just out of the shower and the towel is slipping off.”

“In that case, why don’t you turn your camera on?”

“Haha, well, that’s… I mean, are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

Senju & Senju had recently moved to a new office. Hashirama understood why - the old building was just too small, lacked many of the expected comforts and was at an inconvenient location. He was happy the company moved - he had always been reminded of his father when he visited the old office, and he did not like to be reminded of his father. 

The new HQ for Senju & Senju had not a trace of Butsuma’s less than agreeable personality imprinted on it, but Hashirama still couldn’t bring himself to like it. It was too modern, there was too much concrete and glass. The impeccable fake marble cover of the floors was too impersonal and the white walls lacked any creativity. At least he managed to get Tobirama to install some large, leafy plants to lighten the mood and to create some zen corners in this unfriendly environment. 

“Hello,” he beamed at Tobirama’s new assistant, sitting outside of his brother’s office. “I’m here to steal your boss away to give you some well deserved rest.”

The guy looked him over in a very critical way and didn’t mask that he wasn't impressed by what he was seeing. Hashirama almost regretted wearing his washed-out jeans and his seen-better-days-but-too-comfy-to-replace trainers. He knew very well he didn’t fit in with the crowd of Konoha’s business quarter, but in fact, he made no effort to fit in. The only reason he visited was to drag Tobirama out for lunch. He always considered he was doing his employees a good deed too - while his little brother was a well respected leader, he was just as much a maximalist with his subordinates as he was with himself.

“I’m afraid Mr Senju has a very busy schedule. Did you have an appointment, Mr…?”

“Senju. And yes, we have agreed on a lunch. Can you let my brother know that I’m waiting for him, please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hashirama isn’t it? Tobirama mentioned you were coming today, I just didn’t realise it was you. I’m Kagami - I’m new, so excuse me if I was rude.”

“That’s okay, Kagami,” Hashirama notched up his smile further. “I know Tobirama is super busy, I wouldn’t dare to interrupt him spontaneously.”

He made himself comfortable on one of the sleek armchairs in the lobby for a few minutes, before he just had to get up to check the large, potted Monstrea in the corner. Its leaves were a bit dull, it could do with a gentle bath, he mused. It could also do with more light. Maybe if he moved it closer to the elevator, it would feel better there.

“Did you come to visit me, or just the plants?”

“Oh, just… nevermind, I will just come back and fiddle with them after lunch.”

“Well, I see you are dressed for gardening.” Tobirama let his eyes linger disapprovingly on Hashirama’s trainers. He was, of course, dressed impeccably, suit and tie and everything perfectly in place.

“Oh, shut it, I’m dressed just perfectly fine. Are we heading out?”

“Yes, let’s. I need to get back by 1:30 sharp, I have an important call.”

Most people knew Hashirama by sight in the office, and greeted them as they walked out to the cold, early-December air. Tobirama once told him people thought that he was the older brother, looking after his carefree sibling.

“If you wouldn’t always show up in trainers or shorts or if you would just finally cut your hair, it wouldn’t be so,” he grumbled more than once, but Hashirama knew that in fact he enjoyed being seen as the mature, serious sibling. Both of them knew Hashirama wouldn’t visit him wearing a suit and tie, nor would he cut his hair. He would look eerily like their late father did with a short cut. If Hashirama hated something, it was looking into the mirror and seeing Butsuma’s reflection there. 

Their father had been a successful businessman and he achieved many respectable things in his life. A pity that Hashirama still couldn’t bring himself to remember him fondly, but not even with a sparkle of respect. He had been abusive, aggressive and ruthless. Hashirama always tried to live his life thinking what his father would do in a certain situation and making sure he chose a different solution. 

Even though they were different in many aspects, his brother did the same. While he was a maximalist and the strict leader of the inherited business, he transformed it in many ways, to create a fair workplace for those willing to work hard. Hashirama also suspected their less than pleasant childhood was the reason Tobirama lived alone - that he didn’t want to become a father and husband, fearing he would make the same mistakes Butsuma had made.

