Title: Hidden Behind the Leaf

Summary: "After my death, do not kill Madara. Uchiha and Senju must not fight each other ever again." The peace is made but Tobirama and Madara might find the price to pay too high. Canonish AU, TobiMada

Pairing(s): Tobirama/Madara with unfulfilled Hashirama/Madara and unfulfilled Hashirama/Tobirama

Notes: About two months ago, I was asked if I'll write this pairing. I said hell will sooner freeze over. Yet, I started to think if I can see a way to make it happen and here's the result, while hell, last time I checked, was still bubbling.

Direct quotes from the manga, as usual, are coming from Mangapanda/Mangareader 's version.

Warnings: Angst, hate sex, bad sex, implied incest, major character death

*/*/*

1/3

The bittersweet taste of fate

We can't outrun the past

*/*/*

They shake hands. Their clans gathering around them don't make a single noise, it's almost if no one but the two of them were present. Maybe everyone holds their breath in fear the magic of the moment, the magic of peace will be broken if they so much as sigh.

Madara makes sure his expression remains impassive as he looks at the Senju leader's face, that his grip is strong, but not crushing. They have come this far, to finish centuries of war with a formal handshake - he won't ruin it with showing his emotions.

Tobirama's face is as blank as he hopes his is. It's only his reddish eyes that burn with loathing. Madara is not bothered by that. Large as his hatred might be, it can't possibly match his own.

They have come this far, leading their respective clans, and for them only, Madara is willing to shake hands with the murderer of Izuna. He tells himself this firmly. He is the leader of the Uchiha, and he has nobody else but them. He must do what's in their best interest.

It's a joke, and a cruel one for that. They did nothing for this peace. Madara stopped to believe long ago in this stupid, childish pipedream, and he's sure Tobirama never for a moment thought is can, or should, come true.

They are just humouring the dying wish of a foolish man, pretending they have the good of their people in their minds.

He finally lets Tobirama's hand go, and the tension in the crowd seems to ease. The first cheers are rather timid, but they gain strength. Madara stays around for a short while then escapes at the first opportunity when his absence won't be considered terribly rude.

He climbs the cliff and looks down to the valley. The village will be built there, just as they planned as kids.

Let's build our settlement here! He hears Hashirama's voice in his ear, loud and irritating in his enthusiasm, yet so irresistible. Let's make it a place where children won't have to kill each other!

"You're the only one who comes up with such stupid ideas," he replies to this echo from the past. "I've told you this all those years ago. But now look - your dream will become reality."

There's no answer, of course. He's alone. There's a strange feeling in his throat, a lump that makes air difficult to draw. Not unlike fury, but there's no passion behind it, just sadness. Madara ignores it. He will not cry. Dying was Hashirama's choice. A stupid, naive choice it was, but still, he can't do anything else but accept it now.

*/*/*

Tobirama finds him on the cliff - apparently it's no longer a secure hiding place. The view has changed so drastically, the forest all but disappeared from the valley, instead there are rows and rows of houses, the village building rapidly.

"The Lords of the Fire country arrived," the Senju barks as a kind of greeting. Reluctantly Madara lowers the leaf he's holding in front of his eye and turns towards him. He hates to see the white haired man here. This used to be their place - Hashirama's and his. He's sure Tobirama knows it too. He always seemed to be around his brother, keeping an eye on him, knowing too much about him.

Yet, he'd been so shocked by his actions on that fateful day. Too shocked to react - just as Madara was. He's already loathed the man for being a Senju, for killing Izuna – now he hates him even more for being unable to stop Hashirama, just as he despises himself for it, too. They should have been quicker, they should have seen him sticking true to what he'd said. Madara was battered and desperate - all he wanted was everything to end. But what is this bastard's excuse..?

The meeting with the Daimyo goes as planned. He and his counsellors are all very pleased with the village and the purpose behind it. Tobirama talks in short sentences about his brother, about how he was always aiming to make his dream of a shinobi settlement, a place that allies clans, come true. How he always wanted to achieve peace, to put an end to generations long battles with the Uchiha. How he was willing to go to the extreme to make his dream come true, how he never wavered, never shed his optimism, his faith of being able to do it.

"Can't we settle it, like we used to? Just the two of us?"

"You know we can't… I'm not the same as you anymore...I don't have any siblings left - and I can't trust you."

"How can we make you trust us?"

Tobirama's deep voice is even, emotionless almost, as he talks about Hashirama's dedication.

