Cuts (Madara)
He would never admit, that he was nervous. That would be a sign of weakness and Madara Uchiha never wanted to be associated with this word in any type or form. After his regular walk to the butcher to buy fresh meat for his falcons, he would have cleaned the floor and the windows early in the morning even without Hashirama's planned appearence this day.
Even though household chores hold a very high place on his personal hate list, he hadn't overcome his own bias for these activities, just because of the Senju, that would soon be standing on his doorstep. Absolutely not, definetely not.
Madara wasn't that messy. He was actually very obsessive, where his small collection of belongings had to be placed around the rooms, he stepped into. It was one of the few benefits of living alone. Izuna always let his things scattered around their home. He remembered kunais sticking in the ceiling and shuriken in the walls. Izuna liked to throw them everywhere, when his young mind started to wander.
In addition, he never admitted doing that, until Madara triumphantly caught him in the middle of the act one day. Izuna had often teased him about his pettiness afterwards, while the older brother scolded him to look after his things more carefully. It had been a constant back and forth between them.
Madara bit on his lower lip as he remembered the last time, they had playfull argued like that. Six days before Izuna was murdered. Just Six days. How much the older brother wished to have another meaningless argument now.
Nowadays, a small layer of dust fell on everything, after Madara hadn't touched anything inside for a few weeks, which made some parts of the house already seem abandoned. Some might say he was acting like a ghost in these walls, that were supposed to be his own.
Maybe some part of him hated this house more than he liked to admit, but Hashirama didn't have to get this impression today. He already knew the Senju was acting strange around him and he didn't need to add any form of pity into the mix.
Madara shook his head. What was going on? Why would he agonise over other's opinions? Madara wanted to smash his forhead into the wall just to think straight again. It shouldn't matter, what Hashirama thought of him. He shouldn't seek his approval, because it was worthless in the end. His view of the world was naively flawed. Peace was nothing, but an idealistic fantasy, uncapable to maintain for any person on this earth.
Human life was about loss. Every single one of them was losing something they had cared about in these constant wars for power. Let it be loved ones or arbitrary things like honour or empathy. Someone's loss is another one's gain. It was a circle, it would never stop, until someone put an end to it.
Madara knew all that and yet he wasn't willed to change that. He was sitting in this village, in this house, on this cleaned floor and just waiting to see the Senju, to talk to him. Hashirama would smile at him without any reason and the world around him would suddenly turn silent. Every conflict would be meaningless, just a little stain in an otherwise perfect place to be, nothing but an afterthought. Who was really the naive one then?
The urge got stronger to smash his head into the wood he could feel behind him, until blood started to paint the wall red, until the pain would be so overhelming, his brain would shut down and all of his thoughts would turn into the haze of the morning.
Breathe in, breathe out. Madara opened his eyes and looked around. He hadn't even noticed he had closed them. Madara felt like he had forgotten to do something important, but he didn't know what.
He needed to distract himself somehow. There were surely a few places he had forgotten to clean up...
He went into his kitchen to look for a teapot, he knew had to be in one of those cupboards. Hashirama liked to drink tea and Madara wanted to try to be a good host at least. The only problem was, Madara wasn't good at making tea. It was laughable. Weren't omegas supposed to be good at this kind of housework?
A small wave of weird satisfaction flooded his stomach nonetheless as he finally found the object made out of dark porcelain in the back of the wooden compartment. It was heavier and colder than he remembered. I wasn't an heirloom or anything of sentimental value, but it made Madara pause for a second, his eyes captivated by the shimmering surface. His own image looked back at him. If the circumstances had been different...
The pleasent feeling from before vanished and hot bubbles formed in his chest, his muscles tensed and his hands pushed harder and harder into the opposite sides of the teapot.
CRACK
Suddenly, there was no resistance anymore. The porcelain gave in and the teapot bursted in his hands. Around twenty shards fell to Madara's feet with numb thuds. Madara let his arms fall to his side. He looked down. He smirked at this destruction he had caused. Glee shimmered in his eyes. It had felt good, nearly relieving.
