Greetings my lovlies and welcome to my first attempt at a MadaHashi fic. This is technically a prequel for one of my other stories, The Disconnect Between Life and Death, but this will be able to be read solo. So if SasuNaru ain't your cup of tea, then no fears. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy.

...

Heat sweltered and spread across the afternoon, bearing its full weight on the shoulder of pedestrians. They bunched on the sidewalk, trying not to bump into each other, dreading hot and sweaty body contact. The sun was high, burning away almost every shady place. A raven haired boy wiped the sweat away from his eyes; drops cascading down the back of his neck and past the collar of his wife beater. His shorts clung to his legs, hot and sticky, like a second, black skin.

He laid his back against a brick wall, hiding his small body in the sliver of alleyway shadows. He hated summer. He hated working in the summer. His damp, black bangs stuck to his forehead and he had to keep pushing them out of his eyes.

From the crowd on the street, a business-looking man broke away from the group. He headed down the alleyway, coughing into his hand. His eyes were shifting in the gentle darkness. The boy looked at him briefly with disgust. The man's jacket was clutched in clawed fingers, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to the elbow and wet with sweat. Every time he lifted his arms a pool of sweat from his armpit could clearly be seen. In his other hand, a briefcase, with spotty leather fading from overuse. He clutched it like it contained his soul. And the raven, being the devil to take it, smirked.

The man stopped in front of the child, eyes full of fire; his hands were shaking. The man's forehead was lightly sunburnt, but looked worse from how red in the face he was. He knew this man wasn't brave enough to strike him, but the urge was there, spirally madly in his eyes. "I won't lose again." He tossed the briefcase at the boy, who ducked to the side. It cracked open against the brick, spilling out countless bills around the raven's feet. He blinked, mentally counting. It looked like it was all here, even if it was all on the ground.

The smirk which sprung from the boy's lips made the man twitch. "We could go double or nothing again, if you want. Maybe you'll redeem yourself."

The man's eyes narrowed; "I've lost enough."

As the child bent over, his sweaty hair fell forward, drops hitting the concrete. He made sure everything was secured before he straightened himself. Eyes, which seemed far too deep to be that of a mere boy, were full of malice as he opened his mouth again, "You'll come back. They always do."

"I won't lose again."

"You already said that." He stated, leaning his back against the wall again.

The man stormed out of the alley, only to be deflated every further upon his retreat by the man who passed by him on his way out. The boy chuckled to himself as his father approached him, not showing a single bead of sweat on his face. "You get it all?"

"Yes, sir." The exchange was brief.

"Here, I want you to double it." Black hair fell into his eyes as he watched as his father dip into the case, retrieving a few bills for him to use. He nodded, watching as his father's shadow crossed the brick wall before pausing at the opening of the alley. He looked over his shoulder. "Oh and, good work, Madara."

...

"Find the King of Hearts!" Madara shouted. A group had gathered around him near instantly, all of them watching his swift hands make quick work of the three cards he passed around on the small table. He always got a big spectacle, just because people thought they could defeat him. It made Madara smirk when a new sucker came up each day.

That day's sucker was a man in his forties, balding, sunburnt from head to toe. His face was flabby, with loose hanging skin around his neck and chin. But Madara knew, just from the look in the man's eyes, he was proud; an all-day sucker.

After doing this for two years, Madara had learned quite a few things: Make assholes lose quickly, lose only when you can get ahead, and always bait the arrogant. He had become very good at hooking them, knowing which words to use, what mannerisms, body language. It had taken months to perfect, but Madara had become efficient.

The man approached the table, looking down at how quickly Madara's fingers moved. He had developed tricks for this too. He practiced every night for at least an hour just to make sure his technique was up to his father's standards. Not that most of the street suckers knew who Madara was. It was better they didn't.

It would be bad for business.

Madara's red eyes peered up from the cards, his hands stilling. "Wanna try your luck? Only a dollar to play."

"And what do I win?"

Madara bit back a smirk. "Double whatever you put in. Dollar in, two out. Ten in, twenty out. But if you lose, that's double for me. Get it?"

The man, far too full of himself, and probably attempting to boost his confidence with the shocked gasps, threw down a hundred. Madara blinked, trying far too hard to keep himself washed with indifference. "Can you handle that, kid?"

Madara slapped down two hundreds of his own, without flinching. "You tell me."

It was the small surreal moments in life that gave Madara the most pleasure, like when he watched the sparkle of confidence in the man's eyes burn out. He knew his luck pretty well by now, knew how to hook this guy. He also knew this man had enough cash to pay out.

He may get a huge hit like last time. He swallowed a smirk.

Purposefully, Madara slid the cards around in a very readable order, but he did it quickly, just to make the man feel better, lull him. When he was finished, the man was smirking triumphantly, pointing to the card of the right. He flipped it over, sighing and handing over the bills. The man's posture changed, Madara had hooked him in, flawlessly.

"Impressive. But I bet, double or nothing, you couldn't do that again."