"He was thirteen, when he decided that takes what it takes, he'll make it happen. He never wavered in his resolve. Ever since he…" there's a slightest of pause that maybe nobody but the Uchiha notices, "met Madara, he lived with the firm aim in his mind that the two clans have to come to peace, to form an alliance."

"If you want to straighten things out, then either kill your brother… or kill yourself. Then, we'll be even. Then I will trust your clan."

"And when it came to proving his honesty in the matter, he didn't shun away even from the largest sacrifice - to give his life for this peace he so craved."

Madara raises his head, thrusts his chin out and meets Tobirama's accusing glare unflinching.

"He was a truly noble man," the Daimyo says on a light voice, on the tone of someone who can't possibly comprehend the terrible weight of Hashirama's deed.

"He was," Tobirama agrees still. He doesn't take his eyes off Madara, as if the dark haired man would need reminder of what happened. As if he's not forced to re-live it every single day, in this village Hashirama dreamt for them, in this peace that will never become real between the very two of them.

"After my death, do not kill Madara. Uchiha and Senju must not fight each other ever again. Vow on your fathers and on your grandchildren who aren't born yet."

"Land of Fire is welcoming this new formulation. We are most supportive of your alliance," one of the counsellors says. "There are just small formalities left, like agreeing on your leader. Have you thought about a name for your settlement yet?"

"Farewell."

"The village...Hidden Behind The Leaf," Madara says, ignoring the surprised glances from the Daimyo and his company. He didn't speak up yet on this gathering. He's thinking about the leaf that he put in his pocket when Tobirama disturbed him, the leaf with the hole at its middle. He's thinking about the almost-forgotten times of childhood, sitting on the plain above the valley, looking down at the forest below, imagining the village they will build there with Hashirama. If he concentrated, he could even vision the houses through the holes of the canopy. What a pleasant, carefree dream it was.

*/*/*

"Things can't continue like this! You have to respect the rules we set, just like anyone else! No, you actually have to respect them more, for you should provide an example for your whole clan…!"

"The rules you have set, you mean!

They are at each other's throat, only figuratively speaking so far, although Madara's fingers are already itching for his blade. It's eerily liberating, after these months of keeping their masks in place, of cooperation and negotiations when all he wanted to do it was to cut Tobirama's throat open and watch him suffocate on his own blood. To grab his white hair and beat his head against the wall until nothing but a formless mass of flesh and bones is left where his face used to be, so he never again will remind Madara of Hashirama, so he won't be able look at him with accusation in his eyes.

"The Senju and Uchiha are leading this village as we claimed in front of the Daimyo. That means you and me, as their heads."

"Still, it was you who was chosen to be this Hokage," Madara spits. "I'll believe in your words, accept your leadership when I see you trusting and respecting my kin."

"That will never happen", Tobirama growls. As infuriating it is, Madara finds his honesty refreshing. They both know very well what the other thinks of them and their clans, so why pretending? "I know how you are. I know how your kind is. I'll never trust you, or accept you." In the heat of the argument he leans in so close that the Uchiha can feel his breath on his face. His nearness is repulsing and threatening, increasing the urge to hurt him, kill him, until Madara is not even sure why he keeps resisting it. But he still doesn't reach for his weapons, just laughs into the other man's face, cold and humourless.

"Do you think we need your trust or acceptance? Konoha is as much my village as yours," although it doesn't feel like it. The place, the houses, the people all seem alien. Often he walks the streets alone, and wonders if it would be different with Hashirama by his side. But Tobirama doesn't need to know that. He doesn't like this place, nor does he need it, but he won't back down from the murder of Izuna. Just to defy him, Madara is willing to claim this cursed village as his own.

"You think so? It was my brother who dreamt this place, who fought for it, who sacrificed his life for it…! I'm the one who carries on his will…"

"You pompous fool," Madara almost, but just almost, can't resist the urge to shove him back by his shoulders, but decides against touching him in the very last moment. He doesn't want this pointless argument to degenerate even further. "It was me who was with him when we made up this dream, it was me who he wanted to ally with, it was me…" who he died for. He does not say it, just lets the sentence fade into the sudden silence. He sees on Tobirama's suddenly painful expression that he knows what was left unsaid.

He should feel victorious, though in reality he's anything but. Because that might be the truth, but a terrible, incomprehensible truth it is.

Madara turns on his heels and leaves the Hokage office. There's nothing they can discuss or argue about further.

