Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Madara was woken early by horrified whispers. They floated through the wooden slats and paper coverings of his bedroom window.

“To think... the Clan Leader’s heir…”

“The Fae don’t discriminate our social standings, it’s been said before.”

“Last time it was the sheep herder's daughter, now Tajima-sama’s eldest…”

“Poor Madara-dono.”

“Poor Izuna-san! He’s lost all his brothers now. Most to battle and now the last to the fae!”

Madara sat up in bed just as his door opened. There his father stood, grim faced next to a teary eyed Izuna.

“Get up.” his father commanded. “We have lots to do in preparation.”

“Father, has something happened?” he asks, only for Tajima to walk briskly away, leaving Izuna standing there looking at his Aniki like he was seeing a ghost. “What is it Izuna? What’s happened?” Madara asked, quickly dressing and reaching towards his otouto.

“Come see.” Izuna said softly, taking his brother by the hand and leading him to the front door. As he opened it the crowd outside silenced, half of their clan watched like witnesses to a tragedy as Izuna showed his brother the crimson flowers blooming above the doorway.

~

He had been chosen as a sacrifice.

The fae flowers were above the Clan Leader’s doorway. In a month he would be eighteen years old, and Izuna was only nine, so there was no mistake on who those red flowers were meant for.

“Wear this around your neck Madara-kun.” his caretaker and old wet nurse gave him a string of salt stones, a deterrent to the hungry fae. The fae were rumored to be so closely connected to the earth and nature, that ingestion of salt would ruin the fae as it would fertile soil.

“If you can make it to the tree line on the opposite side of the forest, they are honor bound to let you go. Any sacrifice who crosses through the forest on their own strength is free, and another sacrifice from our clan will not be chosen.” the old woman reminded him.

These were the rules, which everyone knew.

The flowers would bloom overnight above the doorway of the chosen sacrifice who had a month to wrap up their goodbyes before journeying alone into the forest. If the sacrifice was accepted, several peaceful years would result, the forest remaining calm and amicable, allowing the Uchiha to hunt and forage safely. If the sacrifice was not accepted, the eyes of that Uchiha would be found later, at the forest’s edge, and more flowers would bloom above someone else’s doorway. Meanwhile the forest would become hostile, swallowing any trespassers until the appropriate sacrifice was made and accepted. Salt stones worn around the neck gave the sacrifice a chance to escape, making them unpalatable to the fae long enough to make it through to the other side. Only a few in their entire clan history had made it through, the sole evidence being letters written by the surviving clan members. However surviving had it’s own bittersweet punishment, as they were never able to return to their loved ones, seeing as the forest encompassed the Uchiha lands.

They worshiped Amaterasu, who gifted them their sharingan bright eyes, but even the Uchiha’s patron Goddess of the Sun did not prevent such sacrifices from having to be made every few years. All the Uchiha could do was pray that no flowers would bloom above their doorway.

Now Madara sat with Izuna, instructing him on how to act like the future clan head, as he would be expected to take up the role. Secretly Madara added salt to all his food and planned to return. To not only make it out of the forest, but to make it back through entirely to live a long life alongside his clan. Izuna was too soft hearted and kind to become clan head, it would ruin him. Madara couldn’t let this ruin his precious otouto’s life, he didn’t care if it took every once of strength in his body, he would escape the fae of the forest and come back to tell the tale in person. He wasn’t considered the strongest of his generation for nothing.

The days seemed to speed by and very shortly it seemed he was led by an entourage of Uchiha in mourning black to the forest’s edge.

“Amaterasu watch over this one, see him through to the other side so he may bask in your blessed light for many years more.” the shrine maiden said, tossing ashes made from Katon blessings into the air.

“Aniki, you’ll escape and write to me wont you?” Izuna begged, clinging to his brother’s mission pants.

“Of course Izuna, I’ll be fine.” Madara poked his otouto’s forehead and looked to their father. Tajima was as grim faced as ever, only offering a spin of his aged sharingan and tight nod of farewell. One last memory of his eldest, standing at the forest edge. He knew the chances of his son’s survival, believing he would never see him again even if he did make it.

~

Madara watched as his farewell party walked away, somberly making it back to their village. He waved to Izuna until a distant hill obscured his vision, and they could no long see each other.

Then he took a single breath and stepped into the forest. He walked in a strait line, hoping to make as much headway as he could before any hungry fae befell him. He tried to be as silent as possible, making noise was not wise for prey of the forest who was trying to avoid detection.

Madara made it about half a day of walking before the strangest thing he’d ever seen happened. It started in the distance, a disturbance in the ground. It was subtle at first, a low rumbling sound and shifting of the leaves on the forest floor. It reminded him of a few sub terrainian earth style techniques he’d faced in battle. However it did not stay small and subtle, growing so loud and shifting so much dirt that it looked like an entire heard of beasts was moving just under the surface.

Madara ran, leaping into the trees to travel faster and hopefully outrun whatever was tunneling his way. This proved to be a mistake however, as the branches beneath his feet came alive and dodged his efforts. When he utilized his chakra to attach himself anyway, they began to swing at him from all sides.

“OOF!” Madara’s breath was knocked out of him as a hidden branch got him in the stomach, causing him to crash back to the ground. He laid there, stunned, winded and dizzy, only able to watch as the mound of shifting earth came closer. At a close distance it finally stopped, bursting open with a plethora of wooden appendages and the same red flowers that had grown over his door. Finally, after the living wood seemed to arrange itself to its own liking, all movement ceased.

Madara sat there staring at a giant red blossom, at least fifteen feet wide. At the center there was a small circular pool of crystalline blue water and a thatch of soft moss that seemed to beckon him. The blossom had emerged from within the network of wooden appendages, which resembled thicker than normal vines, arranged in a protective cage like design.

Madara stared harder, activating his sharingan to make sure this was no illusion. It was either some kind of jutsu he’d never seen before, or magic like the fae were rumored to have. If this was the work of the fae, was he really expected to follow the obvious request to enter the flower’s center? No doubt doing so would be akin to laying himself out on a silver platter.

Ha! As if he would give up so easily!

He spun away, kicking up leaves as he bolted in the opposite direction. He wasn’t the fastest in his clan, the bulk of his muscles slowing him down some, but he could outrun most of his peers. As he went to jump over a fallen log, one of the thicker vines nabbed his ankle mid air, yanking him back. He struggled and almost freed himself, only for more wooden vines to wrap around his legs and torso. Now Madara was thoroughly trapped and could do nothing but curse as his hair, trailing behind him, got caught on a fallen branch which painfully yanked out a heft of his thick mane. The vines never paused in dragging him all the way back to the ominous flower where he was roughly deposited.

Then the petals closed around him and there was complete darkness. Madara heard the wooden appendages creak, surrounding the flower once more, before he felt movement. The branch encased flower had presumably re-entered the earth and began to travel quickly towards a destination.

Madara did not do well in dark small spaces. He had to work very hard not to start hyperventilating from the panic of being enclosed inside a sentient flower. Every once in a while a soft petal or pollen heavy stamen would dare to brush up against him in a strange caress. No matter how often he slapped or slashed away at the overly touchy foliage, it would return a few minutes later as if checking to make sure he was still there. Madara had no idea how long he spent inside the flower, but time dragged on and the movement never stopped. After what seemed like hours he eventually fell asleep, lulled by a sweet scent and the monotonous sound of shifting ground.

~

“It is a Sun clan.”

“Oh, Hashirama, I’m not envious of you.”

“Of all the clans, it had to be that one.”

“Look at it this way, if anyone is strong enough to graft a Sun clan, it would be Hashirama.”

Madara felt whoosy, like he was struggling to surface under water. He could hear voices, but did not recognize who was speaking or what was being said. Distantly he was aware that he had been drugged, and the side effects where starting to wear off.

“You really didn’t have to smear your pollen all over. None of us is eager to steal a Sun clan.”

“You should start searching for your dormant post. Sun clans are notoriously difficult.”

