#kakamada

When Kakashi’s stubborn stupidity had caused Madara’s death his heart had died too. He swore he’d never let anyone get close enough to hurt him again, he couldn’t handle losing anyone else. Rin and Minato-sensei had accepted the familiar cold attitude with pitying looks and a promise to listen whenever he was ready to talk. Kakashi found that odd, he’d never talked to them about anything before, so why would he start now?

It had taken Rin nearly getting kidnapped by Mist shinobi for Kakashi to realize he’d let her get close to him. That her death would be nearly as bad as losing Madara again. Minato-sensei has commented on how brutal his kills were, but the tone had told Kakashi the older man would have done the same thing if Kakashi hadn’t beaten him to it. Apparently Minato-sensei couldn’t stand the thought of losing another team member anymore than he could.

Kakashi’s promotion to ANBU had been met with resistance, but he’d managed to convince his sensei he could handle it. He excelled in the ANBU, rumor had it he might make captain soon. Normally Kakashi wouldn’t believe such rumors, but his next wave of missions had been his hardest yet. He’d done them without compliant, despite how utterly insane some of them were, and even enjoyed the solo aspect of them. That being said, Kakashi was secretly glad to be added to a team for the next mission, taking the position of second in command. He vowed this mission would be his smoothest one yet.

Staring at body floating in the large tube-like chamber, Kakashi finds himself at a loss. This was supposed to be an easy mission; all his team had to do was infiltrate one of Orochimaru’s supposed labs and find any useful information they could. That was it, simple easy mission; aside from the high chance of deadly traps and running into the sannin himself. Taking on Orochimaru single-handedly would be preferable to this; at least it would be a quick end. Not this slow agony that made his heart skip several painful beats.

Madara

Madara Uchiha

The selfless idiot that had pushed him out of harms away…

…that had given him his Sharingan…

…that should be DEAD…

…not floating in a glass tube filled with some strange liquid.

Kakashi wants to write it off as just his heart getting the better of his brain and making him see someone else as Madara, even if no one else had such a wild mane of hair. He wants to lock this moment away and never think of it again, and he’s going to, but then-

Then the pale figure opens his eyes and an achingly familiar Sharingan locks onto his own gifted one.

The world disappears around Kakashi as an inferno of chakra overwhelms him.

Instinctive awareness comes back to Kakashi first and he realizes he’s in a hospital before he’s fully conscious. Once he’s capable of higher thinking, the Hatake is torn between praying everything he remembered from the mission was just a nightmare and hoping it really happened.

“Welcome back.” That calm, compassionate voice could only be Minato-sensei.

“Did it really happen?” Kakashi questions softly, opening his eye to look at the blonde, aware his expression is a thousand times more open than he wants it to be.

“I…” Minato starts before he cuts himself with a sigh and breaks eye contact. It takes him a moment, but when Minato looks back at Kakashi, he’s no longer a sensei, but the Hokage. “What do you remember?”

“Madara, alive.”

“Yes, that really happened.” Minato pauses, knowing his former student needs a few moments to process that statement.

“How?” Kakashi finally asks, because that’s what he desperately needs to know; he doesn’t care about anything else, just how his best friend came back from the dead.

“That is unclear,” Minato says, unable to suppress his laugh at the unimpressed glare Kakashi shoots at him. “From our primary look at Orochimaru’s notes it would seem that he found Madara on the brink of death and decided to experiment on him. The full extent of what happened to him is unknown, those notes weren’t recovered, but it appears Orochimaru was still looking into Hashirama’s DNA.”

“Hashirama’s DNA…?” Kakashi mutters in confusion before his eye widens, “the Mokuton.”

“Precisely,” Minato sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes and Kakashi notices for the first time just how tired his sensei looks. “Madara displayed the ability when he broke out of his container to get to you.”

“To get to me?”

“The other ANBU reported that he broke out, injured you in the process, and then refused to let anyone near you. He had to be sedated so you could both be brought back here.”

“He’s here?”

“Of course,” Minato grins brightly, “we would never abandon a fellow Leaf shinobi! He’s still sedated though, until we can make sure he’s stable and still on our side.”

“Madara would never betray us!” Kakashi snaps before he can stop himself, much to his embarrassment.

