Chapter Text
The Things Unsaid
Each day, I remind myself that your smile and laughter are enough to make me stay. Stay too, my friend. Stay with me.
The ringing was painful to his ears. Hashirama smelled blood and his head hurt like he was slammed by Madara’s gunbai at point-blank. His body felt heavy and the temptation to just fall on his face was too great. His vision swayed and Hashirama realized he was leaning forward. He was sitting on some sort of ledge. His feet were firmly on the ground. Mentally bracing himself for the harsh impact against the earth, he was caught off guard when soft hands caught him by his chest.
Hashirama found the strength to open his eyes. It was like he was underwater and he had to squint to see what was happening. The ringing noise was making his ears bleed and he groaned. The sound tore against his dry throat, it was like he hadn’t drunk water for days.
Then he saw a familiar shade of petal hair and Hashirama’s heart stuttered at the sight of her. Her hair was in a messy bun and there were a few strands framing her face. Seeing the grime and dirt on her cheeks made him wince.
‘Why is she messy?’ He frowned. He willed his hand to move, to wipe off the dirt and- was that- was that blood on her face? Alarmed, Hashirama struggled to lift his hands but they were like lead at his sides. He was hit with the realization that he couldn’t feel his body at all. He tried straining his arms, his legs, anything. They stayed unmoving. It didn’t feel like he was in his body.
“Honestly- you-! reckless-!” Sakura’s voice distracted him from his minor panic. Her voice was choppy but loud and he never saw her angry at him before. The ringing finally stopped. Hashirama really tried to hear her words but, try as he might, he can’t make most of them out. “-can’t lose you! The village-! The people-! hope- away-”
A short glance around told him he was in a tent, a very familiar one and dread swirled in his gut. A war tent. They were in a camp, and the pungent smell of herbs and charred earth wafted through his nose. Then the smell of iron and leather hit him. The instant recognition froze his insides. Burning corpses. His eyes snapped back to Sakura, and Hashirama prayed she didn’t have any injuries or felt any pain.
‘Why am I- What am I doing? Where is this?’ Panic trickled through his veins and he tried gathering his scattered thoughts. His mind was a mess, thinking of the minute possibilities of a genjutsu but he can’t even feel an ounce of his chakra. When glowing hands cupped his face, Hashirama was pulled back to see Sakura’s furrowing her eyebrows and biting her lips to the point that he feared it would bleed. He belatedly realized she was healing him. She was worried about him. He never saw her viridian eyes look so desperate and his heart swelled. She cared about him.
“This is not your fault.” She said, voice hard as stone and eyes pooling with unshed tears. “This-”
Her other words were lost on him, garbled like she was underwater, and Hashirama wondered if he was concussed. Or if his ears were damaged. While her hands were frantically hovering across his chest and head, Hashirama noticed her clothes. ‘Strange,’ He eyed the red vest and cream skirt she was wearing. ‘I’ve never seen clothes like these. It’s- It’s scandalous.’
His ears burn at the thought but Sakura’s frowning, flushed face distracted him enough. She looked like she was about to cry as she healed him, her work was amazing. It felt strange though, because he hardly felt anything. It’s like she wasn’t doing anything to him but Hashirama saw how his muscles and skin stitched themselves back together. Maybe he’s on some kind of herb, she’d told him about it before. The herb that doesn’t let anyone feel pain.
“Stupid-! Reckless-!”
He heard and by harsh jabs of her fingers with each word he understood from her rant, Hashirama assumed she was talking about him and he felt his chest heave as he chuckled. Her jabs felt awfully strong. He must’ve done something stupid for her to be this furious at him but Hashirama still didn’t understand how things ended this way. Sakura’s eyes finally moved from his injured torso to his own eyes and the tears slowly building made his heart lurch.
His body moved on his own and the ease in which his arms rose and surrounded the frantic woman made him wonder how he couldn’t even make them budge earlier. Sakura stilled in his hug, something he’d been wanting to do since he saw her surrounded by flowers, before resisting him with halfhearted efforts all the while telling him how reckless and dumb he was in a strangled voice. She alternated from pushing him to pulling him close and for Hashirama it was enough of a reason to just pull her closer.
“Idiot!” She choked out.
She kept pounding on his chest, tiny fists hammering his already injured torso before quietly slumping onto him. He felt her shuddering breath, the quiet moment of trying to get it together, before she cried her heart out.
“I can’t lose you too,” She sobbed and Hashirama was seized in the moment. He felt his throat constrict and his heart thumping against his ribs. He could hear his blood flowing with how hyperaware he was. His mouth opened, he felt his tongue move but he couldn’t hear the words he was saying. He didn’t even know what to say but Hashirama just wanted to tell her. Tell her how much she meant to him and how he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure they would always be together.
Her tears dripped down from her face to his shoulders as she buried her head there and Hashirama gripped her as gentle as he could. He felt like he could break her like this. Easy. Tragic. That thought frightened him but he did not let go of her. He placed a hand on her back, rubbing a circle gently. She slacked against him and Hashirama was sure he was fully carrying her weight. He was sure that if he let go, she’d fall. He wanted to say something. Something like I’d never leave you or along the lines of you can’t get rid of me that easily but honestly no words could describe this consuming feeling in his chest.
So he opened his mouth only to feel the air was stolen from his lungs and he was no longer in a tent.
Hashirama felt his feet touch the ground and gravity was pulling him down heavily. Looking up, he was blinded by how bright the sky was and when his eyes finally got used to the light, he realized he was once again on a battlefield. His head turned itself to look over his shoulder. Behind him was a crater, far bigger than he’d ever seen before, and his heart stopped just from the sheer size of it. He dreaded to learn what caused it.