“Kukunochi save you…”

“They are waking. I’d like to be alone with my chosen.”

Madara closed his eyes for what seemed like only a moment, but when he sat back up suddenly the sky was dark and there was no one around him. Someone had placed him in a half hallowed out log lined with fragrant pine needles, which were still green and soft. Beside the log there was a small pile of mushrooms and a wooden bowl of water. Madara didn’t touch either, instead looking towards the fire someone had built, it’s crackling warmth providing the only light to see by.

And on the other side of that fire was an impossibly tall man staring at him.

Frozen stiff with shock and fear, Madara did nothing but stare back for the longest time. The man had long silky straight brown hair down his back, tanned skin and a handsome face. However there was something eerie about him. After a puzzling moment Madara realized what it was. His chest wasn’t rising with breath, he was completely still and silent, like an inanimate thing. His eyes also did not blink even once, had horizontal pupils like a goat, and seemed to be filmed over.

Finally he spoke, voice deep and resonant.

“Good evening. Did you rest well?”

Madara did not respond. Staring at the man, waiting for him to breath. How was he speaking without any air in his lungs? Was this a fae? An unknown clan with a unique kekkei genkai?

“There is nourishment, if you require.” the man added, finally turning bodily to motion to the mushrooms and water.

“Was that living flower thing your doing? Did you drug me? Where have you taken me?” Madara finally asked, mind solely on recognizing his surroundings so he could plan an escape.

“I had to shepherd you here somehow, you were heading in the completely wrong direction. This is my rooting ground, my name is Hashirama.” he responded, completely not answering in a way that was helpful to any escape plans.

“What,” Madara huffed “the hell is a rooting ground?”

“Where I was planted? Where my roots reach deepest? I believe humans have a word for it...home. This is my home.” Hashirama explained, looking Madara in the eyes. He was either ignorant of the fact that Madara was an Uchiha, or he didn’t feel threatened with the possibility of getting caught by the sharingan. Even more worrying was his words. He referred to people as “humans” indirectly confirming that he was not one.

Which meant he must be fae after all.

“Are you going to eat me?” Madara asked, reaching for his weapons pouch while trying to distract.

It was going to be hard seeing as the fae still hadn’t so much as blinked.

“That would be up to you. I hope you will not make me.” Hashirama told him. “I would much rather acclimate to you….that is…. ‘get to know each other’ as the humans say.”

“And why would you want to do that, if you plan on eating me anyway?” Madara scoffed, palming a kunai.

“I have no immediate plans to consume you, in fact I would rather not at all.” Hashirama replied.

“What? But you’re a fae aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“And fae eat humans don’t they?”

“Certainly, but not exclusively.”

“What does that mean? Why ask for a sacrifice if you don’t plan on eating it?” Madara growled, getting irritated by the lack of sense being made.

There was a moment of silence.

“I suspect there is a difference in our knowledge. You say I asked you to come, but the truth is I did not. In the past other humans claimed to be given a sign, red flowers appear near your dwelling, did that occur?”

“Yes.” Madara snapped. “The fae send those flowers to whomever is chosen as a sacrifice. They enter the forest and are either accepted or rejected. If they are accepted, they are eaten by the fae. If they are rejected then their eyes are returned and another sacrifice is chosen.”

“I see...and this is what you humans believe to be true?” Hashirama spoke softly, looking oddly sad. Which was somewhat of an improvement to the emotionless face he’d exhibited so far.

“It’s what we are taught from a very young age. Are you denying it? You just confirmed that your kind eats mine.” Madara challenged.

“We all have the ability to eat human, it’s true, but it is not a preferred source of nutrient in my case. I am a tree element, meaning I prefer water, sun and soil. Human flesh requires too much effort to break down. It is akin to chewing a single bite for years before being able to swallow. I simply do not see the point in dragging things out that long. The benefit is minuscule in proportion to the effort and time it takes. Also I would not want to waste the one opportunity I have to form a graft.”

“...What the hell is a graft? And if you don’t want to eat me, why not just let me go?” Madara demanded.

“As I mentioned before, you were summoned by red flowers correct? To us fae, these are blessed flowers, messengers of Amaterasu’s will. She sends them to our human counterparts, our other halves, so that we may form a grafted bond. Humans call it...marriage?” Hashirama explained.

Madara stared dumbly…

Hashirama stared back expectantly…

“So… then what is with the returned eyes? If he goal is to marry us, why reject your so called ‘counterpart’ chosen by Amaterasu-sama herself?” Madara questioned.

“Of course not every pair takes, some humans are too stiff or dry to graft with. If the human outright rejects the fae, unfortunately they must be killed to keep our secrets, and in that case why waste nutrient? However we do not consume the eyes because they are blessed gifts from Amaterasu-sama to your clan, therefore we return those gifts to their rightful recipients.” Hashirama said.

Madara stared in outrage…

Hashirama stared back with aplomb...

“Does your silence mean acceptance? I am not so great at interpreting human emotions.” Hashirama asked, eyes still unblinking, chest still not moving.

Madara wasn’t one hundred percent sure that Hashirama felt emotions at all. He seemed to arrange his face deliberately, as if each expression was planned ahead of time instead of spurred from genuine feelings. There was also the creepiness of the horizontal pupils, which was confusing in it’s own way. To Madara’s knowledge, horizontal pupils were exclusive to prey animals, which fae were the opposite of.

“If you wish to think upon your decision a little longer, I can give you until sun up. By then my family will return and I must give them the news, either good or bad.” Hashirama told him.

“It’s not much of a decision.” Madara grumbled. “Get eaten or marry a fae.”

“Let it be known I am fonder of the latter option, but I will respect your choice.”

Madara groaned. “I’ll decide in the morning then. Too tired to make a choice right now.”

“In the morning then.” were Hashirama’s last words as he backed out of the light and therefore all visibility. Even that was strange, more similar to a slither rather than footsteps. In fact, Madara could not remember seeing feet as Hashirama’s entire lower body had been obscured by shadow.

Suppressing a shiver, Madara gripped his hidden salt stone necklace and rolled over, planning to be long gone before morning even came.

Chapter Text

He had been caught. Again. This time in an even more humiliating position. Those blasted wooden vines held him suspended by an overhead tree branch, upside down and wrapped so thoroughly that he could hardly even wiggle. He’d tried to run away in the middle of the night, only to have somehow triggered this evil trap, which held him immobile until morning.

From here he was able to see Hashirama approach, as eerily smooth as before, only this time he could see how. By the light of the morning Madara witnessed the fae called Hashirama move while remaining ankle deep in the ground. It was a slow process, but eventually he came to stand just below Madara’s trapped position.

“Does your attempt to flee mean rejection after all?” Hashirama asked, sounding somewhat forlorn, like a soft wind through ancient trees.

“I’m not letting you eat me.” Madara said, stubbornly refusing to give up.

“What if I could convince you? Would you mind trying?” Hashirama offered. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll have to kill you, but at least I would have done my best. Everyone knows Sun clans are picky but worthwhile.”

While he had been speaking the vines holding Madara lowered, depositing him on the forest floor. He scrambled away, having noticed while on eye level that Hashirama had roots instead of feet and that's why it looked like he was buried ankle deep. At a safe distance he observed the fae in daylight, taking in his whole appearance.

If Hashirama had been human, he would have been a very handsome one. In fact, he was just Madara’s type. Tall, strong, long well taken care of hair, traditionally handsome, masculine face, and he wore finely tailored kuromontsuki haori hakama.

Which meant he was dressed appropriately for either a wedding OR a funeral.

The way Madara saw it, if he outright refused the fae’s offer, he would be consumed immediately with no chance of reaching the forest’s edge. However if he pretended to consider the marriage, he would be given a longer time to plan while Hashirama felt he was convincing Madara to stay. How long would that be? Perhaps no longer than a few days, but at least he had a chance of escape.

“Alright then,” Madara pretended to concede, brushing himself off, “I’ll try it your way. See if you can convince me.”

