Chapter Text
***
Konoha is supposed to be a safe place. A home which gives people safety and shelter, so that tired shinobi can let go of a fight for a period of time and rest, while civilians could live under their protection and grow far from war.
The key words are “supposed to be”.
Madara, one of the two founders of the exact village, doesn't feel this way about his own creation.
If Konoha were really a safe place, then why every morning he woke up and felt like drowning? And not the type of where struggling against nature, trying it all to survive, no, the opposite of it. He's sinking, unmoving like a rock thrown from the shore to sea's mercy. Slowly and painfully falling to the deepest bottom tangled in shame, sorrow and regret. To make it worse, these were the last bits of emotions Madara had. It was all that is left. And while Madara might have seemed strong, he can do nothing about it.
The mightiest of all Uchiha had lost not even to a strong opponent on the battlefield, but to his own grief. After all, he's a human too. Just like everybody else he's only a fragile creature with a heart, which tends to feel hurt while physically it is unharmed. As a human being he can take just as much suffering, before collapsing. And, truth to be told, Madara reached his point a long time ago.
Madara lost so much, went through a lot of horrors and, without any doubt, it was a lot to handle, but Izuna's death? It just hit differently. He, his last remaining brother, was special. Losing Izuna felt like he lost the last straw, which kept him together, as a whole.
Izuna, his biggest bully and the loudest supporter.
–Aniki, – he once said, serious as ever, – I'll never let them deceive you. It is a promise, you hear me?
Izuna has been ever present since being brought to this world and stayed with Madara's, shoulder to shoulder, reassuring and firm. Bold in a way he had never been. He would give advice when it was needed, – and unneeded too, but it's what brothers for – always on the right topic and at the perfect timing to prevent Madara from lashing out too much.
–Izuna is there to save the day! – Kagami would say.
His rooted and down to the earth personality was the only thing left unchanged in the tricky world, while it seemed to spin like a never stopping carousel. Izuna became, just as he always predicted, a sharp shinobi with a heart of gold. Madara, on the other hand, grew up into the person he'd never imagined to be. But Izuna? He watched Madara and he saw him. Saw him for what Madara always was and everyone failed to see. Not a powerhouse shinobi, threat or the one to look up to. No, Izuna looked and he saw otherwise. Someone less, at least in other eyes, but much more dear to him, for a reason unknown – to anybody who's not Izuna anyway. He saw just Madara. An imperfect, impatient, stupid at times and immature at topics like mating or marriage, Madara.
–Oh, Amaterasu, give yourself a break, Mad-Mad. You're just one dude! – he joked, even though his face was nothing but a clear show of concern, – You overdoing yourself won't do any good. Who's gonna protect us against Hashirama beast, if you fall? Un huh.
Both of them went through bad days, absolutely horrendous and catastrophic events, the ones you are too embarrassed to even think about, and yet they never fell apart. Even with them both being alphas and clashing every now and then in a classic alpha`s battle for domination, his brother never seemed to be anything, but loyal. No matter what, he'd furiously protect Madara's back, venomously snapping at anyone who even a little badmouthed in his direction – clansmen were not safe from this too. It was like that all their childhood and early adulthood years.
They were inseparable. But that won't be like that anymore. Izuna and Madara’ story reached its final words and there will never be another day with them together.
«He's gone…»
Izuna is dead. Maybe he's even content now. Surely, being up there, where a cycle of death and war is only a far away concern couldn't be that bad. In all senses he is in a better place, unlike all living beings, now. And Madara, as an older sibling and the only other member from the main bloodline, should respect his spirit, preach for the better for him. But… he could not.
«Am I…guilty?»
Madara, no matter how much he prayed and wished to, was unable to do one thing he should do for the peace of Izuna’s soul - to let him go. The ever present guilt suffocates him for that and, still, he just can't bring himself to.
«Did it all happen because I was not fast enough?»
As a result of own doing, Madara falls behind and all he could manage through the day is to overthink and grieve.
«Am I guilty for not taking those stupid propositions about peace earlier?»
It's just too painful to move on, walking forward while knowing that he won't be there this time around.
«I am at fault, aren't I?»
