Confessions (Hashirama)
Hashirama had sought out his favorite Izakaya not far from Konoha's main street. He wanted this evening to fade away. Drift away like smoke. The shop in question appeared small on the outside but surprised its visitors with its spaciousness once they stepped inside. The owners were a bonded pair of a female alpha and omega, that had moved to Konoha not too long ago.
Contentment flooded the Hokage's mind as he pushed the sliding door of red pine out of his way and stepped into the warmth of the inviting bar.
This evening, the dancing and singing crowd on the streets still could be heard inside, but the sound was quieter, duller. The Izakaya was filled with people as well. They were chattering and cheering. Some were playing card games, and others drinking and filling their stomachs wit various snacks. The air carried laughter and drunken shouting next to the smell of grilled meats and fried vegetables to Hashirama's senses. Familial charm clung to the walls as the smells made his mouth water and the sound of happy costumers his heart soar.
Pheromones of alphas, betas, and omegas signaling bliss and serenity, despite all the hustle and bustle inside and out, reached Hashirama's nose.
It was nice. It was peaceful. He could stay here for a while.
The Hokage had quickly spotted his usual place, luckily still unoccupied, and was immediately surrounded by people. A waiter, smiling brightly, danced through the crowd and brought him a little bowl of salted soybeans. Other guests didn't wait either and sat down around his little table, ready for a conversation.
They congratulated him for Konoha's success and thanked him for Konoha's peace after years of war and terror. Hashirama knew he wouldn't be able to remember their faces the next day. He had talked to too many strangers already, but everyone was a human being that deserved to be seen. He had learned that these interactions weren't really about him anymore.
Hashirama listened to their words and worries with open an open heart and curious ears.He liked to think it differentiated him from his father, who had only eyes for himself. For his goals. For his nemesis. For his war. He tried to be better than that but something still egged him on. His head slowly tuned out of the conversations. Inside his chest was a heart pounding that yearned for another sitting by his side. Maybe he also had eyes only for his own desires at the moment if he were to confess them.
He raised his hand and ordered a drink as he had planned. One cup of sake turned into two. Two turned into four. He hadn't continued counting after the eighth. It was really easy to gobble them up with his nice company. His head started to turn fuzzy. He needed his opposites to speak louder, repeat their chains of words because they didn't make so much sense than half an hour ago.
Hashirama Senju had got to know about his two phases of drunkness. The first, he had learned, was the miserable one. All his sorrows and worries were amplified to the tenth. His body became a sweaty and uncomfortable shell, in which the alpha had been imprisoned.
Luckily, it didn't take many drinks to get from the first phase to the second. Not even today.
His second face of drunkness he enjoyed a lot more. The trepidation building up in his stomach during phase one melted into a puddle of pleasent dizziness. He would giggle at the weirdest of jokes. He would cry out at the smallest of offenses and pout like a child afterward. His scent would make him readable as an open scroll.
Now he was already deep into phase two. He hadn't drunk so much in years, afraid his loosened tongue would spell out every secret the Hokage treasured. The notion that the headache he would have tomorrow would hurt even more than the one he did have this morning didn't bother him as much as it probably should. Maybe he wouldn't remember a single thing when he woke up. The night before leaving behind nothing but a blank period in his memory. In his giddy, unreasonable drunken mind, Hashirama was okay with that.
His own laughter was boisterous as all the hesitance had been washed away by the saccharine alcohol. His spirit always got lighter when sorrows were drowned and far away. Time seemed to slow down and the lights around the bar washed together into a muddled arrangement of hues.
Red, blue, purple, green, black, and yellow. Like a kaleidoscope of colors spinning around him. He was happy, relieved. Life was breathtakingly easy all of the sudden.
The hours flew by and the people began saying their goodbyes, leaving the bar. Leaving Hashirama alone once more. The music outside started to die down. He must have been here for a while, but time felt viscous, stretchy like honey with him stuck in his spot in time and space. He ordered another drink, which the waiter gladly provided.