~

According to Hashirama, the fae had family, just as humans did. However it was impossible to tell who was family, as no single fae ever looked the same or had the same abilities. Hashirama mentioned the day they met that he was a ‘tree elemental’. As time passed Madara understood some of what that meant.

Hashirama moved slow and steady, the roots anchoring him to the earth creeping him in any direction if needed, though he preferred to stay still for long periods. When he spoke there was a resonance like the shifting of a leaf pile and if he moved his limbs, creaking sounds like branches bending. Talent wise, he was able to control and talk to the trees, making things grow and blossom at will. He could also feed off of soil, water and sunlight only, absorbing energy through the earth instead of eating like a human had to. As far as Madara knew, Hashirama didn’t need to breathe, eat, sleep or eliminate like humans did, which made slipping away impossible. A few days turned into a few weeks, then a few months. Madara made several attempts to escape, but always ended up back at Hashirama’s side through the fae’s unnatural control over the forest. Meanwhile they made conversation, today’s topic being worship and Gods.

“So you mentioned the fae also worship Amaterasu-sama.” Madara lazily asked, lounging against the trunk of a tree.

“Plants can not survive without sun. We give thanks to Amaterasu-sama for the life giving light she provides, and for matching us with our chosen ones.” Hashirama explained. He was currently rooted up to his knees and had grown several small leaf covered branches from his shoulders so he could photosynthesize faster. “Her fire also helps clear away dead forest, leaving room for new growth every couple of seasons.”

“The Uchiha are strong Katon users, we believe Amaterasu is our patron Goddess and that our eyes are given through her blessing.”

“That is why we refer to your family as the Sun clan.”

“Do the fae recognize any other Gods? Are there any other clans you know of?”

“We know of many human clans, we hear of them from travelers. However the only ones we interact with are those that touch our forest’s borders.” Hashirama told him. “As for worshiping other Gods, it it mostly Amaterasu-sama, Suijin-sama and Dojin-sama.”

“Sun, water and soil.” Madara concluded.

Hashirama nodded. “Though some of us also have individual attachments, such as I do to Kukunochi-sama, God of the Trees.” Hashirama added.

“What about animals? Do you talk to them like you talk to the trees?” Madara asked, looking particularly at Hashirama’s eyes.

“Most small animals do not have the higher brain powers to communicate with us. If they do it is mostly an expression or feeling, rather than concise words. The fae consider deer to be the sacred messengers of the Gods, so we give them respectful distance. If they deem us worthy they will approach us on their own.”

“You sound just like a damn Nara.” Madara muttered, slapping an errant root away from his hip. If he did not remain vigilant, it seemed Hashirama’s roots would seek him out and attach themselves. Several times Madara had woken up to thin fibrous roots burrowed just under his skin. He turned to give the fae a dark, scolding glare which Hashirama returned with a rare smile.

It seemed the more time they spent together, the more emotion Hashirama showed. He didn’t know if it was a natural development or Hashirama had just gotten better at imitating human emotions through studying Madara’s reactions. They hadn’t gotten around to discussing the larger differences between humans and fae. To be honest Madara kind of hoped he could escape before then, as what he knew so far was already unsettling enough.

For example, he dreaded any interaction with Hashirama’s monsterous kin, especially the ones he had met so far. The worst were the earth elementals, who told Madara that they would swallow and decompose him if he dared to hurt their cousin. A close second was the water elemental whom Hashirama called brother. Madara had almost drowned the first time they visited a small stream running through the forest because he took one too many steps into the water. If Hashirama hadn’t been there to pull him out with a helpful branch, he would have died that day. In fact, that incident was when Madara decided he might as well be cordial with the fae, even if he still wanted to escape.

Basically, through interaction with other fae, Madara realized that Hashirama wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t a monster like some of the other fae were. He wasn’t a murderous blob of bubbling mud or an angry puddle without definite shape. Additionally Madara had met some distant cousins who were tree elementals, all of which closely resembled an actual tree. They had misshapen limbs, infestations of bugs, skin like decaying bark, and sometimes couldn’t even move. Madara had asked why that was, why Hashirama was so much more handsome humanoid than the rest of the tree elementals and found out that it was because Hashirama was considerably younger. Apparently the older a fae gets the more they become like their elements, until one day they lose sentience and go “dormant”. Madara thought this was really fucked up, but Hashirama explained it was an inevitability if a fae remained un-bonded to their human half.

Not only was Hashirama somewhat of an interesting conversationalist when it came to human vs fae cultures, he kept Madara’s biological needs and moods in mind. The last part was the most surprising, as he wasn’t expecting much of a ‘courtship’ from the fae. However it seemed that Hashirama genuinely wanted their “marriage” to be a happy one. He couldn’t tell a joke to save his life, and most of the time the things he did were pretty creepy, but Madara could recognize the effort Hashirama was making. He had even given Madara a few gifts, a carved fox statue, an ivory stick to help pin up his hair, a string of multicolored stones to wear around his wrist. They were not overly fancy or valuable, but they showed that Hashirama cared.

“What are you thinking about?” Hashirama whispered, suddenly behind him.

“Gah! I hate when you do that! Stop looming over me!” Madara leapt to the side, disturbed that the fae had gotten within such a close proximity while he’d been deep in thought. Was he unconsciously letting his guard down now that it had been a few months? He would take be extra vigilant about that from now on!

Hashirama did not respond to his rebuke, standing still and silent as a statue, staring with filmed over eyes. It was times like these that reminded him that, although Hashirama looked, sounded and behaved similar to a human, he was NOT. There was still a lot Madara didn’t understand about fae, like what was Hashirama doing right now? Resisting the urge to eat Madara? Thinking how best to cook him? Planning the best way to chop him up and portion him off to others?

“Where you thinking about me just now?” Hashirama asked.

“Kind of?” Madara admitted. “I was thinking I still don’t know much about you personally. We talk a lot about the superficial differences in human and fae lives and beliefs, but I don’t really know about you. How old are you? What’s your happiest memory? Do you have a favorite place? Somewhere beautiful? Do you find anything particularly fun? Also, you are impossible to read. I never know what you’re thinking, what you will do next or if you even feel emotions the same way I...us humans do.”

“We feel the same emotions as humans do, some of us are just equipped better at exhibiting them externally. For example, my brother you met...the water element. His shape is fluid, so when he chooses to show himself he can express a wider arrange of emotions. I on the other hand am made partially of wood. It is soft wood, so I can move and bend, but wood is still rigid in nature. This limits my facial movements and therefore masks my emotions more.” Hashirama explained. “I suppose I could work harder on expressing myself through voice, but this is also a challenge as trees do not normally talk. I don’t think you realize, but it takes a great deal of energy to do so. I’ve had to photosynthesize more frequently now that you are here, as I am expending a lot more energy to communicate through forming words.”

“Really?” Madara thought about that for a moment. He had not considered that even talking was an effort that needed to be made by Hashirama. However, now that he’d pointed it out, it did make sense.

“Yes,” Hashirama went on, “I can not communicate with you in any other way. Especially since you reject my roots at every opportunity.”

That snapped Madara back to the conversation. “Wait! What?! You mean those roots that I find in the mornings? The ones you weasel under my skin, or at least try to, whenever I’m not looking? You can communicate non-verbally through them?!”

“I feel confused. I do not understand where the weasel came from. A weasel has no involved role when my roots entwine with you.” Hashirama said blandly.

Madara stared back for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh kami! Y-you’re serious!”

“Why do you laugh?”

“B-because! I wasn’t talking about an actual weasel. The weasel is metaphoric for your behavior, meaning you try to do things without me knowing. Sneakily, like a weasel would.” Madara could tell that Hashirama still didn’t understand, but noticed a strange look on the fae’s normally impassive face. “What is it? Did I offend you by laughing?”

“No, I am not offended. I am simply thinking about your earlier questions. You asked about my happiest memories, about beauty and a favorite place.

“Yeah?” Madara leaned in, curious to know.