Not that he could talk about this with Tobirama, as he just waved him off, saying Hashirama should stop guessing his motives. He told Hashirama, on every occasion he tried to nudge him to be more open about his feelings, or hinted that maybe he should try to share his life with someone, to get lost, that he lived exactly as he wanted to. He even said once, quite ominously, that Hashirama was better off not knowing the details of his love life.

Hashirama was never sure if he was just having him on, or if he should worry. Tobirama was weird sometimes, not that he could love him any less no matter what. 

His little brother, for his part, never felt he should take his own advice on non-meddling and was happy to interrogate Hashirama for details or share unasked-for suggestions. Since he told him about Madara and himself, this was true tenfold. 

Tobirama, when he learned the news, was not… happy. Hashirama was, in fact, quite surprised by the number of objections he had about his partner. Surprised, and as Tobirama didn’t take the increasingly more direct hints that he should stop ranting about Madara’s past scandals, quite angered as well. They had an argument about it and since then Tobirama was at least a tad more delicate in voicing his opinions. Hashirama, for his part, was too busy being in love to care if his brother approved or not. 

“You are in a really good mood,” Tobirama remarked as they grabbed their lunch in one of the nearby restaurants, one of the places all the suit-and-tie people flooded around noon to have a little break from the office.

“I had a very good night,” Hashirama wiggled his eyebrows at him. A good night didn’t really cover the emotional roller-coaster of yesterday. They had their first big argument, which sucked, but then they more than made up. Hashirama didn’t think his brother would appreciate details like him climbing over the Madara’s garden wall and declaring his love outside in the freezing evening air. He probably would have cared even less to know that Madara told him he loved Hashirama in turn, told him, while Hashirama was on all fours and being buggered for the first time in his life. Quite thoroughly too - he had to mind he didn’t wince as he sat down, as he was still rather sore.

He didn’t mind this reminder of last night’s activities though. He had been nurturing a list of things he wanted to do with Madara for a while and he suddenly ticked off quite a few of them. Telling Madara he loved him was the most important, as well as the recognition that their relationship was steady and serious and had a future. Because Hashirama was an optimist by nature, he tended to assume Madara wanted that as well, and he was just careful not to voice his wishes. Which didn’t mean Hashirama never had sleepless nights, being tormented by doubts, thinking that maybe all of it was in his head only. Madara used to lead such an extravagant life, surely he found the time spent with Hashirama incredibly boring. Other times he could reassure himself that what Madara needed was security and not excitement. He just hoped his lover could really be satisfied with Hashirama offering that.

Madara wasn’t someone who he couldn’t trust the word of, so when he told Hashirama he loved him, that was all the reassurance he needed. 

Ticking off another want-to-do item on his imaginary list was trying out the bottom role in bed. Hashirama had been so nervous about it - he didn’t think he managed to hide that from Madara - but he was so glad that he could experience this first time with his lover. With his partner. 

He had no reason to be afraid, of course. Madara was confident in bed, and he was more than good at leading Hashirama whenever his inexperience showed. While at first it was intimidating to open himself like that for someone, he also trusted Madara. Now he knew what well-fucked meant and he had plans to experience it many times more. But he didn’t foresee the soreness - Madara never said anything, no surprise there of course. The chair at the restaurant wasn’t very padded but he resisted wincing or wiggling too much around. Teasing his brother with telling him that last night was fun was one thing, giving him obvious clues about just what exact activity he partook in, was something else completely. 

“Here’s your invite,” he smiled at Tobirama. He was excited about the Local Business Award nomination - Madara’s words from the previous day had stung, when he told him he was doing nothing but playing the entrepreneur with his inheritance. Hashirama had always tried to be more than simply a Senju - he wanted to do some good in this world, and he liked his little gardening store. It was not a huge scale business like Senju & Senju was, or like Uchiha corp. used to be, but that was exactly how he wanted it to be. 

Tobirama was honestly proud of his success and as always that made Hashirama feel tender inside. He could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Madara when he lost his brother. Tobirama was not the easiest person to get on with, but Hashirama always knew he could rely on him. When they were kids, he used to be his only support. Their mother died young, and their father had such a nasty temper. It was a long time ago, but Hashirama often felt it was just him and Tobirama against the whole adult world.

