#hashimada challenge

[hypersomniaaboutsleeping]

HashiMada 31-day challenge!!

Topic: Deal with the fake Satan

No one remembered when the so-called "Halloween" appeared in Konoha.

But they decided to celebrate it properly - it won't be superfluous, the children will have fun, distracting themselves from the war..

Therefore, the main person of Konoha and Hokage Hashiram Senju decided for himself and his adviser that they would definitely take part. At least they are.

Tobirama rejected his older brother's pleas and locked himself in his office... Just not to celebrate.

- I'll try to convince him, Senju-sama! Just give me time. - Izuna also promised in spite of his brother and the prohibition on it.

Hokage only crossed himself and let him go "with Amaterasu by his side." And how else? Once again, after all, they will fight under the walls of the department.. And Izuna was just trying by hook or by crook to "whiten" the reputation of the Uchiha by participating in public life. Even if he didn't love Hashirama's brother so much in return..

- This... Do you really want me to appear like this in public? I know that's how they see me.. But not directly.

- Madara.. Hashirama laughed, turning around.

He did not notice how Uchiha Sr. came to him quietly like a cat and also quietly disappeared by the evening. But I was always sincerely glad of his company..

Sometimes, jokingly, the man even thought that they could swap brothers: the eternally naive to the horror of Izuna resembled him with his degree of awkwardness, and Tobirama with his practicality and external coldness to Madara, which, by the way, irritated both of them in each other. But if he makes a joke like that, Madara will definitely spit in his face. It happened very often that Hashi walked on the fine line of his best friend's patience.

And now, too.

- Fuck you know where..

- Please, for the sake of the children!

- Whose children? None of us have them!

Not without fear, the Hokage took him by the shoulders and looked imploringly into his face. Either they will hit him now, or they will agree..

Madara looks at the suit, then at Hashirama. Silent..

- Why should we participate?

- Well, today you could dress up as Satan and bully someone as part of the holiday..

- You won't let me. - Uchiha snorted, already knowing.

Hashirama sighed, and gathered all his eloquence in his hands. Did he incline Kazekage himself to the world with words, and will he not be able to convince his best friend with them? Yes, he must!

- Yes, but.. You could get a reward for a good suit, for example..

- Hm.

- Okay... What could make you, if not a gift?

The adviser thought about it. Indeed, what could he get absolutely free of charge for this humiliation, if offered?

He needs to take it big and right now. Yes, only..What?

- Um... let me think.

Hashirama was genuinely delighted. Although he understood - he will surely regret it later. And the promise must be fulfilled.

- You'll let me take it out on Tobirama. Otherwise, there is nothing to answer his eternal fines legally. - He grins slyly.

-..What kind of fines are these? Hokage asks suspiciously. Had some new nonsense been introduced behind his back?

- For the fact that Shinobi pretty much drive so that they only come home to sleep. Well, what about it? They are men, they must comply with the load! They probably complained.. And I even know who it is.

Senju Sr. sighs wearily. And why is Uchiha so vindictive? Soon he will be charged for a comb that was accidentally stolen a couple of days ago.. And the reason for that poor Shinobi is probably scanty.

But he'll probably figure that out later.

- So you are.. Agree?

- Clear the office. I'll change.

At this, Hashi quickly nods and almost flies with happiness, closing the door. Yes, he will then again convince Madara and Tobirama to maintain neutrality not only on paper. But then they still like to work up! ..

..When Dara comes out, he can't look away: a tight-fitting red kimono with a neckline and horns on the rim make him look like a work of art. Senju swallowed..

- You..

- How is the girl dressed?

- No. It suits you...

He takes him by the arm, already knowing the further route: the horror festival is very close to the control house. Madara only looks away, and goes with him for a fee..

People are whispering around, not expecting that the head of the Uchiha clan is participating this year - a serious Shinobi after all. And Senju himself presents himself as Izanami - the goddess of creation and death at the same time. Uchiha - is Izanagi, the personification of life itself. They are equal.

He does not resent being dragged to a theatrical performance.

- I wanted to, but I did.. They didn't want to sell tickets.

Hashirama pats his hand, expressing sympathy and buying tickets for both of them. The performance, by the way, was no worse than in the capital.

By the evening, he notices that Izuna comes to meet them first, briefly greeting them, and immediately getting carried away with shooting for a prize: the younger one definitely knows how to handle a bow. Tobirama, surprisingly in a festive kimono, still clearly calls out to his brother on business, even showing by his facial expression that he would not like to speak in front of Uchiha.

Hashirama is distracted from listening to the flute of a street musician, throwing a decent amount into the bag for that.

Noticing someone else's reaction, Madara immediately asks..

- Did you allow it earlier?

..And he kisses in front of the crowd, an albinos and his own brother.

As expected, Tobirama, having also corrected all his natural patience and politeness, says something obscene and then turns around, walking away. Izuna runs after him, reminding him that he does not know the way back...

-..It's not because of Tobirama, right? - Moving away from the shock and still holding his hand, asks Hokage.

Madara snorts, which means "think what you want" in their sign language.

[serpentartist]

Cutie pies

[sora-art-513]

[🪷🍂Rivals🍂🪷 Day 5]

Sorry if I was late, I was on a visit, While still drawing the #narutaugust Challenge, it reminded me of these Konoha founders (Hashirama and Madara) and it’s been so long since I drawn them and it feels Great to draw the Two Shinobis once again🥺✨

[bwormz]

Day 1: Childhood Crush | Reunion | Old Age @hashimada-week

I love me some old boys in love 💘

I'm late but I have all my prompts done! Let's gooo!!

[mira--mira]

I put all of my current WIPs for @hashimada-week​ below the cut, instead of making separate posts. A quick summary of everything below.