The man was already was too deep to stop. He pulled even more money out of his wallet and Madara bit back a laugh of sheer malice. He had to hide his mirth by biting his cheek. Risk-taking was something this man did often, and this risk would prove too steep. Two years of this had trained the raven see it. And he knew exactly how to handle it. Madara usually let them ride the high until they reached a point where the payout was huge, insanely so. He rarely ever lost them that far in.

But today, he wasn't going to rob this man blind. The five large bills told Madara a little story about this man; he went big, fast. He would get out of there quick after this larger victory, and he relied on the support of the crowd for confidence.

Madara slapped down a grand, looking up with a smile on his face. But his eyes, they were dark, looking anything but innocent. The man saw this look but seemed to ignore it. With his hands on the cards, Madara began to shuffle them, employing all tricks he had learned. Double-backing them, palming them, creating the illusions of card movement. The man looked somewhat shaken when Madara pulled his hand back. "Find the King." He said it as gently, and innocently as he could. It sounded forced.

The man's face had lost its confidence. His hands trembled as he pointed to the card on Madara's right. He bit back a smirk as he flipped it over, revealing the Jack of Spades. The man's eyes were wide, sitting like ornaments of shame on his face. Madara shrugged. "That'll be a grand, please." The crowd started to roar with laughter, the man's face scorching red as he looked around, eyes scanning for some sign of sympathy.

"How the fuck did you do it?" Madara scooted back as his now enraged customer tried to grab him. He really did hate when they started to cause a scene. HIs eyes scanned around the area, spotting two of his father's men, watching, both ready. But he didn't want it to come to that.

"You lost, sir. Please, hand over the money."

"You shitty brat." The man reached out, grabbing Madara by the front of his wife beater. His table tipped, but did not fall over. His father's men would be here soon. Madara reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace, shining the white and red fan in the man's face. A symbol well-known, even by strangers.

The man, face suddenly pale and soaked in sweat, reeled back, letting Madara go. He dug in his pocket, pulling out his wallet. With shaking hands, he threw the money Madara had won down on the table.

People started murmuring among the small crowd, slowly clearing out. Madara sighed, knowing that this was probably as good as he was going to do. He'd been out there for three hours, from the rising heat of afternoon, to when the sun's head hit its high, the sweltering heat was boring down on him. It would be another hour or so before the cool settled in.

His father's men were watching him, and Madara made a brief signal. They started to move in; it was collecting time. Madara started to clean up, shaking his head. He'd have to move his operation tomorrow. To Madara, it was really too bad. Being next to the pier meant there was a nice, cool breeze during the heat of day, and the pier itself attracted all kinds of people. It had been a great spot. He'd managed tripled the money his father had given him in only three hours. He doubted he'd find a spot this good the next day.

Madara quickly shoved the money he'd made into the pockets of his cousins, checking for people watching. No one seemed to notice him now. After the short scramble, his cousin looked down at him, pulling a few hundred from his pocket. "Here's your share, kid." Madara nodded his thanks as his cousins packed up the rest of his equipment and carried it off.

They left him there with a deck of cards and three hundred bucks. Madara counted it as a good day.

He sighed, waiting around for a bit. Madara watched as the only cloud in the sky passed over head, thin and lifeless in the bright blue sky. He looked over at one of the stands, seeing it was only about six in the evening. He was about to leave when a shadow passed over his own, encasing him in fleeting darkness. Madara turned, ready to bolt, when he realized it wasn't a threat. It was another kid, probably about the same age as him. His dark brown hair was cut around his forehead and ears, looking bowl-ish. His dark eyes locked with Madara's showing no malice, nor intent. He smiled, showing off a fair amount of teeth. "Wow, you really got that guy good. How'd ya do it?"

Madara was thankful his father's 'help' had disappeared, otherwise they'd definitely move in and try to intimidate this kid. He could do it perfectly well himself. He straightened up, the kid's eyes following him as he did so. "He was an idiot. It was easy." Madara's cool attitude didn't deter the kid at all, following after Madara as he tried to head off the pier and onto the boardwalk.

"Obviously, he didn't watch your hands at all." Madara paused when he heard this, looking over his shoulder.

"You could follow my hands?"

"Of course, you stack them inside your palms, right?"

Madara didn't know how to respond, just shrugging. "Can't give away all my secrets."

The kid laughed, a little too loudly. Madara felt strangely at ease, stopping again. He thrust his hand towards Madara and he blinked with the sudden show of comradery. "Hashirama."

"Madara." They shook hands. A strange sense of happiness filed Madara when Hashirama's fingers fanned out, checking Madara's wrist. "You do realize I don't have any sleeves to hide a weapon."

"Sorry, instinct."

Madara knew that Hashirama must have be affiliated with a mafia syndicate. Which one, he wasn't sure. But he had purposefully left out his family name and then weapon checked him. It wasn't an amateur family, but Madara knew, he wasn't part of his family's group. He would have come up when his cousins had been taking away his table if that were the case. Besides that, though, none of his cousins looked like Hashirama.