Madara’s parents, as much as Hashirama could gather from the few stories he told, were not any more forgiving than Senju Butsuma was. Hashirama didn’t know if he would have coped with losing Tobirama any better than Madara did with losing Izuna.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Tobirama asked with suspicion, cutting himself short. He had been talking about some new leadership technique he was planning to implement, while Hashirama was too busy being lost in his memories of Madara and being grateful to have his brother nearby.

“I’m just happy to have such a smart little brother,” he said honestly.

“Right.”

“I really am! Thank you for always being supportive.”

“I’m not always supportive. Sometimes you have horrible ideas and I do not support them.”

“Have it your way - thank you for being supportive at times.”

“You are awfully sentimental today.”

“I’m in love,” Hashirama grinned. “I’m in a relationship where we are in love with each other.” It felt so good to say it out loud.

“You are going to talk about your last night, aren’t you?”

“No, I won’t,” Hashirama resisted the urge to blow him a raspberry. “It’s enough for you to know that everything is going really well between me and Madara.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Tobirama sighed. “You know that I have my concerns, but… I hope he can really make you happy. Just be careful, alright?”

“You need to stop worrying about me, Tobi. Now, let me treat you to lunch. What would you like?”

“Oh, are you paying? Then whatever is the most expensive here.”

“Hey love, how are you?”

“Just wonderful. Aren’t you in the Zoo with your daughter, Hashirama?”

“We are standing right here in front of the panthers and Mayra has some cat-related questions that I’m apparently not qualified to answer. Do you mind helping me out?”

“Err, I… yeah, I guess? I don’t mind. What do you want me to…”

“Hello? Madara?”

“Mayra? What’s up?”

“Say, if cats have nine lives, do panthers and tigers do, too?”

“Uhh, they are cats too, aren’t they? So probably yes, the same rule applies. But the nine lives thing is probably more symbolic, you know? Because they are so agile and endurable and survive so many things.”

“Hmm. Do you think you could keep a panther at home? He would be like a big brother to Whiskers.”

“I think I’m hearing your father saying no in the background.”

“But he doesn’t know things about cats.”

“Are you Mayra’s dad?” a deep, slightly hostile female voice asked. They were on the strangely named Forty-Fourth Training Ground, a playground slash adventure park aimed at young children. Mayra often came here with Mito, and insisted that Hashirama brought her here today too. 

As Asuma was happy to find out and share - carefully, when his wife or Kushina didn’t overhear - a father out alone with his child was the surest way to draw the attention of women. “They can’t resist a responsible dad,” he laughed. “They just love it when they can see you are able to keep a kid alive on your own.” Hashirama was already well aware of this phenomenon, and it tended to make him feel awkward. 

This lady however eyed him quite critically and didn’t return his tentative smile.

“I am Mayra’s father,” he admitted. “Senju Hashirama. Nice to meet you, Mrs…?”

“Inuzuka Tsume. Not a Mrs. I’m Kiba’s mum,” she nodded her head towards the spiky haired, loud little boy Mayra was playing with. “Mito and I form the divorced mothers’ club here.”

“I see,” Hashirama said awkwardly. 

“Mayra, of course, mentions you all the time. Kiba is the same. Kids always miss their fathers so much, yet they never really appreciate the mothers who are around and do all the hard work.”

“I’m sure that’s not…”

“Well, Mito says at least you are still around and care for Mayra. That’s a lot more I can say about my ex.”

“I’m really sorry to hear…”

“You are together with a bloke now, aren’t you? Can’t say I envy Mito for that.”

“Look,” Hashirama held up his hands. “Tsume, was it? Please don’t hold me under fire. Divorce is not an easy thing, but the details really only concern Mito and I. Luckily, we can work together in this and keep it as easy on Mayra as possible.”

“Right,” she pulled her lips into a grin. It wasn’t an unattractive smile, but it certainly was rather feral. “You are right, don't be a pushover honey, divorces do happen after all. Mayra is a lovely girl, good that her father cares for her."

