Kindling

Madara rubbed at the frigid ache in his chest and breathed carefully through the bitter numbness, turning halfway through his step and heading in a different direction back towards Tobirama’s office, maybe the albino could distract him from wondering if his soulmate was dead. He had spent more time with the younger Senju in the last few weeks than he had in the last year, Hashirama refusing to send his brother on any missions until he knew why the Fenghuang was weeping for him (Madara had to agree with the choice, it was an increasing worry that the Fenghuang was still crying and Madara was…worried, about the younger Senju) and the Fenghuang herself seeming to do her best to make sure her favorite two people were in the same room as much as possible which meant that for once Madara was around Tobirama for a lot of time and it was….uncomfortable. Not only did Madara now know that Tobirama wasn’t a cold, heartless bastard he now knew that Tobirama- though he could throw up a good front and be as cold as the ice in Madara’s chest when it suited him- was kind and clever and curious, he was bright and intelligent and treated Madara like an equal. He didn’t fear Madara and he wasn’t wary of Madara’s temper (though it did seem to shut him down a bit so Madara was working on raising his voice less) and he challenged Madara, made him think and innovate and just – being around Tobirama was rewarding in a way Madara had never expected and he…regretted a bit that it had taken so long for him to get his head out of his ass and actually look at Tobirama (though it helped a lot that Tobirama was no longer trying to make himself invisible in the village – it was hard to do that with a giant Fenghuang on his shoulder. And yes, when Madara had put together what Tobirama had been doing he had been more than a little unnerved, and why hadn’t Hashirama noticed?).

In his office Tobirama was bent over tall stack of forms, his elegant, slightly too thin hands moving over the paper in a constant flow that Madara rather admired. The Uchiha smiled slightly as he moved to lean on the doorway as he watched and his hand fell away from his chest; Tobirama still looked tired but it was a bit better than before so the Fenghuang must be helping a bit which was a relief. On the back of the albino’s chair the Fenghuang stirred and pulled her head out from under her wing to look at Madara but didn’t chirp in welcome as she normally did, apparently aware that Madara was waiting to see how long it would take for Tobirama to notice him (and yes, Madara was pleased that the sensor was so comfortable with Madara’s chakra to not have it disturbed him. It was a little shocking that it didn’t but Madara was still pleased). Madara wished vaguely that he knew what to call the Fenghuang, she definitely had a name- no creature with eyes that intelligent didn’t- but there was no way for Madara to know it and without knowing he didn’t know what to call her, and she was a divinemessenger, it didn’t feel right to call her by something they chose for her so she continued to just be the Fenghuang.

“Madara” Tobirama’s tired, faintly startled voice pulled Madara out of his thoughts and he looked at the albino blinking softly at him, and he spoke before he had a chance to think (he seemed to do that a lot with Tobirama), “What do you think her name is?” Tobirama blinked again and Madara noted absently that the albino hadn’t darkened his lashes today, he must have been planning to spend the day inside. Tobirama cocked his head and looked at the Fenghuang with a considering expression “She must already have one and it seems a bit…blasphemous to name her ourselves doesn’t it?” the albino asked, echoing Madara’s thoughts with the accuracy that Madara was beginning to expect with him. “Agreed, well maybe she will find a way to communicate with us at some point” Madara murmured, pushing off the doorframe and wandering farther into the office “lunch?” and Tobirama’s movements stuttered as he blinked at Madara again, swallowing and licking his lips in a flash of pink before nodding slowly at the Uchiha who smirked at him and waited for Tobirama to finish cleaning his brush and cap his ink before turning and leading the way out of the office, shoving down his own surprise at his invitation. Still better than eating on his own on a bad day like this (on days when he couldn’t stop wondering if the snap had been his soulmate dying when it was followed by the endless numbness) and he already felt a bit better.

Madara snorted a laugh as Tobirama finished his anecdote about the Nara, gesturing with one elegant hand as the other absently stirred the rice from his dinner with the long black chopsticks that the café used. The first bit of lunch had been mildly awkward as Tobirama retreated back into his cold mask but between the Fenghuang’s quiet song and Madara being patient it was chipped away and the clever, vivid man that so often hid within came back into view to Madara’s increasing delight. Encouraging Tobirama to continue when his words faltered or he flinched like he was expecting something Madara didn’t know about was its own kind of joy and Madara wasn’t sure he had ever felt as strong and vital as he did coaxing Tobirama into being comfortable with him; Madara didn’t normally think of himself as a kind man and yet for Tobirama….somehow it was just different.