Because, in his eyes, Izuna was supposed to be a constant in Madara’s life. To Madara his brother was someone not meant to die. But he did. Izuna, the only one he never expected to – never wanted to – died, and now nothing matters anymore.
Madara won't ever be the same man anymore.
Obviously, death is never an easy experience for people who have cared deeply. It's hard to be the one left behind. And it's not rare that some never get over it.
«It's unfair…why am I alive and he isn't? I'm the eldest, it should be the other way around».
An inferno of injustice burns somewhere deep in the soul, yet he was left empty. Lost. Even while in the crowd - alone.
It was a fire within which destroys from an inside, leaving what was a human before as a mere shell. Once, though, under every sheath there was a shiny pearl, full of life and brightly beautiful things, but as all in the world are, it was stolen away. By accident or force, it doesn't matter. The fact is, there is nothing anymore. It's empty.
Madara was just like that shell. His deepest core – love, care and affection for a family – was destroyed, – killed – taken away and he was left as nothing more than a body. Meat and bones. The organism that lost its key porpoise but is still somehow moving. A chicken still running after the departure of its head. He's still moving too, but for how long?
The longer it goes, the more Uchiha clan become aware that their leader, without any other words, is unwell. And, deny it or not, Madara can see it too. In fact, he knows he should get help – Izuna would have wanted that – with this whole situation. There's no way he'd get out of this by himself alone. Maybe all Madara actually needs is just someone to talk to or help with chores and clan. But there's also no way it will ever happen, no matter how good it sounds. In fact, he won't accept it. Not even if he actually had someone Madara trusted enough to come asking for help, which he didn't.
And, besides, the biggest barrier is that he is too proud. His worst trait. It's so bad, he would not seek help, even if it were the only wish his brother asked before passing away. Because, how could he? How can he admit that his situation is bad enough? Their father and mothers did not raise a coward of that kind. He's a strong and unshakable alpha, for him to admit his failure is just too intimate and personal for anybody, besides close family – everyone of whom is dead – to share. It felt like losing in a game. And Madara can not take it. Not today, tomorrow or ever.
And that's how things escalate the way they are. That is how he ended up right here. Eavesdropping conversation of the two Senju, waiting for something to be said. Anything that would justify the thought of a traitorous retreat from Konoha. Mostly to himself.
But It's been 6 months since Konoha started its creation, a year and a half after endless negotiations about the village – and it will be two years in the couple of days from the beginning of the ceasefire and Izuna's death. A short amount of time in the big picture, at least compared to how long the two clans have been at war with each other. But it's still a big amount nonetheless.
The village is doing great, actually. Better than anybody expected. There's been no actual conflicts that led to blood and bruising, only a few words there and then and cursing. A lot of the latter. But, surprisingly, most of the time people bite their tongues and keep it civil. Actually, this was for the first time in Madara's life he had seen his clan so well behaved. They weren't that quiet even back at the day when Tajima was the clan head, and it says louder than anything. The Uchiha clan actually took the whole peace process and village seriously. They want it to work.
And isn't it all that Madara ever wanted?
So why does it angered him instead? Why it's success only get on Madara's nerves?
On the darkest days he wishes for two ex-enemy clans to just kill each other in all consuming hatred he feels, so that way he could stop seeing all of the wealth and happiness Konoha growing.
«Is this what Izuna died for? Is this what his sacrifice was for?» – he thought all over again, and like for the first time it hurt with a sharp sting of pain any time this name was brought to mind.
And the more Madara prays to Amaterasu for his brother's soul, the more he thinks that it was a mistake. A village as a whole. Izuna always was against peace with Senju and the more Madara lived surrounded by them, the more he got it.
How could he trust them, when someone like White Oni was still walking around? Why should he breathe and continue to live his life, like he never had taken the one that was the most important for Madara?
So unfair.
Unfair even if Madara also knows that only if Tobirama had shoved any mercy, even a second hesitation, he'd be a dead meat in the blink of an eye and the situation would be reversed. And, no matter how Madara hates the man, he'd never wished such a pain, as losing one and only brother, to Hashirama.