His blood froze, when he heard a knock in his front door. He had waited for this sound the whole morning and yet it shocked him somehow. The sound was like a hammer, hitting his skull directly again and again. The vibration went through every limb, bringing him back to reality, where he had just destroyed his possession for no good reason.
The shards! He picked them up as fast as he could, threw them into the corner of the room without looking and ran towards the frontdoor, where he waited for a few seconds, catching his breath and bringin his thoughts in line.
Breathe in and breathe out.
Madara slid the door to the side and was now face to face with him. He gulped, didn't say a single word, which was normal, but Hashirama also didn't. A pregnant pause, they looked eachother into the eyes. Madara became uncomfortable. Those warm eyes, this wide smile, this smooth hair, that was laying calmly on the Senju's shoulders. The green color of his clothes really complimented his skin tone.
What was he thinking?
"You are late, Hashirama," Madara eventually mumbled as he looked at the blue sky behind the Senju. It was an obvious lie, but Madara couldn't think of any other sentence at that moment. Time moved slower, whenever Madara was alone inside his head. This morning had turned into a week.
"Really? Sorry for letting you wait, Madara." Hashirama apologized.
Why was he doing that? Madara had just made that up, but Hashirama played along without any restraint holding him back. The Uchiha could only sigh. Didn't he have any pride to object to the wrong allegations? Madara often fought tooth and nail just to avoid admitting he had been in the wrong and Hashirama threw apologies around as if they weren't degrading and humiliating for a man of his renown.
"Sometimes you really confuse me." Madara let his thoughts out with a small laugh. Hashirama crooked his head to the left, his eyebrows were pushed together and some strands fell off from his shoulders due to the motion of the head.
"Did I do something wrong?" Hashirama asked him honestly. He really had no clue, what had irritated Madara. Why would he?
"Just forget it. Do you want to come in or are you just going to stand in front of my house for the rest of the day?" Madara turned around without closing the door, giving Hashirama the chance to follow him.
But just after a few steps, he stopped and hissed, as he felt a rising stinging pain on his left hand. The scent of iron filled the air, bitter, stinging and familiar for everyone, who had ever stood on a battlefield. Madara looked at his palm. Blood, a long cut was reaching across his hand. Crimson was slowly covering his pale skin of his palm, dripping onto the floor, he had just cleaned this day.
Why.... the teapot, the shards!
"Madara, is that blood?" Hashirama ran in front of him and took Madara's left hand without any warning. Instinctively, Madara flinched, yanked his hand out of Hashirama's grip and gave his friend a death stare. The Senju responded with a sympethatic look, eyes round and soft, a small smile on his lips.
"Please let me look at it." Hashirama's voice was like a blanket, full of warmth and comfort as if he was talking to a frightened animal or a child. Madara wanted to be deeply insulted by that, but he couldn't bring himself to it, because he knew deep down he was being irrational to refuse medical help. This knowledge however didn't stop him from trying again.
"I can take care of it on my own." Madara argued, while he pushed his left arm closer to his chest, covering his hand.
"I know, but I want to help anyway." Hashirama didn't gave in that easily.
"I don't need your help." Madara spit out, only realizing afterwards how harsh these words sounded.
"Please, Madara" Hashirama hold his right hand forward. 'Just let me do this for you'. Madara looked from his own hand, to Hashirama's, to his pleading look in his eyes. He felt so visable, so unraveled under this gaze, as if no secret was standing between them.
"Fine, but let's go inside first." Madara couldn't bring himself say no to Hashirama, just like so many other times before.
Hashirama took off his shoes and placed them in the entrance hall, never leaving Madara's left hand out of his sight. The Uchiha rolled his eyes. Hashirama shouldn't be so overly dramatic over a small cut. The pain wasn't even that bothering anymore, becoming numb and dull just like any other physical wound eventually had to. It had primarily been the initial shock, which had made him stop. He was a warrior.