“Kakashi…” Minato catches the younger shinobi’s eyes, a pained look in his deep blue eyes. “The Madara you lost might not be the Madara you found.”

“Impossible.”

“Just keep it in mind,” Minato advises as he stands up, “once you are discharged come see me with your mission report and we can discuss this more then.”

In the end Kakashi is given a week’s leave from the ANBU to recover, which is hardly necessary for the minor concussion he’d had, even Rin had agreed with him, but Minato-sensei had held firm. He had claimed it was for the emotional trauma of finding Madara like that, but Kakashi called bullshit; his sensei just wanted him to take it easy for longer.

Life passes by in a blur of missions, and the occasional, reluctant social outing Rin had dragged him along for, until 3 months later Kakashi finds himself being assigned a long-term mission: helping Madara get reacquainted with the village. At first Kakashi is overjoyed, not that he shows it, until he realizes that means Madara is temporarily staying with him and that makes his heart beat painfully. He wants to protest, but he knows Madara doesn’t have anyone to stay with and he couldn’t turn his friend away. Kakashi was sure he could handle it.

Not even a week later, Kakashi knows he was wrong, very, very wrong. If his heart kept skipping beats every time he saw Madara stumbling sleepily into the kitchen or when the Uchiha smiled at him he was going to have a damn heart attack. Then there was also his ever increasing nighttime problems; why did Madara have to invade his dreams and why did he have to be naked in those dreams!? Kakashi was going to have to try harder to ignore the Uchiha, maybe then the stupid dreams would stop.

“I’m moving back in with my clan,” Madara declares one night, nearly 2 weeks after he’s moved into the lonely Hatake household.

“What?” Kakashi mutters, barely hearing his own words over the sound of something in his heart shattering.

“I said I’m going back to my clan.”

“Why?”

“You clearly hate my presence,” Madara grumbles with huff, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting in a manner that shouldn’t be so cute. “You’ve barely spoken to me at all this week and you yell at me almost every morning.”

“I…” Kakashi trails off, not sure how to make Madara stay. “I don’t...that’s not…”

“Spit it out!” Madara snaps, glaring at Kakashi with his one visible black eye. Whatever Orochimaru had done to Madara had grown his eye back and turned the remaining one purple; Kakashi thought the purple suited Madara just fine, but the Uchiha always covered the eye with his hair.

“I don’t hate you,” Kakashi finally manages to spit out, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks, “you can stay.”

“Even if you don’t hate me,” Madara pauses briefly, doubt coloring his words, “you clearly aren’t happy that I’m here.”

“You have no idea how happy I am that you’re not dead,” Kakashi says honestly, knowing he needs to choose his next words carefully so he doesn’t lose the Uchiha, “I’m just not used to…”

“Used to what?”

“Havingacrush!” Kakashi blurts the words in a rush before he can stop himself, startling his older teammate. It takes Madara a minute to decode what he’d just said, but when he does, he can’t help but chuckle.

“Kakashi,” Madara coos, moving to sit next to his teammate and throwing an arm over the other’s shoulders, “that is both the saddest and most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Fuck you.”

“If you think you can.” Both shinobi flush darkly at Madara’s unexpected reply as the Uchiha quickly scrambles away. It takes Kakashi several minutes to get over the shock, but when he does he finds Madara across the room, doing his best impression of a startled cat.

“W-what?”

“I said uhh…” Madara mutters, ducking under his hair to avoid making eye contact, “how about dinner?”

“Are you asking me out?” Kakashi asks, unsure if he’s reading the situation right, Rin had told him he wasn’t the best when it came to understanding romantic situations.

“Would you be upset if I was?”

“No.” Kakashi says without any hesitation, knowing he said the right thing when Madara meets his eyes with a brilliant grin.

“Then yes, I am.”

With the click of the door, Kakashi leaped up, which sent his desk chair skidding backwards and into the wall. He squinted blurry eyes to see Shizune’s form slip in, Ton-ton in one arm and a pile of manila folders in the other.

“I was only resting my eyes,” he blurted.

“Hokage-sama,” Shizune said, her back straight.

“Kakashi.” He corrected.

“Kakashi-sama, I’ve brought the files you requested.”