In the end he comes to the conclusion that they all are just background pieces on the board. A part of a bigger game and things turned out the way it is because of it. They all are similarly guilty, but also no one is actually at blame. Not fully. But the thing is, understanding doesn't make anything better. The pain does not go away when he finds out that the murderer of his brother is just as much to blame, as he himself is. It hurts a hell lot more instead.
And Madara is just a human. He can't take it anymore. The unfairness of it all, how he can't even rightfully hate the one person who caused his pain.
That is why Mdara needs to go, leaving everything and everyone behind. And not like anybody would even care. The traitorous clan turned its back when he was telling the truth, prompting them to do something in order to protect themselves. He was just trying to warn them. But they do not listen. After all the years ruling and fighting for the clan it took only a couple of months to turn them away. And now he was nothing more than a mad man talking nonsense.
«Ungrateful fools».
Hashirama on the other hand would, in fact, care for his leave, but does it even matter in the end? He'd, like he always does, listen to this White Oni, to his voice of reason which is almost always right and decides against him. Stupid tree loving idiot, his best friend, not better than the Uchiha clan.
And that's why he stood waiting, listening to what he shouldn't.
He stood, hidden behind the window frame, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation, while concentrating on the leaf in his hand, the exercise they, he and mushroom-head Hashirama, invented back in childhood. It was really hard to lay so low on chakra that none of the brothers sensed him, yet he managed that pretty fine – partly thankful to that seal he stole from Hashirama's harpy of a wife, but none of them need to know that.
«Why are they chatting so much? I thought White Oni hated slacking from work».
Madara was there for 30 minutes already, and they were still mostly talking about anything, but the things he needed to hear about. Instead they were on the most vague topics. They brag about that one crazy Senju clan member who distraught the life of others by walking around naked, the future child of Hashirama – why did he never tell him about that? – and its name variants, then they started arguing about stupid naming choices tree-loving idiot made. And much more. It still was not something he wanted to hear.
After what felt like eternity, here it finally was. The awaited talk about the leader, or Hokage, as Hashirama wanted to call it. Now it is only a matter of time when the younger Senju was gonna open its stupid big mouth and barfed something about Madara himself or the Uchiha clan as a whole. He was predictable like that.
Tobirama was surely about to say the exact thing he expected him to, but was interrupted.
There was a stern bang of a door that announced about newcomers and, without any word of confirmation, someone stepped inside the room. Madara tensed, concentrating on the new chakra in the room and, as he was about to check if the stranger were a threat or not by reserves, he suddenly got a little taste of their scent on his tongue. Perhaps, when the door so swiftly opened, the harsh movement pushed their pheromones with a wind gust right to his nostrils.
«It's sweet and smoky,» – he registered without a second thought, but then shuddered, – «Why in the world do I even care about some stranger's scent? Ridiculous».
It surely would be nothing special, if only his inside alpha didn't get all fidgeting at the exact moment. So it was omega, undoubtedly, despite how meak the pheromones in the air were.
Omega. Pleasant scent. Compatible, murmurs his alpha`s instincts within, getting more giddy and possessive with each second.
–Good afternoon, – prompt the disembodied voice of omega.
«Oh, » – and oh it is.
There was just something in the way omega speaks, that made Madara prompt his head a little in curiosity. Voice was undoubtedly male, gravelly and hoarse, yet not unpleasant. Though it isn't what interested him, but the tone, or how cocky that man sounds was exactly what tugged all the right strings.
–Are Hashirama Senju available to talk right now?
As omega spoke up again, Uchiha registered something rising within him. Madara can not place it, at first. He felt odd, heart skipping a beat and pulse became erratic without any reason. A scent, that one smoky and sweet which belongs to omega, was now tickling his nostrils with a force he didn't expect because of a good distance between him and the person. It was as if Madara was attacked by the voice and ghostly pheromones of this stranger. But not only that was extraordinary, but the fact that omega’s scent was really weak, light and barely there, more suited for a beta, but it affected him as if the owner was in heat.
«That is an interesting reaction».