Day 1: Childhood Crush (Marriage proposals, Hashirama raised by the Uchiha!AU)

Day 2: Yokai (Jubokko[blood drinking tree]!Hashirama)

Day 3: Healing (Fem!HashiMada, Banshee!Madara, Fantasy!AU)

Day 4: Love (Accidental Jutsu, Canon-verse, Cat!Madara)

Day 5: Sharingan (Genjutsu, Madara and Hashirama in genjutsu)

Day 6: Flowers (Sex Pollen!AU, Canon-verse, SFW excerpt)

4.2K words in total.

Day 1: Childhood Crush

“We should get married,” Madara says as confidently as he can, praying to Amaterasu that his voice doesn’t crack. The goddess listens and the sentence comes out almost flippant despite the ways Madara’s body wants to shake and how sweaty his palms are. 

“What?” Hashirama blinks at him and then leans closer until their noses almost bump. Madara does not gasp at the sudden intrusion of his space, he absolutely does not. “Are you serious?” Hashirama whispers even though it’s just the two of them in their room, hidden away behind the tansu chests like they used to do when they were little. 

“Y-yes!” Dammit, there’s the crack. Madara clears his throat and does his best to straighten up, shoulders back, and chin raised. “If the Senju are going to try and argue their blood claim is strongest—which is utterly ridiculous, what do you have in common with such [savages] after being raised an Uchiha, obviously you’re one of us—but if they insist, a marriage tie would be another point in our favor. Think about it, Hashirama.” With only the slightest bit of hesitation, Madara reaches out, making sure to wrap his hand around the sleeve of Hashirama’s mantle so he can’t feel Madara’s sweat practically dripping off his hands. Why didn’t he think to put his gloves on before this? “I’m not…no one is going to let them take you away. We’ll do whatever it takes.” Madara squeezes his wrist, hoping Hashirama understands all that he’s trying to say but not the secrets underneath Madara would prefer to keep hidden.

Day 2: Yokai

In the heart of Shikkotsu Forest there is a tree that feeds on blood. It is an inconspicuous oak, no different from the rest except how inhumanely tall it towers in the forest where other ancient trees tower no larger than saplings next to it. There is a [rope] around it that marks it as sacred, a flat stone shrine at its base, and an entire compound that curls built in and on top of its massive roots. 

The Uchiha have served as diligent guardians for as long as anyone can remember. When the lands are ravaged by war, countless shinobi clans and daimyo determined to destroy others along with themselves, their small settlement nestled into the vast roots remains untouched. Invaders and killers brush by them, but all unfortunate enough, those ignorant of the legends of Shikkotsu Forest and foolish enough to seek violence in its depths, find their last moments in those same protective roots, their throats open and lifeblood gushing out. 

Madara is born into this clan, heir of the 44th generation, but he is markedly different from the rest. Like all the heirs, when the cord that connects him to his mother is first cut, his small bloody body is laid on the stone altar at the base of the tree. It is a tradition as old as the second generation, according to the stone tablets. He was to lay there, untouched, for seven minutes before he was blessed by the forest. When his father went to lift him from the altar, he discovered a halo of leaves around his body, despite none falling from the great tree above, and a single leaf with a perfectly shaped hole through the middle gently alight on his forehead. All the leaves but the last fell harmlessly away. The one on his forehead eventually drifted to the ground, but a perfect imprint was left on his forehead, one that would mark him for the rest of his life. 

Madara has heard the whispers about him, about the mark, for as long as he can remember. It means something the elders say, surely it is a blessing. But the specifics of said blessing, what it means, what the god tree wants…none of them know. 

It’s tiring to be the subject of such expectations and gazes. As soon as he’s able, Madara picks his way from the manicured houses and paths among the aerial roots, choosing to lose himself in the less explored and maintained ones instead. The god tree is big enough, wild enough, that he could be lost in its embrace for years. Madara is nine summers old as he walks across the tallest moss-covered aerial roots he can, bare feet slipping and sliding along their slick curves. He is ten summers when he drops to the middle layer, surrounded in constant twilight between the roots and the great canopy above and with no torches like the Uchiha compound to light the way. Eleven summers when he plunges to the lower depths, seeking to find dirt and mud to squish between his toes in this wild place. 

Twelve summers when he finds a pseudo cave at the base of the tree and Hashirama waiting for him inside. 

“It took you long enough,” are his first words to Madara, delivered with a haughty pout. 

“Who do you think you are? What are you doing here?” Madara splutters back, confused and disoriented to see another child so far away from the compound, and a non-Uchiha one at that. Madara knows the face and name of every member of the clan. Hashirama, naked as the day he was born, with skin the color of the god tree’s trunk, unnaturally straight hair, and glowing yellow eyes ringed in red is certainly not one of them.

“I’m Hashirama and I’ve been waiting for you. Now let’s go find the rinnegan!” Hashirama moves, quicker than Madara expected him to, and grabs Madara’s hands. 

“You have one chance to explain yourself or I’m gutting you and feeding you to the roots.” Madara yanks himself away before drawing his kunai and holding it up in front of him. Hashirama merely cocks his head to the side. 

“I already told you—”

“No you didn’t! Not enough!” Madara interrupts, peeved as Hashirama puts his hands on his hips, lower lip jutting out. “How did you get here? Why were you waiting for me? And what happened to your clothes?” 

“Ok, maybe I got a bit overexcited.” Hashirama starts to pace around the small cave but the way he walks is…weird. It’s dark and gloomy here, but every time his heels leave the packed earth, there’s a flash of white and he doesn’t take steps so much as raises his feet and shuffles forward. “I’m Hashirama, a jubokko, though you’d probably call me the god tree—”

“You’re claiming to be the god tree?” Madara can’t help but scoff. So Hashirama is clearly delusional. 