He turned to look in front of him and movement in his peripherals made him freeze. He was facing a crowd, but their faces were blurry to his eyes, a stark contrast with how detailed he could see of the surrounding environment. There were buildings, buildings he never saw before even in his travels, and half of them were reduced to rubbles. The trees look familiar and Hashirama felt like he’d been here before. He can’t move his head, can’t turn around to survey the rest of the area.
The crowd moved closer to him and he wanted to back up. Anxiety filled his heart when he realized he can’t call upon his trees. In fact, Hashirama couldn’t feel his nature chakra at all and it frightened him.
Then amongst the crowd, he saw a familiar shade of pink. Without thinking, Hashirama walked towards it. The crowd did not fight him, unlike his fears, but instead parted as he made his way. Hashirama did not pay them any mind, not when he saw Sakura still standing form right in the middle of them with her eyes, viridian eyes, looking straight at him. It was only when he neared her that he saw the building drops of tears on her face and it made him wonder what he did this time.
‘This- this doesn’t make sense,’ Hashirama felt his pace go faster when he saw the pink-haired woman looked like she was on the verge of choking. ‘Why is she here?’
When he finally reached her, he realized the crowd was congratulating him. There were smiles on their blurry faces and words of you did it! and thank you! could be dimly heard. He was in front of her now and Hashirama didn’t even remember the feeling of moving his legs but when she looked at him with those beryl eyes of hers he felt himself smile. His lips curved upward in a way he was familiar with.
Then she hugged him.
Not just any hugged either. She hugged him like he would crumble beneath her arms. She cradled his head softly before pulling him in. Her chin was barely reaching his shoulders as she tiptoed. His head was gently cushioned between her neck and her trembling shoulders. The fragility in which she held him made him want to break himself with all the pent-up emotions she just invoked.
Hashirama felt himself take in a shuddering breath. His throat burn. He hugged back, arms closing in on her and hands clutching her hips. A single moment of clarity, even the wind stopped to show reverence in this moment and the people surrounding them quieted down. It felt like he was in a picture with how still the world suddenly became when he hugged back and Hashirama wished the moment would last for years.
That one moment of weakness then the crowd roared. It felt like the sun was smiling with how bright and warm it felt. The sounds of cheers were deafening, and he barely understood all of the words, but the faces became clearer. Hashirama didn’t know any of them but the teary-eyed yet wide smiling, screaming people made his heart constrict.
“We did it! We did it! We survived!”
Hashirama knew what was happening just from the feel of it, the feeling of victory. The feeling of being able to live another day. He hugged Sakura tighter and her crying self made him let out a shout of his own relief and happiness. It was like she opened a gate within him and Hashirama was flooded with emotions. Happiness. Relief. Longing. He shouted it all out until he felt his throat sore. Never mind that the voice that came out from his mouth was not the familiar sound of his own.
“-Aniki, are you listening?”
Hashirama dodged the hand intending to smack his face and looked incredulously at his dear baby brother.
“You didn’t have to smack me in the face, Tobi.” Hashirama fell back to his chair with a sigh, if only to put some more distance between him and his recently annoying brother. Those damn dreams were wrecking his mind. He tried shaking it off this morning by taking a walk around the waking village but even seeing the people start their day did not calm him.
He kept seeing Sakura. He kept seeing her crying and that just wasn’t acceptable.
Hashirama didn’t know if it was because he kept thinking of her or because he can’t get her out of his mind ever since she left two months ago, and he hasn’t even heard a word about her since. Not even his eyes and ears outside the village reported any sighting of the woman, not even a whisper about her recent locations from her villages. It was frighteningly amusing to learn how tight-lipped civilians could be and how loyal they were.
“What are you thinking?” Tobirama, cool and collected as ever, shrugged off Hashirama’s half-hearted glare and he just let out another sigh. His brother could be annoying when he tried to be and Hashirama didn’t like how perceptive his red eyes were.
“It doesn’t matter,” He waved it off, as if the movement of his flapping hands could physically ward away his confusing thoughts, before pulling himself to sit properly and tap the scroll on his desk. “Just so you know I was listening. You’ve really outdone yourself with this project, Tobi.”
He offered a grin, one that was half-genuine and just half there to distract Tobirama from planning his brother’s strategies on how to get him to crack open about his surreal visions. Hashirama had successfully avoided an interrogation about how he screamed earlier that morning as he woke up, his throat still felt raw, he avoided and danced around his brother’s a bit too invasive questions about the things he just witnessed in his mind. He wasn’t going to give Tobirama the answers he wanted just because he asked.
As expected, his brother narrowed his all-seeing red eyes at him. Hashirama understood the how-dare-you-distract-me so he focused back on the scroll he was given and, with a brush, pointed out a few things that needed focus to avoid the incoming barrage of questions.
“Great idea in choosing the land near the commercial district. I think I can find the time to lend a hand in building the foundation, to cut the spend.” He hummed, surveying the rest of the proposal. “We’re still on unsteady footing after building the civilian districts and finishing up the walls. We need to plan this on a tight budget.”
“About the walls, how are the Uzumaki seals faring?” Hashirama didn’t like the underlying tone Tobirama used. Hashirama looked at him suspiciously but his brother remained still as a statue.
“They’re doing well,” He treaded slowly, scrutinizing his brother before looking back down at the scroll. “but you should know that since you’re the only non-Uzumaki leading tactician on the seal’s array around the village. Right, otouto?”
Tobirama crossed his arms at the endearment before saying. “Have you sent feedback to that termagant?”
“Now, Tobi, that isn’t a nice way to address Mito.” Hashirama clicked his tongue. Though his brother had his nasty ruby-eyed glares and freezing aura, Tobirama was one of the most sensitive people he’d ever known. He still couldn’t wrap it around his head how his brother acted like a man with a stick up his ass. Not when during their tea time Tobirama would tell him comedic stories about recent children shenanigans with barely a smile on his face but for his brother that was as close as it was to a grin.