*/*/*

Nightmares are his constant companion. They haunt him every night, so he tries to avoid sleep, getting thinner and more irritable with each day, until one glance to the dark circles under his eyes is enough for any of his clan members to sheer off his way.

His reputation drops to an all-time low, until he finds that the only person who's not afraid of him is the one he'd like the most to steer clear of him - Senju Tobirama.

It's very hard to look at him and not think about the dreams he has when he can't evade sleep any longer.

He keeps reliving Izuna's death. How he wasn't fast enough, careful enough, strong enough to save him. The flash of Tobirama's blade as it ran through Madara's teen brother. The way he was trembling in his arms as they escaped the battlefield, leaving their comrades behind.

Hashirama's outstretched hand he did not accept.

"Don't, brother. Don't let them fool you."

Those endless days Izuna spent between life and death, with Madara sitting vigil next to him. His last deed before he passed away. His empty eye sockets, the blood dripping from their corners still, his heaving, uneven breaths.

His warning, not to trust the Senju.

In his dreams, Madara sees all of this again. He never dreams of happy times, of an age what he and his brothers spent together, only about losing them, one by one. In his sleep he relieves the painful fury over being unable to keep his promise of protecting Izuna.

"When we build our settlement, I'll watch over my little brother from here!"

His determination to carry on his will, even after he loses the support of his clan, when defectors are starting to go over to the Senju.

"I'm not the same as you anymore...I don't have any siblings left - and I can't trust you."

"How can we make you trust us?"

When it's not Izuna's death haunting him, it's Hashirama's. When he dreams of that day, the visions are obscure, full of blood, the clatter of a discarded armour, the flash of a blade, a body falling to the ground with a thud. Hearing the laughter of a young boy while watching the signs of decay appearing on the face of a man's corpse.

Maybe it's like that as he doesn't need to close his eyes, to fall asleep to recall the actual events. That last battle. His ultimatum.

"Either kill your brother… or kill yourself…"

He didn't think Hashirama would really do it. It was desperation and bitterness making him say it. He thought that this would make the Senju put an end to the war with running his sword through him, that he would finally free him of the unbearable weight of this imperfect word.

Even when he was taking his armour off, thanking him for the choice he was given, when he told Tobirama to vow on not killing him, that Uchiha and Senju must not fight again… Madara still didn't comprehend what was happening.

He was just lying there on his back, battered and bruised as Hashirama readied his dagger. It all seemed so unreal, the whole conversation, his old friend's aims. Why would he do it anyway? Why would he make the sacrifice to keep Madara alive? That peace he was talking about - the easiest way to achieve that would have been killing Madara, and he had to know it. His clan would have been left with no other choice but to submit to the Senju.

Why was he doing it? It was incomprehensible.

"Farewell."

It was that peaceful expression on his face that finally alerted Madara, that made him move. Despite his sore, protesting muscles, he sprang up. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tobirama sprint towards his brother as well.

They were too late. The both of them.

Hashirama was a very experienced shinobi. With killing and healing so many people, he knew exactly where to thrust that blade in for a quick, sure death.

Tobirama reached him a moment earlier, but still, all he could do was to catch him before he fell to the ground.

"Brother!" he called out in desperation, but Hashirama had already said his last words.

The younger Senju raised his head and his eyes met with Madara's. The Uchiha could have said: "Now we are really even. Now you know what I felt when Izuna died," but those words never came. He hardly could do more than stare, horror stricken, at his old friend, the last man on this cursed earth who cared for him.

They were silent. Everyone around them was silent. He waited for Tobirama to call out to his men to kill him. Madara wouldn't have even tried to defend himself. But he didn't call out.

He lay Hashirama's body down on the ground with more tenderness than Madara would have thought him being capable of, then stood to face him. His expression was blank, his eyes as empty as Madara felt his own heart to be.

With an unconscious gesture he opened his arms slightly, and he was sure the white haired man understood what it meant. A welcome for the deadly strike if he wanted to finish this for good. Madara was ready to follow Hashirama to the other side then and there.

"I'm…" the Senju had to clear his throat before he continued, though his voice was still hollow, as if coming from somewhere far away. "I'll honour my brother's last wish. I expect you to do the same, after his sacrifice."

"Then, we'll be even. Then I will trust your clan."

There's no escaping from this memory, whether he's asleep or awake. Everything in Konoha reminds Madara of what happened, above of all the man who he's forced to work together with. If it would be possible to hate him even more, that would be a reason for it.