Madara lead Hashirama through the hallway around the house towards the room he had prepared. The backyard was behind them now. The sound of leaves moving in the wind and birds chirping made this scene oddly idylic. A small table was in the middle and Madara wasted no time to sat down on the tatami mat cross-legged. He hold his left hand in the air, as he placed his chin on his right one. A gesture, that was meant as an invitation.
"Didn't you want to look at it?" Madara asked, as he tried to make his expression give the appearence of total indifference to the Senju, who was still standing in the hallway.
"Yes, of course. Thank you." Hashirama quickly entered the room and knelt down next to him. Hashirama's hands slowly touched Madara's outstreched left one. He surpressed another hiss as Hashirama moved his finger alongside the wound, inspecting it closely.
"How did this happen?" Hashirama asked, but Madara didn't answer.
"Madara?" Hashirama dug deeper, not letting his friend off the hook that easily.
"It was just an accident with a teapot." Madara's head snapped around as the half lie left his lips.
"I see," Hashirama said, clearly understanding the Uchiha didn't want to explain himself further, but happy to know at least something.
Little flames of green chakra engulfed his fingertips. Together they danced across Madara's palm, just a few milimeters away from eachother. The warmth was surprisingly pleasant. The cut closed itself within seconds, no scar remained on the tissue to tell everyone the story of today. Hashirama was not only known to be a talented warrior and leader, but also a prodigy in medical jutsu. The universe had gifted him splendidly.
And what did the universe made out of him? The leader of the Uchiha clan, whose own elders were against him? An omega, who wasn't even able to make tea? It would have been a great comedy, but Madara wasn't in a laughing mood.
"Luckily, it was a clean wound." Hashirama mentioned, as he was seemingly satisfied with his care.
A shiver went across Madara's back, remembering Izuna's ugly gash, infected within seconds on the dirty battlefield. The bloodloss, the high fever, no medical nin in their clan had been able to help him anymore.
Maybe Hashirama had been able to... It was such a nasty thought, that was whispering inside his head from time to time. He had never talked about the details of Izuna's cause of death with Hashirama. He didn't want certainty, whether the Senju could save a man with this lethal wound, whether he could have helped his dying brother.
The Uchiha simply didn't want to know, whether his pride and thirst for revenge had been the ultimate cause, that had doomed Izuna. Some things were better left unsaid. They do too much damage otherwise.
Madara noticed, how Hashirama still hold onto his hand, even after his work was done. His grip was warm and gentle, yet giving him stability like an anchor at the same time. The scent of the alpha so close to him comforted Madara's heavy mind. His chakra lingered in the air. Luckily, Hashirama overlooked the pinkish hue spreading out on Madara's face. The Uchiha turned his head in shame again before the other got another chance.
"Told you, it wasn't that bad." He cleared his throat and carefully retracted his hand. Hashirama's grip tightened a little bit, as if he wanted to hold onto him a little longer, before letting him ultimately go a second after. Madara told himself, that he must have imagined it. His omega brain had to be really desperate today.
No one said anything for a moment, but the silence didn't feel bad like before. It gave Madara time to breathe, to ignore his desire to grasp the Senju's hand again.
"You wanted to talk to me?" Madara changed the subject, taking a more comfortable position, leaning casually on both hands behind his back.
"Well... You just seemed really stressed after your clan meeting yesterday. And not stressed as in the usual way."
A small chuckle on Madara's behalf. Was it really that obvious? He thought he did a good enough job at hiding emotional baggadge. Apparently not good enough to fool Hashirama. He needed to work on that.
"If you need anyone to talk to... Just know I'm always here for you!" Hashirama spoke, while he looked at the table, his hands started figdeting, as if he struggled with his own words. But that couldn't be, Madara reasoned. Then Hashirama abrubtly moved his head to look at his friend directly.