"So, do you wanna play against me?" Hashirama asked suddenly. Madara blinked owlishly, smirking a little after he contained his shock. Hashirama was smiling, but this time it looked competitive, full of naivety.

"You saw me take that guy for a grand; you really wanna press your luck today?"

Hashirama shrugged. "Well, I mean, if you're chicken..."

Madara felt his blood pump hotly in his veins. "Who you callin' a 'chicken'?" A cool breeze passed between them, flinging their sweat soaked hair around their faces. Madara's damply stuck to his neck and forehead. He brushed it away, trying to look confident and intimidating. "What's your wager? I doubt you could pull a grand out of your pocket."

"You couldn't either." Hashirama pointed out, smiling just a good-naturedly as before. Madara realized that Hashirama had been watching him earlier. He wasn't sure why. "Why not keep it friendly? Loser buys us both ice cream."

Madara smirked, triumph just a few moves away. "Sounds perfect." He grabbed the deck of cards from his pocket.

...

Waves crashed against the barnacle ridden pier wood, making the small fan-like appendages spring out and collect their bounty. Madara watched, the sea life moving around, underneath the waves. His popsicle tasted like raspberry and defeat. It dripped off the top, landing in the waves and dissolving like it was never there. Hashirama leaned his back against the wooden railing, humming happily.

"I can't believe I lost." Madara muttered sullenly.

"You lost three times." Hashirama reminded, laughing. "And you doubled up each time. That's eight cones, my friend."

Madara's face looked sour as he bit off the top of one of his popsicle halves. He chewed it angrily. Hashirama laughed again, turning so he could look over the side of the pier. A flock of seagulls called from overhead, their high-pitched calls mixing with the crash of waves. One swooped down low, its wing skimming over Hashirama's hand. Out of shock, Hashirama's hand un-flexed, dropping his cone into the water below. Madara watched with astonished amusement as the vanilla smeared across the water's surface before sinking with the cone. He tried to hold back his laughter, but the utterly defeated look on Hashirama's face was too sweet and deserved.

Madara laughed until his sides hurt and he couldn't breathe properly. He was holding a hand to his stomach as he coughed, trying to catch his breath again. Hashirama's posture looked horrifically depressed. Madara sucked in a harsh breath. "Man, Karma did come for you." He started laughing again, breathlessly wheezing after a couple seconds. "That was such poetic justice."

Hashirama's face looked devoid of life as depression sunk into him, covering him in a cloud of darkness. Madara, after getting ahold of himself, broke his popsicle in half. "Here." He handed the blue icy treat to Hashirama, who looked at him with renewed joy.

"Thanks, Mada-"

"Don't be thankful, that counts as one. Now I only owe you six more."

Hashirama rolled his eyes. "Fine."

The sun's light was starting to wan, covering the two of them in a dying, yellow light. Painting over the sky's blue with reds and purples, night slowly started to swallow up the light. Behind the line of waves, the sun was half-way to sunk. Somewhere in the distance, the bells of a church started to chime, signaling the time. "I'm going to have to leave soon."

"Me too."

Together, they stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing off the pier and into the ocean below. The only noise was that of the water and the life which buzzed around them. Madara nibbled on the top of his popsicle, looking into the eyes of his reflection. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Hashirama was staring at him. "What?"

"That guy, because of him you're probably going to have to move, right?"

Madara didn't look away from the water. "It would be a risk for me to stay here, yeah."

"How am I going to find you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow?"

Hashirama laughed. "Uh, yeah, you still owe me six cones. Or were you planning on skipping out on me?"

Madara clicked his tongue. "A bet is a bet. I won't back down." He took a large bite of his popsicle, tongue already quite blue from the treat. "I ain't afraid of some old guy."

"Yeah, right. You'd be afraid if that old guy brought the cops."

"If that happened, you'd better help me escape."

"You'd definitely owe me more ice cream after that."

"Hn? What kind of friend are you?" Hashirama started to laugh and Madara couldn't help himself and started smiling. He hadn't got many chances to meet many people his age. Almost all of his cousins were older than him by three years or more.

Madara threw the stick of his finished popsicle in the water, smirking as he turned his head towards Hashirama. He smiled back. A warm feeling spread through them as they stood there for a few moments longer. Madara was happy. He was definitely happy he had met Hashirama.

...

The Uchiha mansion was one which commanded respect of any who looked upon it. It towered over the buildings next to it. Pseudo-gothic architecture bred the mood to feel foreboding, charged with fear. The many jagged points of the roof-tops pierced the skies, bleeding into the night. Each point shone like a star. Walls of the dark painted wood, curved like towers on the sides, lending itself a castle feeling. A fortress of the Uchiha family.

Madara walked up the driveway, opening the wrought-iron gate and slamming it behind him. The sky was no longer painted in the colors of sunset, but in the cool darkness of night. He had stayed out on the pier far longer than he expected, and had yet to come up with a good excuse. He swallowed, keeping his face composed as he opened the door. One of his cousins was walking by, nodding his acknowledgement to Madara.

