Chapter Text
A quiet rustling, accompanied by the shifting of a warm body pulled Tobirama from the light doze he’d slipped into. He slowly blinked his eyes open as they adjusted to the dancing rays of sunlight filtering through the swaying leaves of the tree he was seated beneath. Another shift, a soft murmur, and his attention turned to the man whose head was currently settled on his thigh.
For a moment, Tobirama could only marvel, as he’d done on several occasions before, on how his life had evolved in such unexpected ways.
If anyone had told him ten – even five – years ago that he would one day be relaxing in a peaceful meadow with Uchiha Madara, of all people, napping on his lap…well, his response most certainly would not have been pleasant, to say the least. Now though…now, he felt nothing but a radiant warmth in his chest as he gazed upon the man who had once been his most hated enemy; expression soft as he delicately brushed his fingers through the voluminous mane that was splayed across his legs.
It still amazed him that they’d somehow found themselves here, after everything that had happened between them. It had already been months since the day that had officially begun this new journey together (a day Tobirama held fondly in his memories), and still, he marvelled – often found himself in quiet awe of the way their relationship had slowly evolved to… this.
(Slowly was an understatement, truly. They'd been moving at practically a snail's pace as they carefully navigated this new dynamic – both acutely aware of their volatile past, and wary about tripping dormant landmines that could destroy this new…thing between them.)
This tender, beautiful thing that Tobirama had never dared dream of having, even as his heart had yearned for it beyond words.
Even now, he almost couldn’t believe he was allowed such intimacies as this – that he was now allowed to touch, to hold. It was something so simple; something others might view as the most basic of expectations in such a relationship, but to Tobirama, moments like these were cherished treasures. Each little brush of hands, each time their fingers laced together, each gentle caress they shared – each one filled him with awestruck warmth, as he keenly remembered a time when even the smallest of interactions had once been unwanted.
Madara was a man who kept his guard up at all times – he very rarely let people close to him, and in the not too distant past, Tobirama had been the last person he’d ever let his guard down around. The fact that somewhere along the way, he had decided to let Tobirama in to this extent – that he now trusted him enough to relax, to sleep in his presence – was a testament in itself as to how far they’d come from where they’d begun, and it was enough to fill Tobirama’s heart with an emotion so deep, it almost terrified him in its intensity.
Another sound from his paramour brought Tobirama out of his reverie, and he stiffened reflexively when a certain name spilled from Madara’s lips; the pleasant warmth that had been filling his heart instantly replaced by cold dread. Forcing himself to breathe, Tobirama exhaled shakily and gradually coaxed his fingers to release the lock of hair he’d unconsciously grasped in his surprise. He hadn’t expected to hear—
“I’m sorry Izuna, I–”
Tobirama frowned; hand frozen in raven tresses. He hadn’t heard Madara speak that name in years. It had sort of become an unspoken agreement – after one too many violent confrontations in the early years of Konoha’s founding – to avoid any and all mention of that name, as well as the associated… incident, between them. At the time, it had been the only way to maintain any semblance of peace in the office (and the village, by extension), and honestly, Tobirama had been only too willing to do whatever it took to put an end to the incessant reminders of what he had eventually come to view as one of his biggest failings. Madara’s constant grief-fuelled vituperation towards him had only cut deeper into the bleeding wound Hashirama’s simmering disappointment had already left upon his heart, and it had taken everything in Tobirama’s willpower not to collapse under the weight of it all.
But now that wound was being torn open again in the most unexpected of ways, and Tobirama didn’t know how to react. Hearing Madara speak that name now, in what should have been a tender moment between them, was like a jarring wake up call. It was almost as though the gods were taunting him – judging him for daring to seek his own happiness for once; reminding him that he had no right to even long for such a thing. Especially not with the man before him. Not after—
“Forgive me, brother…”
Tobirama’s frown deepened at the mumbled words spilling from Madara’s lips, and at the way the Uchiha’s previously serene expression now crumpled into one of distress. It pained him to see that even in his dreams, Madara was still plagued by the loss of his brother, and he felt the icy tendrils of guilt creeping up his spine yet again at the revelation. Swallowing the lump of emotion in his throat, he forced himself into action. He needed to wake the Uchiha.
It wasn’t wise to suddenly wake a sleeping shinobi – especially in the middle of a traumatic dream. He knew that, but—
“Please, Izu! I didn’t mean to…”
—he couldn’t just sit here and listen to Madara’s hidden anguish. He couldn’t watch the tears spill from his eyes as his face twisted in agonised sorrow. He couldn’t bear to witness this grief.
“I know he’s…”
Not when that grief was his fault.
“But I love him. I’m sorry, Izu–”
Tobirama stilled; breath stuttering to a halt as his hand hovered above Madara’s shoulder, where he had been about to shake him awake. He swallowed heavily; chest tight as he struggled to remember how to breathe. Surely Madara wasn’t…?
“–couldn’t avenge…forgi–”
Oh.
“Please, forgive me–”
Oh.
Shell-shocked, Tobirama’s body moved of its own volition – he shoved hard at Madara’s shoulder before his brain could remind him why that was a terrible idea – and before he knew it, he found himself pinned to the ground with a kunai at his throat and a growling Uchiha above him. Head throbbing from the sudden impact, he blearily lifted his gaze to meet Madara’s and froze; the sting of the kunai growing sharper as he gulped at the fiery Sharingan eyes glaring back at him. It had been several years since Madara had last looked at him with such savage rage, and for a moment, Tobirama could do nothing but stare; the shock of the situation and the weight of his own emotion leaving him stupefied.