“I can address her whatever the hell I want.” Tobirama grumbled like the moody child he was and Hashirama looked at him, faked aghast at his words.
“Just because she called you out on one of your bastardly deeds doesn’t mean you-”
“Hashirama,” His brother growled in warning. “just answer the damn question.”
“Oh stop being so fussy,” Hashirama had to laugh, his brother could just be so easily riled up sometimes. “And no, I haven’t written to Mito about it yet. I got a bit too busy handling the influx of civilians that I haven’t been able to find the time to write her a letter about it.”
Tobirama had a weird look in his eyes that Hashirama didn’t like nor understand so he quickly said.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” He offered a grin, slowly raising his hands just in case his brother tried to strike him in the head. Hashirama was fast but every day that passed by made him notice how Tobirama was surpassing him, if not already. “She hasn’t bothered me about it yet.”
His white-haired sibling let out a frustrated sigh. “Just because your work doesn’t bother you yet doesn’t mean you can delay it whenever you want.”
“Don’t reduce Mito like she’s just work.” He argued but Tobirama gave him a scathing look that had Hashirama clam up. ‘Honestly,’ Hashirama groused. ‘he got all of Otou-san’s anger issues.’
“Well, isn’t she?”
“Absolutely not,” Hashirama gave him a warning look. “The Uzumaki are our friends.”
“Just friends?” Tobirama pestered and Hashirama realized what his younger brother was hinting at. It made him wonder why, of all people, was his brother hinting about it.
“I told you before. They’re family and a beloved friend of Konoha.” This time he had to look away from his brother’s invasive stare, even after living with him all these years Hashirama had never gotten used to his brother’s habit of unnervingly staring at everyone and everything.
“Then why haven’t you written up a report to our beloved friend?” Tobirama mocked and Hashirama groaned at the scolding that looked inevitable.
“Give me a break, Tobi,” He gestured to the piling papers regarding about citizen applications, the deals with the fire daimyo, and foreign business alliances before giving his brother hopefully pitiful eyes. “You know I’m already flooded with work as it is. I didn’t mean to put-off feedback regarding the seals.”
His cold-hearted brother had the gall to snort back at him for even trying to gain sympathy and Hashirama dropped the please-pity-me look. Tobirama huffed at him.
“Well, I wasn’t the one who dreamed of creating a village from scratch.” Then, as an afterthought, he said in a voice that told him of disdain but at least it wasn’t hatred and Hashirama saw that as a win. “With an enemy clan no less.”
“Don’t give me that look, Tobi.” Hashirama rubbed a hand on his face, if he could just wipe off his eyebags and the exhaustion he’d be able to pull another night in the office. “I know what I’m doing.”
That was half true. He had the plans, the strategy, the framework, and the future image of how Konoha would stand along its people. Will of fire.
Tobirama just had to use the word ‘dreamed’ of all things and Hashirama didn’t know if his brother used it intentionally to get him to fess up about his weird dream or because Konoha had been his dream for a long time.
His mind wondered back to the images he was visited by last night, the look of Sakura with grim and determination on her crying face. The sound of the people celebrating for their lives. The smell of herbs and burnt corpses. The feeling of being hugged like he was made of glass that was meant to shatter. He remembered the forest surrounding the enormous crater and wondered at the familiarity of it.
Hashirama caught the scroll that was about to slam him in the face and looked at Tobirama with disbelief and wide eyes.
“What did I literally just tell you about unnecessary violence?”
His brother raised a perfectly white curved eyebrow in return.
“You obviously don’t want to talk,” Tobirama ignored his question and cut him off from offering an explanation, or better yet a distraction, for this dreadful topic. “and grilling you about it seems to be a waste of time so I won’t even bother.”
Hashirama opened his mouth, Tobirama made it sound like he was the one who was a bother when it’s the entire opposite. He let Tobirama get away with a lot of awful things! Like that one time he stabbed Izuna in the guts and Hashirama had to protect his ass from Madara’s gunbai fan. Point is, if anyone was a bother between the two of them it would be Tobirama. He was as peaceful as an angel compared to his stab-first-talk-later brother.
“No, I don’t want to hear your excuses.” His brother cut him off again before pointedly looking at the heavy scroll he oh so casually threw at his face. Hashirama had half the thought of throwing it back to see if he’d like it but instead opted to open the scroll with enough force to tear it into two. A rough drawing of a building greeted him and Hashirama had to control the snort threatening to leave his mouth. For a grouchy old man, the detail in which his brother drew the building said nothing short of his hidden passion for drawing.
Tobirama ignored his rude behavior rather calmly and continued with his proposal. “That is the structural plan for the academy building. Proposed schedule and budget. Give me a written feedback tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes, Hokage-sama,” Hashirama mocked, his brother and his lack of words sometimes grated his nerves. He noticed the faint color of pink at one of the trees located at the front yard of the academy. A cherry blossom tree? “have you thought of possible individuals for the first batch?”
“I have children in mind,” He told him like it wasn’t obvious.
“Hey, I’ve already said sorry about keeping Sakura-chan’s class a secret. Why’d you have to keep hounding me about it,” Hashirama muttered the last part as he started rolling up the scroll containing the academy’s framework.
“Because you’re a pain in the ass, Aniki.” Tobirama deadpanned, he obviously heard his words like he intended for him to. Hashirama took the chance to be dramatic, just to spite his brother who hated all his theatrics. That and because of the fact that what Tobirama said was not true.
“How could you say that to your one and only older brother?”
Tobirama frowned at him in disdain that had Hashirama more motivated to pull out all the airs.