He sighed as he took the stack from her outstretched hand, before he realigned his seat and sat back down. “Thank you. I wanted to look them over again before the meeting.”

He flipped the cover open on the top file and absently thumbed through the first few sheets.

“Tsunade-sama was the same way,” Shizune said.

“Hm?”

“Not sleeping. Worrying about things out of her control.”

“Am I that obvious?” he asked.

“There’s drool on your mask,” Shizune said and then swiftly added, “sir.”

“Oh,” he mumbled as he ran a gloved hand across his mouth to find there was indeed a wet spot.  He didn’t even remember dozing off.

He knew he hadn’t been sleeping well. Worse than normal, which was erratic at best. Over the years he’d become accustomed to exhaustion. Staying up for days and only giving in when his body finally collapsed into a deep and dreamless sleep.

That much hadn’t really changed. He only had a better excuse now that he was Hokage.

“Are the preparations complete?”

“Yes, sir. The main conference room is prepped and our guests should be arriving within the hour.”

“Good,” Kakashi said as he leaned forward in his seat. “We need this go as smooth as possible. What happens today could change everything.”

Skepticism flashed across Shizune’s face, before she quickly schooled her expression again.

Kakashi didn’t fault her for that. He too had reservations, but couldn’t decide if it was the proposal in general that left him on edge, or simply the idea of change. He should be used to it by now, with the way everything had shifted after the war. New alliances brought new committees. Whole buildings had been erected to house departments for international exchange. Old departments, already staffed thin, were stretched even leaner, both from the opening of new positions and the vacancy left from those who didn’t return from the war.

“I’ve also assigned extra ANBU guards to attend to the entrances,” she added.

He lifted one of the sheets and examined it with narrowed eyes. “I don’t recall requesting that,” he glanced at her for a moment, before he looked back to the paper. “I’m not even sure what this is. Do you know what this is?”

“I don’t understand any of it,” she said, without glancing at the diagram. “And the ANBU is to ensure that Madara doesn’t interrupt with his histrionics. We don’t need him storming in here like he normally does.”  

“I’m too old for this, Shizune.” He slumped in his chair and returned the sheet to the top of the stack. “You don’t need to worry about Madara. I’ve already taken care of it. He should be here shortly to receive his assignment.”

Another incredulous look, and Kakashi laughed, low and a little raspy from exhaustion. “Don’t worry. I’ve assigned him babysitters to make sure he doesn’t interfere today. They’ve been instructed to physically restrain him if necessary.”

“It still wouldn’t be a bad idea to leave the extra guards.”

“You give him too much credit.”

“And you need to set better boundaries,” Shizune chided and quickly added, “I apologize, sir. That was out of line.”

Kakashi opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called.

“Sorry to bother you, Hokage-same,” Yurito said as he walked through the door. “I just need your…”

“Move out of my way,” Madara snapped as he bumped into Yurito and knocked a stack of papers out of his hands and onto the floor.  “The idiot requested my presence.”

“I'll go triple check everything,” Shizune said, not disguising the roll of her eyes as she turned and walked out. Madara didn’t so much as glance at her as she glided past him.

“I’ll come back later,” Yurito shut the door behind him.

Madara stopped directly in front of the desk and peered down at Kakashi with amused eyes. “Well, you look like shit.”

“Thanks. Physical appearance has always been a priority of mine.”

“I hear your sarcasm and acknowledge that we are both under the assumption that your face is hideous under that mask.”

Kakashi stared at him blankly. He wasn’t in the mood for this, but didn’t want to spoil whatever good mood Madara seemed to be having.

“I have a new assignment for you.”

“Is that so?” Madara said as he leaned over and placed both hands on the Hokage desk. “Another one of your pitiful attempts to humiliate me?”

Kakashi noted how worn his gloves looked, the leather cracked and smudged with dirt. He wondered if he ever took them off, even while sleeping. He should probably wipe the area down after Madara left. Just to be safe.

“Sadly, no. This is more for your benefit than mine,” Kakashi turned and slid open the top left drawer. “You’ll go to this address. I’ve even written directions to help get you there.”

In the time it took Kakashi to open his desk drawer and retrieve the information, Madara snatched up the top paper from the folder he had accidentally left open.

