Rhetorics

13. Tragic backstory (Madara)

I thought Hashirama would leave my table then. But he didn't. Instead, he sat down on the couch opposite me.

I didn't know him well enough to figure out why.

"Aren't you worried about my political safety by staying here?" I asked.

"No", he said, twirling the ice around in his empty whiskey glass.

"I forget you want me out of politics." I knew he had been joking about being here to try to get me out, but I also knew there lay truth behind that joke.

"No, that's not why", he said, looking up at me. "It's because I trust you enough to believe you can deal with the situation yourself without me having to leave. Also, I have complete faith that you would ask me to leave if you wanted me to."

I looked at him for a while. "I like you like this", I said.

"Kind?"

"No. Without a suit." I looked down on his casual, long-sleeved t-shirt. I was wearing a grey cardigan with a white shirt beneath, a pair of black cargo trousers with straps to go with it. My hair was up in a bun held by the mahogany chopstick. I wore my glasses. Outside of politics, Hashirama was more dressed while I was more alternative.

The compliment made him smile.

"I like when you wear glasses", he said.

Don't blush don't blush don't blush, don't you DARE fucking blush-

"Are you blushing?" he asked and smirked.

Ahh Goddamn it!!

"No", I said, turning my head away.

"You're so fucking sweet."

"Shut up, Senju."

We started making small talk then. Talking about other things than politics. I told him about funny requests I'd gotten at the cafe I worked in. Hashirama told me about when he was a kid in school and always insisted on combining the most furious colours; bright red trousers with a soft green hoodie, yellow shirts and a turquoise t-shirt. He bought me a coffee drink. I bought him the cheapest white wine they had.

"Let's see how you like being poor", I joked.

I found I enjoyed myself immensely, much more so than when conversing with my party members.

And he seemed to have fun, too.

The hours passed. Hashirama's party members had left, leaving him to work on me, as they believed he did. In a happy haze of alcohol, none of us drunk due to our size and thus our tolerability but still blissfully tipsy, we became quiet, both of us looking into the table, deep in thought.

Then, Hashirama looked up at me.

"Come home with me, Madara", Hashirama said.

I looked up at him. My lips parted.

"What?"

"Come home with me."

He held my gaze steadily, his angular face set. His entire body language said 'yes, I know you've given me blow jobs in my office but this is something else; this is emotional, this is me inviting you to my home for another reason entirely'.

I downed the last of my coffee drink.

"Yes", I said. 

I stood up and so did he. 

His apartment was five times the size of mine in a skyscraper and must've cost millions. He unlocked the door, held it open to me. My boots echoed on his polished walnut floor. I stopped. He came in behind me, breathed in my neck, took my coat off for me. He stood there for a while, behind me, deadly close to me but not touching me. Then, he hung my coat, took off his own and hung it over mine on the wall. He kicked his shoes off, then bent down on one knee and untied my Dr Martens. I couldn't breathe.

"You're staying until morning", he murmured.

"I hadn't planned on leaving." 

He stood up. He took my hand and led me through the hallway to his living room. There, he stopped, looked at me as if trying to reach a decision.

He made up his mind.

He sat down on the couch and pulled me into his lap so I sat on it, turned to him with one leg on either side. I leaned my arms casually on his shoulders, tied my hands behind his neck.

"I need to tell you something", he said.

"Are you gonna tell me you were born a woman?"

"So what if I was?"

"I wouldn't care", I said. "I've been with transmen before."

He smiled. "You really are something else."

"No, I'm not." I said, surprised at how unbothered Hashirama seemed to be about the LHBTQ community; it was rare with people so far on the right as he was. "They're men just like any. Gender is a construction of society. I'm sorry", I continued. "What did you want to say?"

He lifted his hand, put a strand of hair behind my ear.

"My parents were killed", he said. I didn't let my face change. "My parents were killed by a mob of youngsters. They were walking late at night. They're both frail, so they were easy targets." I kept his gaze. "The youngsters were all Asian. Chinese, Japanese, Korean. Since then..." His face set, and he looked away. I grabbed his chin, made him look at me. He didn't have to finish his sentence; this was what fuelled his politics.

"The problem with racists is not that you hate foreigners." I saw I had his attention. "It's that you're politically reactionary." He waited for me to continue. "If your parents are killed by a mob of Asians, I won't judge you for being jumpy around Asian people for a while. I will, however, judge you for taking an active stance against Asians' and other people's right to integration in our society. You're not more in the right just because your racism has a tragic backstory. Most racism has a tragic backstory." I started playing with a strand of his hair as well. "I'm so sorry about your parents. But please don't use their deaths to fuel your own biases that you already have."

He was quiet for a while, and we just sat, me in his lap, fiddling with each other's hair.

"You really are something else, aren't you?"

"I don't know what your agenda is", I said. "Maybe you're just tricking me, wrapping me around your little finger so you can toy with me so I lose my place in parliament, maybe even in my party. But despite your terrible political ideas I really like you, Hashirama Senju. I really like you and I can't help myself and I hate myself for it."

"Don't", he breathed.

"Hate myself?"

"That, too. But that wasn't what I meant."

"Then what was it?" I asked. 

He moved his hands and grabbed my waist.

I put my hands on his shoulders.

Slowly, agonisingly slowly we leaned forwards.

I felt our lips twitch as we were only a breath away.

I could feel the taste of him on my lips.

He spoke. 

"Don't lose faith in me."

Then, we leaned in the final bit.

And we had our first kiss.