“I was watching you laugh just now because I somehow made you happy. I was simply being myself and you found me delightful enough to smile and laugh. In that moment it felt like I’d accomplished something, perhaps the most meaningful accomplishment I have ever made. You are truly beautiful when you laugh Madara. The fact that I can bring such beauty into the world makes me the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. Therefore you are both my happiest memory and my favorite place to be.” Hashirama confided, reaching one hand to cup Madara’s blushing cheek tenderly.

Madara stared, flushed and in shock, mind blown away by the incredibly sweet words. They were without a doubt the loveliest words anyone had ever spoken to him. The harsh life of a shinobi did not leave much room for soft romanticism or even familial endearments. His clan tended to show they cared through tough love, or unspoken actions. A single pat on the head, an approving nod, an extra serving of rice, a med kit left on his bed for his return, things like that. Only Izuna had ever told him outright that he loved him. Their Mother had been too conditioned to be the perfect clan head’s wife to show such softness, even in the misleadingly private space of their home. She couldn’t embrace or kiss them, but they could tell she loved them through her shining eyes and her teachings. She had taught all her sons to hold onto the ones they truly cared about and that affection was sometimes found where you didn’t expect it.

“I’d like to try something I’ve only seen humans do.” Hashirama said, stroking Madara’s cheek.

“What’s that?” Madara asked, a little lightheaded.

“I do not know what it’s called, or if there is even a name for it. But I can show you, with permission of course.” now Hashirama looked unsure, “I’ve been told by some elders that humans do this to show their affections.” he leaned down until they were face to face, very obviously closing in for a kiss.

“Uh…” Madara wasn’t sure. Would kissing a tree man be enjoyable? Then again, the few clumsy kisses he’d experienced so far hadn't been so great anyway. Why not at least try it? “Sure.” he decided, thinking at the very least it would lead Hashirama into a false sense of security that he had given up on escaping.

Hashirama leaned in closer, eyes still wide open which was weird, so Madara shut his to make things less awkward. He didn’t feel breath on his lips, confirming his theory about Hashirama’s lack of need to breathe as humans did. Then there was the smell of wet leaves right before their lips made contact. It wasn’t like kissing a tree, at least not what Madara imagined kissing a tree would be like because he’d never done that, however it was very different than kissing a human. Instead of warm soft or wet lips, Hashirama had smoothly firm, dry and somewhat sticky lips. The stickiness might be sap, which wasn’t pleasant or unpleasant to experience, however all he did was touch his lips to Madara’s. There was no movement, no open mouth, no tongue action, no teeth nibbling or lip sucking. Just dry, cold, sticky and motionless contact.

So Madara pulled away, jerking back to wipe his lips off. He looked up and saw that Hashirama was still staring. “Did you have your eyes open the whole time?”

“Yes?”

“That’s not how it’s done, you’re supposed to close your eyes. Also there is meant to be action, just dry pressing your lips to mine is gross.” Madara grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I understand, however I’m not sure which actions are needed. Could you elaborate?” Hashirama requested.

Madara sighed, thinking he wasn’t nearly as good at kissing to be tutoring someone else, especially someone so clueless as Hashirama.

However, on several secret occasions, Madara and his older cousins had watched the adult plays during festivals. They’d snuck out at night, hidden on a roof several buildings away, but with his sharingan on Madara had clearly seen and recorded the actor’s passionate kissing. Perhaps…

“I could show you instead, with the sharingan. It will be faster, easier and more accurate than what I can explain.” he offered. If Hashirama said no, well then just forget the whole thing. It wasn’t like he desperately wanted to kiss the stupid, awkward, creepy tree man anyway.

“If you are willing to share your gift from Amaterasu with me, I am honored.” Hashirama sounded genuinely eager to experience a sharingan induced genjutsu, which was polar opposite to most peoples reaction to his kekkei genkai.

“Alright then, pay attention to the lips, watch how they move together.” Madara instructed, activating the most basic level of his sharingan.

Then he made eye contact with Hashirama, and that’s when everything went horribly wrong.

Hashirama’s strange, horizontal pupils seemed to explode, flooding the entire iris with inky black. What looked like coagulated blood began to ooze from behind them, seeping in trails down Hashirama’s cheeks. His eyes then expanded, quivering so intensely that they fell right out, revealing that the optic nerves were dried and old, obviously having been severed a long time ago.

The worst part? Now that the faux eyes had fallen away, the previously assumed eye sockets were actually just endless pits. Solely because he still had his sharingan on, Madara could see...something...moving deep inside those gaping holes. Something that reminded him of worms writhing together, deep underground in a massive pile of detritus and viscous slime.

Madara let his sharingan spin off, feeling pale and queasy.

“Please don’t run.” Hashirama asked, somehow knowing exactly what Madara was planning to do.

“You’re a monster, just like the rest of them.” Madara said, shakily backing away. He’d been fooled by a pair of amputated deer eyes and a pretty exterior, but the truth was now known. Hashirama was just as ugly as his kin, just as monstrous on the inside.

Chapter Text

“You know I can walk right?” Madara huffs

“I am also aware you can run and enjoy doing so.” Hashirama retorted.

“I promise I won’t run.” Madara said.

“I do not believe you, that is a promise you easily forget.” Hashirama reminded him.

“I just need to stretch my legs, it’s a human thing. If I don’t use them, they will fall off.” Madara tried to bargain.

“That is false. The only way a human loses a leg is by severance.” Hashirama replied. “Usually eaten.”

Madara gulped.

“Do you want to make that trade? I get to eat your legs so you can’t run and in return I release you from my branches?”

“No thanks, I’ll keep my legs. This is actually quite comfortable. Thank you for carrying me like this.” Madara rushed to say.

He had been caught again after his last attempt to run. Well actually it had been his third attempt. When was he going to learn that running away was simply not possible when his entire surroundings were watching him and moved at the beck and call of this fae he’d been kidnapped by. Well...it was more like bride napped, but that wasn’t the point. And to make it worse, now that things were back to being hostile and involuntary between them, Madara was not let out of Hashirama’s sight for a moment. Or whatever it was he did to sense where Madara was. Because he certainty did not have eyes, that was for sure. He didn’t even go back to the unnecessary courtesy of finding some more deer eyes to pretend like he had them. Which also meant that Madara’s greatest weapon and bloodline limit, was completely useless in this case because the damn fae didn’t have any fucking eyes!

He should at least be thankful that Hashirama did not implant his roots again, which was what he had woken up to the first time he had been re-caught. Madara had freaked out so badly that he tore the roots, which were rather deep inside him this time, right out of his legs. Hashirama freaked out a little bit too, after he smelled the heavy scent of blood and realized what Madara had done. Despite Madara’s renewed desire to get as far away from him as possible, it seemed that Hashirama still cared for his well being. His legs had been carefully cleaned and wrapped, then he was placed in the hollowed out log filled with fresh pine needles that was exclusively his to sleep in. One major modification however, Hashirama grew a network of small but strong branches over the open half of the log, so that they formed a breathable but confining “jail”.

This Madara had been able to escape, after Hashirama made the mistake of leaving him alone while he went to consult his fellow fae on how to woo Madara’s affections back. Madara had burned through the wood prison with a small katon, and made it halfway through the forest before Hashirama’s evil earth elemental cousins recognized him. They turned their bodies into quick sand and laid in wait, catching Madara and holding him neck deep in the ground until Hashirama came to collect him.

The third time it had been as simple as pretending to forgive Hashirama for his deception, then promising not to run off. Of course he did, and of course he was caught again, which led to him being in this situation. Unfortunately Hashirama now knew that if he left Madara alone for any amount of time, or left his legs free, he would run and have to be caught again. Therefore the fae decided to grow a series of supportive branches from his back and shoulders to hold his human captive close at all times. Hashirama had also done this specifically because being back to back prevented Madara from seeing his face, the source of all their ‘engagement problems’ as Hashirama had put it.

“Where are we going anyway?” Madara pressed, feeling antsy.

“I need to re-hydrate and the quickest way to do so is to plant myself near the stream and photosynthesize for a while.”