"But you don't have to. I don't want to force you or anything. It is just an offer..." The Senju began blabbering, a strained smile forming on his face, as if he didn't know, whether he had just overstepped an unknown boundary between them. Gone was the serious man, who didn't budge an inch just to treat a small wound.
Madara hummed to signal, he was listening. This made Hashirama's mouth shut instantly. Madara didn't know, where he should take this conversation further. A part of him wanted to be honest, to finally spill out everything, that burdened him, to seek refuge in the alpha's promises of assured betterment. It certainly felt good to have someone think about his wellbeing for once. The other part of him knew better than to indulge in these childish fantasies. He didn't want to burden his friend with doubts he wouldn't- no- couldn't understand.
"It wasn't that bad." Madara seemed to repeat himself today. He eyed Hashirama, who clearly wasn't satisfied with this answer he got at all, but didn't want to rudely stop his friend after his first sentence into this topic.
"You really shouldn't break your mind about it." He tried to be more convincing this time, his voice firm and unshakeable. At least he wanted it to appear that way, but Hashirama's eyes only got smaller and smaller in disbelief.
"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you." Hashirama sighed, as he looked at the ceiling.
"Why?" Madara countered stubbornly, nearly brattish.
"Because I know you, Madara. I have seen the look on your face yesterday and the day before. Something is bothering you..." The Senju smiled sadly, as he whispered the next line.
"And I'm worried about you."
Why was Hashirama doing this to him? Why was trying so desperately to tear down these walls Madara had built around himself over the past years? He kept pushing and pushing, while Madara just wanted to keep everything together, trying to prevent the total collapse of the whole structure. Wasn't it laughable, how just one sentence of Hashirama could make him fluster so easily?
Alphas also weren't supposed to be worried about a mere beta. Why couldn't Hashirama act like he was supposed to, so Madara couldn't be tempted like this?
"Sorry, I said I don't want to force you." Hashirama, scratching the back of his head, quickly backpedaled. Another 'sorry' for the pile, but an impact had already been made. Madara gulped, while his mind was racing, searching for a way to navigate out of these dangerous waters without revealing something forbidden for the foreign ears.
"Look Hashirama..."
Luckily, before the Uchiha could put himself in an even worse situation, a bird screeched in the backyars behind them. Madara realized in that moment with dread, what he had forgotten to do this morning. He had bought and prepared the meat for his falcons, but he hadn't actually fed them. He had been too focused on Hashirama, his head hadn't been working correctly. He felt sorry, but couldn't hold back the wave of relief for this unlikely rescue.
"They are hungry." Madara jumped on both of his feet mechanically, taking this opportunity to escape this trap made out of questions without any hesitation. He fled the room and ran towards the kitchen, leaving a confused looking Hashirama behind. His heart pounded in his chest.
What just happened? Did he really...had he really considered telling Hashirama everything? That couldn't be true. He thought he had learned to handle these feelings, that made him act irrationally around Hashirama.
He didn't know, since when felt like this for his childhood friend. Had this developed during their secret meetings as children or was it the first time they stood in front of eachother as the respective leaders of their clans? He only knew all of it was wrong, so horribly wrong.
He tried to deny his crush in the beginning, banishing those thoughts into the farthest corner of his mind, but that only made it worse. Everytime they battled, everytime Hashirama's flowery scent clouded his mind, everytime those brown eyes caught his own, the longing only got worse. So much worse, it filled his head with images of a dreamlike reality, where the Senju could return those forbidden feelings.
But Hashirama was a respected alpha and the world around him wasn't known to fulfill wishes. He would eventually find a pretty little omega to play the part of his armcandy as it was expected of him. Madara shouldn't be as offended by this thought as much as he was.
Every other alpha clan leader was like that and Madara had promised himself, he would never be like his mother. Not even for Hashirama. His omegan side may have fallen for the Senju, but he himself did love his freedom more. He would never bow down to anyone.