“Why do you keep interrupting me?” Hashirama crosses his arms with a huff. “And no I’m not ‘claiming’ to be anything, I am the god tree in my…temporary human form.” He gestures to himself, chin raised high. “If you’d like to take a moment to bask in my presence, I’ll allow it.”

Day 3: Healing

Once she passes through the village, the edge of the world greets her. There is a sharp difference from their trees to the otherplane, no blurring of boundaries as they seep into one another. There can be no lies, not even to herself, as Hashirama crosses the line. The inhuman willows greet her, their strands brushing along her dress in welcome. 

There is no difference in temperature, snow covers both their lands, the wind an [not picky] traveling blowing through both, but everything is sharper. The chill, the crunch of ice, it all prickles over Hashirama’s skin, countless little reminders that she has crossed over. 

As if she could forget. 

There is no path through the willows, but Hashirama makes her own. Her steps are sure and unhurried. She has traveled this way over a hundred times before, she could do it as a specter walking in her sleep. 

The tree she comes to is no obviously different from the willows around it. If one peers closely it may be a little bigger, perhaps with a few more roots bursting to the surface, and deeper colors in its fronds, but none so great for a simple curious passerby to notice. 

What sets this tree apart from all others is the banshee haunting its branches. 

Hashirama has long heard the villagers whisper and mutter about the banshees’ [complexions]. Her father raves that their appearance is proof of their wickedness, that any poor soul unlucky enough to lay eyes on their visages shall know it as immutable truth. 

“Hashirama.” Madara smiles, twisting toward her. “You came.” 

She is divine. Hashirama’s heart swells and she blinks back tears that well in her eyes as she looks upon her betrothed. 

Here in the weak day, Madara is not as solid as she is under the watchful moon. Her skin is translucent, the image of the willow shining faintly behind her. Yet still, Hashirama can pick out the details that she so loves. Madara’s fathomless pure black eyes, the snaking blue and purple veins beneath them, her wild spiky hair, and the almost delicate pink curl of her lips. She’s dressed in her typical daygown, a high-collared white dress with long sleeves that nearly brush her knuckles, and a hem that completely swallows her feet. Madara does not feel cold the same way Hashirama does and certainly not during the day, but she always worries about the thin material, questioning her endlessly on comfort.  

“Of course, I came.” Hashirama steps up to the willow, reaching for the lowest branch to pull herself up into its safe cradle. Her muddy boots threaten to slip as she climbs, but this—as finding the path through the woods—is something she has endless practice at. Hashirama pulls herself up to the higher branches, fitting herself between the trunk and limb. Madara floats after her, alighting by her side in a mimicry of sitting together. 

Hashirama longs for the moon’s gaze, for Madara to be flesh and blood next to her. How she wishes to wrap her up in her arms and kiss her pale cheeks. 

“Pardon me, but you’re the one who said it’d be a miracle if your father let you out of his sight so close to the Blood Moon.” Madara rolls her eyes, it’s rather difficult to tell but the faint reflection, her tone, and years of experience guide Hashirama to the simple conclusion. 

“Yes, well…I am surprised.” Truthfully it was a little unnerving Father had said so little and left her without a guard. She had been careful to express only her commitment as the Senju heir to the banshees, not her personal relationship with Madara. “Father wants to end our [contract], but I don’t know how much is bluster and how much is truth.”

Day 4: Love

Kagami is a good student, a gifted one, but choosing Madara to practice this specific lesson with shows his lack of experience. Perhaps if it were another jutsu the results may have been different but…

Madara feels the spike of his chakra every time he attempts a henge and he easily flicks the brat between the eyes to dispel it before he can attempt to reach out to Madara’s. He’s a genin and Madara is a god. 

They do this useless dance over a dozen times, each to the same disastrous result for Kagami. 

“That’s enough,” Madara says, swirling the last of his tea in its cut. “You made a valiant effort, but you need more practice before—”

“One more time, Madara-sama, please!” Kagami’s pale face is red with how hard he’s concentrating, hands pressed together in a [seal]. Determination shines a black fire in his eyes. 

Madara sighs. “Once more and then we’re done.” If he’s late to work Hashirama will start whining and Tobirama will never let him hear the end of it. 

“Thank you, Madara-sama! I won’t disappoint you or the Uchiha!” Kagami says and slams his hands together again. 

The words—I’m sure the pride of the Uchiha will [survive] one genin’s assignment—never leave his mouth. Something other than a henge sparks in the air. It’s similar to it, but Kagami’s papers have all mixed together and the wet ink mixes together and redirects inward. It’s going to [hit] him, not Madara. 

Madara reaches forward and grabs his hands but he’s too late. The jutsu doesn’t [hit] Kagami…it [hits] him. 

There’s a flash of light and a blinding shock of pain. It stabs at his lungs, through his skull, shooting down into his legs. It’s not the worst pain Madara’s ever felt, physically that’d been an infected [cut] that left him feverish and the handful of medics worrying about amputating his arm, emotionally that’d been watching Tobirama cut down Izuna and then sitting next to his side waiting him to die before Hashirama came, but it’s the suddenness of this pain, unexpected and out of place here in the peaceful village that takes his breath away. 

Then, between one blink and the next, it’s gone and Madara’s entire body has gone numb. He can’t move his limbs, blinking takes nearly too great an effort. 

What happened? The words float in and out of his mind, but when he opens his mouth to ask, nothing comes out. 

No, that’s not true. He meows. 

Kagami recovers first, before Madara can get his wits about him and then leans over him, eyes wide with horror. Had he fallen to the engawa? How disgraceful. 

“M-madara-sama, you’re…you’re…” Kagami’s face has gone sheet white and finally Madara manages to get some coordination in his arms to push himself up. Or he tries. His muscles flex, but the world swims and he stumbles half up into a very distorted scene. Kagami towers above him, the table he was sitting at tripled in size and the long familiar purple fabric of his mantle swallows him, the fabric a faint weight on his back.

