Unfathomable

9.

Madara:

I stood at the main sit lift going up to all major hills. There were some long, green hills there as well I thought would be good to start on. We hadn't really decided a meeting place, but I didn't care. It was five to nine, and I was waiting until exactly nine am, then I would leave and do my own thing. What a waste really, spending a day teaching Hashirama Senju to ski when I could be practicing downhill! And he was probably going to be late, too! Like, so did he think he was, having me wait for him? He could go-

"Hello, Madara."

I jumped and turned round. He stood behind me, ski boots on, rental skis in hand and a helmet with goggles. To my great surprised he was properly dressed for the occasion with a wind-proof jacket and thermal trousers. I must've looked impressed because he looked down on his outfit.

"For winters in Russia", he said, and I remembered he lived there now.

"Let's go", was all I said, and slid away on my skis. I turned my head back. "Come on, then!"

"Umm..."

"What?" I said, irritated.

"I don't understand how to put the skis on the boots."

I hated to admit it, but my heart melted a little at that.

We sat in amicable silence on the sit lift up. It was only us on our bench, seeing it was too early for the young holiday makers going skiing; they were probably still recovering from hungovers. We sat a polite distance from each other, skis free in the air, and I enjoyed the sucking sensation in my stomach as the lift sped up, looking straight ahead. Hashirama, on the other hand, was excitedly looking down at the hills and people skiing below. The sun reflected in his black helmet and glistening hair as he started talking.

"Look at that! Oh, to be able to ski like that!" He looked over at me. "Can you ski like that?"

I smirked. "That's a blue hill. See that over there?" I pointed to the left, where the steepest black hill was located. "That's more like my calibre."

"What colour hill is that?" Hashirama asked.

"It's black. There are four colours. From least sloping to most, it's green, blue, red and black. We will start with green ones. I have high hopes you'll take in a blue second time we ski." I looked down, suddenly shy before I looked up at him again underneath my fringe. "If you want to, you can watch me go down that black one at the end of the day."

Hashirama grinned happily. "With pleasure!" His face suddenly softened. "You look good, by the way." I was taken aback. "Skiing clothes. You look at home. As if it's what you're meant to wear." Oh... before I had time to process what he'd just said, he quickly changed the subject. "Won't it be boring for you going down green hills?"

"Very", I said, and Hashirama looked upset until he realised I was joking. "Don't worry, I can practice backwards skiing."

His face lit up. And for the entire way up, he still kept grinning.

"What?" I asked.

"What?"

"You're smiling. What's so funny?"

"Oh, it's not funny..." he said, looking down and trying not to smile but failing. "It's just..." he looked up at me and his entire face was a radiating sun. "You said 'second time we ski'. Which means we're doing it again. It makes me happy."

I looked down and blushed like a madman.

Hashirama:

"Have you watched South Park?"

I was taken aback. "What?"

"Have you watched South Park?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Mr Senju, please answer the question!"

I looked at him. "Madara Uchiha, I'm one of the most famous authors in the world. I'm writing classics. Do I look like someone who watches South Park?"

"Yes, actually."

I sighed. "Okay, you got me. I do watch it. But don't tell anyone-"

"Shut up." I did, by pure surprise of how boldly this kid was speaking to me. "I mean, shut up, Mr Senju", he corrected himself. Ah, much better. "Have you seen the episode where they go skiing?"

"No."

"Okay, come."

We were standing on the top of a green hill. From the lift, even the blue hill had looked flat and forgiving, but now, standing on top, this green hill seemed like a steep cliff. I was nervous. I waddled to Madara, and was glad to do so; standing on his skis, his staffs in one hand, picking out his phone from his pocket with his other, he radiateda calm and competence. He unlocked his phone and opened YouTube. I stood behind him and looked over his shoulder at the screen. I allowed myself to stand close enough for our jackets to touch, the back of his to the front of mine and his long hair, loose underneath his helmet, was caught in between. I could feel the body heat between us.

He searched for a clip that he then showed to me. It was the characters of South Park learning to ski by the instructor telling them to put the skis parallel to each other, like french fries, to go forwards, and to put them like a V, or a slice of pizza, to break.

The clip was only two minutes long, and I smiled warmly. This kid was apparently a God at skiing and this is how he taught his students? It was very pedagogical, though.

I saw the time slot of the clip become smaller and smaller, and suddenly realised I didn't want it to end. One minute has passed. Forty seconds... I have, like, forty seconds. I took a deep breath, and then carefully put my chin on Madara's shoulder.

He tensed up the tiniest, tiniest bit, but after a few seconds, I felt his entire demeanour relax, and we continued watching the clip together in silence. But something had hanged; there was an electrical charge between us that was thick as oil, created by the tiny point of contact of my chin to the marine blue fabric of his jacket that looked so good with his bright red thermals. And when the clip ended. Madara turned his phone screen off, but he kept holding it up, and he didn't move.

As if he didn't want this moment to end, either.

We stood there for a full extra minute, just breathing. It was Madara who broke the silence. "There will be neither pizza nor french fries if we don't move, Mr Senju", he said softly.

Oh, the fun we had!

All hopes I'd had of being a natural talent flew straight out the window immediately, and I fell down in a pile in the snow several times, laughing.

"You French fried when you should have pizzad!" Madara yelled warmly. "Also..." he threw his staffs to the side. "Let's try without staffs. They're only in the way for you."

I had expected him to be snappy, irritated by my lack of talent, but he was endlessly patient and a phenomenal teacher. It was a shame he didn't work as an instructor. He was adorable as he skied backwards in soft curves , always watching me.

"Good pizza! Now, put some weight on your left leg to turn. No! No trench fries! Turn as a pizza still. Good! Good! Wait, not so fast, hey hey hey!"

He screamed as I ran over him, and we landed together in the snow, laughing, me above him.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Senju!"

"The fault was entirely mine! And please..." I locked eyes with him then, and he stared at me. His lips parted slightly, and he put one hand on the ground behind him. My face was not too close to his, but close enough for me to feel his warm breath. "Call me Hashi."

"Hashi..."