But was his friend really like those other alphas? Madara's only reason for liking him in the first place, was that he was so different from any other person he ever met. His different ideals, unique ideas, new views on the world. They may be a little insane, but unlike any other. So why should he treat omegas the same?
But even then he would have to reveal his second gender...
Madara laughed cynically as he made his way to the kitchen again. What would be most shocking for his people? The revelation that their clan leader was a worthless omega or the fact, that he had fallen for not only an outsider, but the leader of their archenemies themselves? He truly embodied the worst of the worst, breaking two of the clan rules at the same time. Maybe the elders were right in some aspects about him.
The black shards in the corner of the room taunted him somehow as he entered the room. Madara wanted to grind them with his shoes, until they turned to nothing but pieces of dust. The knowledge, that Hashirama might have followed him here, made him reconsider. He grabbed the bowl with the cut rabbit meat and put it into the red feed box, that he connected to his waisband. Then put on the thick leather gloves that were lying next to it and left the kitchen on the same way.
In the backyard, he approached the wooden mew regrettfully. He grabbed a little piece of meat with his gloved right hand from the box and opened one side of the cage. The raptor inside lost no time to jump onto his hand and devoured the meat with his yellow beak. With his left hand Madara took another piece out of the box, in his mind apologizing to his animal without saying it out loud.
"Have you named the two of them yet?" Hashirama's voice reached his ears. The Senju had come out of the room and jumped into the garden, that was now in front of him. He was smiling, hands behind his back, making his way slowly towards Madara to not frighten the big bird on the other's hand.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Haven't thought of it." Another lie. Madara had often asked himself, whether he should name them, when he had spontanously bought them after Konoha's founding. It was an irrational decision, but he needed a reason to stay in this house. He decided against naming them. He didn't want to get too attached.
His father had gifted Madara a falcon, a few years after his presentation. He didn't do it out of love, but out of Uchihan tradition. The falcon was the sign of strength and wealth of their bloodline. To carry such a predator on your wrist, was the priviledge of the mighty, so every future clan leader at the age of fourteen was gifted one.
Madara had loved this bird, he began calling Yori. Just at the sight of her, he felt valitated as the heir, proud even. His constant fear, that his father would change his mind about him, was gone for a few weeks. In his free time, outside of battles and strategizing for the next one, he trained her, talked to her about things, he couldn't even trust Izuna with. She couldn't really help him with his doubts or give him life changing advice, but it felt good just to talk openly once in a while.
He should have seen it coming. He knew already, that the human life was about loss.
One night, the Uchihan compound was attacked by shinobi of unknown origin. They had many enemies, who wanted to take revenge. Madara didn't know to this day, who had thought, they could ambush the Uchiha and get out of it alive. They were fools. No major casualties were recorded on his side, but a few houses were set on fire, their house included. The flames also ingulfed Yori's mew, that was on the left side of his home.
Madara saw the ashes, after they had eliminated every attacker. They repaired the damages caused by the fire and moved on. Yori was just a bird after all. Madara declined his father's offer to buy another falcon. His Yori was gone out of his life just like that, just like his mother and siblings all those years ago. Just like his father would one year later. Just like Izuna...
"Can I suggest names?" Hashirama's question brought Madara's mind back into reality. The other's eyes were big, delight was nearly written on the Senju's forhead.
"I cannot stop you, can I?" Madara mumbled absentmindly as he grabbed another big peace of meat out of his box.
"How about this one being called... Mitsue!" Hashirama declared proudly, smirking from ear to ear like a four-year-old.
Surprisingly, he actually liked that name. A lot. It sounded strong and noble, but there was one problem. Madara laughed a little at the realisation.
"You don't like the name?" Hashirama pouted, misinterprating his laugh completely.
"No, Mitsue is a pretty name, but... isn't it female?"