"Your father's been looking for ya." He said as the smaller Uchiha passed by.

Madara mumbled his thanks has he passed into the foyer, weaving his way around the rest of his family as they drunkenly laughed and horsed around. One of them tried to goad Madara into dealing cards for them, but he chose to just ignore him. His father would only be more annoyed if he showed up even later.

He took a short-cut through the kitchen, one of the cooks scolding him, or more like attempting to, for him missing dinner. Madara gave her a sweet look and she shooed him, a small smile on her lips. He knew that look; he'd be getting his dinner brought to him shortly.

When he finally reached the stairs, he stood at the bottom for a moment, just glancing at the bottom one. The wood was starting to wear from the amount of feet it saw in a given day. He felt suddenly exhausted, but he knew he couldn't let it show. His father would think that he was weakening. He was only twelve, still a mere child with mindless amount of energy.

He rushed up the stairs, seeing a familiar head disappearing into his father's office. Izuna would be starting out doing his own stint with small crimes soon. One day, he'd inherit Madara's position as hustler, and Madara would move even farther up the ladder of felonies.

The dark stained oak door blocked his path to see his father. Madara knew he shouldn't have spent so much time at the pier. He was in desperate need of a bath; he was still moist with sweat, sticky and crusted over with the salt of his skin. He took a deep breath through his mouth and opened the door, holding himself with the posture of royalty.

Tajima Uchiha stood in front of a fire place, which was obnoxiously still lit in the middle of summer. He was looking up at an oil painting, one that was finished a few months after Izuna had been born, a few months before his first brother died. Madara said nothing, just standing in the middle of the room.

"Madara! You're back!" Izuna ran up to him, throwing his arms around Madara's midsection and burying his face into the older boy's chest. He looked up, dark eyes full of both affection and admiration.

"Welcome home, son."

"Father."

"You were out late."

Madara bit the inside of his lip. "I know."

His father sighed, shaking his head. "You may have been in the neutral zone, Madara, but that doesn't mean you're safe there."

"Forgive me, I-"

"Forgive you? No, I cannot forgive you. You obviously need reminding of what exactly is at stake if you decided to dawdle in that place." Madara froze as he gained his father's full attention. His eyes narrowed, holding the raven in place with his stare. "More than one of your brother have been slain in that exact location; the neutral zone isn't neutral after dark."

"I'm sorry, Father..."

He sighed, walking over to Madara and placing his hand on the black spikes. "The fact of the matter is, Madara, that you're still just a child and if you think that will deter the Senju at all, you're wrong. They're monstrous people; remember when it comes to them, you should only believe half of what you see, and nothing of what you hear."

Madara turned his face away, feeling ashamed of himself for getting caught up so easily with Hashirama. Ice filled him when he remembered his promise of the next day. Sweat beaded up on his brow as he realized he needed to keep his word for at least six more days.

Then, it would be over.

"As for today, however, I am not at all surprised you managed to triple what I gave you." Madara knew that was the closest thing he'd ever get to a compliment from his father. "Tomorrow, however, you need to choose a different spot."

Madara wet his lips. "No, I think the same location will be fine. I assume you were told about...my last customer..."

"He could be trouble."

"I flashed my necklace; he'd think twice about messing with me."

His father hummed in consideration. "I'll trust your judgment, today, Madara. But if you're wrong about tomorrow, don't think I will a second time."

"Thank you. I will make you proud."

He said nothing as he turned away from his sons, leaving Madara in his father's flickering shadow.

Izuna, who had stayed silent throughout the entire exchange, tugged at Madara's shirt impatiently. "Aniki, you promised today you'd show me card tricks!"

Madara smiled, leading Izuna out of the room, but not before the two of them bowed. "Okay, okay, some of the guys wanted me to deal cards for them. I show you how stack a deck without anyone noticing." Izuna smiled brightly, hanging onto Madara's arm as they went back downstairs.

...

The Senju manor was layered in brick, which, in the near dusk darkness, painted the stacked stones brown and not the burnt red of the day. The roof pointed up to the sky, holding the moon at the highest point of the front. It was unusually dark inside for the time, but Hashirama wasn't concerned with that. He pushed through the front gate, fumbling to close it quickly.

Hashirama ran up to the front door of the Senju manor, passing through the bricked arch, and throwing the wood out of his way. He was sweating, thick drops cascading down his forehead as he moved as quickly as he could around the members of his family. They were all silent, some saying things in a tone barely above a whisper. A few cast disapproving glances at Hashirama. He ignored them though.

He was late.

So unbelievably late.

Tobirama was leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, waiting for Hashirama patiently. He swore under his breath, trying not to show the panic in his face as he approached his little brother. Tobirama, as per usual, had a face cold demeanor, but there was something in his eyes, something overwhelming. Tobirama said nothing has he pointed towards the stairs.