“I built this village for you, for the children, for our family! For peace and yet you hurt me this way! I should just pack my bags and leave, since I’m oh so hated-”
“Enough,” Tobirama glowered in warning. “I’m needed somewhere else, unlike you, Aniki. Do you have anything to say with regards to the academy?”
Don’t you have something to say? He understood the silent message. His brother wanted to see if Hashirama would be smart enough to fine the “obvious” fault in his plans.
“It’s brilliant, ototo.” Hashirama said, honestly, while half making sure his cooing annoyed his brother.
Hashirama deflated at the red-eyed stare, his little brother had taken to reading his silent messages at a frighteningly high level. “But do you think that civilians would allow their children to attend?”
The idea was truly remarkable, no one would think of teaching civilian children to increase their shinobi population. Especially since the rising numbers of civilians is threatening the small numbers of shinobi that they have. However personally, Hashirama didn’t want another batch of child soldiers. He didn’t want this but Tobirama told him the necessity of it, and the reassurance that all the children will be well prepared and trained to ensure that they are able to protect themselves and others. Not like the war fodder that was the children of his clan, taught hastily and used as nothing more than distractions before the real battle.
“I think there would be willing children.” Hashirama’s heart ached at the word children with the thought of them being willing to learn the ways of killing but his mind told him it was to protect their family, it’s done for a good reason. If he thought of it enough, maybe he’d start believing it.
“That’s not what I meant, Tobi,” Hashirama sighed, twirling a brush with his right hand. “I meant would the parents allow this? We cannot take their children from them by force, whatever the young ones may think they are still under their parent’s jurisdiction.”
Hashirama could see the gears turning in his brother’s head, fast and silent. He voiced out another problem he’d been thinking.
“The funds can be handled without worry as well as the building,” He assured, after all, Hashirama had built nearly half of the infrastructures in the village with his precious technique. Singlehandedly, might he add. “However, I doubt the civilian council would agree to this integration and I don’t think the clan council would be one to easily agree to this. Despite the obvious advantage and benefits of your idea, sending their precious and ‘better’ children to train with ‘lesser’ ones would look like a waste of time when they could be learning their clan techniques.”
Hashirama peered at his brother’s unimpressed face underneath the Hokage hat. He smiled at the obvious scheme his brother wanted him to play part of. Tobirama already knew all of the things he just said, his brother just wanted to check if his Hokage brother would be smart enough to point it out. Hashirama was mildly hurt to think that Tobirama doubted his skills that much. He must be going too lenient during their training sessions.
“What’s your plan, Hashirama?” The white haired man asked like he didn’t have a plan to solve this problem himself, a plan that Hashirama had an inkling idea of even without Tobirama hinting or saying a word about it. Simplest and easiest way to show the benefits of teaching civilian children the ways of shinobi would just be to show them one. A civilian born and shinobi taught person who’s successfully making a name for herself outside their village walls. Both of them knew just the right person to bring up for the council meeting.
“My plan is your plan, Tobi,” Hashirama grinned cheekily when his brother rolled his ruby eyes at him. “I’m sure she’d love to support you in your endeavor. Sakura-chan cherishes children more than anything.”
This time, it was Tobirama who snorted before asking him haughtily just to cover up the fact that he failed to gain the upper hand with him. He was Hokage after all. But the following words slapped him like that one time Kawarama accidentally slapped his face with a fish.
“More than you?”
His little brother’s words took a second too long for it to register and he could feel his face flush red at the bratty teasing. Hashirama stood up abruptly, half because he was embarrassed and half because he was preparing to lunge at his irritating little brother. He’s going to get it.
“Tobirama, you’re so-” Just then, Hashirama was cut off when an annoyed Uchiha Madara slammed the doors of his office open, bypassing any seals he placed with raw strength alone that had him thinking of creating and replacing them with better ones.
‘Barbarians,’ Hashirama looked back to see an annoyed look flicker on his brother’s face before shifting into his usual stoic mask. He reigned in his earlier frustration and embarrassment to just sit back down. He’s exhausted. ‘I’m surrounded by barbarians.’
“If I’m ever going to be sent to that noodle town again, I’m going to beat your face, Hashirama.” Was the first thing Madara growled at him and Hashirama’s brain faltered when he said noodle town because he was sure the only place he sent the Uchiha clan head, of all people, was- oh.
“What is it with you both being so rude to the Uzuamki,” Hashirama pointedly stared at opposite men standing in front of his desk, who were shooting glares at one another. “and taking your anger on my face? Savages, the both of you.”
Madara huffed, cutting off the intense glaring session with his brother, before throwing a scroll and a piece of paper with the precision of aiming a kunai at him. Hashirama caught both in one hand without a flinch but he felt a nerve throb at the thought of additional work as well as the fact that people kept throwing things at his face.
“That hellion sent a missive, I don’t know nor do I care about its content. The other one is a letter from Sakura,” Hashirama felt his heart freeze at the name and dropped, what he now realized to be, an envelope to his desk like it burned him. Truthfully, he let go of it because he didn’t want to accidentally crumple it with his tight grip. The Uchiha turned to his brother and Hashirama knew Madara long enough to know he was both amused and annoyed at Tobirama’s insufferably unnerving stare back. “surprisingly, she also sent one for you.”
“Uchiha.” Tobirama warned with a dirty look and Madara laughed at his brother’s face, not seeing it threatening at all.
“Cease your kitten faces, Senju,” His long time friend drawled, a hand going in his kimono almost lazily. “You and I both know I said nothing wrong.”
His brother didn’t bother to deign Madara the response the Uchiha had been provoking out of him. Hashirama glanced from Tobirama to his longtime friend before musing. ’They’re getting along well.’
He knew those ‘crazy’ dinners, as Tobirama liked to call it, were working.