While his mind was still figuring out things, Madara's body reacted. It was quite intense, compared to anything he felt for a long time. In a way it was embarrassing. The worst is, he felt that if he stayed even for a little longer he'd hit the rut right there and then. Madara already felt the temperature of his body jump to a higher level, his clothes all hot and sticky to the skin in the most unpleasant way.
He probably should leave soon. It would be a right decision, to back off, because staying means blowing up his cower. But he decided against it. At least, not until he understood what was going on.
«I haven't even seen the omega's face, but I already react in such a deranged way. It's like I'm out of control…» – he thought weakly.
After a couple of seconds just breathing in and out Madara gets a hold on himself, starting to brainstorm. But there was one thing that made it hard to do so. Madara had never got deep into the whole specifics of the second gender. There was never a need for it, but now, as own knowledge was lacking, he felt really ashamed. How can a grown up man not understand why his body is doing the things it does? That's just embarrassing.
Despite knowing little to nothing, Madara proceeds to guess anyway.
«In what situations would alpha react to an unknown omega so strongly?» – he tried to piece things by making them as simple as possible, so maybe that way he'd understand, – «Why would omega, who's not in the heat, made alpha react in such a way, that it's almost forcing a rut?»
The strangest thing is that Madara already had his rut quite recently, not even a week ago. That means that this whole reaction was only this omega doing, not his own unknown issues.
Take. Mine. Breed. Mine. Need this omega. Mine, insists his alpha, but it was no longer just a background murmur, but a loud and hard to ignore demand.
«An omega, who made my inside alpha want, despite me not feeling it for such a long time. Not after...»
Image of dying Izuna flashes like a cut, reminding him of the crooked smile painted in red, the exact same color of the eyeballs in his shaking hand. The last memory he has of him, forever written to the depth of his mind.
«Not after».
Shaking the painful memory, Madara continued to guess.
«There's also the fact that we don't know each other».
Madara had never heard a voice like that before or met any omega with such pheromones as he has, so it is a complete stranger.
And yet Madara was hooked.
It is not so strange in general, as it's not rare to feel attraction towards a stranger. But it was strange for Madara. He had never felt a desire towards omegas without a bare minimum knowledge about them, at least. The only exception was when they're in heat, which the man wasn't. And that's why this whole situation caught off guard and shook him in the first place.
«So it's fully a physical reaction, and that's mean…»
He froze, heart beating in the eardrums so loud, that he feared even Hashirama's head in the clouds could hear it. Madara felt a heat come to his face, blood rushing towards all places he wished it didn't. But it is not what matters to him right now.
Like a lightning struck through him, Madara understood, remembering all too well the legends his grandma was bragging about on and on. The ones he always claimed were silly and a lie, but deep down dreamed it to be true. Because, what was happening is exactly what it is. A legend comes to life.
They are destined.
Their body cycles are intertwined, so when he's in rut the omega would be in his heat. The two opposite created by nature for each other, perfectly matched and are more likely to have healthy children. The destined omega to the alpha.
This omega was his.
–Oh, – he breathed.
And, just like that, the magic of a moment was lost.
Beating himself for such a mistake in his thoughts, Madara quickly refocused on the shinobi beside the window, checking if any of them heard anything. Lucky the Senju brothers were too busy being at each other's throats to hear him, while the omega were having too much fun from the antics before him, if the light up and downs in his chakra was any indication.
Quietly breathing out the breath, unlike previously, Madara, unable to control himself, focused solely on the omega chakra.
And what an interesting chakra it is.
He had a large reserve of fire, burning strongly and deep. Not as powerful as his own, of course, an omega could never even wish to concurrent with him. But it was not all it was about. Madara also felt a different kind of element roaring just as strongly as that burning flame of a chakra. It, surprisingly, felt very close to Hashirama. In a way it shouldn't be. Couldn't be.
«He can't be another mokuton user…right?»
There haven't been any mokuton users for ages. Hundreds of year's, to be specific. This is not called “forgotten power of Senju” for nothing. So it was impossible there's gonna be another person with a legendary doujutsu, and even less so someone who's not even a full blood Senju. Or so he thought.