A woman who had sat across from him earlier had now come over and had asked if he was alright. She had come in shortly after him on her own. Alone just like him. She had not approached him before this, kept her distance. Only shy glances were thrown his way for a few moments.
She repeated her question, whether he was alright. Hashirama hadn't given a response the first time, but he tried to do better now.
After her second attempt, the question got answered in a garbled mumble that didn't sound like a real response anymore. She had just nodded sympathetically in return. She looked strange, but Hashirama couldn't really put his uneasiness into words. She looked like she didn't belong there.
He laughed out. Maybe he had drunk so much that he was starting to see things. Started seeing water spirits where there were none.
"You look a bit unwell, Lord Hokage" she had said, a flowery scent of lilies got Hashirama to focus. She was an omega. A very beautiful omega now that he started to look, to focus on looking instead of drinking and speaking. He especially like her long black hair, but he didn't ponder on the reason why.
"I feel... fine?" Hashirama said, unsure. His eyelids felt heavy. He wanted to puke.
She chuckled and looked at the waiter, but he wasn't in sight, before turning back to Hashirama. "Are you sure? You don't seem too well."
Hashirama frowned as if he had thought for the answer for longer than necessary. This is what happened when one drank too much. The world around one spun and spun.
"Actually, I'm not so sure anymore." He confessed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The inside of his mouth felt acrid. She took his free hand with her own. Her skin was frigid. Something was very wrong.
She advanced, leaning over the table to him and Hashirama eyed her. His expression had to look unexpectedly hostile considering how she stilled immediately.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare-"
The omega's compassionate, sweet expression turned into the one of a cold-blooded killer. Her eyes twitched. She jumped over the table, closing the gap between their bodies and greedily grabbing the front of his throat. Hashirama's body slammed into the tatami mat, head first. He was too drunk to respond within the time frame given to him.
His world spun. Through the hazy mist, metal flashed up. A blade in the omega's hand aimed straight t his chest. Someone screamed.
Then, he saw red. Only red.
Warm liquid fell on his face. The omega's scent intensified. Her blood was filled with pheromones screaming violence and the urge to kill.
He blinked. Once. Twice. A third time. Then the knife fell to the ground next to him. It landed on the floor with a soft thud. Clean.
The omega's body slumped down on top of him. Behind her, looking proud but slightly out of breath, was Madara. His grip was tight around the sword which had cut through the girl's rib cage with ease and expertise. His eyes were fiery red, a raging tornado of flames.
Madara pulled out the blade swiftly. Smoke covered the girl's body. It had been a Henge. A masked person, cloaked with clothes that would have made them invisible in front of the dark sky, popped out of the smoke. They coughed, trembled. Falling over, lifeless. It had been a quick death.
Hashirama pushed the corpse off. The mixture of a groan and a sigh left his mouth. His mind was lagging behind, not being able to completely understand what just had happened.
"Are you injured, Hashirama?"
Hashirama's heart fluttered at Madara's deep voice. He looked up at the other clanhead's face. Pearls of sweat ran down his temples. He looked dreamlike.
"You look good." Hashirama slurred an honest grin on his face and a dreamy stare. He clearly had already forgotten the life-threatening situation seconds ago.
"I don't have time for your nonsense, Hashirama. Didn't you realize you were just attacked? You could have died, you bonehead! Are you hurt?" Hashirama shook his head.
Madara glanced at the multiple bowls on top of the table in front of the drunk Hokage.
"How much did you drink?" Madara sounded exhausted. Hashirama didn't know whether he was imagining his friend to be here. He didn't act like that under normal circumstances. He was usually calmer and more collected.
"More than... eight? Nine?" Hashirama wasn't so sure anymore. "Didn't count."
He tried to stand up, but his wobbly legs gave in. Madara's hand was quickly under his shoulder and supporting his weight. Hashirama sat up and leaned in without giving it much thought. He caught a glimpse of Madara's neck.