Silence stretched in the room and Hashirama felt sweat dripped down from his forehead. The temptation to kick both savages out was becoming more and more tempting with each passing second. Thankfully, when it looked like Tobirama wasn’t budging an inch, Madara clucked his tongue before messily tossed an envelope to his brother that would look like it would go over Tobirama’s head if not for his quick reflexes.
“Sake?” Madara asked and Hashirama didn’t know what tremendous sin he committed in his past life to suffer with short worded sentences over the majority of this life from two of his most precious people.
“From Kokumotsu.” It was a favorite of theirs and it had been awhile since they went drinking. Madara had been gone for a mission in Uzushio for over a month now. Hashirama also knew that Madara wouldn’t give him his report on said mission without the sake.
“Tonight, then.” Without waiting for his reply, Madara turned his back and left.
‘I bet he’s going to rant about her again,’ Hashirama groaned into his hands. ‘I don’t want to hear about how insufferable Mito is for two hours straight. Again. He should just propose and get this farce over with.’
Because as much as Madara hated being sent to whirlpool, it was Mito who kept sending him personal letters via the falcon Madara grudgingly gave to her four years ago. Letters bodily threatening him to send her the Uchiha clan head or else she’d march into the village on her own two feet.
He could agree with Madara and his unsaid words on how terrifying Mito can be when she wanted to.
Then he felt a familiar cold stare prickle his hair, Hashirama lifted his head to see Tobirama still looking at him with those unsettling eyes of his. An excellent idea came to his mind at the sight of his wonderful brother but when Hashirama moved to opened his mouth, Tobirama was faster.
“Do not even think about it,” He said, tucking the letter safely into his own kimono that had a question form on Hashirama’s tongue with how soft his movements were unlike the casual, brusque motion of his handling with documents. Like how Tobirama kept throwing scrolls at him. “I want no part of this drama.”
By the end of his sentence, his office door slammed shut on him. What was it and people being so rude to him, he was Hokage! He was supposed to be respected, dammit yet here’s his little brother slamming doors on his face and his best friend leaving without even letting him speak.
Another sigh escaped his lips and he tiredly run over his fingers in the tangles of his hair. Surveying the leftover work on his desk before his eyes caught the innocuous envelop lying unbalanced on his discarded brush. His hands moved with frantic speed to check if any ink got splattered on the thing and he sagged in his chair in relief when Hashirama saw the letter is still left untouched.
His thoughts travelled to the days during her stay, of the laughter they shared and how her eyes utterly shined whenever she took in the sight of Konoha bustling about with her people. Hashirama remembered the snow in her hair, his fingers flexed at the memory of him dusting the cold white of her petal locks. The grateful smile she showed him that made his insides melt.
Hashirama remembered the knowing look she exchanged with the Uchiha brothers and how cozy they were together and the feeling of the burning sensation underneath his ribs rising and bubbling just beneath his skin.
He remembered the dinners they shared, the way sight of her sweeping the garden grounds, the sway of her hips as they walk Senju halls, the soft hum in her steps whenever she was in the compound. Hashirama remembered looking at her wearing his clan aprons and their clan colors with the kimono they gave her and how much she belonged in his house. Though the kimono did not bear his clan symbol, the way her petal hair matched the greenness of his garden was enough symbolism.
Then he remembered her spar with Izuna and how ugly he felt the following days.
He had tried to avoid her the days after, so that she couldn’t see how hideous he felt and maybe he could have regain some sort of control of himself. He didn’t want to do anything he’d regret, especially to Sakura. Izuna had nearly died by his brother’s hands, a tiny part of his heart wished he had, and Hashirama did not want to trouble the burgeoning relationship between the Uchiha and his village.
So he had tried avoiding her, keyword being tried.
Obviously, Sakura hadn’t been aware of his plans because after one day of avoiding her she appeared in the village streets for the first time with bento in hand right in front of his building.
Rationality had flown out of the window so damn fast and so did he, just not through the window, but through the door as soon as he felt her chakra. Her cool, mint green chakra calmly, nervously flickering just outside the building.
His heart floundered at the sight of her and maybe even a day without seeing her was a day too long when she was just in their house in the compound. Words wanted to stumble outside his mouth, half made excuses and a whole hearted sorry, but his slow, composed gait stopped when her eyes focused at his being. He was riveted by her forest eyes.
The atmosphere changed in that moment, something entered the air, something different and his tongue had tasted ozone. It was like a he swallowed fire just by looking at her.
The exasperated look she gave him before lifting the bento in an obvious gesture of i-brought-food-for-you had captured him so effortlessly that Hashirama had felt his legs run to her and his arms pulled her in a tight hug in one rapid and fluid movement that his mind hadn’t caught up to what he had just done.
She squawked when he lifted her up. Her wooden slippers slid of her feet with a thud. Her hands had frantically grabbed his shoulders in an effort to steady herself. Hashirama noticed the way she froze in his arms and his heart cracked but he still kept his arms around her.
She wasn’t pushing him away so he didn’t let go.
Honestly he didn’t know if he’d let go even if she did.
He relished in the familiar feeling of hugging her and carrying her, despite it being his first time.that he didn’t paid attention to it. The feeling of her breathing and of her warmth between his arms felt so right.
Then he noticed the people staring with knowing smiles on their faces and Hashirama blushed but the grin on his face was so hard to wipe off it felt like it was permanently plastered to his mouth. Sakura then belatedly realized the growing crowd they were attracting. Her face flushed like a tomato before smacking him on the shoulders, furiously whispering how inappropriate and wrong his actions were being.
The moment would even feel more complete if she called him idiot.
But she didn’t and Hashirama wondered at the empty feeling in his chest. Still, she looked ready to die from embarrassment when he didn’t budge.