"Do you mean... this one is a male? But he is so small! " Hashirama was in total disbelieve as he eyed the falcon on Madara's glove ones again.
"Yes, the smaller size is actually an indicator, that it's a male of his species." Madara corrected his friend's assumption. He continued on the differentiating color patterns between the two sexes for a few minutes, he descibed how male falcons had a grey head, while female one's were more reddish and brown, before realizing, what he was doing.
"You probably didn't want to hear all that." Madara stopped his biology lecture.
"No, no! It was facinating. You really know much about these birds" Hashirama reassured the selfconscious Uchiha.
"And I think Kin would suit him very well." Hashirama added with the same enthusiasm as before.
"Then he shall be named Kin." Madara concluded, but not fully sure, how he should feel about this procedure. All he could say, it felt good to make Hashirama laugh, like he did right now. Kin spread his wings, showcasing the golden hue in his feathers. He was now fed for today and hopped back into the mew, where it would be dark and warm.
Madara closed the door and walked to the other side of the wooden cage to feed his other little companion.
"Do you want to feed the other one?" Madara asked all of the sudden.
"Can I?" Hashirama's scent was telling the Uchiha, how much this spontaneous offer had made the other explode with excitement on the inside. He turned around again to see a little flame spark in those beautiful eyes, the Senju had. He felt giddy like a schoolgirl. This was embarrassing. The Senju was sometimes so easy to read. Madara took of his gloves and handed them to his friend. The feed box followed.
"Just hold your hand forward and be confident!" Madara ordered, as he opened the cage. The compared to the other one bigger falcon immediatelly flew onto Hashirama's gloved hand, who was trying to hide his nervousness. It was an amusing sight.
"Now take a piece of meat out of the box."
Hashirama followed Madara's commands a concentrated look on his face.
"So this one is a female, right?" Hashirama asked. Madara simply nodded, as he watched the Senju's interaction with the raptor.
"Do you want to name this one Mitsue?" Madara asked, but Hashirma declined, reasoning that name wouldn't fit this bird.
"She looks like a Haya to me." The Senju said, as if there was a science behind naming birds.
"Haya and Kin..." Madara mumbled, seeing these now named birds somehow from a new perspective.
This felt a lot better than their conversation from before. It didn't feel forced, he didn't feel cornered. He was just spending his time with his best friend, doing mundane tasks, laughing together. The world around him didn't matter around him. It was silent inside his head. He was calm for once.
Madara knew, Hashirama was supposed to fly freely, to be above the misery, this world could cause. It would have been wrong to tell his friends about his doubts. He would have bound him down with him, make him unable to imagine.
After devouring several pieces of rabbit, also Haya jumped back into the mew to rest. Madara closed the door. He took the feeding box and the gloves from the Senju and planning to bring them back to the kitchen.
"We can continue or talk inside, if you want. But there is nothing I hide from you about yesterday's meeting." Madara said this while laughing. It was meant as a small joke, to lighten the mood, make Hashirama show his blending smile once again, but the other suddenly grabbed his sleeve as he was about to go.
"What is it?" Madara saw the other's eyes go sad and regretful. This wasn't right. Had he said someting wrong? Everything had been fine just a moment ago. How could the mood change this quickly?
"There is something I need to tell you, Madara. Right now. I should have told you yesterday"
This was wrong, he felt it. Madara wanted to run away again, to flee from this scene. He didn't wan to hear, what Hashirama wanted to tell him, but there was no distraction, that could safe him this time.
"Madara, I...I lied!"
And Madara understood. He heard something shatter in the distance. Or was it nearby? His eyes turned wide, his arms and legs failed to do anything. The wind stopped, no plant or animal dared to make a sound. Everything surrounding them was electrified by the sudden tension, that this confession had caused.
Hashirama's hands may be able to heal wounds on the outside, but Madara already knew that. Just now he had found out how horribly his tongue could cut you on the inside without needing to spill a single drop of blood to hurt.
And it hurt so very much.