“What is this?” He cooed, as he brought the page up to his eyes.

Kakashi’s face remained neutral as he calmly replied, “Ah, that? Something I’ve been doodling.”

“Right,” Madara snorted. “I’ve seen your drawings. If they can be called that. Tobirama was the same way. Ruining important documents with his idle scribbles.”  

Idle scribbles? Kakashi felt his eyebrow twitch. He was aware that he didn’t possess the artist skill of someone like Sai, but he couldn’t be that bad. Could he? He’d like to see Madara do any better.

That was it. Kakashi pushed away from the desk and stood up. “Enough games,” he said, all humor gone as he extended his arm. “Give it back. It isn’t for you”  

“Oh, is that so,” Madara teased. “Must be important.”

“Important enough that you shouldn’t be messing with it.” He held the paper close to his face, as he turned it sideways. “No, seriously, what is this? Torture machines? Witchcraft?”

In one rapid movement, Kakashi snatched the paper out of his hand and ripped the left-hand corner clean off. Madara stared back him, stunned, before his face curled into a snarl.

“Scowl all you want to. It wasn’t yours to play with,” Kakashi scolded. “And I think you might need glasses.”

Kakashi knew he had pushed him too far, when Madara’s face reddened, and he suddenly lunged at him. He was easy to dodge. Without any chakra, Madara was clumsy and slow.  Even so, Kakashi knew he shouldn’t prolong this, and side stepped when he made another grab for the paper.  He kicked his foot out from under him and Madara tipped forward. Kakashi caught him by one arm, promptly twisted it behind his back, and with his other hand, shoved Madara’s face down into the desk.

“Madara! Calm down.”  

“Just give it to me"

It was at that moment Shikamaru walked in. He made it two steps into the office, before he froze, stalk still like a deer. Too stunned by the sight of Madara bent over and writhing. The Hokage pressed against his backside.

“Did someone come in?” Madara grumbled. Most of the sound muffled by his curtain of hair.

It broke Shikamaru from his trance. He quickly covered his eyes and stammered, “I’m so sorry. I’ll come back later.”

“This will only take a minute,” Kakashi chirped and gave a closed eyed smile.

Shikamaru made sure to throw the lock before he shut the door behind him.

He turned back to Madara, who had taken to calling him some very creative nicknames. No one had ever referred to him as a “piece of monkey shit” before. Kakashi tightened the grip on his hair, the other hand still locked firm around his wrist. He suddenly became acutely aware of their closeness and noted that Madara felt smaller at this angle. Much less imposing. He was still squirming and the sound of him panting sent a chill through Kakashi.

He released him and pushed back far enough to give them adequate space. It took a moment for Madara to compose himself and twist back around. Kakashi expected that he might come for him again, but instead Madara turned to him with an expression that was both confused and humiliated.

Without a word, Madara retrieved the address, which had fallen to the floor, and stomped out of his office.

********** Since losing his abilities, Madara had grown accustomed to walking everywhere. At first it was exhausting; incarceration had left him lethargic. Muscles that were once well tuned ached and he grew weary after even short distances. But that was months ago. Now, he spent most of his days puttering around the village and he found the rhythm of it soothing.

But the people still annoyed him. All of them crowded in the streets, with their crying children and idle chatter.  He took mostly to back alleys and side streets in order to avoid the clusters.

For that reason, he didn’t even look at the directions Kakashi had scrawled. He knew the street, so finding the address was no issue. He wasn’t even surprised when he found himself outside one of those obnoxiously large clothing stores, but that didn’t mean the masked menace wasn’t going to get an earful once he was done.

“There he is. Madara!” Sakura called waving one arm to get his attention.  

Madara eyes moved between Sakura and the petite blonde that glared at him.

“Sakura,” Madara groaned as he crumbled the address up and tossed it to the ground. “Are you here to assist me on this little adventure?”

“Kakashi-sensei asked us to help you pick out some new clothes.”

“Of course he did. As if I were a child and not a grown man completely capable of dressing himself.”

Madara knew the real reason for their presence was to keep him out of trouble. He guessed the old dog was finally catching on that Sasuke did little more than watch his shenanigans unfold.  “But why is she here? I don’t need two of you to put pants on.”

