Desperation (Madara)
"How many times do I have to tell you that, Hashirama! Don't just appear behind my back all of a sudden!" Madara let himself sound extra annoyed, when he smelt Hashirama's scent and felt his chakra behind him. Somehow it felt justified to overreact a little bit. Hashirama knew he didn't like it. He had told him that at least a hundred times, but he didn't have the exact number. That would only make him even more mad, when it would eventually happen again. And it always would. And Madara always would let the Senju get away with it without any meaningful grudge. Any other person, who dared to sneak up on him, would soon know the feeling of losing a limb or two. How long has Hashirama been standing there anyway without Madara noticing him?
"I am sorry, Madara. You just looked so deep in thoughts and I didn't want to startle you." The alpha laughed and scratched the back of his head. "But I promise I would have catched you, if you had jumped of the cliff in surprise."
"As if I would do that!" Madara pouted. He crossed his arms defensively. His gaze went back to the village in front of him that was painted in deep orange. The shadows of the buildings growing longer and longer. The heavy weight that lied on his shoulders was not completely gone, but it was easier to breath with Hashirama by his side somehow. The alpha cut the last remaining distance between them and took the place to his left. Looking to Madara, then Konoha and then Madara again. He seemed to wait for his friend to continue his annoyed act, but nothing came.
"So... What were you doing up here?" Hahirama asked with a goofy grin letting the previous topic go, lightening Madara's mood with ease. He just couldn't stay too grumpy with this image in front of him, couldn't help but crack a smile at Hashirama's face. His smile hasn't changed at all. The Senju looked like the ten year old boy from so many years ago. The same energy, hopefulness, childish naivity. Only his longer hair made the years, that had passed, evident.
"Just thinking. I often come here to do that. Nothing special," Madara mumbled.
Of course he trusted his childhood friend. His heart deeply yearned to be heard, understood by the last person he deeply cared about in this world, but his rational mind held him back of speaking too openly. He knew he couldn't share his growing doubts about this whole village project. It would ruin the Senju's friendly demeanor, ruin his smile, ruin their friendship and Madara didn't want to let go of that anchor just yet. At the moment Hashirama wouldn't understand Madara's point of view. Maybe he never would. Maybe they were simply too different.
"You shouldn't come up here too often though. Especially not alone, Madara."
Hashirama's eyes were focused and looked directly into the Uchiha's. His smile was still on his lips. His voice was even, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world. This bluntness made Madara lose his words for a second. Where did this come from suddenly? To baffle him like this was a skill only Hashirama was able to perform so consistently. Madara tried to come up with a quick counter, how Hashirama shouldn't tell him what to do, but his scattered thoughts couldn't regroup fast enough this time. Hashirama just carried on, now with an enthusiastic, yet nostalgic tone. His expression filled with warmth as he looked upon the village in front of them.
"I think it needs to remain special. If I came up here every single day alone, I would miss how much Konoha has grown. I would miss the small details, the little changes from up here. Like that house over there," he pointed to a cottage of regular size in the far east of Konoha. It was almost completely engulfed in trees. There wasn't anything outstanding about this particular building in Madara's eyes. It looked normal, plain. He hadn't paid any attention to it before and he wasn't sure, whether it deserved his attention now.
"It wasn't finished the last time I was standing here. I wonder, if I have met its residents already. Or that alley to the south..."
Madara listened to the Senju's words. He didn't really get, what Hashirama was trying to tell him with this little list, but he didn't make any attempt to stop him either. Hashirama sounded so excited, while pointing out small, pointless things he noticed about the houses, streets and infrastructure of Konoha. Like a proud child showing off his work a little bit. Like a puppy seeking approval, while wildly waging his tail from left to right. It was endearing in a weird way, as endearing as a grown alpha could be, but Madara would go through hell before ever admitting of thinking like that.
In moments like these Madara felt a little sting, the needle called jealousy on the left side of his chest. He wished he could be happy about those mundane things in life too, see the world through Hashirama's eyes.
But that would never be possible.
They would always be Izuna's, a gift and curse at the same time. Madara was able to see the truth about the future of this world and would forever be tortured by it's cruel revelation. But listening to his friend made it easier to bear this burden, eased the anxiety for a little while. Why could Hashirama do this to him? Why could he make his heart flutter with false hope that his presence alone could move everything in the right direction?
"Or have you seen all the people who are excited about the festival? You can't even see all the decorations from up here." Madara had indeed noticed all the noise outside of the Uchihan compound in the last few days. Someone like Hashirama might call that excitement.
"Yeah, it isn't exactly easy to ignore such turmoil," Madara admitted, but he wasn't sure, whether he really meant the ongoing preparations outside of his compound or the rising tensions that it had caused between numerous member's of the Uchiha clan.
"Turmoil... that word makes you sound as if you weren't planning on celebrating the anniversary of Konoha, Madara." Hashirama laughed, as if it was just a lighthearted joke. He didn't actually believe the theory he had just made up. Therefore, the following statement of the Uchiha came really out of the blue for him.