This particular omega proved him wrong. He is a mokuton user. After fighting with Hashirama for so long Madara could tell, even with his eyes closed, the exact way how the chakra flows and concatenate before wood release. How it feels and how quickly it would escalate. And knowing that feeling so well, as Madara does, he could not mistake the way how omega`s chakra flows in his hand and how it blooms into something no other than wood release.
It felt different, though. And not only the lack of control and any fuel behind it was completely different. No, not just that.
Where the chakra of the Senju clan head felt like deep and mysterious old woods, dangerous only if you go too far and too fast. The Omega's chakra, on the contrary, is the opposite. It has a swift in it that is thorny like sharp, ready to cut you in a million pieces at any moment, harsh and unpredictable. This man is so obviously dangerous and it seems he isn't even trying to hide it. Madara finds he likes it. He also finds that the inconsistent nature of cutting and burning sensation of the omega`s chakra is soothing to him instead. It felt like stepping into a welcoming home and getting under warm kotetsu after being in the cold rain for a while. How is it possible Madara doesn't even understand.
In the moment all that Madara could feel was the sensation of hot and possessive desire. Something he thought he lost.
«I shouldn't feel this way,» – he thought, touching hot flushed face with a gloved hand, surprised, when he touched the now bulging and visually notable canines, – «I should leave».
Now that he found out the reason behind own strange body reactions, Madara decided that it's time to take his leave. It's never smart to fall for the deceiving alpha call, after all.
Madara flew fast, definitely not running away from conflicting emotions and from himself.
And he definitely did not feel a complete loss from not having a chance to know the omega's name. Or his face, at least.
***
In the darkness of the Uchiha compound, cold and miserable without its always loud and menacing hair, Madara allowed himself to think about something that is not a guilt trip, spiteful wishing death to a certain Senju or dread disdain towards the Uchiha clan. No, his thoughts were swimming towards different lands. The one with thorny bushes and hot bonfires nearby, with a promising smell of sweets and all too familiar smoke. He caught himself thinking about certain omega far more than twice to be comfortable. It was not the place to think about some pretty chakra of an unknown stranger, definitely not while praying to Amaterasu, for God sake.
But also he felt uncomfortable for other reasons, besides obvious ones like “it's sick to think about wetting your dick, while praying for your brother's soul to a kami”, it's just…
It was for the first time after Izuna he felt something – besides grief and dread – in what felt like two years. He was not drowning anymore, even if for a little while. Madara suddenly felt like a person again.
And it all was because of some faceless omega.
Could Madara be even more pathetic?
Right in that moment Madara can't not think of how miserable his own body and instincts are. And what if right there, in the distance of hand reaching, was his destined mate?
Madara does not need some pretty faced, shallow minded, big eyed omega's service.
«If I ever need a useless lapdog, I should just go and get some. But omega? To bind myself to one is just beyond me».
No matter what, it's still an omega. A weak chain of society. And, in all honesty, Madara has no respect towards them. Why, if their kind always needs some special treatment, as if their desire to have a child and the ability to carry one - everyone else's problem. He always thought being with omega is a bother, so he never looked at them more than objects. A beautiful doll for release. That's how alpha should treat omega and how they are supposed to present. Nothing more.
So why would he care?
The candles are burned out, wax is all around the place surrounded by a mess of dust and dirty clothes, plates and rotting food everywhere. He even spotted some webs in corners of the room. Usually he has no care for such trivial things, but now Madara was more than mildly disgusted, for some reasons. What was the last time he cleaned after himself? Because by the level of dirtiness it might as well be the whole 6 months.
«My omega would not even look at me if he finds out in what conditions I live,» – he thought while standing up and going towards the mess, not fully registering anything besides instincts that screamed of a need to be seen as worthy alpha.
He reached for plates, throwing the bits of remaining meals in the one dish that seemed like the largest one. By the end of it in front of him were the biggest mountain of leftovers he had ever seen in his entire life. It was smelly and awful and the more he looked at it the more disgusted he was. But it was kinda too late calling after the saff, so Madara decided to leave it as it is for now. Next he moved a filthy tower of spoiled trash and continued with pushing the separate piles of dirty clothes into one, starting to sort them all. One greasy sock after another and it finally occurred to him what exactly he was doing.