Madara tilts his pounding head down and sees…paws. A cat’s paws. His paws, he realizes with a lurch. 

He’s a…a…cat. 

“I’m so sorry, Madara-sama! I don’t know what happened! I’ll get Tobirama-sensei to fix it, I promise!” Kagami cries and lunges to pick him up. His words, the fully realization of what happened, and some instinct of fear of a larger creature looming over him has Madara darting from the engawa, claws digging into wood as he runs as fast as he can. 

He darts into the [bushes] around the house, hunkering between the leaves. His mind is scattered and he has half a mind to stay here until the thoughts unravel in his mind, but he hears Kagami calling and running toward his hiding place and dozens of other Uchiha turning toward him. Madara’s ears flatten against his head and he bolts from the bush, rushing out in the Uchiha district. 

He runs and he doesn’t stop. Logic is far away, only adrenaline and fear pumps through his veins. The familiar Uchiha buildings fall away into Konoha proper. It’s a mistake. There’s so much noise, people walking past with thundering steps, their voices ringing around in his skull. The children are screeching banshees trying to burst his poor eardrums and make them bleed. Worst though is the smell. Madara gags and it’s only his overwhelming panic that prevents him from throwing up. The normally pleasant smell of the buildings—fresh wood and new paint, all of the promise of his and Hashirama’s dream—is overwhelming. The street food stalls are a mix of appetizing and [nauseating], the oil and meat makes his stomach rumble but each is so intense it sends tremors through his body, pain spreading in fiery waves across his face. 

“Madara-sama!” Kagami is at the gates, head frantically swiveling around to find him. Madara is already gone. 

He doesn’t know where he’s going or how far he runs. The world is reduced to overwhelming stimuli around him that blots out everything but his fear until—

There’s grass underneath his paws, its texture strange and foreign compared to touching it with his human hands. A lure in the distance draws him near promising sanctuary and—

“Oof!” Madara trips over the lump on the ground and instinctively digs his claws in. “Ow, ow, ow!” The lump grabs him and moves upright. 

Person. Madara thinks foggily. 

“Are you okay, kitty?” A broad hand strokes his back. 

Hashirama. If he were human, Madara would be in hysterics.

It’s the last thought he has before he passes out. 

Day 5: Sharingan

“How long do we have?” Hashirama asks as he reluctantly tears his eyes away from Madara to trace familiar patterns in the stars. He finds the Great Tree, the Endless Fields and wonders if Madara knows the same stories. Probably not. 

“Half an hour? It’s been a rough couple days…” Madara doesn’t apologize directly, but Hashirama can hear it in his words. 

“It’s alright,” he whispers, despite the disappointment he feels. “Any time is better than none.” One of the best things about Madara’s genjutsus is how easily he could manipulate time and stretch it out. On the good days when he had the energy, an hour of time in the real world could become a week here. On the bad days, it’ll last only half a day. Hashirama has to work with Madara to stretch out the time though, if he gets impatient or makes his chakra surge in a way Madara doesn’t expect, the whole thing will shatter like ceramic. He has to be careful, exceedingly so, but it’s worth it to spend all the extra time with Madara. 

Here, they can almost pretend there is no war, that they’re two normal kids living what they think should be normal lives. Everything is an illusion—and Madara is always quick to remind him of that—but they can treat it like reality, give it the same meaning and weight. They can sleep next to each other in matching futons, eat meals together around the same hearth, play and train together on the cliffs and in the forest. In the real world, they can only do the last one and not nearly enough to Hashirama’s liking. They can’t meet up every day and whenever they’re apart, he feels Madara’s absence like a deep, painful bruise he can’t heal. It won’t kill him—eventually he’ll see Madara again—but he’s always aware of it. He can’t stop poking it, wishing Madara were by his side, thinking of whatever menial chore he has to do in the Senju compound, all of Butsuma’s pointed words and lectures he has to endure, the isolation and knowledge that, as much as he tries, because he’s the clan heir, because of the mokuton, because he likes boys too that he’ll always be different from everyone else…all of that would be easier to endure if Madara were with him. 

Sometimes Hashirama wishes more than anything the genjutsu could be the real world, but if he doesn’t phrase it right Madara gets all skittish and starts worrying that he’ll get reality-sick or whatever the Uchiha call it. He’ll refuse to take them into the genjutsu and then Hashirama has to mourn all the time he’s not getting to spend with Madara. He’s become very good at his phrasing. Hashirama sorta understands Madara’s worry, the Senju don’t use genjutsu but he gets the concept of being reality-sick, but he doesn’t actually think the genjutsu is the real world. He would never mistake the two and he doesn’t so much as want to leave the world behind and live in a genjutsu, but take this image of paradise to the real world. He has a special fondness for it because it’s the most access he’s ever had to Madara, the most time he’s ever gotten to spend with his friend but…there is something more to it. 

In the process of making this genjutsu, breathing life into the village at the mountain’s base so they could walk around the buildings, interact with it like a real compound, and see it from every angle without the whole thing falling apart…it became ironically more real to both of them, Madara especially. Hashirama had always been the one to envision a village, see it in his mind’s eye, the peace that could be if they changed the world. Madara by contrast, was the spark, the one to ignite the dream, the one to want to change their reality so badly so no other kids would suffer as they had. He had trouble envisioning the end though, the village that could be. Here, in a genjutsu he was forced to create step by step, well both of them built the village far earlier than they ever imagined. 

The real thing will be different, Hashirama knows. Their houses probably won’t be side by side, the Senju and Uchiha architecture faithfully interwoven and mixed until they look almost like one cohesive clan rather than two separate ones. The gardens won’t be in the places Hashirama chose, nor the spaces for all the contracted animals and non-contracted ones that Madara [chose/did]. The food stalls, some familiar and others whacky as they pushed what they think people would sell as food, definitely won’t. But it’s these small things, the things that’ll never be, nonetheless make the idea real. 