"I don't," Madara deadpanned.
He could see the exact moment, in which Hashirama choked on his own laugh. He looked with wide eyes at his friend, blinking again and again to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming, that he wasn't caught in some kind of genjutsu. Now the hokage was at a loss for words, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on land. No intelligible words could find their way to come out. His hands were twitching, not knowing what to do, but wanting to hold onto something for support. His shocked reaction was so expressive, nearly comedic.
"Don't act like this information took you by surprise, Hashirama. You know I always try to avoid such large social gatherings," the Uchiha reasoned casually.
That was true. Madara didn't like to be in crowds full of total strangers. It made him nervous to be watched from a distance by them. He would always be observed like a wild animal in a cage, like the leader of the infamously tamed Uchiha clan. Whether their glances radiated with disgust or fear didn't really matter, but the fact that he couldn't escape them, no matter where he would flee to. The feeling of losing control was the worst, that could happen to him.
It was different on the battlefield. There he could easily take control of the situation, could get rid of those, who dared to look at him the wrong way. Now all he could do was to stare threatingly back since he couldn't let his scent do this job.
"But... why...Madara! You can't be serious" Hashirama gasped in disbelief. " Everyone is working so hard for this. You are the cofounder of Konoha! Please, think about it again."
"I have already made up my mind about the festival. I have absolutely no intention to-" Madara was interrupted midsentence. His shoulders were grabbed by the alpha, his fingers clutched into the thin fabric of Madara's tunic. Then the scent of the Senju hit his whole body with incomparable intensity. It wasn't an act fuiled by aggression or anger, but desperation. As if Madara would soar far away right now, if Hashirama wouldn't cling to him and holding him on the ground beneath their feet. Nothing of the comedic energy from before was left.
It caught Madara off guard again. Even Hashirama looked also a little surprised by his own rather impulsive action. His gaze went to the hands on Madara's shoulders that connected both of them, then to the ground. He took a deep breath. His lips were pressed together.They stood in silence for a few seconds. Madara wished he could know what was going through Hashirama's head right now. Where did this desperation in his scent come from? This wasn't how he usually acted around him. He wanted his carefree and joking friend back.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that." Hashirama seemed to calm down slowly. His scent didn't have this overpowering quality anymore, but stress still lingerd on the edges. The hands left his shoulders. Madara could still feel pressure on them. The Senju took two steps back. He could see that Hashirama was beating himself over it, still looking to the ground.
"Forgive and forget," Madara answered, while he tried unwrinkle his short sleeves. Somehow he felt responsible for this situation, but he had no helpful idea, what to do. it wasn't really his strength to cheer someone up, but he wanted to try. He said the first thing that came to his mind. "If it is that important to you, I will overthink my decision about going to the festival."
Had he really just said that out loud? He hoped he hadn't acted too rashly.
Fortunately, that was the right thing to say. As if single button had been pushed, the concerned wrinkles on Hashirama's forhead disappeared immediately.
"Really, Madara? You won't regret it!" Did Hashirama always have these little stars in his eyes? Madara had just said he would think about his decision again, not that he would go, but somehow Hashirama seemed to have heard otherwise. He talked about all the things they could do on that day together, how amazing it would be, a day they would never forget. The Senju couldn't stop talking. He gesticulated wildly and pointed everywhere to emphazise his overflowing joy. Madara would have felt bad, if he corrected his friend's wrong assumptions now.
"Then we could watch the competition of the academy and cheer on the students...Uh" Hashirama face darkened. A memory came to him, that made him halter.
"Actually, there is something I need to tell you." Hashirama had this serious mentality again, but he wasn't as tense as before.
The hokage told him about what he had witnessed this afternoon. As the leader of his clan Madara knew Kagami Uchiha. He was a talented and polite boy, but Madara thought he was a little too soft sometimes. It angered him nonetheless to hear that he had become the latest victim of such hateful harassment. Another one of his kind attacked for their blood and lineage. He would have to report this incident during the clan summit next morning. Maybe the news had already spread around the Uchihas and the topic would come up on its own. That had happened last time.
"But don't worry. I gave my promise to his mother Taree that I'm going to deal with it." Hashirama concluded on a positive note. "And I have to look out for Kagami during the competition. So we have to keep that in mind for our festival planning."
What did Hashirama mean with the last phrase? He would deal with it? Did he really think that one little chat with three children would solve the problem? Maybe these kids would not misbehave again, but others would. Others already had.
What if you can't change their minds, Hashirama? What if you can't change anything? He wanted to scream these questions right into this untroubled face in front of him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He desperately hoped Hashirama would have an answer, but he didn't want his expectations to be shattered. Within the eternal dream everything would be easily changed...
As if sensing Madara's doubt Hashirama elaborated more. He knew him too well. He could read his emotions even though Madara's scent was suppressed all the time.
"I believe in our Konoha, Madara. I think, if there is one place in this world, where all the hatred can be overcome, it is this village right in front of our eyes. Konoha has become a home for so many people. It is a place, where shinobi can connect. They interact and affect each other everyday. I know this long path won't be easy. I know there will be setbacks, but whenever that happens, I'll just try again to make things right. We'll try again, right?"
