Kindling

Tobirama slowly dipped the pail into the stream in front of the small cave they were staying in, using the extra time getting water brought him to cough into his hand, ivy leaves and spider lily petals sprinkled in the dark water, the color swiftly swept away into the darkening evening. The hanahaki was stable as it had been for years now and Tobirama had long since gotten used to the weight in his lungs, the pain of breathing around it was nothing new and Tobirama never let it slow him down (though he had had to fight far fewer enemies of great strength since forming the village, so who knows what damage Izuna could have done to him were the Uchiha alive), he certainly wasn’t going to start now.

With a faint sigh the albino scooped up the bucket and turned to the cave where Madara waited, half-mad (at best) and hating Tobirama more than words could say. Following Madara into his self-exile had been one of Tobirama’s more…impulsive moves but he stood by it, not only was there the hanahaki to think of but – well, Tobirama couldn’t let Madara wander alone (kami if he had been just a little less alone in the village maybe it never would have come to this) both for the Uchiha’s sake and the village they had built; after all who knew what Madara would do in his madness and what kind of retribution he would try to seek in his unstable attempts to do as his brother asked. If only it was Hashirama that had struck down Izuna and Tobirama had been able to reach out more to Madara things might have gone better but no, Madara’s closest person in the village had to be Hashirama – who was ever carless with his ‘loved ones’ and casually cruel with hearts entrusted to him, ever focused on the future and his ideals. Tobirama knew well what it was like to be one of the older Senju’s loved ones and the pain that came with entrusting Hashirama with your heart; he just wished that Madara had never had reason to discover it.

In the cave Madara was leaning back against the wall and didn’t so much as twitch when Tobirama entered- he was being ignored today then-, his eyes closed and body language shut off as the younger man moved around the space and started on dinner, though when Tobirama placed a bowl of rice and thin strips of marinated meat at his knee Madara dutifully picked it up and started eating. It was yet another reminder of why Tobirama was glad he had come along; what would Madara be eating? When would he sleep? Would he take any care of himself or just wander endlessly trying to out run all the things that Tobirama stood for (and that, that was the problem wasn’t it. There was just too much chance Tobirama was making things worse by haunting Madara’s footsteps as a constant reminder of his grief and failure to his brother; but what else could Tobirama have done? No one else was going to go after Madara and try to help him – and no matter what Madara did need help).

The soft click of the Uchiha’s chopsticks as he eat was calming as Tobirama settled down to do the same as far away as he could to give the other man more space. Somedays he felt like nothing more than a maid tending to a lord and it grated on Tobirama’s pride but…what else could he expect? He killed Izuna (he had to, Izuna would have done the same!...though Tobirama would never have been mourned like this, so maybe…) and represented everything about the village Madara was trying to get away from; the hate and isolation and ostracization and – Tobirama could admit that he could have done better in the beginning but was he really to be expected to just trust Madara like it was nothing? When he killed Izuna and Madara had fought so long against peace (with all the commitment he had never showed before his brother’s death, a stark difference now that he could see the other way)? No, Tobirama stood by his distrust and he had changed his attitude as soon as he was given a chance to see there was more to Madara than the warmonger – hells, he had even gone and developed fucking hanahaki for the man in time, with all that included and implied.

Oh Tobirama had tried his best to take care of Madara in the village and to show as many others as he could that there was more to the man (not that anyone listened to him much either, that would have need Hashirama and he….well) but Tobirama had never gotten very far with his attempts and minds had only grown more closed to Madara. And as they did the man deteriorated farther and grew increasingly unstable; his overwhelming, Sharingan backed grief eating at him and fed with his guilt and the distrust from the rest of his clan as he was pushed out and away by those that should have tried to help him most. But they hadn’t, no instead Madara had only the man that had killed his brother and a bright eyed child that happily dogged him as his support, and in time even the quiet nights in the Tower with sake and paperwork that had grown between them (had grown ivy and spider lily in Tobirama’s lungs) had withered in the face of Madara’s despair and growing instability. (Those had been bad days, Tobirama newly with hanahaki and bowled over with the strength of his emotions had struggled painfully with the sudden loss of the quiet hours between them that had allowed warmth to grow in him. That had been when the hanahaki had come closest to killing him until Tobirama had found a balance point and held himself there with the promise that he would still do everything he could for his – for Madara; but it had been painful to be given a little access and then have it stripped away no matter how much Tobirama had tried to understand.)

Done eating Tobirama gathered his things and Madara’s and left again to wash them, trying to think of something for him to think about- how long had it been since Tobirama was this idle?- other than Madara and the ache of the past; maybe the strange dissonance in his chakra? A dissonance that didn’t fit with just grief and pain, not even Sharingan backed grief; that conclusion had taken a long time to come to, but as the dissonance grew it had become more and more clear that it wasn’t natural to Madara’s heartbreak and that there must be something more going on, what exactly that was though still eluded Tobirama and thus so did any possible solutions.

With a sigh Tobirama sealed the eating implements again and stood from his crouch at the dark stream, returning to the cave and Madara with the same aching twist that he always felt when making his way back to the Uchiha (Tobirama would never regret what he had done but…it wasn’t easy). Inside Madara was sitting in the dark staring at a wall and Tobirama- after a small hesitation- moved to his side and started removing the older man’s armor, Madara not even deigning to notice him as each piece was removed and stacked against the wall for the night; it was a good day then if Madara was willing to let Tobirama so close and as the ache sank deeper in his chest Tobirama carefully turned his head to hide his cough, shoving flower petals into his cheek as he unfastened the final piece and wondered if he had the guts to try and brush Madara’s hair again – no, not tonight, he was tired and his heart was too bruised to bare that tonight, he could try again tomorrow. Always try again tomorrow.

(Madara watched Tobirama move away from him as from a great distance, a strange moment of clarity- the kind he only seemed to get when the albino was near- illuminating a flash of red on thin, pale lips as the Senju turned away and as ever he wondered, why? Why had Tobirama followed him and given up everything to dog the steps of a man who almost never spoke to him, why?)