They can see a version of their village. An illusion, a genjutsu, but a happy one to take refuge in as they start to plan the details, start to look forward to what could be if they manage the impossible. 

Day 6: Flowers

���Do you know how long it took for him to eat the damned food? Hours, Hashirama, hours! It would have been so much easier to slit his throat but nooo the daimyo wanted to use poison so I had to skulk about this idiot’s house for weeks waiting to infiltrate it unseen and then when I finally poisoned his dish and only his dish he didn’t want to eat it and—”

Madara is still ranting, his cheeks flushed bright red in anger as he gestures sharply with his hands, emphasizing every point. Hashirama is still listening to him, but his voice becomes a comforting background noise as he gets to stare openly at Madara’s face. Silhouetted by the setting sun and the dark copse of trees further back on the cliff, he’s perfect. 

Hashirama had been warned about the mission in advance, an easy but long and dull one to complete properly and that he might not see Madara for a few weeks, maybe even months, until it was finished. There was nothing he could say, they’re shinobi after all it’s what they do, but he can’t deny that he’s missed Madara, felt his absence like an unhealable gaping wound and only now with his surly, prickly self returned to Hashirama’s side does it finally stitch itself up. 

Hashirama is overcome and he finds himself tilting forward before he knows it, leaning into Madara’s space and pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth. He’d kiss him in full, but Madara is still complaining and Hashirama would prefer not to have his lips bitten off. 

“Are you even listening to what I’ve been saying?” Is the first thing Madara asks when he pulls back. Hashirama tries to take it as a good sign, Madara definitely has never protested against his kisses, when Hashirama first pecked him on the lips when they were fifteen he even seemed to enjoy it, but he says absolutely nothing about the kiss this time, only his listening demands. 

“Of course I have, the noble and his refusal to eat poisoned food, thwarting all your well made plans,” Hashirama teases, forcing himself to be light about it. Madara calms and looks pleased for the first half of the sentence and then prickles angrily by the end. Before he can wind himself up to start yelling at Hashirama, about how his plans were not thwarted, only delayed by human idiocy and refusal to be poisoned and die, Hashirama continues. “You know…I could try and make you an airborne poison. Disguised as a flower? Fast acting so you’d only have to slip it into his room at night and then…” Hashirama sticks his tongue out, head hanging limply as he croaks. 

To his delight, Madara doesn’t immediately reject the idea. Instead, he purses his lips and looks past the cliff’s edge and their dangling feet below. “That’s…not a bad idea. I wouldn’t use it every time, obviously,” he waves his hand before Hashirama can get too excited, “I won’t depend on you alone to complete all my missions Senju, but gods I hate the poisoning ones. If there were a way to get them over with quicker…fine. Try and make the air-borne poison. We’ll see how it works out and I may just give you a reward if you’re successful.” Madara smirks and Hashirama knows he’s talking about bragging rights or bringing him one of the disgustingly hot Uchiha candies he claims even babies like to suck on and surely Hashirama doesn’t have a weaker constitution than a baby…but all Hashirama can think about at eighteen after three and a half long weeks away from Madara, his lips still burning from his short little kiss is something decidedly more erotic. 

Madara kissing him for a change, Madara trailing his hands over Hashirama’s chest, down his sides, Madara sinking to his knees with a smirk before he wraps his mouth around—

“Sure! I’ll make the best air-borne poison ever, just you watch!” Hashirama laughs and he hopes Madara thinks his blush is the bleeding red light from the sinking sun.

[dragonofthedepths]

In (No) Danger of Going Too Far

Naruto. Senju Hashirama x Uchiha Madara. Vampire AU. Written for @hewoweens as part of the @hashimada-giftexchange!

Madara cannot remember a time when he has not been hungry.

A clan of vampires, the Uchiha have... different dietary requirements from the other clans around them.

A harsh winter that sweeps in early to kill all the crops will not effect them the same way. The same food that fuels humans is little more than padding to them, helping draw out the times between feedings if they have no blood. Only slightly more useful than eating sawdust is to a human.

Even as a child Madara was already used to padding out his diet with human food, leaving as much extra blood for his younger brothers as he could as rations grew tight.

One would think a clan of blooddrinkers could feast, surrounded by blood constantly on the battlefield. But that is blood spilled, the blood of corpses and the dead. As useless and revolting for them as an apple rotted green and slick with slime would be for a human. Utterly devoid of the life they need to feed.

Only live prey will do.

But the hunger of his youth has nothing on the starvation they've been facing recently.

And Madara knows that things have been getting worse and worse since he was a child, their situation deteriorating with every ally his father drove away. That they descended to their current level of struggle long before his recent ascension to clan head.

But he can't help but feel responsible.

Because it is his clan. He swore to protect them with everything he has, and he is doing all he can to dig them out of the hole his father got them into but it's not working fast enough.

He has been giving up even more of his rations recently, pushing them towards Izuna or the children in a desperate bid to keep them alive as they all struggle to survive while he attempts to get their feet back under them, and it is beginning to have consequences.

His blows have less strength behind them, his reaction times dulled, and it's sometimes a struggle to keep his arms from shaking. Not enough to be noticeable against a regular enemy, but it makes running into Senju Hashirama whenever he doesn't have to very inadvisable.

Hashirama is the only challenge to Madara on the battlefield, but an omnipresent one. Especially as the war between the Uchiha and the Senju picks up in the wake of Tajima's death, Senju Butsuma battering them relentlessly with attacks as he seeks to take advantage of any unsteadiness caused by the change in leadership.

Usually, Madara could take advantage of the fact that he's a sensory nin and Hashirama is not to avoid confrontations he can't afford to have. But either the Senju has his chakra completely concealed (coming back from a mission perhaps?) or Madara is even more tired than he thought, because neither of them realize the other is there until it's too late to pretend they haven't seen eachother.