*/*/*

They are arguing again. It's part of their routine, getting through the day somehow, gritting their teeth as they force themselves to cooperate. Reports. Jobs to delegate. Petty disputes. Arrangements. Newcomers to the rapidly growing village. Heads bowed low before Senju Tobirama, the First Hokage and his main councillor, Uchiha Madara, the leaders of the founder clans. Glances are shot at them, curious, hungry for information when they disagree on something. They pull through it somehow, their hands clenched into fists, fingers digging into forearms under sleeves, so it won't be so obvious to their people what an effort it takes to them to remain civil to each other.

On better days, when they finish their chores, one of them quickly escapes from the other's presence. But there are times when neither of them is willing to back off from the conflict, when it all just becomes too much, and they are at each other's throat as soon as they remain alone.

Anything can bring the argument forth. Suspected or confirmed favouritism over their own clans, the way they divide work, the jobs the village accepts or denies, who to send on missions, the new institutes they plan to create and the way to make them work.

In truth the arguments are always about their pasts and the deaths of their brothers, but this they try to forgo. There's such a thin line separating these arguments from ending in bloodshed as it is.

It's not as if Madara likes these sessions, where they hiss, growl, shout curses and accusations at each other. It's not as if he's looking forward to them. But he has to admit to himself that only when they do this, does he truly feel alive these days. His blood boils, his chakra swirls just under his skin, ready to be released. The urge to kill leaves an unpleasant, bitter taste in his mouth, but it's still better than feeling nothing, to that dull, faraway way minutes run after minutes, blending into hours, days and weeks, making him feel as if he's not even present.

He doesn't know what to do with this village, with this dream come true without Hashirama. Doesn't know how he should feel about his clan, who were ready to turn their backs on him, about all these people looking at him with fear and distrust.

But he knows how to relate to Tobirama. Anger and hatred - he welcomes their familiarity. They make him focus, to live the moment. They are predictable, safe with their well-practiced choreography.

Or it has been so far, until Tobirama unexpectedly breaks the rules. He brings Hashirama into it, something they were careful to avoid in these past few months. He's accusing Madara for the way he died of course, for not yielding to peace, yet enjoying the benefits of it now, when he did nothing for it…

The blood is pounding so loud in Madara's ear that he hardly comprehends every second word, but that's still more than enough. He won't stand for being called a traitor, a coward - to be blamed for Hashirama's death. He moves fast and slams Tobirama back against the wall. The Senju is a competent shinobi, but if it comes to who's the stronger, he won't be able to stand his ground opposing Madara.

"You and your damned brother," the Uchiha growls. "Trying to set my life. He chose his path, he chose death. If you're angry with that choice, go and spit on his grave!"

"You hypocrite bastard," the albino grabs the front of his shirt, baring his teeth in a snarl. "Of course he chose it - you didn't really leave him any other way!"

"He could have killed you! Or he…"

"Could have killed you, is that it? You knew very well that he would never do that!"

"How could have I known?!" Madara feels trembling with anger, and with an emotion he can't really name. "That would have been the most logical choice!" The only logical choice. "Anyone else would have done it!"

"You bloody idiot," suddenly Tobirama turns their position, forcing Madara against the wall. His head hits it with a thud, but it's not the pain that shocks him, but the fact itself that he let the younger man have the upper hand like this. It must be that strange feeling weakening him, which he now recognizes as guilt. "He did everything for you! Ever since he was a kid! You knew this very well!"

"That's not true," he says, suddenly feeling weak. Tobirama slaps him across the face.

That breaks the spell. They struggle, and if someone would watch them now, they would die with laughter. The two strongest shinobi of the country, wrestling like angry brats, trying to beat the other, to relieve their frustrations without putting their chakra behind the blows, trying to keep silent after the shouting, so if there's anybody left in the Hokage building who didn't escape when their argument started to get out of hand, won't rush in now, to the sounds of fighting.

With the mask of civilization gone, Tobirama growls, hits, claws and bites and Madara gives as good as he gets, afraid that if they stop only for a moment, they'd both just break down.

The Senju barely manages to jerk his head away, so Madara's nails only graze down his face, but avoid his eyes. That gives him a bit more space, so he rolls to put more distance between them, kicks the other in the stomach when the Senju makes a dash at him, but that only keeps him away for a heartbeat. It would be easy to throw him over his shoulder still - Madara is on his hands and knees, with the white haired bastard flush against his back - but he freezes as his bodies make contact.