“-and then they started dyeing all their sheep black as soon as the fleece started growing!” Tobirama finished, his eyes bright and lively on Madara’s face like he didn’t even notice that the Fenghuang had stopped singing and started weeping on him again and Madara felt his eyes sting with the need to activate the Sharingan as his breath caught. It was a perfect moment suspended in amber and then – out of nowhere Tobirama’s head snapped to the west to look out the window and a blink later he was lunging over the table as the window broke, knocking Madara out of his chair to the floor and sending the Fenghuang flying as chairs were overturned. Madara swore and shifted, patting at Tobirama and realizing as he did that the albino wasn’t moving, too still and – the hand Madara used to pat his side was wet.

Madara stared at his hands in the hospital, wishing the Fenghuang would come back and heal Tobirama for real; but the bird was gone after the assailant that had fired a crossbow at Madara, an attack that would have killed him had Tobirama not shoved him out of the way and now…now the Fenghuang was gone and Tobirama was struggling– and slowly failing- to live. Dimly Madara realized his hand was shaking, and blurry he stared at his shivering fingers as his chest burned; a big hand imposed in his view, closing his shaking fingers and Madara looked up at Hashirama, his old friend pale and drawn as he stood in front of the partially open door to Tobirama’s room. “How is he?” Madara asked and Hashirama sighed, rubbing his face and shaking his head “If the phoenix doesn’t return….” he trailed off and then tried again “any word on who did it?”

 “Not yet” Madara muttered “the clans are on it and the Inuzuka have dogs on the trail but, well, there are a lot of people that might want to kill me. Probably a villager with a grudge given that Tobir-Tobriama didn’t notice anything util it was almost too late.” Hashirama grimaced and shook his head, turning to head down the hall without another word as Mito beckoned him away to clean up before hesitating and Madara said gruffly “I’ll keep an eye on him” to his back, stiffly standing to go into Tobirama’s room as Hashirama continued away. In the room Tobirama had the gray, washed out color of the gravely wounded even after hours of Hashirama slaving over him; the albino looked thin and broken and Madara’s breath shook as he looked down at the sleeping face. Convulsively Madara looked away, his eyes landing on the pile of Tobirama’s cut up clothing and the long silver chain piled on it with a bright, flickering opal nearly glowing against the black cloth.

There was something about that stone. Something…..Madara brushed a finger over the chain without even realizing he had crossed the distance and- as if in a trance- he slowly reached for the opal. His ungloved fingers (his gloves had been soaked in blood and were long gone now) touched the stone and a sudden warmth bloomed in Madara, washing away the numbness and sending comfort spilling through the Uchiha as he grabbed up the stone, suddenly sure of what this was though not how. How had a stone with his soulbond ended up in Tobirama’s possession-? How-? Madara turned to the unconscious man and felt something in him shift, like a great creaking glacier an idea started growing in his mind; there was no way though (but, why not?), no way that Tobirama was Madara’s soulmate (why not?), right? Madara would know (would he? How long had it taken to actually see Tobirama without preconceptions and masks?), he had to know (how? Tobirama would never have told him, not after how Madara had treated him at the start, after the damage Madara was just beginning to see), how could it be Tobirama, that made no sense (didn’t it though? Who made him feel alive and kind and good and calmed him and made him laugh and-); that made no sense except for how it did.

It did. it – and oh, what would make a Fenghuang cry more than a broken soulbond? But…why? Or not….Madara was not unaware, he could see reasons why, reasons that made the anger rising in Madara’s breast splutter and bank (he wanted to rage, who was Tobirama to chose what was best for Madara and take away his right to a proper soulbond! How dare he take away Madara’s choice and right and Madara could guess what the stone was for and to violate Madara’s fate like that-! To think that he knew better than the gods and had the right to-! But….reasons, Tobirama was so damaged and though the Fenghuang had been helping he was still so hurt Madara was sure Tobirama didn’t see the world the way the Uchiha did).

Swallowing hard Madara moved around the bed and took Tobirama’s slender hand, the opal pressed between their hands and sending blissful warmth and solace through Madara as it resonated with them. Shuddering Madara collapsed forward to lean his forehead on Tobirama’s shoulder, trying to adjust to the waves of downy tenderness washing over him (kami, if this was just a reflection of what they could have what would Madara do to fix their bond? And how would he survive it when he did) as he sorted through his thoughts (why? Why had Tobirama done it? why when he did?) remembering as he scoured his memory that day when his soulbond broke (arguing with the elders and saying things he didn’t really believe even then) and – wait, (though it was convenient that the Elders think he still hated the albino Senju Madara really hoped no one else had heard him yelling as it would damage the work Madara was putting into working with Tobirama.) oh. no. no. not that. please let Tobirama not have heard – and yet the timing….kami no wonder-!

Madara grit his teeth hard and shifted to press the pale hand to his lips as his eyes stung painfully, the chill of Tobirama’s skin reminding the Uchiha that this might not even matter anymore, not now that Tobirama was dying.