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Tobirama is used to second place.
He was born second, for one, and in Butsuma’s eyes, that meant he was destined to right Hashirama’s wrongs. He was second to Hashirama in Itama’s eyes, although Tobirama couldn’t blame Itama for that; Tobirama was too busy moulding himself into his father’s perfect porcelain soldier. It never occurred to him that there wouldn’t be time after the war for Itama. By the time he realised, he was too late and too full of sorrow to morn what could have been.
He was second to his brother’s dreams of peace, no matter how much he tried to visualize. So much so, that Hashirama had to seek out their mortal enemy in order to share it. And he is second to Madara in Hashirama’s eyes, because after all this years, it still feels like Hashirama puts his life on halt whenever Madara comes in the room.
But Tobirama loves Hashirama in a way he could never love his father, and he knows the love is mutual, so it eases the sting of his wounds, a bit. When you have a brother as talented, as brash, and as bold as Hashirama, second place comes naturally. Being loveable is not something Tobirama can fault Hashirama for. Eventually, it becomes dependable in a way Hashirama never could be.
Konoha is a village that thrives on information and speculation. The story of the village’s formation is notorious, and the people took one look at Hashirama and Madara, another at Hashirama and Mito, then back at Madara and Tobirama, and they start whispering .
It doesn’t matter. Tobirama ignores the whispers. He’s used to it. Although, it would be a complete lie to say it didn’t bother him at times. If he were honest to himself, the words rips through his skin like an old wound on some days.
“Just to notify you; I will be late for dinner tonight," Madara says, footsteps passing by him in the hallway.
Tobirama finally looks up from his papers. "Tonight?"
"Yes, tonight. Hashirama called me in to finalise some details--don't worry, I'll update you when I get back."
"We have a table booked at Akimchi's and we've been putting off the reservation for months now," Tobirama says.
"Ah. Apologies, I completely forgot it was tonight. Could we move it an hour later?"
"I will if we have to, but is it possible for you and Brother to meet after dinner?"
"It's just a small detail. It won't take much time and I don't want it to bother me during dinner."
For some reason, the answer sticks to Tobirama's throat like a bitter cough syrup. "Fine."
"Fine?"
"Yes, fine." Tobirama "I'll send a summon over and change out appointment."
Madara freezes in his footstep, and his face pops through the door of their living room. There's caution in his step, as if approaching a wild tiger. "That doesn't sound fine," he says.
"It is," Tobirama says. Throughout this whole conversation, he realizes that he’s been as stiff as a statue. He forcibly uncurls himself and sighs. "It's really...fine. I'm just being ridiculous right now."
“You? Admitting that you are ridiculous?” Madara sits down across from him in their table. “Is something wrong? Are you mad at me?”
“No,” Tobirama finally realises. “I’m not angry. Only…may I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Madara says, his knees sinking into the cushion. “Hit me.”
“What made you decide to approach me? During those early days?”
Madara’s face twists in confusion. “What brought this on?”
“Just answer it,” Tobirama says. After a moment, he tacks on, “Please. We weren’t exactly pleasant to each other.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Madara answers, “That’s why I approached you; to make amends, at first. Then I just enjoyed making you angry, and it devolved from there.” Madara’s cheek reddens. “It goes without saying that I find you very attractive, and I enjoy spending time with you. When I finally let myself realise it, that is.”
“What made you decide you wanted to be with me?” Tobirama asks, bouldering past Madara’s fumbles.
“We understand each other very well, I think. We hold the same values,” Madara says. “It’s very easy to, well, simply exist with you. Sometimes, I think you understand me best in the village, even more than Hashirama and Izuna does.”
Tobirama churns through the words in his mind. “So you’re with me because I understand you better than Hashirama does?” he asks, chest tightening.
“No!” Madara says. “I mean, yes, in some areas you do, but that’s not why I’m with you! I’m with you because I love you.”
Swallowing, Tobirama asks, “Did you ever love Hashirama the same way?”
That makes Madara reel back in surprise, eyes wide and speechless. Tobirama digs his eyes into the most minute detail of Madara’s expression, and his hold grows deeper with each second the silence passes.
“I did,” Madara says quietly. “In the beginning, I did. We shared the same dream and I thought we could have shared more.”
It’s like a blow against his body, a sudden plunge into the ocean. The sincerity strips him cold nd leaves him struggling for air.
“Oh,” Tobirama says softly, even though he didn’t mean to say anything at all.
“It’s not like that anymore,” Madara says, his face stern. “You must know that, Tobirama, it’s—it was the same, but different—I’m making a mess of things but, tell me you know that—” Madara halts suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Suddenly, Tobirama feels wretched himself, for marring and twisting Madara into someone who’s so visibly distraught.
“I guess, I don’t know what I want to hear,” Tobirama says, finally. “I’m—I’m sorry. I know I’m being unfair to you but I can’t stop and I don’t know why when I already knew—when I’ve always known…”
Tobirama trails off, blinking rapidly. When Madara moves and sits beside him, he looks away, knuckles turning white as he rests his fists at his knees.
“I hear the whispers too, you know,” Madara says, one hand unclenching Tobirama’s fist. “It’s different now; I’m different and what I feel is different. Hashirama to me, is closer to what Izuna is. To say I love you more than I love Hashirama is akin to slicing my heart into chambers and asking me which part is the one I can live without, and that’s impossible to choose.”
Tobirama nods, even though he’s still looking away.
“I don’t know why I love you, but I do,” Madara says. “I don’t know how to describe what I love about you. I see the same qualities in other people and I admire them for it, but I don’t love them the way I love you for it, and the workings of it isn’t something I’m completely sure of, myself. All I know is that even at my worst—” Madara pauses, and nudges his shoulder, “—and even at your worst, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. And I mean that truthfully; there’s no one else I want to build a life with—wait, are you crying?”
“No,” Tobirama says, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “I’m just—fuck!” Unable to hide his proof, Tobirama grabs Madara’s shirt. “If you tell Brother about this, I will suffocate you in your sleep.”
Then, he very gently buries his face in Madara’s chest.
Madara just wraps his arms around Tobirama and pulls him closer. There’s nothing but warmth, blurs of red, and the pressure of his hand rubbing his back. Tobirama bunches the fabric in his hand until he could feel the creases sharpen. His hold tightens and tightens, and for what, he doesn’t know.
But he doesn’t ever want to let go.
He’s unbearably grateful Madara feels the same.
“I love you too,” Tobirama mumbles out. “I want to build a life with you too. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have let those words get to me.”
“I didn’t know you felt this way,” Madara says. “Well, I had an inkling, but I didn’t know—”
“I don’t, ” Tobirama says firmly. “I just…” he pauses and thinks it over.
“An off day?”
Tobirama finally gives in. “Off-day,” he agrees.
“Alright,” Madara says, squeezing Tobirama closer to his chest. “I hate it when you’re too pensive and apologetic. I don’t want your apologies that way. It’s not a fair battle.”
Tobirama gives a soggy laugh. “Not everything in life can be made into a battle! Even though you’d lose against me, anyway.”
“Ah, there’s the arrogant Senju I was looking for.”
“Where? All I see is a foolish, misguided Uchiha,” Tobirama shoots back. He clears his throat. “You should go meet Brother. I’ll send a note to Akimchi’s and push the appointment back,”
“No, I’ll send a note to Hashirama. Nothing too detailed,” Madara says quickly, when Tobirama narrows his eyes. “He’ll understand; he loves you too, you know.”
“I know,” Tobirama says, finally feeling the heat of Madara’s embrace. “I know. I needed a small reminder today. I...thank you, Madara. For reminding me.”