What he would give to scent Madara right here and now. Digging in deep to find traces of Madara's own scent, suppressed by the beta's chakra. To unravel that mystery once and for all. For the beta to smell like him and just like him. He quickly relocated his eyes to his friend's face and concentrating on the important things. His chest quavered as he noticed that Madara was bleeding on his cheek. Three thin lines had been scratched into his skin.
He reached out to touch them. Madara flinched, moving his face away.
"I'll tell you when you're sober again."
"I'm... fine. You can... tell me." Hashirama wrinkled his forehead to make it more believable. It didn't work.
"You have really great timing for drinking your brains out. I really can't leave you for one day without you going haywire. Did you know how long I've been looking for you?" Madara sighed. He didn't seem angry, but more stressed out. His movements were more erratic not as smooth as they could be. He looked around. Hashirama knew that glare. He was checking the area for possible threats.
"Let me get you home first." Madara's eyes returned back to his.
Hashirama shook his head vigorously, pouting. "I want to stay!"
"This is not up for debate. And don't give me that look. You'll thank me tomorrow."
Hashirama wanted to argue again, but then he looked at the assasin's corpse on the ground. Maybe continued drinking wasn't the best idea at the moment. Hashirama's sense of reason hadn't been smothered by the sake, just slowed down. By a large margin.
The only thing that came out of Hashirama was a pathetic whimper. He closed his eyes.
The alpha gave in.
Madara helped him off the floor and into a standing position.
"Come on." He dragged the alpha towards the door. He heard Madara speak to the distressed owners. Something about 'cleaning up the body', 'Paying at a later date' , and 'Sorry about the inconvenience.
They exited the bar. The streets were not as busy as before but people were still roaming about. Some turned around gave the pair distressed looks. Hashirama's confusion was extinguished by the fact, that he probabably had blood all over his face.
Madara pulled Hashirama's body along toward the Senju compound. Hashirama payed only attention to his feet to not trip. Meanwhile Madara was looking left and right to scan the area. They quickly left the main street to avoid the stares of civilians.
"Are you still angry with me?" Hashirama asked in a sudden rush of clarity.
"Of course, I'm still angry. You lied to me about the future of the village."
"You came to save me." A loud scoff from beside him caused Hashirama to blink a few times, but Madara didn't object.
"I won't let my best friend die because I'm angry at him. Alcohol makes you more delusional if you think that."
Hashirama's face flushed hotly at recognizing the word friend. The warmth of the night air burned against his face. His heartbeat became a little faster.
"I wanted to talk about what happened yesterday. With you."
"Just shut up about it. I'm just going to get mad again. And I have more important things to worry about now, dear Hokage."
"I'm sorry that I lied to you," Hashirama said. "I'm sorry that I broke your trust. That's what I wanted to say."
"I'm not talking with you about this when you're drunk," Madara said.
His dismissive attitude hurt a little bit. But Hashirama was staying determined. He had thought about his apology to Madara for hours the night prior.
"I've already informed the elders that there won't be any marriage."
"That's- " Madara looked at him with raised eyebrows." That's good." He gave him one warning look a second later. "Don't lie to me about such things in the future."
"Well, I have to make another confession then," Hashirama said. Madara's approval felt better than any cup of sake ever had this entire evening.
"Hashirama, if you have already made any other deals without consulting me first-"
"I think I'm in love with you." Hashirama slurred. The words came flooding out of him, out of the blue, It felt good to let it out. Drunken Hashirama's mind was flooded with a wave of warmth and fizziness tingled in his stomach.
Madara stopped in his tracks. His head turned to Hashirama instead of the surrounding area which had still observed like a hawk. His eyes were wide. They were as dark as the midnight sky above their heads. Hashirama would have sworn he even saw little bright spots twinkling. Stars shining in Madara's beautiful soul. He looked so stunningly gorgeous and Hashirama just knew he was going to do something stupid like kiss him if Madara didn't respond soon.
"You're really drunk." Madara stated. The stars in his eyes disappeared as dark clouds appeared out of nowhere. A tempest was gathering in Madara. The edges of Madara's face got sharper, harder. A scowl took over. He pushed him away. The alpha panicked. He didn't want to be rejected by the person he cared so much about.