The conversation went fairly smoothly from there on, mostly because Hashirama was rather good at winning people over to his side. Tsume was, if not charmed, but at least a lot less hostile with him by the time their children ran back to them. Her son blinked up at Hashirama with some suspicion.

“Dad, Kiba says he has a puppy. Can I have a puppy, too?” Mayra asked with her eyes open wide in hope. She was so cute in her bright yellow jumper, with her large brown eyes in her tiny face that she somehow got quite dirty and her auburn hair that only partially managed to stay in the pony-tail, and Hashirama loathed to tell her no. 

“You know how we talked about this, Mayra? A puppy is a lot of time and responsibility, and with you off in school and Mom at work, he would be just bored and alone for most of the day." 

"You work at your own store - you can make a puppies allowed rule," she pointed out with impeccable logic. "Or you can ask Madara to look after it. A puppy would get on well with Whiskers!" 

"I'm not even sure if Madara likes dogs," Hashirama said honestly. "And it's a tiny garden."

"Just ask him Dad, please?"

"Won't you be disappointed if the answer is no?"

She sighed forlornly, and that simple outbreath spoke volumes of just how unnecessary difficult she found adults to be. Hashirama could sympathise. 

"Maybe I can ask Mum for the kitten again. Madara taught me everything I need to know about Whiskers, so I'm ready to have my own. Cats are cooler than dogs anyway."

“No, they are not!” Kiba denied. “Dogs are way better. Dogs are smart and loyal and they can protect you. Cats just lie around the whole day, doin’ nothin’ just licking their own…”

“Cats are super smart, too! My dad's boyfriend’s kitten is the best.”

“I think cats and dogs are both great,” Hashirama said, trying to be placating. “They are different and they all have their own personalities, but they are all wonderful in their own right.” The children looked slightly unbelieving but at least the argument stopped. 

“Kids are so silly,” Mayra told him later when they sat down at her favourite burger place for lunch. She was carefully dissecting her sandwich to ensure no unnoticed pieces of veggies were hiding inside and didn’t look up at Hashirama. It was a strange statement from a six years old. 

“Why is that so?” he asked in a neutral tone.

“They just don’t get things. Like Kiba and his stupid dogs. Or Udon at school.”

Udon was one of Mayra’s friends in school. He usually wasn’t classified as silly.

“What’s up with Udon?”

“Nothing.”

“So why is he silly then?”

“He’s just… said some stuff about… things.”

She finally deemed her burger properly veggie-free and took a large bite of it, swinging her legs under the chair in what Hashirama recognised as a nervous gesture. 

“What kind of things, honey? Was he hurtful?”

“No, dad,” she sighed, chewing with less enthusiasm, but swinging her legs all the harder. “He was just talking about things he doesn’t know ‘bout.”

“Like…”

“Like how can you be with Madara if you were married to mum before. Said dads should have wives, not boyfriends. Or if you have a boyfriend, you shouldn’t have…” she trailed off, leaving the unsaid me hanging between them. 

“You are right - Udon is talking about things he doesn’t know about. I love you, and that has nothing to do with me having a boyfriend. I will always be glad to have met your mum, as that’s how we could have you. You are my precious daughter.”

She looked at him serenely, head tipped to the side in a pose she learned from Mito. 

“I know that, Dad,” she said seriously. She then added in a very adultish way that was both charming and buffling, “You don’t need to concern yourself with Udon. I know how to handle him.” She nodded to her own words, apparently satisfied with the wisdom in them, stuffed a handful of chips in her mouth, leaving Hashirama torn between being touched, overfilled with fatherly pride and nagged by the concern of what he would say to Mito when she inevitably sighed and scolded him for not making sure Mayra ate something healthier.

“You are so smart. I’m happy you take after your mother.”

“I take after you,” she told him cheerfully. “Everyone says so.”

“Really?” he beamed at her, vanity piqued despite himself. “I do eat my cucumber and tomato, though.” 

“Ugh,” she shuddered visibly. “When I will be an adult, I will ban cucumbers.”

“Mayra? I want to make sure you know that me being together with Madara doesn’t make me love you any less.”

