Hashirama sighed as he made his way up the mountain, maybe already just a little drunk. He stands at the top, looking out at the village. Lights dotted the buildings below, breathing life into the air. Even from up here, he could hear the shouting and celebrations of the festival. He and Mito had walked around, enjoying food and drink and conversation and each other's company. Her eyes had sparkled in the lights, and Hashirama couldn’t help thinking how lucky he was. Even Tobirama had pulled himself from his work and research and had joined the festivities. The night had been almost perfect.
Almost.
He gives a small sigh, taking a seat upon the mountaintop. He places down a bottle of sake, and two cups, filling them both. He takes a sip of his, sure that he was going to be sleeping like a rock tonight— if he could get himself to sleep, that is.
He had been able to feel it all night, following him around, though at a distance. It wasn’t malicious—- he was sure of that. It wasn’t angry. And yet, guilt gnawed away at him. He could still smell the blood– feel the dirt underneath his fingernails. He could still see his eyes as the light faded from them.
“I failed you.” His voice is soft, though matter of fact. He feels it moves a bit closer, tentatively. “You had just…wanted to belong. This place should have been your home, as much as it is mine. And when you tried to tell me of your feelings, I ignored them. Pushed them aside. Insisted they would surely go away. As if they would simply just….disappear….”
He remembers standing up here with him, at the birth of the village. He wonders if they knew. If they knew the name had come from him. He wonders what they would think if they did.
It’s heavy now, pressing against him, though not quite weighing him down. Just….leaning against him. Just as he used to, when exhaustion would get too much. When he just wanted to feel safe. Hashirama had made him feel safe, and he had——
When had he started crying? He stares at the tears in his palms, wondering if he had ever shed tears. It presses on him, and he realizes it is regret. He had just wanted to be wanted, to be needed. He had just wanted peace, and it had come, for everyone but him. And surely, the rest of his family would pay for it as well.
He had just wanted to warn them. To protect them.
And they had turned their backs on him.
Hashirama had turned his back on him.
“I’m sorry, Madara….” There is a feeling, like a breath, released into the air. It feels lighter now, and he knows that he, too, is sorry as well. Sorry that it had to come to what it did. Sorry that the rift between them had grown too great to be ignored any longer.
He wonders how long he had been blaming himself for Hashirama’s own incompetence.
He feels it lifts off from him, and he feels a surge of panic. He doesn’t want it to leave— doesn’t want him to leave. Not again, please. Please stay. It doesn’t, though, he realizes. It’s still there, and he wonders if it always will be. If he will wait for him. For his time to come as well. If maybe they can make amends in whatever comes after.
He chances a glance over, and he can almost see him, sitting there beside him. Just as they used to, in those days that now feel so long ago. Looking out to the horizon, with drinks and jokes and laughter. He wants to reach out to him. He can almost see a kind of tiredness in him. He wants to pull him close. He wants to hold him there, in those moments. Those fleeting moments of happiness.
He can’t, though.
He looks away.
He pours himself another cup of sake.
“I will look after them. The clan. I promise you, I will do anything in my power to make sure—--” To make sure it wasn’t in vain. That they are safe. That they do not pay for his transgressions. He feels a wave of relief wash over him, so strong that it almost knocks him over– that it causes his breath to shake and his tears to start anew, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut.
And then he feels calm. Almost peaceful. He slowly lets out a quiet breath, feeling tension release from his shoulders. He looks back out to the horizon. The few stars he can see through the lights in the village twinkle against the inky black of the sky, the moon barely visible. His eyes slowly slip shut as he lets the night envelope him.
‘You can’t stay here forever, Hashirama.’ On this mountain, in these memories— this regret. He knows that, deep down. He has to keep walking forward, slowly but surely. His eyes open once more, a quiet determination within him.
He stands, picking up the untouched cup and stares at the liquid within. And offering that could never be accepted. He pours out the drink before turning and heading back down the mountain.