Madara is painfully aware that if he ever could defeat his childhood friend, he cannot now. And that's what leads to him being backed up against a tree —a terrifying position to be in against a mokuton user— with Hashirama looming over him.

"Madara..." Madara almost growls at Hashirama as the Senju heir draws out his name, looking at him with big concerned eyes as though they are something other than enemies

"Madara, you're starving."

"What, are you offering to feed me?" He bites the words out, sarcasm lining his voice. No point in denying something so obvious Hashirama has likely known it for several fights now.

Unlike the harsh tone of Madara's voice, Hashirama's is calm and cool, seriousness replacing the worry of a moment ago. "Yes."

Madara chokes. He must look like a fool, gaping up at Hashirama in the dead silence that follows the Senju's proclamation as his brain tries to process what he just heard.

"Are you insane?!" He demands when he regains the ability to speak. Desperately trying to figure out what the Senju could possibly want out of this, especially as the damn fruit tree reaches up to undo the clasp on his pauldrons.

"Do you still remember, what we talked about as children? Our village?" Hashirama's voice is quite, no need to shout above the din of battle to be heard in this little space amongst the trees where it's only them. "I had never met anyone else who believes in the same things as me. I still haven't."

Hashirama pushes the pauldron off his shoulder and lets it fall to the ground, dropping the pieces of armor made to protect his neck —be it from swinging blades or a vampire's fangs— without a second thought.

"And I know it's more complicated now then when we were children, but you lead your clan now, and it's only a matter of time before I lead mine. I can't do this without you Madara," he finishes, staring Madara in the eyes as though he's never even considered that he might need to fear the sharingan.

It's not fair, to have Hashirama standing over him, talking about dreams and offering him a long buried childhood fantasy on a silver platter. From back when things weren't so bad yet, when he might've been always hungry but he hadn't been starving, and the sting of hunger had been softer, ignoreable. Even if playing with Hashirama —full to bursting with energy and strength, life spilling from his every action— brought it to the forefront.

How many times had he nearly confessed his clan name just to beg for a bite?

It's more than Madara can ignore. Not with Hashirama standing there willingly divesting himself of the armor that would keep him safe from Madara's fangs.

Hashirama lets Madara flip them around, so the Senju is the one pinned to a tree now, Madara's arms caging him in. (Not that a mokuton user with his back against a tree is that much safer if Hashirama does decide to attack.)

They are pressed into eachother's personal space, well within stabbing distance in a way any skilled shinobi should never let an enemy get.

Hashirama tilts his head to expose his neck,

And Madara bites.

He can hear Hashirama's soft gasp as Madara's teeth sink through skin and muscle, then the first taste of Hashirama's blood hits his tongue and he has to stop himself from moaning aloud. It is savory and rich and the first real food Madara has had in ages. Hashirama tilts his head a little more to allow Madara better access and the dizzying euphoria of Hashirama's blood rushing into his mouth almost overwhelms him as he takes swallow after swallow.

Vampires aren't like humans, there is no need to come off of starvation slowly, they are built to gorge.

He is dimly aware of when Hashirama goes from supporting himself to collapsing back against the tree and clutching the back of Madara's robes, but it still takes a moment for him to register what that means.

Fuck. Rationality pushes back against the mess of instincts and bloodlust. He has to stop. Humans can only loose so much blood, and if he takes anymore Hashirama will die and he can't— he can't loose him.

The cold wash of fear is enough to unseat the desperate need for more from it's throne and he pulls back.

One of Hashirama's hands comes up to tug him back down before he gets very far. Tangling in Madara's hair and urging him back towards his neck with more strength than a man who's just lost almost half his blood should possess.

"I can heal, remember?"

Right, Hashirama's damn healing factor.

The one that let him be stabbed through the lung as a teenager and just keep fighting the sword's extremely surprised owner, now using the very katana he'd just been stabbed by. (That was still Hashirama's favorite sword. It was a very good sword.)

Of course that would extend to blood loss as well. Of course—

Madara lets Hashirama pull him back down, and this time he looses himself in the dizzying rush, attempting to bury himself in Hashirama's warmth as he greedily sucks down all the blood, all the life Hashirama is willing to give him.

He's not sure how long it is before he releases Hashirama's neck for the second time. This time he lingers, letting his breath ghost across Hashirama's skin. No need to pull back before he gives in to the urge to bite again.

When he finally does pull away it's not far, only just far enough that he can look into Hashirma's eyes again, before he shifts his weight so that he's leaning against the tree as well. Bringing his arms around from Hashirama's shoulders to cradle the back of his head as he lets them slide down the tree, until they're both collapsed onto the roots at the bottom, all tangled up together.

One of Hashirama's hands comes up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing across his face to wipe away his tears as he leans forward until his forehead is resting against Madara's.

Madara's not sure when he started crying, but he can't bring himself to stop now. The sheer overwhelming relief of being fed, of being full, for the first time in his life is too much.

They're both breathing heavily, and for all that Madara isn't supposed to need to it feels incredible. There's a rush in his veins and a pounding in his chest, and he's never felt warm like this before; not the quick burning flash of katon, but suffused throughout him. Like part of the sunshine he can see in Hashirama every time he smiles has been tucked into Madara to keep the cold away.

There's that same blinding smile aimed at him now, and leaning in is easy, pressing lips against lips. First in a brief, feather-light kiss, then again in a stronger, surer one as they find their place against eachother.

Madara can still taste the blood coating his mouth, but that doesn't seem to deter Hashirama in the slightest.

And it's wonderful. A confirmation that everything that was between them as boys still is, as though Hashirama letting him drink from him wasn't all that and more.