The panic returned in full force, causing Hashirama's heart to thunder in his ears and beat heavy in his chest. He turned a corner and ran upstairs, nearly tripping over the rug. He stopped at the door, catching his breath and wiping away the sweat from his brow. Hashirama straightened up slightly as his breathing became more even. As he calmed his appearance, Tobirama's feet softly carried him up, stopping behind Hashirama. He still said nothing.

Hashirama felt the breath catch in his throat when he recognized something; a faint smell coming from the hallway. He looked down at the white carpeting, noticing, for the first time, the red puddles leading up to the door.

"Where's Itama?" Tobirama said nothing in response. His eyes widened as he looked back down at the puddles, feeling suddenly sick. He leaned against the wall. "TELL ME!"

Tobirama blinked, pointing towards the door to their father's office. "Go in. Father's waiting."

Hashirama barely could hold himself together as he grabbed onto the door handle, forcing his weight into the wood. He felt sick, his stomach curling as the stench of blood and cigarette smoke engulfed him even more. On the hard wood floors, there was a small body, obscured by a sheet. He didn't need to pull back the sheet to know that Itama was underneath it.

His father stood at far corner, by the window. It was cracked, only slightly. He had a cigarette in his fingers, looking out into the backyard. He tossed the butt through the crack and turned. The gaze which his father held him with made Hashirama's back tense. He had to hold back his tears for Itama, for now, at least. Butsuma Senju towered over Hashirama, staring him down.

"Where were you?" Hashirama flinched at his father's words. He opened his mouth to explain but his father hand struck him across the cheek, messing up his balance. Hashirama refused to fall though, faltering and stepping back from the body on the floor. Tobirama put a hand on his shoulder. Whether it was to comfort or steady him, Hashirama wasn't sure. "You idiot! Because you were late, this happened to Itama! There were Uchihas in the territory and your brother was alone! What were you thinking?"

Hashirama was silent, knowing if he said anything it would just make things worse. His father started to pace, taking casual glances at the sheet now and again. He was shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. He paused, setting his shoulders. "Get out. Both of you."

Tobirama tugged on Hashirama's arm, pulling his older brother out of the room. His gaze was fixed on the sheet. When the door closed and obscured his view of the room, Hashirama let his tears fall.
-

After his cousins helped with the clean-up and were safely out of distance, Madara scouted around for Hashirama in the thinning crowd. He started to walk towards the pier, still glancing around. He finally spied him, sitting on the railing of the pier at the farthest end, staring into the water. He ran up, smirking as he grabbed Hashirama on the arms, pulling him back.

"Thought you could hide from me?" Madara's smirk faded away when he saw the tear stains on Hashirama's cheeks.

He tried to awkwardly wipe away the tears, feeling embarrassed that he hadn't been able to hold himself together to meet Madara. The raven was silent; a respectful look on his face as he let Hashirama get himself together. "Sorry…This is probably really awkward."

"It's okay. I should have called to you first."

Hashirama shrugged. "I'm glad you're back today. Looks like you do make good on your promises." He tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth were faltering.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Somehow, Madara's question stunned Hashirama. He hadn't even talked about it with his own family, besides his father scolding him. He sighed, composing himself. He looked back down at the water lapping up on the shore. "My brother died last night. My youngest brother…He wasn't even ten yet. He was…He…"

Madara leaned against the railing, joining Hashirama in watching the waves. Unsure, Madara took an awkward glance at Hashirama. He was never very good with comforting people, but he could at least try; let Hashirama know that they shared the same pains.

His hand slid on top of Hashirama's, squeezing it gently. "I used to have five brothers. Now it's only my little brother and me."

Stunned, Hashirama turned his head to look at Madara, but he wasn't returning the glance. "What happened to them?"

"Probably the same thing that happened to yours."

For a moment, they sat in silence, letting the heat of the day slowly pass in silence. Somehow Hashirama just felt better with Madara being there, so close in the space they shared. The raven hadn't moved his hand.

"Do you think it will ever end?" Hashirama asked. They both turned their heads to look at each other.

"What?"

"The fighting."

Madara let a breath out through his nose. "I really hope so. I'd like to live to my fifteenth birthday."

"I don't understand why they have to get us involved."

"Because we're the future. We're the ones who have to clean up the messes adults make while they're in charge. But we'll just end up making the same choices."

"Why would we do that?" Hashirama squeezed Madara's hand, grabbing his full attention. "Why can't we change the rules?"

"That not how it works."

"But when we're adults, we can make our own way. Stop all the fighting, ending the deaths of our brothers and sisters."

Madara nodded. "I'm only twelve and I'm already tired of all this, you know?"

"Yeah…" Hashirama glanced out of his peripherals at Madara. "Madara, are you a boss's son?"

The raven felt his back tense and he pulled his hand off of Hashirama's, wiping the sweat that had accumulated between their skins on his shorts. He looked off slightly in the distance, not able to meet Hashirama's curious gaze. "I'm hustling on a pier, what do you think?"

"Right, you'd probably be better at it if you were a boss's son."