“I know that, Dad. We talked about this already, remember?”

“I do remember,” he nodded, grinning at such a reminder. 

“Madara is nice too.”

“I’m happy you think so.”

“He knows a lot about cats. And he wasn’t mad when I accidentally got crayon on the wall.”

Accidentally there was a drawing of a tree, complete with apples and birds perched on its branches on the wall of the living room, just barely hidden behind the new sofa. When Madara saw it, he just said he hoped Mayra would become a famous artist one day and it would be worth a fortune.

“Still, let’s not have any other crayon accidents on the walls, alright?”

Mayra slurped her orange juice and didn’t promise anything.

“Hashirama?”

“Hello, love. Is everything alright?”

“No, nothing is alright. I found incriminating evidence, Hashirama. What kind of a man am I betrothed to?”

“...What are you talking about?”

“The new spoons! They are shaped like leaves!”

“I know! Aren’t they funky?”

“First I thought Mayra left them in the drawer, but then I found the ninja-shaped cutting board…”

“Have you seen how he has the knife tucked in as if it was his weapon?”

“... and the silicone mushroom whatever it is for.”

“It’s a cork, but you can turn it inside out and then it’s a funnel!”

“...you think these widgets are cool, don’t you?”

“Yes!... Why, you don’t?”

“... I love you, but I need to hang up now, I need to get rid of these before Ino comes over.”

“What’s wrong with…? Love you, too.”

“Thank you for bringing Mayra here,” Hashirama smiled at Mito. “Fridays are sometimes a bit hectic, although today is not so bad.”

“No worries. Mayra considers Leaf Village some sort of amusement park, she’s always happy when she gets to visit you here. And I wanted to pick up a few plants, anyway.”

“For the balcony or inside?”

“Inside. The ficus in the living room died.”

“Oh, no. I can take a look, maybe it can be revived. What did you…?”

“I haven’t thrown it out, I knew you will want to resurrect it,” Mito laughed. “You can take it away when you bring Mayra back on Sunday, just, please, don’t tell me what I did wrong with it. I’m considering just buying some artificial ones.”

“You wouldn’t,” Hashirama clutched his heart in mock horror. “I will find something super easy to keep alive.”

“Thanks. Mayra, please let Tenzo do his job, he has other things to do than to answer all your questions.”

“But I’m helping!” Mayra shouted back, looking up from the rows of little bags of seeds she had laid out on the counter.

“It’s really not a bother,” Yamato reassured them. Mayra liked him a lot. She had a very inquisitive nature and sponged up all knowledge that was shared with her. When she was in the gardening store, “Captain” Yamato was her favourite person to learn from and he was always eager to teach. 

“Do you want to come to the office a little bit?” Hashirama asked his ex-wife. “I have something to tell you.”

“Sounds ominous,” she muttered, but followed him to the office, helping him arrange the discarded paperwork into a pile, so they could sit down comfortably. She looked at him expectantly.

“Madara and I are getting married,” Hashirama blurted, his heart jumping up to his throat. One one hand, just saying it made excitement bubble up inside him. On the other hand, he wasn’t so self-centred not to know how strange it must be for Mito. They separated in peace and although the understanding and friendship they shared under their marriage was shaken, it never broke. It didn’t mean that he never felt a strange flare of possessiveness when Mito told him she was going out for dates, or that Mito liked to hear too much about Madara, even though neither of them formed any kind of a claim over the other any more. They once thought about each other as partners for life, so maybe it wasn’t so odd. 

Mito frowned, but quickly smoothed out her features.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Hashirama said quietly. There was an awkward pause. At times like this, Hashirama always felt he needed to fill the silence, even if surely sometimes it would have been easier to keep his mouth shut. “Asking him was something of a spontaneous thing, over the holidays but… I think it’s the right decision. We will have the ceremony in October or November.”

“That soon? I guess if you made up your mind, there’s no point in waiting.” Mito smiled at him a little sadly. Hashirama always loved how she was honest, even when honesty was difficult and how she never was petty. “I’m glad if you found happiness, Hashirama. I can’t say that I know Madara, but he seemed like a decent enough guy those few times we met. Mayra holds him in high regard.”