Forcefully gathering his wits, he willed himself to speak; gaze still riveted on his lover’s furious, tear-filled one as he attempted to project a calming aura.
“Madara, it’s–”
“You!”
The vicious cry had Tobirama’s words dying in his throat. He realised his mistake in the same instant he registered the words being snarled at him—
“You took him from me!”
—but it was already too late.
When he came to mere moments later, it was to the sound of frantic curses and apologies and the feeling of trembling gloved hands caressing his face. Groggily, he opened his eyes, and although the worried, glimmering gaze he met was ebony, he couldn't help the way he instinctively flinched away. From his periphery, he saw Madara's face crumple in dismay as the Uchiha hesitantly backed off, but Tobirama couldn’t focus on Madara’s feelings just yet; not when he was too busy attempting to calm his own racing heart and thoughts.
The genjutsu hadn’t lasted long – Madara had thankfully snapped to his senses before he’d gone too deep – but it had still been enough to leave Tobirama shaken; chest aching and eyes stinging. Not so much because of the illusion—
(He’d known it wasn’t real, and he probably could have escaped it…
Or…perhaps not. He’d trained his entire life to counter the Sharingan, but… not like this – and certainly not against the strongest Sharingan user alive.
But still, he should have tried.
He should have, but…he hadn’t…)
—but because of who had cast it.
Madara.
Madara, who had been steadily worming his way into Tobirama’s carefully guarded heart (for much longer than he would care to admit).
Madara, whose gaze Tobirama had slowly learned to meet, without fear or worry, because it had finally been safe to do so.
Madara, whose eyes Tobirama had come to adore, even with the Sharingan – no, especially with the Sharingan, so much so that he’d often found himself lost in the warm depths of those eyes, regardless of whether they were tranquil onyx or fiery crimson.
Madara—
Tobirama sighed and squeezed his eyes shut as he focused on quelling the turbulent emotions roiling within him.
—who was looking at him with such horrified remorse – one hand tugging at his hair in distress while the other trembled against his mouth as he sputtered shaky apologies – that Tobirama couldn’t even find it in himself to truly be angry with him.
He was hurt, yes, and upset, but not angry. He couldn’t be angry; not with the heavy hand of guilt weighing upon him, reminding him that underneath it all, he was the root of the problem – reminding him that he was a fool to have ever thought that...that wouldn’t come back to haunt him; to rip his heart open when he least expected it; to drag him back into the depths of despair, just when he’d finally managed to be happy for once in his life.
Suppressing what felt suspiciously like a whine building at the back of his throat, Tobirama inhaled deeply and dragged a hand across his face wearily, before he heaved himself off the ground; ignoring the way his throbbing head protested the movement. He stood still and simply breathed steadily for a moment; grasping for the calm balance he normally carried…but it remained frustratingly out of reach. Running a hand through his hair, he forcibly swallowed another bubbling whine and released a soft sigh instead, before he finally dragged his gaze over to his distraught partner…though he didn’t quite manage to bring himself to meet his eyes.
Madara noticed, of course – evident in the way he emphatically turned his head to the side and tugged even harder at his hair; trembling apologies spilling from his lips once more.
“Madara,” Tobirama forced out, once it felt like his voice wasn’t going to crack from the overwhelming myriad of emotions coursing through him. He took a tentative step towards the Uchiha, and frowned when Madara took a matching step backwards.
“Madara,” Tobirama tried again. “It’s alright…”
Another step forward.
Another step back.
“Madara, stop. I’m fine–”
“You’re not fine!” the Uchiha growled suddenly, as he put even more distance between them. “You can’t even look at me, Tobirama!”
Wincing, Tobirama halted in his tracks. “That’s not–” he began, then faltered; voice caught in his throat as he fought for a response. How was he supposed to refute the accusation when it was the truth? He wasn’t given a chance to, however, as Madara’s initial outburst quickly led to a downward spiral.
“I hurt you! Oh, Sage, I hurt you!” the distraught man rambled repeatedly; the words becoming muffled as his hands slid from his hair to cover his face.
“Madara, stop. It was just a reflex,” Tobirama reasoned in an attempt to calm his panicking beau. “It wasn’t your fault–”
“Of course it was! I attacked you! I used my– my– gods, I–”
Tobirama frowned in distress as the words were lost to the heart-wrenching sound that burst from the Uchiha’s throat. He made another effort to move closer to his paramour, but the other man swiftly shuffled back yet again with another distraught whine.
“I attacked you…”
“Madara, it wasn’t–”
“I’m sorry”—Dark locks whipped wildly as Madara frantically shook his head; hands drifting up to his temples as he gripped his head tightly—“I didn’t…I couldn’t– Izu– Izuna was…he– You– Gods, I hurt you, I–”
“Madara, breathe,” Tobirama pleaded; voice as calm as he could manage over his own turmoil. “It’ll be alright. We just need–”
“I can’t do this,” Madara interrupted brokenly with another shake of his head.
Tobirama’s heart dropped. “What–”
“I can’t. I’m sorry”—Another whine as Madara abruptly turned away—“I can’t. ”
Chilling dread creeping up his spine, Tobirama stared unblinkingly at the steadily blurring image of Madara’s back; mouth working silently as his throat tightened around his words. Surely this wasn’t…
“Madara…” The name left his lips like a broken prayer, and with a trembling hand, he reached out—
“I’m sorry.”
—but in the blink of an eye, his beloved was gone; leaving nothing but swirling leaves and the pieces of Tobirama’s crumbling heart behind as his words echoed in his mind.
“I can’t do this.”
TBC...