Curled up together, sharing breath, sharing warmth, sharing life, Madara can see the future like he hasn't been able to since he was a child.

Senju Butsuma needs to die soon.

Bonus:

"Madara," Izuna hisses as Madara stumbles blood-drunk back into the compound, "what did you do?! Eat a village???"

[sapphic-sasuke]

Madara definitely doubted Hashirama’s love for him after hashirama was willing to kill him for Konoha. It’s one of those feelings that brings him the most shame and he represses it to the best of his ability but it’s there. subtle but there. Madara is a very prideful person but he also feels a lot and only Hashirama has ever managed to uproot him in such a way.

The way I picture it is that Madara challenging Hashirama to a fight to the death was also his way of getting Hashirama to pay attention to him and focus on him for one last time. But I also think part of him knew they had reached a point of no return. Madara briefly wondering if Hashirama would ever try to spare him, knowing likely not but maybe still hoping slightly, only for Hashirama to stab him and vow to kill anyone who harms Konoha…..

Overall, despite that, Madara still loves Hashirama, and Hashirama still loves Madara. The love was never lost in my opinion, even during their darkest times, but Hashimada to me have this unspoken depth, this unresolved conflict and feelings of inadequacy. It doesn’t overshadow the obsession they consistently feel for each other; I think it just worsens it.

[anonenot]

I'm impressively late. Like last train or something.

But now I got all seven drabbles plus three bonuses.

It's drabble collection in one AU because I was suddenly inspired and I challenged (read as sacrificed) myself to it.

So.

Warnings: Russian language, some piece of non-graphic violence, vampirism.

Mostly HashiMada, obviously, but there is some small TobiIzu too

Thank to @hashimada-week for event!

[makkoskafanfic]

I recently saw a post of Madara having a piss kink, so maybe you can write something about that with Hashimada?

Well, not a kink I ever explored before, but I couldn't not try! I can't answer if Madara is having a piss kink, if Hashirama's having one, both of them or neither of them, and Madara just gets horny regardless of what Hashirama does. Anyhow, hope you will enjoy!

Flow - Makkoska - Naruto (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara Additional Tags: PWP, Hand Jobs, Watersports, I think?, I'm new to this kink, Madara might be just having a gerneric Hashirama kink, Hashirama is weird and Madara loves him for it, Semi-Public Sex, they are horny, Established Relationship, this is quite soft for some reason Summary: Hashirama considers it a challenge that Madara can't take a piss with someone watching and is determined to be an exception.

[mochiajclayne]

Satosugu and Hashimada are both tragic parallels because their goals were the same: to change an exploitative and corrupt system but their means tore them apart (satoru and hashirama attempts to change the system from the inside and/or through guiding the future generation; suguru and madara wanted to eliminate the root of the problem through external means and/or challenging the system itself). And you know what makes it so devastating? Together, they're the strongest. Apart, they were each other's weakness. They were soulmates at the wrong time. things would go differently they were born in a different era, if they lived different lives, if their circumstances wasn't coupled with heavy responsibilities. If only they were able to meet in the middle, things would've turned out differently.

[nevsclowntown]

I CANNOT get enough of your founders Omegaverse AU. Its just so perfect. And I saw HashiMada's babies (🛐🛐🛐 que bendicion 🛐🛐🛐) and I was wondering about what your headcanons on Madara's pregnancies were. I know you said the second and the third were ultimately the hardest. But, how did Mada find out? How did he break the news to Hashi? Was Hashi an overbearing alpha during his pregnancies? Did he get supper protective and snappy or was he just loving on Mada all the time? Did Mada have cravings? What about the first time he felt the baby kick?

May we please have some more Founders Omegaverse AU please 🤲🤲🤲🤲

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK OMG I'm so happy the Omegaverse Au sparks some joy in others as well!���

Madara's had bad heats all of his life and they'd also come irregular. It's due to the suppressants he had taken over the years that have messed with his body quite a lot. So when they keep away for a month it's not really suspicious & he did also not really keep check on their regularity. At some point Izuna noticed a different scent on him and he had inquired but Madara told him off. But something had changed or else Izuna wouldn't have noticed, so he ended up to get checked up anyway. Since Madara had a little suspicion, he went to a non-Uchihan doctor to get an opinion. (He was not up for dealing with Uchiha drama if izunas guess would be right.) And there he was, already 4 months pregnant and barely showing. Madara ... wasn't sure whether to be excited or not. Because he loved the idea of being a parent but ... there was only Hashirama who could be the father and his clan would not have that. But Madara being Madara brushed it off and was willing to deal with the fallout later. He broke the news to Hashirama pretty quickly - technically just walked up to him, pulled him out of convo and let the new information raind down on him. And Hashirama short circuited probably. He too had always wanted a family, though neither of them had ever explicitly thought of doing it together. Mostly because Madara never brought the wish up and Hashirama was worried that it would come off as too much and too overbearing.

So the first kid was an accident. The following children were all wanted and worked for hard (lmao.) It's like the more they want them the smaller the chances of success.

Hashirama was overprotective of course! So they argued quite a lot. Not that Madara wasn't careful, but he hated that Hashirama thought he couldn't watch out for himself. And Hashirama really didn't mean to make Madara feel incapable. They had a big back and forth during the pregnancies. Also, Madara didn't like the idea of being idle. If Hashirama would have gotten his way, he would have had to sit around for the remaining months.

Funny enough, at that time Madara ended up spending a little more time with Tobirama. Since he, although hesitantly, wasn't opposed of training with Madara. (Any excuse to throw fists at him was enough to agree.) But they did light training, no worries. Hashirama was fuming as he found out (way after the birth.)

Madara's had a bit of trouble, emotionally, during the first pregnancies. It was a lot for him to find a way to fit his raging, unyielding and powerful persona into the role of a loving parent. He had always wanted to, but he also always believed that war would become his everyday business. To settle was the hardest part for him. To accept that he didn't need to stand strong all the time and seem untouchable.