“It won’t change anything with Mayra. This is really just…” He fell silent. How could he say to the woman he once made vows with about staying together in sickness and in health that he really was committed to Madara? That he was the love of his life? That although he meant those vows he made with her, but this time around, with Madara, he was sure he would actually keep them? 

Luckily Mito didn’t expect him to finish that sentence. She gently touched his hand and smiled at him, honestly this time.

“We will need to talk about how to tell Mayra, so she won’t get scared.”

“Do you think it would scare her?”

“She will know marrying is a big thing. Some of her schoolmates already gave her a hard time, just because she told them you live with a man. She will run into these nasty comments even more if you are married to another man,” she held up a hand when Hashirama opened his mouth, to apologise or to lament on this, so he kept silent. “She is dealing with these like a pro, because she never had a reason to feel she means any less to you. But you know. There are parents who will tell their children vile things, and they will hurt Mayra when they repeat it to her.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, not because of this. We can't control other people’s stupidity, but we can make sure Mayra is not left to doubt whether they are wrong, or that she herself didn’t do anything bad.”

“Thank you,” Hashirama squeezed her hand, “for being such a wonderful mother to our daughter.”

“Did flattery ever get you anywhere?” she teased.

“Actually, it did,” he said, puffing out his chest, then they were both laughing, the tension between them suddenly easing up as if it was never there. “Also - thank you for being a wonderful person.”

“Come, you charmer,” she stood up. “Let’s save Tenzo from our daughter. You can also show me what plants I should get that won’t just wither on me.”

“What were you doing to the ficus? Over or underwatering it? 

“First under, then over.”

“Ouch.”

“It is dead for good, but maybe you can resurrect it.”

“I have special powers,” Hashirama laughed.

“You do. Reviving dead plants, taming Uchiha Madara, who knows what else you’re capable of?”

Hashirama grinned and didn’t correct her, although he did nothing of the sort. Madara was untameable - all he did was to accept him as he was. 

Hashirama was nervous. On one hand it was ridiculous - nothing would change from this one single day. Life would continue to go on as before, having its ups and downs, bringing moments of joy but also arguments and difficulties.

On the other hand, he was getting married to the love of his life. 

He tried to recall if he was anywhere near this wired up when he was marrying Mito. He could recall the anxiety, the hope that everything would go smoothly. He remembered Mito, beautiful in her wedding gown and how he had told himself he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t recall this feeling of fate leading him, this certainty that this was what he was meant to do.

“Would you stop staring into that mirror?” Tobirama grumbled from behind him, making him jump a little, having all but forgotten his presence. “You look just fine. Leave that tie in peace. It’s perfectly at his place.”

“Don’t I look… I don’t know… stuffy? Isn’t this suit too much?”

“I haven’t seen you look this sharp since… probably your first wedding. You were just not so completely away with the fairies that time.”

“Do you think Madara will like this look?”

“How would I know?” Tobirama sighed when Hashirama turned back towards the mirror. “If he doesn’t, he’s blind. I’m sure you are every gay bloke’s wet dream and also that we might get a call from the Queer Weddings Magazine any minute now, asking you to pose for the cover. Would you please stop fiddling with your tie, I won’t redo it for you again.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Why are you so nervous? You love him, right?”

“Right.”

“And he loves you, right?”

“Right.”

“Then leave that bloody mirror and sit down, will you?”

“Sorry Tobi, I don’t mean to be such a pain.”

Tobirama made him sit down on his sofa and gave him chamomile tea, of all things, ignoring his protest that he was merely nervous, not sick. “It will help you to calm down,” he insisted. Hashirama smiled into his cup and drank it dutifully. Their mother had died so young, he couldn’t even recall her clearly, but that feeling of being looked after remained with him, and Tobirama with his fussing, which he tried to disguise as non-fussing, always reminded him of her. 

“Thank you for being my best man today,” he told his brother. “This is a very important day for me and it means a lot that you are by my side.”

“Will he make you happy?” Tobirama asked with a frown between his brows, as he sat down with his own cup of green tea. 