Of course he loved it because she was paying attention to him and the crowd had called out to them with congratulations and jokes that had him laughing and Sakura blushing. Her face had been as red as Mito’s hair.
It was an adorable sight.
But what came after had caught him the most, when the crowd dissipated with smiles and laughter, and she smiled at him so shyly, innocently that Hashirama was hit with an overwhelming thought that he was coveting something he shouldn’t have. His body had quivered at the idea of sin when he knew for a fact Sakura was a free woman, as free as the wind.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong.
The realization that the hug did not impede their friendship in any way made him want to hug her again. Surprisingly, in the privacy of his office, Sakura had let him hug her.
“Is something wrong?” She asked.
“Yes,” He replied because he felt that if he answered otherwise, she wouldn’t be so compliant with his too friendly touch.
She let him hug her all he wanted and Hashirama had an inkling feeling of hope take root between his lungs when she laid her head softly on chest. He remembered his dream that morning. He marveled at the accuracy of the dream’s portrayal of how soft Sakura was.
However there was hesitation in her eyes, the doubt in her movements, but Hashirama made sure to distract her from them by asking her about her day, by making it feel like this was an everyday occurrence. By making it seem like it was normal for them to be that intimate, to be that close because to him holding her was right. Holding her like she was his lifeline.
Hashirama didn’t know what came over him.
When Sakura finally left to return home, Hashirama couldn’t find it in himself to walk her back to the compound. It felt like his body was not his own and he feared what he was capable of. She left with a smile and the empty bento.
“I have no self-control.” He told himself in the privacy of his office.
That was quite terrifying to accept and he had zero plans on how to solve it. He prayed, for the first time in a long time, for Kami to have mercy on him.
Hashirama eyed the letter again and he told his heart to stay still enough for him to carefully open the letter and read it. He was confused as to how Madara had gotten a hold of this, and wondered if that Uchiha and his brother received letters too. A tiny part of him wished, lately he’d been doing a lot of wishing, she didn’t send any letters to anyone but him.
Hello, dear friend,
Hashirama, I kept my promise. I hope this letter finds you safe and well.
I’m currently in Water country, and its name does not disappoint. I came because I heard news of the terrible sickness spreading through the villages. The severity was horrible, Hashirama, especially when it could’ve been easily avoided. Post-Winter Flu had always been a pain and I remembered that time yeas ago when I, too, had been inflicted with it. It was awful and my friend had to do all sorts of things just to keep me in a good mood. He gave me a lot of sweets. Speaking of sweets, I saw a lot of weird ones here. Like this one bread shaped like a fish but had some sort of bean paste inside, it was delicious! I was half-expecting it to be filled with fish meat but I enjoyed the pleasant surprise. I wish I could share some with you the next time we meet….
“You’re a lunatic,” Madara wheezed, avoiding a strike of Hashirama’s sword. “how are you still laughing?”
“What do you mean?” The idiot Senju laughed and Madara just wanted to skewer him once and for all. Hashirama bent backwards to avoid his sword stabbing his sternum and doing a backflip that nearly kicked him in the face if he wasn’t so quick to step back. The brunet grinned at him when he landed a distance away from him and exclaimed with a sword pointed at him. “We haven’t been going for that long!”
Gritting his teeth, Madara quickly followed the idiot with a flurry of slashes. To his growing ire, his friend was able to parry every swing with his own sword. Hashirama had the gall to grin at him again and he was irritated at the feeling of the drying sweat on his forehead. ‘I’m done with this twit.’
“It’s been five hours, you fool!” He swung his sword down, heavy with intent to cleave. Instead of dodging, Hashirama blocked it with a sword of his own. Stupid move. A smirk emerged from his lips when the Senju’s sword threateningly creaked under the strength bearing down at him. Hashirama gulped, hearing the same thing he had heard, before letting out a chuckle that had him pushing down harder.
“We’ve waged battles longer than this!” Hashirama argued, putting power on his legs to push him back, with some effort. Madara pushed down harder, just to get his point across, before jumping back. Seeing Hashirama stand up, swords raised in defense, Madara was quick to throw his sword at the annoyance. However his aim had been towards the training dummy behind his idiotic friend. The katana fully went through the worn wooden training post and Hashirama had turned around to see what he hit, while touching his right ear which had been dangerously close to the katana as it hit the dummy.
“I just got back from a mission,” Madara glowered at the memory of an annoying redhead. “and I can’t handle any of your crap right now. Go look for your brother if you want to decimate a person.”
“You threw your sword at me. Oh my lord it went through…” He saw Hashirama eye the impaled training post with disbelief before looking back at him with another annoying grin on his face, his right hand leaving his perfectly fine right ear.. If Madara had wanted him to bleed, he’d bleed. “Not that you’ve never done that before but it’s still frightening to experience.”
“I wasn’t aiming at you.” He huffed before turning to walk back to the main house where it was cool and less blinding than the fields under the sun where Hashirama shined like a fucking star.
“Oh come on, Madara,” He heard Hashirama walk to the wooden post to retrieve his sword before shouting back at him. His friend pulled the sword out effortlessly with one hand and Madara was reminded that this idiot Senju was one of the only people who can match with him in a spar and on the battlefield. Even his own baby brother can’t pull out one of his swords when he embedded them in one of the poles. “It’s already been two days since you got back!”
“No, Hashirama. I’ve wasted enough of my time babysitting you.” ‘This annoying lovestruck idiot.’ Madara grimaced before turning back to the veranda to splash himself with water from the basin one of his servants was smart enough to prepare. The cool feeling made him feel refresh and less likely to pierce his annoying, babbling friend with another sword.
“If anything, Madara, I’m the one doing all the babysitting since I’m Hokage.” The idiot joked before dropping their swords softly on the wooden floor. Hashirama offered him a white towel, he had no idea where the idiot got it but it looked clean enough, and he took it without a word. While drying his face, he heard splashing sounds that indicated Hashirama also started cleaning himself.