"What did you say?" Hashirama laughed as Madara punched him in the shoulder. "The only reason you beat me is dumb-luck." Madara pulled out the stack of cards from his pocket, fanning them out in front of them. "Bet, you double or nothing, you can't win today."

"You're going to owe me so much ice cream, Madara." Hashirama smirked, readying himself for the Madara's tricky hands.

Madara had promised himself that this wouldn't last more than six days. But he had intentionally taken out his stack of cards. He pulled the King of Hearts out of the deck and looked at it for a moment before glancing back at Hashirama. This wasn't something that would be resolved so quickly in six days.
-

Weeks flew by in a flurry of meetings on the pier. The days bleeding together with mixed bits of information, laughter, smiles. Slowly, the summer's heat was starting to weaken, breaking down as the fall's winds blew and cooled the city. They still met on the pier, both Hashirama and Madara deciding it was the best place. Despite any mental protest about the neutral zone.

"Hey, do you go to school in town?"

Madara was surprised by the question. "No. I have private tutors at home."

"I thought so." Hashirama said, still not quite looking at Madara.

"That's just how my father wants things."

"You should try to convince him to put you in an actual school." Hashirama turned, smiling.

"I don't think he'd go for it. The closest school district is in the Senj-" Madara forced himself to stop. He had almost done something dangerous. He had almost revealed which alliance his family fell into.

"Madara, I know you're an Uchiha." Hashirama stated very calmly.

Madara's eyes widen as he tried to contain his shock, but was failing to do so. He felt his legs twitch, signaling to him that he was ready to bolt. Run far away and never return. But there was something, something gentle and calm, in Hashirama's eye that kept Madara from running. He turned his head. "So, you're a Senju then, right?"

"I've always wondered why that mattered." The Uchiha blinked at Hashirama's words, not quite understanding what he meant. They shared a look and Hashirama pulled himself up onto the railing of the pier, legs swinging over the water. "I mean, why does it matter which family I have? Does that really make me so different than you?"

"I don't think we're that different." Madara replied, with a shrug. "But we're just kids. We don't know anything about the 'real' story."

Hashirama nodded. "Sometimes, I don't even think there is a 'real' story. Just that they continued to fight."

"It's hard to keep balance when you're angry."

"Yeah…I guess letting bygones be bygones would be too hard for them." They sat in silence for a moment and Madara looked up at Hashirama's face. He was looking up into the sky, letting the air from the breeze cool him. He glanced towards Madara, smiling.

It was weird, for Madara, to think that he had never had to hide who he was from Hashirama. His family didn't matter to him, that it was just a name. An unknown happiness blossomed across Madara's heart while heat sunk into his cheeks, warming his face. He had to break their eye contact, looking into the waters below the pier.

"How long have you known?" Madara's voice was quiet, looking at Hashirama's face through his peripherals.

"What?"

"That I was an Uchiha."

"Oh." Hashirama's voice was smooth, gentle. He shrugged. "I always knew. I saw you flash your necklace to that guy; I know what that fan means."

"But you weren't afraid I was…"

"Going to hurt me?" Hashirama shrugged. "Not really. I was hoping you'd be different. I mean, we're just kids, you know?"

"Yeah…That's true."

"Can I tell you something?"

Madara shrugged. "Yeah."

"I don't want to inherit my father's position." The Uchiha's eyes widened at the admission, causing him to turn his to head and stare at Hashirama. He was still looking out into the horizon. "I don't want what's happening to keep happening. I'm twelve and I have to worry about getting gunned down in the streets just because of my name."

"It's scary. Today might be your last day, you know?" Madara mused, pulling himself up on the railing. HIs hair blew around his face, shading his eyes from view. "But, you need to inherit that position."

Hashirama turned his head to look at Madara. "Why?"

"Because one day I'll be the boss of the Uchiha family."

The wind stirred up between them, filling the silence with the faintness of whistling. Their eyes were locked, every emotion reflecting in their irises, and not a word needed to be said. Madara knew that they, together, could change their lives of their families. With Hashirama, he could do anything.

...

Madara shut the door behind him, noticing it was really quiet for the time. Usually his cousins were all raising Hell in the living room, playing cards and drinking. He walked through the kitchen and noticed none of the staff acknowledged him. A chill crept through his back as he headed into the hallway. A bead of sweat ran down Madara's neck, sliding between the fabric of his shirt and his skin.

The only times the house was so quiet was because...

Madara paused in front of the stairs, eyes slowly widening. He grabbed the railing and pushed his body forward, running up them as fast as he could. He needed to see his father. He needed to confirm it.

The door slammed into the wall as Madara ran into his father's office, looking around for a body. When he saw nothing, he looked up at his father, who looked very displeased. Izuna was standing next to him, throwing a glance at his brother from over his shoulder.

"So, that's why you've been so distracted." Tajima began, shaking his head in disapproval.

"What? I don't know what you're tal-"

"Madara, shut up." The raven shut his mouth. His stomach felt like it was sinking, as though he swallowed a bag of stones. He knew what his father was about to say, and thinking back, he should have known better. "He's a Senju, you know."