“Great, so what do you need me for? I can’t help you with that.” Madara complained.

“Before I re-hydrate I’ll call my brother to watch over you, as I can not focus on anything else while I am photosynthesizing. It’s similar to what you do, but at night. ‘Sleeping’ is what I’ve heard the humans call it.” his tone was a little bit like one would have when explaining to a child.

“Wonderful.” Madara was sarcastic but Hashirama did not seem to notice.

Soon they reached the small stream where Hashirama reached out a few of his roots to dip in the water. A moment later the swirling sentient form of the river elemental emerged, looking pissed off as usual.

“Are you going to start dumping trash in my waters too brother?” he demanded.

“Tobirama, this is my soulmate, chosen for me by Amaterasu herself. Please do not refer to him as trash.” Hashirama scolded. I need to re-hydrate and photosynthesize at the same time so could you watch him for the afternoon?”

“I have better things to do than waste my time watching your reluctant human mate.” Tobirama scoffed, frothing himself up so he looked larger. “Just let our cousins eat him and send his eyes back to his kind.”

“Please brother, for me?” Hashirama seemed to wilt a little.

The water elemental increased his internal flow, swirling in anger. “Fine! But I get to drown him a little!”

“No.” Hashirama outright refused.

“You’re no fun and your mate is a pest.”Tobirama grumbled. “Alright then, plant him here so I can reach him.” a tendril of water pointed to a patch of dirt surrounded by water near the edge of he stream.

Hashirama’s branches extended until they reached the small island, breaking off and rooting themselves. Madara was still wrapped in them, efficiently anchored to the ground.

“I will be back before dark fall.” Hashirama promised, slowly creeping upstream until he was out of sight.

There was all of five minutes of silence.

“Hey, uh….I gotta pee so would you mind letting these branches to let me go?” Madara asked.

“Nice try human, I am not as gullible as my Anija is. You’ll just have to hold it.” the water elemental's transparent face was twisted into a sneer. “Or I could simply remove the problem for you.”

“W-what does that mean?” Madara asked, afraid he’d leave here without a dick to piss out of.

“Urine is comprised of mostly water, which I have all control over. I could simply beckon to that water and empty your bladder. I’ve never done it before, but I’m sure it’s theoretically possible. Unless of course I accidentally overdo it and remove all the water from your body. Humans are 60% water, you might end up a dried out husk.” Tobirama sounded entirely too enthused with that idea.

“You know, I suddenly don’t feel the urge to go anymore, but thanks for the offer.” Madara said, voice a little high with terror.

“Hmmf.” Tobirama looked smug. “Serves you right human, your kind is always pissing and shitting wherever they please, dumping garbage and waste into my waters. Anywhere you humans settle becomes a filth hole with black diseased water.”

“Hey! My family are clean people, we only use water to grow crops, bathe and to cook. We would never poison our own water supply like that.” Madara protested. “You’re thinking of the city, where people live by thousands. They don’t live off of the land or respect nature like my clan does.”

“All humans are the same regardless of their location. Take the farmer from his land and put him in the city, he becomes just like the rest. That is because you humans are inherently evil. Your kind are greedy pigs, rolling around in your own filth and murdering each other over meaningless wealth.” Tobirama hissed, shooting water into the air in a show of disgust.

“What do you know anyway?” Madara got angry too “You’re just a little back water stream, judging me based on horrible rumors!”

“Back water stream?! I come all the way from the mountains and flow into the Naka river, I’ll have you know! All my waters have memories of being around humans, and none of them are good. As soon as things get difficult, you even turn on your own kind like ravenous beasts! I drown your kind whenever I can, just to even the odds a little more. You are all worthless parasites, just sucking this world dry, leaving a toxic barren wasteland for everything else. I bet you’d end up dragging Anija down with you, he’s better off without you!” Tobirama began to steam he was so mad.

“I don’t want to marry that termite bitten log anyway! HE is the one forcibly keeping me here, all because he doesn’t want to go dormant, or whatever it is that happens to you.” Madara pointed out “Frankly I don’t give a shit what happens to either of you, I’d gladly leave this cursed forest and never return if I could just get free!”

“Leave then! In my opinion going dormant and losing sentience is infinitely better than being around a human for the rest of eternity. Especially one as irritating as you! Anija will eventually feel the same and thank me!” Tobirama did something then, there was a flex of power in the air.

Madara was a sensor, so he could feel it faintly, it was not the same as chakra, but similar. Then the branches that were holding him seemed to whither, an orb of water floating nearby. He realized that the water fae had pulled all the moisture out of the branches, leaving them thin and brittle. With a shift of his arms the dry wood fell away and he was instantly running. Madara was pretty sure he heard Tobirama yell one last insult at him, something that sounded like he wished Madara got eaten before making it out of the forest, but was too elated to listen closely or care. He followed the water downstream, the opposite way that Hashirama had wondered off. It was either foolish or incredibly clever of Tobirama to tell him which direction his waters flowed. Now all Madara had to do was follow until the stream merged with the Naka, then continueon to civilization. The day was getting late and Madara feared that Hashirama would wake before making it out of the trees.

There!

In the distance was the forest edge! He could tell because the amount of sunlight shining down was significantly brighter, meaning fewer tree canopies blocking it. He was almost there, almost out of this evil forest full of monsters, almost home! Madara was one step out, then five, made it about a dozen steps into the light before it was taken from him. He hit the ground hard, face smashing into the dirt. Rolling quickly he looked at what went wrong, and found a thorny vine wrapped around his ankle. At tree line’s boundary stood Hashirama, looking pained with one hand reaching out.

“Madara please don’t do this, I need you. I can make you happy I promise. I don’t want to lose you.” he said.

“I don’t want anything from you, let me go!” Madara yelled, yanking at the vines, cutting his hands on the thorns. “Get off of me! I’m warning you!”

“Madara you never gave us a chance. Please come back. I love you!” Hashirama begged.

Madara felt something inside snap, something that had been winding a little tighter each day that he’d spent with Hashirama. All of a sudden the world looked entirely new, colors swirled into each other and there were lights inside each living thing. Where Hashirama used to stand there was a network of vibrant green, at the nucleus of which pulsated an emerald orb. He concentrated on that, eyes sharpening until he felt the warm stickiness of blood on his cheeks. In response the lighter green tendrils began to curl and smoke red, some retreating into the emerald which was quickly shrinking. There was a crackling sound and somewhere near a fire burned, radiating heat so intense the tips of his hair became singed. Then everything turned dark and Madara lost consciousness.

He woke up an undefinable amount of time later, perhaps he’d laid there all night because there were birds chirping like they usually did in the early morning. There was the smell of burnt wood and ash to the air, a scent that usual meant danger. Madara opened his eyes and looked down, the thorny vine that had entrapped his leg was gone, nothing but black ash. He looked farther, followed the line of ash to a still smoldering perfect circle of burnt forest.

At the heart of which stood a vaguely human shaped tree trunk, completely charred.

Madara stood, staring in disbelief for a long moment. Then he turned and began to stumble away in a stiff daze. His hobbling eventually led him to a road, dirt but still distinguishable as one that carts frequently traveled. It was along this road that he walked, unaware of where it led, until a sharp scream brought him back to his senses. There was a two wheeled cart hooked up to a donkey just ahead, near the side of the road. Travelers who’d obviously been taking a rest stared at him in abject horror. A woman holding two small sobbing children hid behind a shaking man brandishing a short sword.

“Corrupt creature, leave us be!” He shouted, badly swinging.

“You’ll cut your own leg like that.” Madara said unthinkingly, voice hoarse with the dryness of his throat.

“Get the salt!” the man shouted to the woman, who hustled the children into the cart and returned with a burlap bag. The man snatched it from her, spilling it open in front of them. “Don’t come any closer bastard fae!” he demanded, tossing more salt between them.

“What the hell, are you stupid?” Madara snapped. “I’m clearly human!”

“Lies we will not fall for!”he shouted back. “Find your meal elsewhere, you’ll not eat my children!”