“Gross. Like anyone would want to touch your pants,” Ino sneered and then whispered, “pervert.”

“Trust me, Blondie, you’re not my type,” Madara uncrossed his arms and made his way to the entrance door. “Sakura, grab your Yorkie, so we can get this over with.”

“Did he just call me a dog?”

Sakura grabbed Ino by the arm, “Just ignore him. He’s only trying to goad you.”

A soft “ting” rang as they crossed through the door.

“Hi and welcome to…” a young girl in a blue vest chimed and faltered, her voice trailed off the moment her gaze fell on Madara.

He swallowed. Did every insect in this village recognize him on sight? Back in his day, a civilian like this would quiver in fear at the sight of him, but the way she was looking at him now wasn’t with fear. No, this was disgust.

It was much the same when the village was founded. No matter what the alliance meant, hostility unmasked itself not just in sideways glances, but in petty ways. Hashirama tried to mitigate some of the trouble, but outside pressure left him placating to the opposition more often than not.

Madara didn’t really blame him. At least, not as much anymore.  He was the one that abandoned their dream, after all.

He ignored the daggers the sales woman was shooting him and stomped in the direction of the big sign that said ‘Men’s.’

Sakura sidled up next to him. “You missed your last appointment.”

“I was busy.”

“I’m sure,” she said, her steps keeping pace as his stride quickened. “Your therapy appointment too.” “I was busy that day as well.”

“Active life,” Sakura nodded. They had reached the men’s section and Madara was already looking around for something to distract himself with. “Are you at least taking your meds?”

Ino, who hadn’t rushed to keep up, finally arrived behind them.  

Madara eyed her warily. “Why bother? They don’t do anything.”

He made his way to the closest rack and flipped through it quickly, without any real focus. Obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.

“We talked about this,” Sakura leaned in and whispered. “You’re not going to see the effects right away, but if you give it a little time.”

“Enough,” Madara snapped. “Just give me another appointment and I’ll be sure to be there. I don’t want to yammer on about it today.”

“If he wants to suffer, just let him,” Ino said.

Madara ignored her and pulled a shirt from the rack, realized once it was out that it was two sizes too small, and he tossed it to the floor.  

Sakura snatched the shirt off the floor and hung it back up. “What are you doing? You can’t just throw things on the floor.”

“Why have you brought me here?” he groaned, “These garments aren’t suitable for peasants. You might as well fit me with a potato sack.”

Sakura let out an exasperated sigh and pulled a few items off the rack. “See, these aren’t too bad. Why don’t you go try them on?”

“I’m not wearing that.”

“How about this?” Ino said as she held up a vibrant orange and black one piece. “I think this would look stunning on you.”

“Be serious,” Sakura scolded.

“Fine,” Ino sighed. “But we’re not dressing him in blue.”

“Agreed, no blue,” Sakura said. “How about this?”

“Hm, I dunno,” Ino placed a hand on her chin. “His shoulders are too broad for that and I’m thinking he needs a button down. I can’t see any shirt hole being large enough to fit that hair of his. Oh, this one looks nice.”

“I like that, but maybe go up a size. He’s put on a little weight since he got here.”

“You both know that I’m standing right here?” he snarled. “I don’t need you picking out clothes for me.”

Ignoring him, Sakura heaved a large pile of garments into his arms. “Here, this should be good for now. Let’s go try them on.” Before he could protest, she was shoving him towards the fitting rooms.  

Madara slammed the door behind him and tossed the clothing on the side bench.

With a few snaps, he undid his shoulder pads and draped them gingerly on the nearest hook. He did the same with his armor. The rest of his clothing was neatly folded and set in a corner. Once undressed, Madara reached down and pinched a bit of the flesh on his lower abdomen and frowned.

Maybe he had gained a little weight.

He reached out and took the first shirt from the pile, light-weight and heather gray. The fabric felt smooth between his fingers. He combined it with a pair of black slacks.

He wondered if the shirt was too snug and sucked in his gut as he gazed at himself in the full-length mirror. The v-neck cut felt strangely…revealing. He stripped them both off and threw them into a corner that he deemed worthy of at least consideration.