Both of them are still for a moment, heaving. Tobirama's cock is pressing against the back of his thighs, hard and demanding. Madara refuses to assess this new situation, he simply doesn't protest when the other drags his pants down, when he opens his own.

It's not about joy, for either of them. Tobirama pushes into him with minimal preparation, cursing under his breath as Madara's body is resisting him. There's no finesse in his movements as he jerks his hips up violently, as his fingers dig into Madara's waist so hard they'll leave bruises.

It hurts, not the deep, dangerous way how wounds of battle do, with the kind of pain Madara learned to ignore long years ago, but with burning humiliation. He could stop it - he should stop it, if he wouldn't welcome the ache. It's not… it's not punishment, he refuses to acknowledge this act as admittance on his part that he's guilty in something terrible.

It's very simple, he tells himself, as he braces himself on his hands, so the force of Tobirama's jerky thrusts won't throw him down, face first, on the floor. It's just easier to focus on this superficial pain, it helps to ignore the throbbing of those wounds laying so much deeper down.

It's not about Hashirama, the way he died, or about Tobirama's accusation that he died because of him. Least of all it is about Tobirama, there's just no one else who'd dare to treat him this way and make him forget.

It's just fucking. Madara has never been with a man before, and he doesn't think he'll ever try it again, after this. There's no pleasure in it, only pain, but that's how it should be.

It's over very soon. Tobirama grunts and shakes as he releases his seed inside. There's a lewd, wet should, as he pulls his softening cock from Madara's ass.

It takes the Uchiha a few heartbeats only to gather his wits, to stand, to tug up his pants, ignoring the sticky wetness dripping down his thighs. He doesn't look at Tobirama as he storms out. But when he slams the door, he sees for a moment that the Senju is still kneeling on the ground, head bowed, motionless.

*/*/*

Cleaning himself is quite painful and humiliating. There's no rush of adrenaline in his veins to take him through the process. Not much more than ten minutes passed, yet he already can't understand how could he let Senju Tobirama fuck him. Of the many ugly things he committed in his life, this was the most degrading.

He scoops up water in his hand and grits his teeth as he brings it to his backside, pushing his fingers up his sore hole, washing out blood and semen. Disgust twists his stomach. He has a man's spunk - not just any man's, but the one he hates above all - up inside his arse. He is bleeding because he let him mount him, let him stick in his cock and rip him open.

He needs more hot water, although he suspects no amount of washing will make him feel clean anytime soon.

How on earth could anyone enjoy this act? Was it like this only because it was with Tobirama, with whom they have not a single gentle emotion to share? If it was someone else, would it have been different?

If it was…

Hashirama…

He shakes his head, trying to chase the thought away. Still, when he closes his eyes, he sees his old friend, smiling his embarrassed smile. He couldn't even talk to him properly ever after their last meeting on the riverbank - more than a decade ago. He didn't know the man he'd grown up to be, and now he lost the chance to learn more about him, for it for good. He'd only ever met him in battles, and now that will never change. He's no basis - no right - imagining having sex with him.

Yet, it's not as if he could sink any lower after what happened today.

He is still slick with his own blood, and it's too easy to imagine it is Hashirama's member sliding up him and not his own fingers.

"I'm sorry," he'd say when Madara hisses in pain. "I've never done this before. Do you want me to stop?"

The Uchiha shakes his head, slowly pushing two of his fingers up his body. It's still not really pleasant, but it wouldn't be outright painful, rather just uncomfortable if not for the torn wounds inside. He moves his hand experimentally, and his fingertips brush over some spot inside that makes his whole body shudder in unexpected excitement.

"Is that better?" his imaginary Hashirama asks and he breaths a Yes in reply. So much better. He pictures the two of them standing back to chest, the Senju moving slowly, carefully, gently inside him. His cock hardens, and he doesn't even tries to hold back any more. He grabs it, stroking it from base to tip, rubbing his fingers over the slit.

"Do you want more?"

"Yes, do it harder."

It still hurts as he moves his fingers deep inside, but now the pain is combined with pleasure, with light-headed arousal. He is gasping and moaning, lost in his fantasy. He imagines strong arms around him, the promise of a better future, if only…

"Do it harder, Hashirama!"

"Madara…Madara..."

He comes, ejaculating against his palm, his fingers slipping from his arse. He quickly finishes his washing. He wants to put on clothes and pretend he never did this.

Lying on his tatami, on his stomach as that way he's less conscious of the pain in his backside, he feels so lonely he wouldn't be surprised to go out to the streets and find the whole world has disappeared.

*/*/*

TBC…