“He already makes me happy.”

Hashirama watched with fascination as his brother visibly struggled with himself. Tobirama was so good with his words when it came to talking about business, his passions, his political views or mistakes other people made, but not so much when he had to speak about his own emotions or, heaven forbid, needed to admit that he made some mistake. However, he was also stubborn, and if he decided to do something, he went through with it, no matter if he felt uneasy about it. 

“I might have been wrong about him,” he told Hashirama in a tight voice. “Or at least I shouldn’t have assumed… At any rate, you two seem to be doing alright, so… He better keep you happy.”

“He’s a really good man, Tobirama. Maybe it’s not obvious if you don’t know him, and he kind of tries to make sure that not too many people get to know him, but believe me on this.”

“He used to be well respected in the right circles of the business,” the younger Senju sighed, and this was probably the biggest compliment he could think about Madara. “Is he planning to go back to work anytime soon?”

“Why, do you want to offer him a job?” Hashirama grinned. “I’m pretty sure he won’t ever be back in an office.”

“Hmm,” Tobirama didn’t quite manage to keep the disapproval from his voice. “Well, I guess you are living a respectable enough life yourself, though you have nothing to do with the company either.” 

“Let’s be honest, Tobi, we would get on each other’s nerves in a day, if we worked together.”

Tobirama  rolled his eyes, but Hashirama’s grin seemed to be catching and he smiled as well.

“Maybe. But if you managed to calm down, let’s get going. We can’t be late for your wedding.”

“Do I look alright?”

“For the thousandth time, you look just fine. Honestly, you are impossible.”

Hashirama couldn’t possibly put up with the grandiose, dramatic classical music Tobirama always listened to while driving, so he fiddled with the radio until he found Madara’s favourite channel. That was a lot more soothing.

“Since when do you like rock?” Tobirama grumbled, but didn’t object otherwise, probably because it was Hashirama’s special day.

After the ceremony, all the people who were really important to him would meet them at the Bistro. Hashirama thought that was the perfect way to celebrate. There would be his brother, his best friends, Mito and Mayra. 

Convincing Mito to come hadn’t been easy of course. “You have to be kidding me,” she said when Hashirama first invited her. “You are completely out of your mind. I was your wife for crying out loud. You know that I don’t mind Madara - Mayra keeps him in high regards, but that doesn’t mean I want to celebrate your wedding with him.”

It took Hashirama a couple of tries. Mito was an important part of his life and a cherished friend. They have always got on really well, and while Hashirama regretted that they both were rather delusional about the way they thought they had to live their lives when they married, he still loved her. Just he never loved her the way he was supposed to, as a husband. Hashirama always understood commitment and companionship, but he never knew how burning and all-consuming love could be, before he met Madara. Still, he could never regret marrying Mito as they had their perfect daughter together. 

Meeting Madara had been different to everything he had experienced before. It was fate, it was that feeling of everything clicking into place, an understanding that everything he did before led him to that day when they met at the Bistro. 

Things weren’t always easy. Really, they were often quite difficult. They sometimes fought, and Hashirama knew they would still fight. They were to live wonderful times together, of that he was sure, but he also knew they would have to face many challenges. Madara carried the burden of his past, clutching the most painful moments close to his heart, barely allowing Hashirama a glimpse at them. He was also prone to drama, but if Hashirama wanted to be really honest with himself, so was he. 

When people looked at the two of them, they found them to be very different, he knew. And they were, in many things. Yet, where it really mattered, they were similar. Madara was his gift, his other half. 

“Earth to Hashirama. We are here.”

“Oh, already? You drive too fast, Tobi.”

“Come on.”

“Do I…”

“I swear, if you ask me again if you look alright, I will strangle you with your tie.”

“That would be tragic, right on my wedding day. I will just assume that I look acceptable.”

Tobirama still straightened his jacket when they got out of the car, because he liked to be fussy.

“Alright, Madara can make an honest man out of you now. Good luck to him.”

Hashirama woke up in the middle of the night, when Madara had a nightmare. It wasn’t a rare occurrence - his husband wasn’t a good sleeper in the first place, tending to go to bed too late and getting out too early, and his rest was often troubled. He once casually remarked how better rested he was when Hashirama was in bed with him, and it was sad to imagine how he slept otherwise.