As if summoned the two children came running back out of the cart, holding a large bowl and two slingshots. They began to pelt him with what he recognized as the same kind of salt stones he wore around his neck.

“Ow! Hey! Knock it off you little brats!”

They only shouted louder that he needed to leave. Madara didn’t think it worth sticking around and arguing with an ignorant civilian family so he continued his walk. As he walked he thought about their reaction. Did he really look like a fae? Besides the constant throbbing behind his eyes and every muscle being sore, he didn’t feel any difference. Was it possible that by killing a fae, he’d become one himself? His mother had always talked about how everything in this world was connected through energy nobody fully understood. Feeling a rush of panic he picked up the pace, reaching a small roadside travelers inn about mid-day. Madara circled around the back to where the barn and few farm animals were kept. They fled his approach and Madara told himself it was solely because they were dumb animals who were easily spooked. The water in the rain barrel was only slightly murky, so his reflection was clearer than he’d hoped.

Nope. He was still human, just really filthy. All his ripped clothes where covered with dirt and ash, his one leg bloody and torn. His hair was the most chaotic it’s ever been, which was saying something, and twin lines of dried blood stained his cheeks like tear tracks. His eyes were the same coal color surrounded by bloodshot white but there was something different there, a constant distorted movement. It was like his pupils alone where their own living thing, trapped inside his eyes.

He firmly ignored the deeper dimension his eyes now held.

Chapter Text

When Madara returns to his clan to say they were shocked to see him would be an understatement. Several people fainted at the sight of him, and others dropped to their knees praying to the Kami’s, thinking he was a ghost come back to haunt them.

His father was welcoming but livid. He asked what happened, how he was allowed to return whole instead of just his eyes, to which Madara could not answer. He wanted too but every time he tried to open his mouth to talk, to tell his father what it was like with the fae, it felt like a tendril curled its way around his tongue, stopping his words.

They noticed the change in him as well. He was told that he radiated a different chakra signature and his eyes were avoided. Before he left most of his clan was able to meet his eyes, unafraid of a shared kekkei genkai, but now that his eyes exhibited a new strangeness nobody wanted to risk whatever power he’d unlocked in order to escape the fae. Hashirama died from fire, but Madara had not performed a katon. It was a mystery even to Madara.

Izuna was overly enthused to greet his brother back, so much so that he never left Madara’s side. He even insisted on sharing the same bed, something they hadn’t done since they were both small. Tajima allowed it, knowing that his eldest son had achieved the impossible, not only survived the fae, but returned to his clan. He was of course reinstated as the clan heir, relieving Izuna of that burden. To Madara, this alone made the trails and tribulations of escaping the forest worth every moment. In the life of a shinobi there was always the eventual crushing of childhood dreams, but at least with him returned to take clan heir duties Izuna was free to dream a little longer.

Sadly the rest of the clan was not as welcoming as his father and younger brother. They whispered that there must be something truly...evil...inside him that would repel even a fae. They said that he was so rotten inside that even a fae found him unpalatable, that the very spirit of the forest expelled him. This theory was further supported by the fact that the woods around their home became hostile towards anyone who entered. The hunters of the clan were found with their own arrows or kunai stuck through their necks, the gatherers where never found, only their half filled baskets. Anyone who spent more than an hour in the forest was either killed or went missing. Similarly the women and children that collected water from the stream complained that the waters were drying up. What used to be a ten foot wide stream full of fish narrowed down to a three foot wide muddy trickle. The fish disappeared and there was barely enough water to collect for their animals and crops, much less bathe, cook or wash clothes in.

As their crops died due to insufficient water and no food could be hunted or gathered in the forest his clan became increasingly frantic. Their food stores became so low that Tajima had to enforce a food ration per family. There were also daily meetings with the elders of the clan, purposing what should be done. Some said they should stick it out, that this was just a temporary setback and that the Uchiha could not possibly abandon their clan’s ancestral lands for greener pastures. Others said it was a sign that the balance here was discordant and that they should make an offering to the spirits of the forest and river in order to restore the good will. It was even said that the most obvious offering was to tie Madara up, take him into the forest and leave him there at the mercy of the fae. With his return there had only been a steadily decrease in their clan’s well being, so it had to be him that was the source of strife. Naturally his eyes would be removed beforehand, studied and preserved so that the strength of his sharingan would not be lost.

Tajima was most upset with those suggestions, telling the elders that if they wanted to make a life offering to the spirits that they were welcome to wander into the forest anytime they pleased. Why waste a young life when there were so many old ones, already nearly spent, that did nothing but leach off of the clan’s food supply and blow hot air in return? This widened the already substantial rift between his father and the elders, but Tajima didn’t seem to care. According to him, he had already sacrificed three of his children to pointless battles with nearby clans over territory so why should he be expected to sacrifice another when the children and grandchildren of the elders were all safely kept within the village doing non-combatant low risk tasks?

The elders grumbled, complained, put to petition and tried to force an ultimatum of Tajima’s decision, but in the end his stubborn father won that debate and Madara was not thrown back into the forest again. The elders bitterly asked his father what he proposed to do, since he refused to solve the problem “spiritually” and the food situation was only growing worse by the months. Tajima said that the logical thing to do was to form partnerships with traders who took the nearest merchant road, to trade with others in return for food and supplies they could no longer get from their lands. It was difficult to think of what would fetch enough of a price to sustain their needs, and the answer came in an unconventional way.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry father! I’m so very sorry!” Izuna bawled, clutching Madara’s shirt and hiding his face in his older brother’s chest. At their feet laid the broken remains of the clay teapot their mother had loved dearly, because it was one of the very first courting gifts her husband had gifted her. Tajima sighed, feeling saddened by the loss of something so sentimental in nature, but didn’t make a big deal about it because he valued his son’s feelings even more.

“It’s alright Izuna. We have a spare kettle.” then he went to the storage room, which was hardly ever opened, and dug through all their old things until he found the spare kettle he had grown up with. He had packed it away after marrying his wife because he wanted to create a home with her instead of filling it with old things from the past. But now...He looked at the clay kettle, inlaid with colored stones and stamped with traditional Uchiha imagery.

A sun, the phoenix, Amaterasu’s sigil, soaring hawks, the pinwheel of their sharingan and of course a Uchiwa fan. Each had been created by the master craftsman who forged the kettle, so very long ago it must have been his grandparents originally. So fine was the work, so exquisite was the stone mosaic inlay, so smooth was the katon hardened clay that Tajima was struck with inspiration. He took that teapot to the next meeting with the elders and told them that was what they could produce and sell in the markets to sustain their clan. Old artisan crafts that the Uchiha had let go undervalued, fall out of practice and forgotten as the generations passed. This would be their saving grace.

The crafts makers of their clan were mostly gone but some very elderly still lived. A few who knew the making of fine cookware, so heat resistant they were impossible to shatter, and a jewelry maker who specialized in glass beads. Tajima’s idea worked perfectly up until a war broke out near the capital and the traders who passed close to the Uchiha’s lands told them there was no urgent need for expensive teapots or pretty beads in a battle ridden land. Trade began to slow to the point where the once steady flow of income become few and insufficient. Poverty stricken once again, with no trade options open and the farm land still barren, the Uchiha had no other recourse than to move to the city.

This was a great source of grief for some, who felt the loss of their family land and roots to the core, while it was exciting to the younger kids. So many new sights and products! So many different people and cultures! The younger generation, including Izuna much to Tajima’s dismay, immediately adapted and become outgoing city kids. They began to stay out later and later, talking back to their parents when they felt the rules were too strict. The women, who had previously been content with what they had, became envious of other city women who had fancier clothes and houses, began to grow discontent with their husband’s lack of ability to provide them these luxuries. The Uchiha men took up regular jobs working in shops and offices and always came home tired, too heartsick to put up much of a fight, so took to drinking.