"I do-"

"I said shut your fucking mouth." Tajima straightened in the leather chair by his desk. "Izuna saw you with him." Madara held his face like it was made out of marble, concealing the shock of his brother's betrayal. "You've really played where you shouldn't have, getting that close to the Senju Boss's boy."

"He wouldn't ever think about killing me." Madara snapped, quickly managing to get some words of his defense out.

His father started laughing, shaking his head. "I miss being young and naive. The fact remains, Madara, he is a Senju and you're an Uchiha. One day, he will turn on you and with that attitude you have about him, you'll never be ready. You're my heir, it dies when you do."

Madara felt suddenly sick, heat rushing up into his face, hating himself for being so caught up in Hashirama. But the voice at the back of his head nagged him, yelling otherwise. Hashirama knew he was an Uchiha, but he hadn't done anything. If he had called his father's men, Madara would have been done for. But he hadn't. Hashirama hadn't laid a single hand against him. Between them, it was different.

His father didn't understand.

Not that he could say so.

"Go to that pier again, Madara, and you'll never leave the Uchiha territory until the day I die."

Madara bowed his head, looking down at his feet. "Get out." The raven bowed deeply to his father, face almost touching his knees, before he curtly turned on his heel, leaving the room.

His footfalls were near to silent on the stairs, heading for his room. He heard Izuna following after him, but chose to ignore his brother's presence, anger bubbling from the boiling heat of his betrayal. "Madara, please, wait."

Madara opened the door to his room, about to step inside when Izuna grabbed onto the back of his shirt, pulling him out into the hallway. "I'm sorry, Madara, I am, but you were putting yourself in danger!"

The older Uchiha blinked, nodding his head. He cast his eyes downward, looking at Izuna's still chubby face. Madara knew his brother had only tried to keep him safe; Izuna had been old enough to experience the loss of their brothers.

But, the raven felt anger nipping at his throat, hatred swimming in his blood. He sneered at Izuna, leaning down so that they could be face to face, noses barely a hair apart. "Well, next time, remember, I don't need your fucking help." He slammed the door in Izuna's face.

...

"Oi, remember what your pops said." Madara rolled his eyes and handed his cousin the money he'd made for day.

"Do you think I'm deaf or just stupid?" His cousin started smirking and Madara huffed. "I'll be home in less than an hour."

"Yeah, yeah." Madara flipped his cousin the bird as the older Uchiha walked out of the alleyway, laughing to himself about his little cousin's scolding. Madara felt annoyed but he knew it would pass. He had to focus on the goal for today. Once his cousin was a few minutes away, Madara was going to head to the pier, and figure out something with Hashirama. They had less than an hour to plan it all. But Madara was ready to try, even if he had to run back home so fast his lungs started bleeding.

It wouldn't end there.

Not that easily.

Madara peeked out into the sidewalk, not seeing any sign of a tail. He wouldn't put it past his father to have him tracked down by someone else in the family. His father would know be suspicious of anything Madara did now. It would be a long time before his father allowed him another inch of freedom.

He wove himself in the crowd, easily passing around other pedestrians and getting jumbled in between the people. If anyone was following him, they would lose him quickly. Madara smirked as he rushed through the throngs of people, becoming one with the crowd, letting his identity become muffled in the heat and sweat of other human bodies.

When he managed to exit the streets of the city and enter the neutral zone, a rush of adrenaline filled his blood. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he ran down a small incline, jumping off the sidewalk and into the street, weaving through traffic. The boardwalk was relatively abandoned, which just made finding Hashirama even easier.

Madara was panting by the time he got to Hashirama, who looked at the Uchiha with a puzzled look. "Where were you?"

"Doesn't matter. We need a new spot."

"What? Did something happen?"

Madara nodded furiously, coughing slightly as he raised his head to look at Hashirama's face. "My dad knows about us. He's suspicious. We need to go somewhere else."

Hashirama looked bewildered, but nodded his head, looking around. "Uhhhhh...Where were you thinking?"

The Uchiha's eye twitched. "I don't know. That's why I asked you, stupid."

"I don't know much about the other neutral zones!" The Senju exclaimed with an exasperated wave of his hand.

"Well, we don't have much time to figure it out, Hashi-" Madara felt a sharp pain tug at his scalp. His body was lifted slightly off the ground and he grabbed onto the hand which had embedded nails into his flesh. Before Madara knew it, a knife was pressed into the tender skin of his throat. His eyes widened. A small trickle of red split on his creamy white neck.

"I was wondering why you insisted on staying out so late, every day." The grip on Madara's scalp tightened and the Uchiha let out a whine of pain. He kicked his legs, but couldn't land any hits. His neck was tilted back at a painful angle, exposing more of the white skin. "When Tobirama told me you were hanging with an Uchiha brat, I knew I had to do something. You never listened well, Hashirama."

"Father?!" Hashirama's face shown with panic, eyes wide with a sudden fear. "Let go of him! Put him down!"