Madara's actually pretty textbook omega if you will. He wishes a family and he's very loving. He likes to do physical affection and he always wanted a partner that's stronger than him. An alpha too.

But he had discarded that side of his for so long and seen it as a weakness that it all was very challenging for him :(

( Hashirama understood his struggles as far as he could and was never sure if offering a helping hand would only make things worse. )

[hypersomniaaboutsleeping]

HashiMada 31-day challenge!!

Topic: Such job

Hashirama Senju had the most important job in the world.

Which one?

No, not the Hokage title.

His job was to love the world gratuitously, even if he didn't really love it back.

And his whole world consisted of one person.

...Tobirama noticed a dramatic change in his brother.

For the rest, the head of the clan and the village has not changed at all after the conclusion of a peace treaty with another clan.

But the albinos saw in his eyes - aniki from happiness will soon definitely start writing sugary love poems again, which he will never send.

And since the author will not send it personally, it is necessary to understand who to give it to.

He's supposed to see his nephews, right? And in this family, the role of an unsociable loner is intended for him, not his good-natured brother ..

..Senju Sr. himself, in his opinion, never shared love letters with anyone: there you can collect a whole compromising material of childish declarations of love by letter for him.

At least that's how his love interest would have expressed it, that was Hashirama's full confidence.

"Your eyes always look stubborn - but I won't notice, hiding my insides in a pool of these black sapphires,"

He thought for an hour instead of going to bed.

When there was a sharp knock..

It immediately became clear who it was, and Hashirama quickly threw the paper off the table.

No one knocked on the scrap of the head of the settlement like that - loudly, with three equal knocks.

At night.

- ...Dara? What happened?

Hokage was not indignant when his adviser went into the house. But I already noticed that he rushed in with a bunch of sheets, and in a home kimono, obviously because of the urgency of things.

From the other end of the whole village.

- The guard brought the mail today. - Uchiha began, frowning a little, and .. worried?

- Yes? Late..

- Very much. And brought an important one.

Senju nodded carefully.

And noticed that he got dirty in blue ink, shamefully removing his hand behind his back.

- I wanted to burn the mail from your brother. Excitement pulled me to read it.

- ..And what did Tobirama send?...

"Just not a threat after a failed tea party at a general reception in the land of Stone.." - Hashirama remembered that Madara almost crossed the line and was rude to Tsuchikage. Of course, he laughed, realizing that the co-ruler of the village of the village had such a character, but Tobirama looked like only he could look.. With a threat.

- Letters.

Hokage wanted to fall into the ground or die right now.

It is clear what kind of letters. Tobirama is tired of his brother acting so hesitantly... But why did he approve?

Aniki did not doubt his approval - otherwise he would not have sent it.

Yes, but why surreptitiously? Why didn't you talk? Why did he decide for him again?

Somewhere inside Hashirama knew the answer.

Resigned.

Tobi resigned and understood.

- Come on, you won't scream now, and.. if you're uncomfortable, burn it.

- ..Burn it?

Madara batted his eyelashes and stopped frowning.

Simply.. Surprised? Didn't he want to do it yourself?

- No one has ever shown this to me, and even more so, to write...

And Senju understood.

Uchiha is embarrassed.

He is embarrassed in front of him, rushing in, realizing whose words these are clearly not because she wanted to put a bold end to their relationship.

Both fell awkwardly silent, standing in front of each other.

Something needs to be done. To say.

But they don't know that.

At least until Hashirama begins to smile affectionately, carefully taking someone else's palm in his hands.

- This is my job, to love the whole world..

The brown-haired man clearly does not understand what is happening. And a terrible thought flashes through his head - "come here, you fool, and you will be sent away out of shame..". With the desire to commit seppuku.

- And my whole world is you.

And he cries for the first time that the brunette is clearly a little scared..

And Dara explain to him: "your world is crying with happiness."

[bananahwormz]

Got my goodies from @hashimada-week for completing the challenge (over at my art blog @bwormz ). I'm so happy! Thank you! Thank you! This was my first completed challenge ever. Can't wait for next year 👀✨

[anannua]

Something's Coming, From Over The Mountains

My gift for @azuzeldraws for the @hashimada-giftexchange 2022 ~ The request for non romantic Hashi Mada Yokai was a wonderful challenge! I really enjoyed conceptualizing Hashirama and Madara as different powerful demons coming across each other for the first time. I hope you like it! it's not my usual style, it was a great change of pace to draw non humanoid characters

[bwormz]

Day 7: Free day!

@hashimada-week

Species swap Hashimada! Featuring a Shoebill!Madara a BennuHeron!Hashirama. 😁😁 I hope I draw more bird boys soon. They're so cute!

I did it! I did it! Finished my first drawing challenge week! Lets-a-fucking-gooo!

[simplesaladsubblog]

So I've been talking about strength a lot lately and basically that's what Madara likes about Misaki. Nothing new really i've seen hashimada's build on how he respects hashirama, guy/madara built on how he respects Guy so lol I think his type is strong people just like Jiraiya's type nothing can be done about it even if I wanted to think otherwise he likes strong people. Misaki isn't the type of person who is physically strong but she is mentally strong, she's a weird but very kind and stubborn girl and this discrepancy between her fragile outer shell and what lies beneath it seems interesting to him. That's basically it, but in modern au too, he doesn't lose his main character traits, I just smooth them out for modern times, but I don't change them too much, because I want to at least understand what kind of person he is at all, and changing him depending on the circumstances is a kind of aerobatics, lol. In general, he likes the way she can read subtext, how she doesn't give up, how she can challenge him in some way. He considers her worthy despite all its unsightly appearance (she's handsome but so silly lo, my silly girl, troublemaker and mischievous child)