"No! Yeah, I mean I am drunk but I'm telling the truth." Hashirama insisted. His head hurt. He moved into Madara's personal space. "Don't you smell my honesty in my pheromones?"
The frown on Madara's face deepened. The darkness seemed gloomier somehow. "You are drunk. Stop saying things you won't even remember tomorrow."
"What? No! That's not how it is!" Hashirama protested, throwing his entire body against his best friend's chest, wrapping his arms around his torso. An uncomfortable hug for both parties involved. This time Madara didn't push him away though. Hashirama's nerves calmed down.
"I'm sorry for making you upset," Hashirama mumbled. "Again." He added once he heard Madara sigh.
"Just stop apologizing. Just..." Madara's voice got quieter. He bit his lips "Just stop playing with my emotions like that."
Hashirama stayed in Madara's embrace for several seconds, his empathy told him that Madara's words were more important than he understood at the moment, but they were drifting away from his consciousness already. He grabbed onto them, trying to not forget them. They were important. Madara had just shown a vulnerable part of himself that Hashirama had not seen before. He couldn't forget.
He began whispering. "When I got the marriage proposal all I could think about was you. You were always on my... my mind."
"Just stop." Madara answered.
"Today, during the festival, during the com-competition, I just wanted to share it with you. No one else." Hashirama continued, clinging to Madara.
"We are in public. Get a grip on yourself now." Madara said coldly, sounding distant. He had closed himself off so quickly. As if the words before had been a slip-up. As if he hadn't meant to be that vulnerable.
A faraway luminary that turned out to be a shooting start. Hashirama tried to reach him. But it was burned up to ashes before he had gotten close.
They heard footsteps, and both of them tensed.
Madara pushed at Hashirama's shoulder and glared at him with a look he never thought he would see again. It wasn't just anger. It held an intrinsic fear. But Hashirama didn't know what Madara was scared of.
"You found him." Tobirama's voice cut through the tension.
"He was in a little bar near the main street. Seconds away from being cut open." Madara said reproachfully.
"He didn't tell me where he went. He wanted to be alone." Tobirama said, looking irritated at Madara's accusatory tone.
"And you just let him go apparently."
"I held the believe that Hashirama can take care of himself."
Why did these two always have to argue?
"Stop," Hashirama whined. "I'm well. Nothing happened." He stood upright now, wobbling slightly, but steadied himself by grabbing onto Madara's arm. Tobirama rolled his eyes.
"He was barely aware enough to even walk," Madara muttered. "He's totally drunk."
"Then let me get him back to the estate before someone sees us out here," Tobirama concluded, red sceptical eyes on his brother. "A Hokage shouldn't be seen in such a state. He needs to be respected."
Now, even Hashirama felt annoyed.
"Hashirama, you should probably sleep it off." Madara turned towards him. His expression was unreadable. Hashirama wondered, were the stars in his eyes went. He missed them.
"I'm feeling fine," Hashirama said stubbornly.
"No, you don't," Madara said objectively, before turning his head towards the other alpha once again.
"You'll bring him home and I'll search the area for any other suspicious activities."
For once, Tobirama and Madara seemed to agree on something. He pushed Hashirama's body towards Tobirama. Hashirama missed Madara's warmth immediately. His head could have been split in half. It felt like it anyway.
He watched Madara turning his back to them, jumping away. Hashirama wanted to follow him, chase him, confront him with his feelings once more. Drunken overconfidence. He had meant every word said to him. He loved him and Madara hadn't believed them.
Madara thought he had lied to him again.
His eyelids felt heavy. Tobirama guided him back towards the Senju compound. He stayed silent, brooding. Hashirama's grew more tired with every step. They had nothing to say to each other. The longing in Hashirama's chest morphed into a sickness. He felt ill. He hadn't felt like this when Madara had carried him.
In his home, he promptly fell asleep while hoping he would remember everything that had happened this evening. He wished he wouldn't forget his confession. The world wouldn't be that cruel, would it?.