Perhaps all these things could have been addressed and corrected if they still lived within close quarters to each other but, in the city where space was an issue, the Uchiha clan was now spread out and isolated. As clan head, Tajima tried to keep the clan from falling apart, going from one home to the other sometimes crossing the entire city multiple times a day, which ultimately led to his death. He died at the age of fifty seven, from a stress induced heart attack. His body was not found until the following morning, face down in a rainy gutter between two residences he was known to visit. Nobody said anything to Madara about becoming the new clan head, so that duty died alongside their father.

Izuna, who was now a teenager, took the loss rather badly. Soon his behavior worstened, becoming stubborn and argumentative. Madara noticed some rather suspicious people hanging around, who later turned out to be gang members. Gang members that apparently belonged to the same gang his brother had joined. He tried to talk to Izuna about this choice and how it would not end well but Izuna, being a rebellious young person, did not listen, choosing to shut his once revered Aniki out of his life.

Time passed, fifteen years to be exact, and the Uchiha clan dissolved. Husbands drank themselves into early graves, wives either perished under their husbands drunken rage or left for kinder/wealthier suitors, kids went out at night and never returned, eaten up by the city’s violence. In a single generation the once large and united Uchiha clan became a sad band of broken and angry individuals who blamed each other for every misfortune. Madara, who seemed to be the only one who remembered the better days, watched as his clan died out to a few dozen members. He recalled the angry water fae’s words about how humans were inherently selfish and would turn on each other as soon as circumstances worsened and realized that Tobirama was absolutely correct. Madara stayed with his clan until Izuna came of age, fulfilling his duty as legal guardian in his father’s absence, then announced he was moving away from the city. Izuna barely reacted, waving over his shoulder and sarcastically wishing his brother good luck which was the very last time he saw and spoke to his otouto.

Now, in his early thirties, Madara packed a few sentimental things and left to become a traveling messenger. He delivered notes and small parcels across fire country, always being careful to avoid both the battlefields and the forests. Often enough he ran into bandits, who thought it was opportunistic to rob him, but they quickly moved on after discovering the power his eyes wielded. Sometimes even his eye’s strange sentience, which he had gotten used to, was enough to send them running and so he didn’t even need to use his kekkei genkai. In this way Madara made a peaceful living for a few years until his travels fatefully led him back to his roots.

Madara’s ancestral lands.

Little remained as by now everything was grown over and eaten by vegetation. Vines wove in and out of bricks, moss crawled up walls and over ceilings. Trees grew inside houses with caved in roofs, roads were broken up and barely distinguishable from the weedy underbrush. It was like all forgotten places, nature had crept in to reclaim everything the humans had abandoned. Madara walked the lonely foot path that led to his childhood home only to stop in astonishment. The red flowers that had so long ago bloomed above his door carpeted the entire building. Strangely enough this was the only place where they grew, no other dilapidated home or building had so much as a single flower. Inside Madara’s chest, which had been tight the entire time, his heart beat sped up with explainable joy. He felt it tugging, beating and leading him towards a certain place and so he found his feet moving faster with every unconscious step. Intermittently he saw a red flower growing low among the grasses and knew without being told to follow them.

The fae flowers led him to the place he had left behind that day he escaped the forest. There stood a tall tree with a scarred trunk but many branches. The leaves of this tree swayed beautifully in the breeze and among the sound of dancing foliage came a voice.

There you are, my gift from the divine.

“Hashirama?” Madara looked as hard as he could, even going so far as to activate his sharingan, but did not spot the fae. “Why can’t I see you?”

You are trying too hard. Just relax and allow your eyes to accumulate naturally.

Madara did as the voice told him, deactivating his kekkai genkai and closing his eyes for a moment before re opening them. He took a deep breath and allowed his eyes to become unfocused, to wander among the branches lazily.

It took a while but eventually he saw Hashirama’s face. He wasn’t even a shadow or a wisp of smoke, if Madara had to describe it, Hashirama’s features were in the spaces between the leaves and branches. Made out of the light reflected off of the bottom of the leaves and the blue patches of sky that peeked through.

“What happened? You’ve changed.” he asked.

Humans believe in souls don’t they? My physical body was burned away but, because I am part of this forest, my essence remains.

Madara felt a great stab of guilt. He had done that. He had destroyed Hashirama’s body with his Amaterasu flames. It was the one and only time it happened and oh, how he regretted it now.

“How am I able to see you now? I’ve never been able to see souls before.”

Before we parted I gave you a gift. We fae folk call it the second-sight. You may have noticed it in your eyes, waiting to be awakened.

“So that's what that was!”

It’s not a gift many humans receive. Only other fae can see fae spirits, so it requires the giver to relinquish a part of their own soul. I knew my body would perish, so I sent a piece of me with you.

“I didn’t mean to do it, I just wanted to be free.” Madara tried to explain, hoping it would relieve a little of the guilt he was still feeling. “Are you trapped now? There is no way for your soul to move on?”

Hasirama’s laugh drifted on the breeze

Of all the creatures in existence fae understand the desire to be free the most Madara. I am not angry with you, I never have been. I am exactly where I belong and now that you are here I am complete.

Madara felt tears forming, thinking it was cruel to realize he loved Hashirama only now that he couldn’t be with him. For years he’d traveled all over the land, unconsciously looking for something to fill an absence in his life that he now understood could never be remedied. The worst part was that he was the perpetrator who had ruined everything good he’d been given. With a resigned sigh Madara sat at the base of Hashirama’s tree, leaning his head back to rest on the scarred bark of its trunk. He never wanted to move from this spot, he would not be foolish enough to leave his soul mate a second time.

He closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the roots that grew to embrace him.

Chapter Text

Madara made his home right there in the forest, he scavenged some good lumber and roofing materials from his old village to build a cottage big enough just for him, which is how he became a recluse. It only took a few sightings for the locals to start rumors about how his part of the forest was “occupied by an evil oni” after which there were no more unannounced visitors. Madara quite liked this new development. Every day he would get up and go through the same routine, which brought him peace of mind. He would wake up, catch some fish, cook his breakfast, tend to his small garden, collect some firewood, forage for food and then take a break under his favorite tree where he and Hashirama would talk about whatever happened to be on Madara’s mind at the moment.

“Is there any way we can get you back into your body? Can you regrow one?” he asked one day.

Never tried it before...why do you ask?

“Just wondering.” Madara blushed, fiddling with a strand of grass he had plucked. The truth was that, while Madara didn’t mind being alone with only Hashirama for a companion, he was a man with certain desires. The last time he’d experienced some skin contact must have been at least ten years ago. Did fae even have sex? The differences between their species methods of reproduction had never been discussed.

Madara didn’t mention it again, but he did notice that Hashirama’s roots began to brush up against him more often. Even without a body it seemed that the tree fae’s spirit was still able to act through the surrounding nature. Hashirama probably didn’t fully understand what Madara wanted, but it was an obvious attempt to comfort him. So life went on, and Madara’s schedule was always the same. He would wake up, go fishing, make breakfast, do some gardening, collect firewood, pick berries and fungi and then go to talk to Hashirama. The only deviation to this simple life was when he would run out of water and had to bucket it from the stream to the barrel he kept in the corner of his cottage.

“I wish you had stayed away. You kill my fish and now you are stealing my water.” Tobirama burbled in anger.

“Yeah, yeah.” Madara absentmindedly responded, bending down to fill his second bucket. “I also use this water to grow plants you know. It’s for a good cause.”

“Hmf. No matter how you try to make amends, I’ll never forgive you for what you did to my brother.” the water fae boiled in anger. “You rotten soul stealer.”

“Soul stealer?! I didn’t steal his soul, he told me it was a gift!” Madara proclaimed, standing up to clutch his bucket to his chest.

“You burned his body to ash and now he can’t even grow back because of you.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I asked if we could get him a new body and he said no.” Madara told him.

“Typical human, only seeing or hearing what they want.” Tobirama complained. “Did he actually say that or is that just what you want to believe?”