Hashirama was, by now, pretty good at calming him without waking him up. Usually softly spoken words or careful caresses on his hair did the trick, moving Madara’s dreams from whatever painful place they were stuck at to somewhere more pleasant. Other times Madara woke up, got out of bed for a short while. If he thought Hashirama was asleep, he cuddled close to him when he returned, so Hashirama usually pretended to be asleep. 

Madara never told him what his nightmares were about. If Hashirama asked how he slept, he usually said “okay”, if he asked if he had nice dreams he said “not really” or that he couldn’t remember.

The usual soft, painful sounds - little whimpers and groans, accompanied by merciless grinding of teeth woke Hashirama up this night as well. He rolled towards his husband, whispering “Shh, it’s alright,” and kissing his temple. He knew when Madara woke from the way his breathing changed.

“Hashirama?”

“I’m here.”

Madara groped blindly for his hand in the dark, fumbling and still half-asleep, searching for something and making a disconcerted noise in the back of his throat when he couldn’t find it.

“I take the ring off for sleeping,” Hashirama said gently.

“I know,” Madara sounded more at his senses now. He tried to let go of his hand, but Hashirama held on and embraced him.

“I love you.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“Because it’s true.” Madara didn’t say anything to that. Maybe he was trying to pretend he was already asleep again, but Hashirama knew better.  “Do you want to tell me what your dream was about?”

“No. It was nothing really. I don’t even remember it anymore.”

“Hmm-hmm,” Hashirama didn’t quite believe him. He started to run his fingers through his hair, carefully working out tangles that he knew would be back in an instant. Madara’s mane lived its own, independent life, completely unbothered by the laws of physics.  His lover melted against him, not unlike Whiskers when she was being petted. Hashirama wouldn’t have been surprised if he started purring. “Have I said how much I love your hair?”

“You might have mentioned before,” Madara sighed contently, allowing himself to be distracted from the nightmare. “What do you like about it?”

“It’s the… the physical manifestation of your spirit, you know?”

“My spirit.”

“Yep. It’s beautiful, and wild, and untameable, and stubborn and… everything that’s you.”

“You are very philosophical for… what? 2 am?”

“But I’m right. Here are these tangles, and they give you trouble, right? All I can do is to very carefully try to work them out. We both know they won’t be completely gone, but it’s okay. It will feel better for you and I love doing it.”

Madara rolled halfway on top of him and propped his chin up on his chest. Hashirama could just barely make out his face in the dark.

“I could always just decide to cut it short. What happens to your symbolism, then?”

“I think it would just grow back, wild and stubborn as ever, no?” It was 2 am, and he was hardly the right poet for this riddle even at daytime. “But please don’t cut it.”

“If you also promise not to cut yours.”

Madara settled down again and Hashirama resumed his meditative activity of untangling his hair that refused to be disentangled.

“You know,” he said after a while, “The worst nightmare I ever had was about turning into a tree.” Madara snorted, but didn’t interrupt him. “It felt so realistic, the way my skin hardened into bark and how I became immobile, unable to do anything but to stretch out towards the sky. Even though I knew it was not real, I kept looking at my hand after I woke up, kind of expecting branches and leaves to spurt from it. These dreams don’t have to make sense to scare us.”

“You won’t let this go, will you?”

“I think it might be easier if you talk about it.”

“It was nothing as fancy as your nightmare. Nothing supernatural.  I was alone - standing on some desolate beach and people I knew just walked by as if they didn’t recognise me, or didn’t want to recognise me. You were there, but when I called out, you just turned away and walked off with some other people.”

“I would never. It was just a dream.”

“I know it was just a dream. I would have kicked your arse otherwise.”

Hashirama chuckled, and Madara did too. They kissed and Hashirama could feel the rest of the tension ease up in his husband. 

“I love you,” he said again, as he wanted to make sure his message went through. And because he rather liked saying it.

“Love you, too. Now go back to sleep, tree-man.”

FIN