The next was a pale blue short-sleeved with the words “Warning: This T-Shirt May Contain an Idiot” across the front. Blondie’s work, he was sure. He tossed it in the rejection pile.

“Madara,” Sakura called through the door. “You should come out and model them for us.”

“Not a chance.”

“Just let him finish. The sooner he gets done, the sooner we can leave,” Ino said.

Even at a whisper, Madara could hear her through the thin door.

“If you have somewhere you need to be, you can go. I can handle this.” Even lower, Sakura added, “I can tell you don’t want to be here.”

Ino let out an audible exhale. “Of course I don’t want to be here. Looking at him makes me sick.”

There was a crack in her voice towards the end and Madara leaned in closer to the door. A long period of silence followed and he wondered if they had moved farther away.

“Ino,” Sakura finally said, voice soft. “Is this about your dad?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” her words shook. “I’ll let you handle this. I have somewhere I need to be anyway. See you later, Forehead.”

“Wait! Ino!” Sakura called after her, but Madara could hear her fading footsteps.

Madara sucked in a deep breath. He now understood the girl’s hostility. Her father must have died during the war.

He had never been close to his own father. Tajima had been an unaffectionate bastard and the only thing that bound them was blood and war. Madara may have killed him with his own hands if consumption hadn’t taken him first.

He didn’t even know who her father had been. One of many faceless shinobi. He had no way of knowing how many people he’d killed over the years. Hundreds? Thousands? One doesn’t keep tallies in battle. You only rest your head at night, thankful to live another day.

 But why did he suddenly feel so guilty?

“How’s it going in there?” Sakura called and Madara jumped.

“Fine.”

He turned back to the pile of clothing to continue where he left off. One pile for acceptable, another for rubbish.

 Who cares if some teenaged girl hated him?

After he tried everything on, Madara put his old garments back on and handed off the rejects to Sakura. “These ones will do, I suppose.”  

“Good, we’ll call this a win,” Sakura gave him a strained smile.

Neither one of them mentioned Ino’s absence as Sakura paid for the items and they made their way to the door.

“Come Monday, I want to see you in my office,” she reminded him and patted him softly on the shoulder. “Promise?”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “I promise.”

********** Once back at his house, Madara hung up each new item in his closet, leaving out the first outfit he had tried on. It seemed fitting to show the Hokage that he had completed his foolish task without fail. He thought he might walk over there and gloat before it got too late in the evening.

As he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, Madara pulled at the snug gray shirt and wondered if, maybe, he should have gone with a larger size. Having decided that it looked fine and he hadn’t gained that much weight, he went to flip off the bathroom light and paused at his reflection.

He was suddenly struck by how a simple change in attire altered his appearance. Smaller, maybe. Less threatening, true. But it was the normality of it he found unsettling. He could be anybody. Not someone legendary, but an average guy just going about his business.

He looked like a civilian and, Madara thought, he supposed that was what he was now. No longer a shinobi. He’d lost the right to call himself that.

By the time he left the house, the sun was already low enough to cast everything in a golden hue. It was nearly dark by the time he reached the Administration Building. He was surprised to find the windows of the Hokage office unlit and wondered if Kakashi had decided to take an early night.

“I agree. It's a risk,” Madara recognized Kakashi's voice and froze where he was. “But we won't move into it blindly. I want more information before I make a solid decision.”

More muffled words that Madara couldn't make out. He crouched to the ground and kept low enough that he was camouflaged by a cropping of boxwoods.

“It's foolishness,” a woman shouted. Madara recognized her as one of the elders that had argued in favor of his execution. He couldn’t recall her name, nor the older man standing next to her.

“As it is, the village cannot sustain itself,” Kakashi said firmly. “Missions have dwindled and even if the hadn’t, we don’t have the manpower. We have to adapt.”

“You'll do what you want either way,” she snapped.  “But if things go wrong, you’re the one that will answer for it.” With that, the woman turned and dramatically walked away. Her companion following close behind her.

Once they were out of sight, Madara watched as Kakashi's shoulders sagged. He stood for a moment like that, before he turned and walked in the direction of the Hokage mansion.

Madara waited until he was gone to get up from his hiding place. He looked down to find his new clothes covered in dirt. Guess he would have to learn to work the washing machine after all.