He thought about it a moment and that’s when Madara realized that Hashirama hadn’t truly answered him. Instead of saying it wasn’t possible, Hashirma had only said he hadn’t tried it before. Which meant it could be possible! But why would Hashirama omit that? Unless…

“Oh for the sage’s sake! Watching you put thoughts together is like watching a few broken rocks tumble around inside an empty can!” Tobirama exclaimed, rising up in a wave of exasperation. “He can never be whole again, which includes having a body, if you are part keeper of his soul. Do you get it now you dimwitted human?!”

“Well why the fuck didn’t he tell me!?” Madara demanded, dropping his bucket in anger. About five seconds later he was jettisoned backwards by a column of water, crashing through the forest underbrush and landed in a thorny bush. He heard Tobirama’s enraged yelling, something about having already exceeded his yearly quota of patience for uncommonly stupid humans.

Madara limped home that day, feeling dejected, hair hopelessly tangled, covered in cuts and without his water. He vowed to confront Hashirama tomorrow about how he had misled Madara’s understanding of their situation.

The next morning, he did not catch fish, cook breakfast, weed his garden, gather firewood, or go looking for fruits and mushrooms. He skipped all of that and instead went directly to Hashirama.

“Hey bark brains!” he shouted, jump kicking the tree in its trunk. “What the fuck is this about you being able to regrow a body if I give back your soul?!” he didn’t know he could be so mad at a tree before.

I assume you’ve been down to the stream to talk with Tobirama…

“Answer the damn question!” he demanded, slapping away a branch that tried a placating brush to his arm.

It’s more complicated than you may think. You cannot simply give me back my soul because it has already entwined with your own. I would have to forcefully take it from you and after all this time it would be impossible without tearing your soul in the process, you will die.

Madara stood in silence for a moment, anger slowly fading. He should have known there was a good reason why Hashirama hadn’t wanted to go through with it.

Are you still upset?

He sighed and slumped to the ground, finally allowing some roots twine around his lower legs. “I’m upset but not for the same reason. Before I was upset because I thought you lied to me. Now I’m upset because you told me the truth.” he grumbled.

Humans are truly complex creatures...Hashirama sounded like he might have been laughing.

“We really aren’t. Like plants we only need a few things to survive.” Madara pointed out. “Food, water, sunlight, rest, a safe environment and the opportunity to reproduce.”

You have all these things?

He scoffed, “All but one.” Madara had never felt the need to continue his direct lineage by fathering kids but he did wish for the intimacy that proceeded it. He was jolted out of his thoughts by the alarming sensation of the roots that were twined around his lower legs, creeping up past his thighs. “Uh...Hashirama? Is this you?”

Yes, my gift from the divine. I am still here with you.

“I meant is...are these roots your doing?” He asked nervously as the roots where now curving over a hip and slipping under the hem of his shirt.

Tell me if you do not like it, and I will stop. The tree fae’s voice sounded slightly wispy and playful.

“I uh….I’m not sure about this…” he bit his bottom lip to hold in a gasp when a thin, soft root brushed over his left nipple, causing it to peak in sensitivity. Several more of these thin soft tendrils grew down his sleeves to curl around his wrists, pulling them down and anchoring them to the ground, his ankles were similarly restricted, until Madara lay flat on his back, covered mostly in writhing vegetation. “Hashirama?!” he called out, voice high and breathless. There were some vines currently hooking themselves into the waistband of his pants, pulling them down mid-thigh. His dick was half hard, poking straight up in the air, exposed for anybody that might walk by to see.

Your body is so fertile, my love. It would be a waste to allow it to go unpollinated.

Madara was not sure what being ‘pollinated’ was but so far nothing the roots or vines had done was outside of his comfort zone so long as he didn’t think about how he was still outside. He had done more embarrassing things in privacy of his room with random people in the past, primarily after imbibing during a particularly festive holiday. However….while the embrace was similar, the lack of warmth and softness of skin was jarring. Was he really so desperate for touch that he was going to allow himself to be...ravaged by sentient plants? He was debating on telling Hashirama to let him up, when he noticed a large bud forming on a thick branch that was curved over his lower abdomen.

“F-fuck!” he almost shrieked, when the flower opened up and several slippery filaments bowed forward to cradle his erection. Now completely hard, his cock began to drip pre-cum as the soft flower petals and stamen moved erotically against his oversensitive skin. It was torture to be held still, while this obscene flower worked his body, teasing his shaft with wriggling motions and even brushing up against his throbbing balls. It had been so long since Madara had found release, now it felt like he might lose his mind if it didn’t happen quickly.

“Hashi-shi-shiiiii!” he tried to call out, shuddering when a curious vine decided to press up against his perineum before coiling onward. It continued to grow around his balls until his testis were held tightly inside the skin of their sack, scary but also arousing. There was literally no room for his tightly packed balls to expand any farther, and they were still throbbing urgently. He had to be careful not to flinch either, as one wrong move would tug painfully.

“I- I can't!” Madara protested, feeling his cum stuffed balls throb and pump, desperate to empty their churning load yet unable to as long as the vine stayed coiled around the base. To make matters worse, the moist stamen were now wriggling toward the head of his cock, peeling back his foreskin, smearing the heavy drops of pre-cum and digging into the slit of his frenulum.

I can feel that your ovules are prepared now, are you ready to be pollinated my divine?

“Yes! Kami, please! Release me!” Madara cried, the urge to thrust was overwhelming. He turned his head back and forth, accomplishing nothing except tangling his hair and getting a leaf stuck to some drool at the corner of his mouth.

Then all movement ceased and the branches holding him still retreated. Madara was so out of breath and shocked at the sudden change that it took him a moment to sit up.

“...what?” he looked around, seeing that the branches and vines that had pleasured him only moments before where still present, only waiting in standby. He looked around some more, thinking maybe someone had interrupted them and he had yet to sense them. Nothing.

He reached out his senses further, listening for any unusual noise or even a close by chakra signature…Nobody.

“Hashirama?”

Yes, my divine?

“Why did you stop?”

We are done, are we not?

“Uh, no!” Madara was immediately mad. “You didn’t let me finish!” He absently gestured towards his dick with an open palm, only to do a double take. The tip of his dick was dusted with a yellow powdery substance, it clung to the precoma obscenely, making his cock look like an angry dandelion. “What the fuck is this?!” he shouted, pointing rudely to his denied, pollen covered dick.

I have pollinated you...this is how plant based fae reproduce. Is this not how humans do it?

“NO!”

Then Madara covered his eyes and hunched down in aggrieved silence, sighing heavily. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. He should have known this wouldn’t work out. Damn his stupid biological urges. Why hadn’t he known that even sex would be an awkward experience considering their different species. He should have never allowed Hashirama to embarrass the both of them like this.

“This is my mistake.” he admitted, reaching for his clothes. He would slink back to his cottage, clean up and go to bed. He’d continue his routine tomorrow and never speak of this again. The whole thing had been one big unsatisfying failure.

Madara jerked suddenly, feeling a soft touch to the shaft of his still hard penis. Looking down he saw the smallest of vines, curling softly around him.

This is not your pistal?

“My WHAT?!” Madara yelped as the vine curled down farther to poke his sore balls.

This is not your ovary? I sense two fertile ovules…

“I-I don’t have ovaries you dumb ass tree bastard! I’m MALE!” Madara sputtered, outraged that Hashirama has, all these years, mistakenly believed he is a woman. Talk about knowing nothing about humans!

I see...This changes things.

“Changes what?!” Did Madara really want to know? “We can’t have kids together, not that...this was even ABOUT that!”

It wasn’t? You expressed desire for-

“SEX!”

Yes. That is what humans call it. The main purpose is to perpetuate the species.

Hashirama sounded so confident in his knowledge, which wasn’t incorrect really, but it seemed that sex for the sake of pleasure was too far out of a concept for the plant brained fae to grasp. Perhaps that was one of the major main differences between plants and people? Most humans equivalated sex with both pleasure and reproduction while only the latter was relevant to plants.

“I’m going home.” Madara declared, pulling his clothes back on. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The walk of shame back to his cottage was awkward and silent.