‘Thank Kami,’ Madara sighed before sitting down with a thud besides their swords, not bothering to hand a towel to the brunet because he was sure the Hokage could take care of himself. ‘I thought he’d pester me for a taijutsu round.’
“Well since you’re so busy being the Hokage, why are you here?” Because he had been expecting peace and quiet for at least the first week of his return but no, apparently the gods have cursed him with loudmouthed annoyances anywhere he went. He just escaped the redhead’s deadly drivels only to return home to his local idiot’s nonsense.
“Do I need a reason to visit a friend?” He gave Hashirama the most unimpressed stare he could muster, which was easy enough with his past experiences in handling this giant man baby. The brunet avoided his look, predictable, and sat himself down on the other side of their swords with a flustered face.
Madara rolled his eyes, already tired just by expecting the rant that was about to come. He’d been expecting it as soon as the Senju came unannounced and loudly demanding a spar. He knew Hashirama was delaying the real reason he came for him. He only went along with that spars just so he could land a hit on the idiot without being charged with treason. ‘This had Sakura’s letter written all over it.’
“Okay, okay, honestly I just wanted to let out some steam and talk-”
“You have a brother for that.”
“I said I wanted to let out some steam, not participate in a drown or be drowned struggle that would doubtlessly end in a scolding session.” Madara snorted, one of the only things he would ever consider to be a respectable character of that ice-block was his tenacity in keeping Hashirama in his office and making sure all his Hokage paperwork were done.
“So you’ve been neglecting your duties again.” Madara ignored the upset look directed his way by surveying the damages done to his backyard. Thankfully, they didn’t do that much destruction this time because Hashirama wanted to practice more on his speed with kenjutsu and he just wanted to stab the brunet at least once. He had only been able to land a graze on the Senju’s upper arm but that was saying something since Hashirama hadn’t even touched him with the sword.
“No, I haven’t. In fact, I’ve been doing my job perfectly well.” Hashirama huffed, wringing the towel he used to wipe his face. “You and Tobi are just so mean all the time when I just want to take a break. I don’t get what Mito sees in you.”
That was not the can of worms Madara ever wanted to open.
“Shut up,” He growled at the snickering twat.
“Seriously, Madara-”
“Choose your next words carefully,” He warned, willing his ears to stop burning at the name of the redhead. “do not forget you are in my territory.”
“Can’t you take a joke, Madara?”
“Just say what you need to say and leave me be.” He grumbled, all the while thinking of the inarizushi he could have been enjoying right now if it weren’t for this brown eyed intruder.
“Stick in the mud,” He heard the idiot mutter and Madara didn’t know if Hashirama was truly an idiot or he intended to let him hear it because, apparently, his goal for today was to get under his nerves. Then the idiot had the gall to deflate all of the sudden like there was a war on the horizon and he just can’t keep up with how fast his friend’s moods were changing.
“I just-” The Senju let out a sigh before familiar annoying look took over his face. Madara inwardly readied himself because he only saw that level of determination when Hashirama had his sight on Konoha’s creation. “Okay. You and I both know that Tobirama has an emotional spectrum of an ice bucket—”
“That is a terrible insult to ice buckets everywhere,” Hashirama looked at him with mild annoyance for his interruption but Madara was getting tired just by hearing him talk about things he already knew. Hashirama could put up with his sass, it was his choice to come to him of all people for a talk that no doubt involved that letter he was rudely demanded to deliver two days ago. Hashirama nonetheless continued, eyes accusing him of being a little shit to which Madara will never admit.
“But you aren’t honestly any better and I really can’t talk with your brother for more than ten seconds without wanting to strangle him.” He snorted at that, this pacifist rarely displayed his anger through violence but it was hilarious when he does. So far, his brother had been the most successful one to royally piss of the nature-loving Senju. Though, Izuna only annoyed Hashirama because of his obvious liking to his pink haired savior. As much as Madara kept calling him idiot, his friend should be smart enough to know when Izuna was just messing with him.
“And you are one of my closest and trusted friend, Madara.”
“Can’t you just get on with it?”
“I was being sincere, you crow.” He rolled his eyes at the pathetic attempt of an insult. Hashirama frowned at him before looking back to the field they were previously sparring at. He was almost fidgeting and Madara inwardly cringed at the sight. “I just wanted to ask if Sakura… sent you letters as well.”
“And if she did?” Madara stood up on the veranda, planning to further irritate the crap out of Hashirama and also to get the flask of water on the table that was behind them. He felt the brunet stand up and hastily yet silently dog his steps. He sat himself down by the chabudai and Hashirama was quick to sit across him.
“Really? What did she say?” Madara ignored the question for a few seconds by drinking from the wooden flask his servants prepared. All the while giving Hashirama one of his why-do-you-care stares that the brunet was well acquainted with because of his incurable habit of always caring way too much for it to be healthy.
“What does that have to do with you?”
“Madara,” Hashirama practically hissed and Madara wanted to bask in the triumph of successfully turning the table of the annoying and the annoyance. “you’re not helping me, at all.”
“Should I?”
“Do you have any idea how many letters Mito sent regarding you?” Madara chucked the wooden flask at him instinctively, and for a quick moment he wondered if he’d be trialed for treason for damaging the Hokage’s face, but the idiot easily caught it with one hand. He scowled at the unimpressed brunet. This was a topic he did not want to hear from Hashirama of all people.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Then just tell me what Sakura-chan wrote to you!” Hashirama whined before setting down the wooden flask back on the chabudai like it wasn’t aimed at his head earlier.
Madara growled when brown eyes looked at him like they were knives poised at his neck. This was what he get for being a good friend. “Nothing of importance, that’s for sure.”