Hard-workig and honest. Madara always thought his friend embodied those words like no one else he knew. Once again he was shown, how he had gotten that impression of him. Hahirama was standing in front of him, fully convinced by his own words. The last strays of sunlight danced on his face, before the sun completely laid herself to rest, until she would rise again tomorrow. How was he supposed to argue with him? To go up against him? Against someone who resembeld more a divine being than a mortal one?
"Right," Madara had to agree for now and with that the night had begun.
They left the cliffside together. The streets were illuminated by the lights coming from the windows of the surrounding houses. The stars were too shy to show themselves tonight. Hashirama just continued talking about his plans for the festival, how excited he was for his speech. Madara mostly listened to him, but he immediatly declined the offer to play any part in the opening ceremony. That would really go too far.
They parted ways soon. Hashirama walked home and Madara to his compound. The streets became emptier. He felt stares on his back. Somehow the lights of the houses became colder as well. The rising moon above looked down menacingly, taunting Madara. He began to walk faster, his breath quickened slightly.
He reached the compound. He still felt watched, even though not a single person was around him anymore. Was he being followed or did his mind pay a trick on him again? He activated his sharingan and looked around. Even with his enhanced sight his bloodred eyes could not detect any human motion in the darkness around him. He didn't know, whether he should be relieved or concerned about that. He was sure he felt someone's presense.
He decided to further investigate this at a different time. Maybe other clan members had noticed a similar phenomenon. He quickly made the way to his house. Technically it was too large for one person alone. Madara didn't find a use for many of the rooms so they were left untouched, empty. I didn't stay much inside anyway.
Now he needed to rest for the early summit tomorrow. It gave him headaches just to think about the Uchihan elders he was forced to meet again. He avoided them as much as he could. It was a contant struggle with those three. They knew too much, had too much power over him.
Madara went to his backyard. It was the only part he really liked about this house. The garden was big and the high walls and few trees created a private atmosphere. It was also the place, where he kept his two falcons. They were such beautiful creatures. So gracious and deadly. After feeding his little killers, he went back inside.
He noticed a particular scent that followed him around. It was earthy and yet the flowery touch made it light, like spring and autumn at the same time. Madara knew it by heart. He could identify this scent in a crowd of thousands. It was Hashirama's. The weak fragrance came from his clothes, from the sleeves, where the Senju had grabbed the thin fabric in the heat of the moment this evening. Like a warm coat it had covered his senses so Madara hadn't noticed it until now.
A familiar, yet unwanted longing awakened deep inside of him. This burning urge told him to smell it more, to let his nose wander around the dark fabric to grasp all the hidden nuances this alpha scent could offer. To let out his own to mix both of them, to combine them.
It was stupid. He was disgusted by these thoughts, because he knew exactly, why he had them.
Why did his body need to do this to him every now and then, to remind him about his primitive existence as an omega? Hashirama's scent should not be defiled like that. Especially not by someone as shameful as him. The weight that had been lifted from his shoulders for a short while came crashing down with its full might.
He knew what he was capable of. He had killed enough shinobi to be sure of his legendary fighting skills despite his cursed second gender. He had worked hard to overcome every hurdle on his way. He was still the leader of the Uchiha clan. His name alone made lesser enemies shake in absolute fear. He couldn't fall for the first alpha that smiled his way. He wasn't just some clueless omega. He never wanted to act like that.
He knew all of that, but now he felt weak, so disgustingly weak. Even though he had always fought hard, but failed too many times as if the universe wanted him to be miserable. He failed his father's expectations. He failed at protecting Izuna, failed to avenge him. He failed to become the first hokage. He couldn't even bring himself to save humanity from destroying itself because of some stupid unrequited crush.
He was truly the epitome of pathetic, but he still clung to his pride, his clan and his purpose. They needed him to be as strong as his father had been.
He roughly took his black tunic off, now left wearing the matching pants of the same color. He looked at the dark fabric in his hands. His whole upper body trembled out of anger. The short sleeves were still wrinkled. He wanted to rip them off. They made him feel like this, used Hashirama's pure scent against him to reminded him of his vile core.
Madara ran into his backyard again. He threw the black cloth onto the grass far enough away from the bird cage or any other trees. He focused on the chakra flow in his chest and moved his hands quickly. Dog, boar, tiger.
"Fire style: Fire bullet." In an instant, the tunic was consumed by red flames. A pillar of fire shot through the night. He could hear the falcons letting out a surpised cry due to the sudden light and heat. Next, the fire was gone again and left a dark circle of ash behind. Madara stepped closer and ran his right hand through the black and coaly reminders of his once short sleeved robe. It was still warm.
He wished he could burn everything he despised about himself to the ground just as easily.
A few meters away a creature hidden in absolute darkness was delighted to see the man in this desperate state. It had watched and followed the Uchiha the whole evening. It knew it just needed to wait a little while longer. The time was near.