"Let him go?" Butsuma's eyes flashed with anger at the insistent nature of his son. "Are you stupid? This is Tajima's oldest son, his heir. If I get rid of him, he'll only have one brat left. Then, the Uchiha Empire will crumble."

"Funny, I was thinking the same about your son." Tajima walked forward, his feet echoing off the wood of the pier. He had a gun in his hand, aimed at Hashirama's skull. The boy turned, hands shaking as he saw the barrel lined up with his face. "Let Madara go, Butsuma."

"Put down your gun, Tajima." Madara winced when the blade pressed harder into his neck, the trickle transforming into a waterfall across his neck. It still wasn't deep enough to kill, but the fear was almost enough to do away with him. He locked eyes with his father, who seemed too collected in this time of panic. "Put it down, step away, and I'll return your son to you."

"Ha, do you think I'm stupid enough to believe that?" Tajima pulled back the hammer, still having a very stunned Hashirama in his sights. "Put down my son, or I'll leave a gaping hole in yours."

"Both of you need to drop your weapons." A sultry female voice filled the tense silence surrounding them. Tajima and Butsuma both tensed, locking eyes with each other. Butsuma pulled the knife away from Madara's neck, setting him back on his feet. He ran over to his father, his heart pounding as he hid behind his father's back. He wiped at the blood at his neck. Tajima held up both of his hands, settling the gun back into the holster at his hip.

"This is the neutral zone for a reason." Madara, finally regaining some of his composure, looked over at the woman speaking. On both sides of her, there was a man, dressed all in black. Their faces were vacant as they looked on. "You two have no jurisdiction here. This part is all mine..."

Her hair was long, nearly sweeping the ground as she took steps forward. It was the color of blood, deep and darkly red. But Madara found his adrenaline pumped the most when he looked into her eyes. They were white, no pupils, but it seemed as though she could still see. Her gaze locked with Madara's and he felt the blood rushing down to his legs. He wanted to run. "Let me see them."

Tajima nudged Madara, pushing him forward. He looked back at his father, a nervous bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. "Go."

Butsuma did the same with Hashirama. Both of them, walking side by side, took their time in approaching this woman. She bred an emotion in their hearts which they had no name for.

She reached out slightly, cupping one cheek from each boy. The skin of her thumb was smooth against Madara's cheek, but he felt hot; sticky from his nervousness. She didn't smile at them, just consumed them with colorless eyes. Hashirama could barely see Madara's face through his peripherals but he was glad to see that his friend seemed just as freaked out as he was.

Suddenly, she moved her hands off their cheeks, grabbing them on the chins and pulling them forward. "Boys, boys, boys, I'm fine with the two of you seeing each other in the neutral zone, but if you two continue to cause me problems, I will not hesitate to kill you both. Understand?"

She forced them both to nod and pushed them back, straightening herself before heading off the boardwalk. Madara watched her back getting smaller and smaller as she simply disappeared into the brightness of the distance.
-

Hashirama drummed his pencil against his desk, frowning. Since the incident at the pier, he hadn't seen Madara at all. His father was too angry about what had happened to let him out of the Senju territory. He had at least one cousin with him at all times. He hated it. He just wanted to see his friend.

Plus Madara still owed him sixty cones of ice cream.

His teacher cleared her throat as she walked into the classroom. "Good morning, everyone. I have a special announcement today. We're getting a new student." She opened the door a little wider and a boy with hair as dark as raven feathers walked into the room, smirking. The King of Hearts was stuffed into the clear protector of his binder. Hashirama looked up from his desk, eyes widening. "Everyone, give Madara a warm welcome, okay?"

Hashirama felt the air in his throat catch as he looked around him, Madara walking towards the only empty desk. It was on the other side of the room. He turned towards the boy next to him. The boy blinked. "Move." Hashirama said in a harsh tone.

The boy frowned, crossing his arms. "Why should I?"

Madara, in the time Hashirama had failed to usurp the other boy, stopped in front of the boy's desk. He was staring up at Madara, arms still folded. The Uchiha leaned into the boy's face, hand on the desk surface. "Because this is my spot." The blood red color of the Uchiha's glare sent a cold chill right up the boy's spine. He got up quickly, picking his stuff up and practically running away from the desk. Hashirama felt a wave of happiness spread through him as Madara set his binder down, settling into the desk.

"I can't believe you're here!" Hashirama said, leaning over into Madara's space.

The Uchiha smirked. "My father agreed that, maybe, it would be better if I went to an actual school for a change."

Hashirama's smile was bright, spreading across his face so widely that it looked like his cheeks were going to split. "I don't even care. What lunch do you have? I have the one after third block, oh, oh, what's your schedule like? What classes do we have together?"

Madara handed over his green slip of paper to the too eager Hashirama, biting back the excitement he felt blooming in his chest. It had taken a lot of bargaining for his father to agree for this moment, but it felt worth it. He was just happy to see Hashirama so elated. It made everything he had given up feel like it meant nothing.