“What did she draw on your letter?”
“What drawing?” Immediately, Madara regretted the words that came out of his mouth when Hashirama’s eyes lit up like the fire Izuna once ‘accidentally’ set in his room. Both of them evidently realizing Hashirama’s letter was something “special” because of some stupid doodles.
“She drew a tree and a flower on mine,” The idiot beamed at the mere thought of a piece of parchment and Madara was just disgusted. Disgusted and blinded at the same time. The topic was horrible and he absolutely wanted no part in this. “I wish she’d visit soon.”
Madara looked heavenward in a silent prayer he never had even once done before. He looked at his friend. Three months ago he would have been amused at the obviously daydreaming look Hashirama, usually ever present and lowkey hyperaware of everything, had on his face as he stared down at the wooden flask. It got sickening real quick after continuously seeing it every time this fool decided to invade his home.
“Didn’t she say about coming back by the end of spring?”
“So she did tell you something important?”
“Oh stop moping,” Madara threw another flask at him, this one being the water flask prepared for the idiot, with the same intent of hitting his head but Hashirama caught it without a flinch as well. While thinking of using more strength for his next throw, Madara continued. “You and I both know she keeps her promises. She’ll visit when she said she will.”
Hashirama sulked as he opened the flask to drink. It was like looking at a child. Madara crossed his arms before looking at his right, towards the field they fought on. There had been this niggling thought at the back of his head ever since he returned. It felt like he was forgetting something. Then this damn idiot had to barged in after breakfast and demanded a continuous set of spars that he kept forgetting the thought at the back of his head.
He wasn’t even able to enjoy the spars because of how energetic and quick footed Hashirama was during their spar. It was more like the Senju pranced around the field while he chased him with his sword or his fists.
The growing pink flowers at the edge of the field caught his eye, and the sight instinctively made him loose some of his tension. It was Sakura’s idea to plant those. Though he had no idea what reason moved her to do so since this was not a garden but a training field that was meant to be damaged at some point. He actually half-forgot them with how hectic things were and it was surprising to see them easily thriving in the wild.
Madara glanced at the suddenly serious aura permeating and saw the Senju staring at the wooden flask in his hands with a perturbing stare he’d usually see on the other Senju brother. Hashirama was finally quiet across from him but no doubt the idiot was overthinking things again. He had honestly no idea how this idiot could run his mouth and body with so much cringeworthy enthusiasm throughout the day when he barely slept at night.
It was a pitiful time when he discovered his friend’s insomnia.
The thought of sleepless nights made his eyes flicker back to the growing pink and white flowers dotting the field’s edge, almost hidden by the bushes surrounding it. Sakura had mentioned it being used for tea, good for the mind she said. He frowned at the memory of the petal haired woman preparing him smelly tea that had him recoiling. He took one sip of it, just to please the stubborn woman, before and spat it out without thinking.
It was just too… flowery for him and Sakura nearly punched him in the gut for his lack of appreciation.
‘I think it’s called tsubaki,’ Madara mused, letting his mind wander. ‘Sakura said it was abundant in one of the villages she stayed at with that student of hers. What was his name again? Seigo? Seiji? Yeah, the little runt that kept dogging her steps.’
He casted a look at his friend, calmly drinking water, and thought of the disaster that would no doubt occur if that student of hers and he were to meet. Now that he thought about it, both of these two brunets were uncannily similar in more ways than one. It would be awful if they became friends but with Hashirama’s current adoration that scenario would be highly unlikely. The brunet felt his stare and glanced at him with a questioning look.
“What?” Hashirama asked, half-defensive and half-distracted, him.
‘No. Not my problem. That ice-block could handle it by himself.’ Madara debated on whether or not to warn the idiot before settling on the most peaceful route. “Nothing.”
“That irritated look of yours didn’t look like it was nothing,” Hashirama gestured the bottle towards his face. “Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if that irritated look of yours became permanent with how much you frown daily.”
Just as Madara was contemplating on whether or not to chuck another object, heavier and sharper, at the laughing brunet or get sake to drink with on this lazy day the shoji doors suddenly opened. Hashirama’s mood instantly soured at the sight of Izuna but Madara was more worried with the annoyed look his little brother was sporting. So he did forget something.
“Anija, did I not remind you of the meeting with the healer today?” Izuna walked over the table with heavy steps. Madara did not know of such meeting, much less remember the date.
“What healer?” I don’t recall any of this. Izuna raised an eyebrow at his silent message, as if asking if he truly forgot about the scheduling a healer for the clan or if he was bullshitting him again. Madara honestly couldn’t recall anything involving a healer, they were mostly reclusive after all. Meanwhile, Hashirama decided to ignore the new yet local intruder by drinking more water.
“The one Sakura-chan suggested,” Stupid aniki he could practically hear his brother’s thoughts but Madara was seized with uneasiness just by hearing the pink haired hellion’s name. He wasn’t given the chance to respond as his little brother took lead in the one-sided conversation. Sometimes, it was frustrating to know Izuna had inherited their mother’s persistent attitude. Sometimes, Madara just wanted some peace and quiet. Hashirama had the nerve to look amused at the sight of him being nagged.
“I already gave him the tour of the compound, he’ll be staying for three weeks as was promised. He asked for a short briefing with you so I led him here.” Then Izuna turned back to the hallway he just entered from and called a name he was just guessing about earlier. One look at the frozen face of his friend had dread dropped in his stomach in knowing he would be the one Hashirama would annoy after this meeting. “Seijou-san, you can come in now!”
Another brunet showed up with a confident smile plastered on his face, ready to offer his medical services, he felt like an idiot with how things were playing out. Madara wisely pretended to not hear the cracking of one of the wooden flasks.