He was, in fact, cleaning space for not even himself, but someone else. For omega to come in and find themselves a comfy and safe place to be.
Shocked by his own doings, Madara sat on the dirty ground, losing in the process that one sock he had held before. Dumbfounded, he looked down at the hands with confusion, as if they suddenly stopped being his own. Because there's no way he is cleaning his place in order to have more space for a nest. It has to be some sort of possession. Or illness.
But it wasn't such a thing.
What happened next was something he was not so proud of.
He screamed. On the top of his lungs, nonetheless. It was so loud. Madara even forgot he had such a thunderous scream and managed to surprise himself with it for a second. Though only that long, as he didn't care about anything at the moment besides the anger he felt. The only thing that mattered to alpha was that stupid omega, which deceived him.
–How dare he! – he shouted.
To make a statement, Madara pushed the exact pile of clothes he'd been so thoroughly sorting just a seconds ago.
–How dare he, that stupid omega!? – he yelled even louder, and if people were not awake by his first wail, they certainly were now.
Raging, Madara proceeds to turn everything upside down in the blind anger. He completely lost it. Some dishes were thrown and scattered to the thousand pieces, leftovers thrown on every surface and clothes flew from one counter to another. He did all of that. And not silently, of course. Madara shouted, howled, wailed and yelled all the way. So when the shoji to his room were slid open he didn't notice, not until the intruder made himself known by calling his name.
–Madara…? – said someone, who he immediately recognized.
Hikaku, the damn traitor. A leader of those Uchihas who flew away in surrender back then, before a ceasefire.
He turned around and, sure thing, there he was, that Senju pussy licker.
–Madara? – he called again, seeing as the man in question stopped all the screaming and throwing stuff around he had going on, – What are all these loud noises about?
Madara had some options,on what he could do. He could curse at the man and ask him to leave, or even forcefully remove him away from here. But he didn't. Instead he looked Hikaku right in the eyes and huffed, shoving him just how frustrated he actually is with body language and facial expression.
–I met my destined, when I spied on the Senju bastards! – he proclaimed angrily.
Hikaku blinked once, then twice as if it was too much to process the mere fact Madara even had an omega. Or he wasn't really sure how to react to the new information. Instead of speaking his mind, just like he always does, Hikaku chooses to listen to him speak instead. And Madara more than obliged. In fact he was mumbling words after words in a quick manner he usually had, when nervous. So many words. Trying not to look over surprised by it, Hikaku simply nodded. But mentally he was overjoyed. It was the longest conversation he had with a man, his once closest cousin, almost in two years.
–And I, you know, reacted?! – he half asked and half barked.
–No, I actually don't, – said Hikaku, a single male beta.
But Madara was too far off to even hear him speak, pacing back and forth, like a rabid dog. He even looked like one with a mess on the head and his shouts were more similar to barking than humanoid language. Hikaku heard him out anyway. If not him, then who?
–I went crazy because of him! – Madara screamed with a crack of voice in the end.
–Oh yeah?
–And I was that, – he added with a hand movement where his fingers were a millimeter from touching each other, – close to losing it. For Amaterasu sake, I almost went to rut there and then! If that was to happen it would completely blow my cover and reveal me! All because of that bitch!
–Un huh, – Hikaku said, eyes widened, only now he seemed to understand that it was not an imaginary omega their clan head was talking about, but a real person.
–And his smell was so good I couldn't stop thinking about it ever since! I hate it!
Madara at the end of his tirade, looked as red as fresh tomatoes and with eyes so wide open, that Hikaku feared they'd fall off the sockets.
Knowing Madara for so long Hikaku knew he should be really accurate with his next words, when the men in front of him are that angry and obviously fragile. And usually he would have been, but it was 3 in the morning and, apparently, Hikaku had no mercy for a person who cut his sleeping hours.
–So, what you are trying to say is that even you, a misogynistic, sexist and just in general rude person, finally got a partner? Congrats, – he said in deadpan.
And, like he hasn't had enough of it already, Madara began to scream again.
–You son of a bitch!
But it was worth it, in Hikaku`s humble opinion.