番外：The Ritual

This is another version of the former chapter. So guess why I wrote it in English...因为我怂。这是个what if线，假如柱间为了阻止斑，采用了更冷静但更残忍的方法。

Warnings: violence; physical abuse; discipline; public humiliation

Relationships: Hashirama/Madara; Madara/Mito

故事全英，文中不会出现Shinobi，Sama，Anija，Himegimi这类词，都用warrior，lord，brother，highness代替了，其他替换不了的就留着。

还是那句话，keep calm and forgive me...

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The Ritual

To calm himself, Hashirama quietly counted a few numbers in his mind. The boiling anger was gradually cooling down, solidifying into something with the substantial weight of concrete.

No, this could not be tolerated, Madara must be taught a lesson to serve as a wake-up call for him.

Madara never backed down in a fight, so Hashirama had to reason with him.

“Why would you jump off the cliff?” Hashirama asked, both confused and angry.

“I... this is the decision of my ancestor, and is also what I deserve.” Madara said. “I have disappointed my clan and my people.”

“And me.” Hashirama’s voice was gentle, yet a note of distress was within it. “Tell me, Madara, don’t you consider yourself a member of the village? Isn’t your clan still within my governance?”

“...Yes.” Madara found no grounds to dispute this statement. He didn’t want to admit that Hashirama had authority above his ancestor, but Hashirama was indeed the ruler he had sworn to serve.

“Then you have violated the law that you yourself have established.” Hashirama questioned hoarsely, “I treat your words as the gospel truth, but why are you so inconsistent in your actions? You once commanded that no one should harm themselves or others, and now you have transgressed against both.”

“...Yes.” Madara said, flatly. There was no excuse. He embodied the nobility of a warrior, always radiating honour and dignity. He might not be a merciful leader, yet he still led with morality and justice. he couldn’t betray his own principles.

“As the Hokage of Konoha, I reserve the right to adjudicate your actions and demand your cessation of these repeated mistakes. Do you agree?” Hashirama asked with a stern and serious tone.

Madara’s eyebrow furrowed. Hashirama defeated him in terms of logic. His pride didn’t allow him to shrink from any punishment. So he just said, “I will take my penalty.”

“Good.” Hashirama said with a sense of cruel satisfaction. “Guards! Escort Madara-kun to the Square.”

The guards escorted Madara to the very centre of the square. In consideration of his status, he was not bound by any chains. He sat on his knees, eyes shut, lost in meditation.

He had already surmised the function of this square. The whispering and rustling sounds surrounding him indicated a significant crowd had gathered. Madara felt a hint of mortification. After all, his lofty status had never been tarnished by public punishment before.

Hashirama made his appearance only after a while, in his hand was a whip crafted from vine.

However, he didn't take any action immediately. Instead, he moved to Madara's side and settled himself behind him.

“Hashirama?” Madara said.

“It's me,” Hashirama responded softly. He took Madara's long hair into his hands, tenderly and carefully weaving it into a plait. With a gentle touch, he brought it over to drape across Madara's chest. The way he moved was full of affection and care, as if he were treating a lover.

“My friend,” Hashirama summoned the other man’s attention.

Madara fluttered his eyes open, turning his head to meet Hashirama's gaze.

“Please, stop hurting yourself, let this be the final time,” he pleaded, cradling Madara's cheeks with both hands.

Madara offered no assurances. His transparency, akin to a crystal, barred him from fabricating any falsehoods.

“You ought to be the bravest warrior, the greatest leader. Return to who you once were. This isn't you. This isn't what you deserve,” Hashirama urged, his words laced with adoration.

“If only you could do the same,” Madara retorted, “Now, I am nothing but a defeated prisoner, a captive beneath your steps.”

「Isn't it you who made me who I am?」 Madara thought bitterly.

However, after a brief silence, it was disheartening that Hashirama's stubbornness surpassed all assumptions. His moment of hesitation was fleeting, and then he quickly resumed his icy, stern demeanour.

He gradually stood up. His raspy voice resonated like a verdict from the gods, “Madara-kun,” Hashirama had never referred to him with such formality before, “you are charged with the offense of contravening the laws you yourself have enacted as a legislator. Do you plead guilty or not guilty?”

Exhaling a sigh, Madara admitted, “Guilty.”

“This is an error we cannot overlook. Our community will not forgive any breach of the law, regardless of when it occurs or who commits it. To preserve peace and harmony, any impurity must be cleansed. Madara-kun, I regret to say this, but you were the one who set these rules. If we cannot treat everyone fairly and equally, if there are exceptions, those rules will one day become meaningless. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. If I were to condone your mistakes, it would be a grave injustice to those who have been penalized. Thus, the residents of Konoha, I ask you to witness this punishment.”

At that instant, Hashirama swung the whip he held, causing a thunderous crack to echo through the air. Madara stayed silent, not once shifting his gaze. He understood what Hashirama was signaling - the nature of the punishment to come. The tip of the whip lightly touched Madara's back, sending a shiver down his spine. He knew the punishment was about to begin.

With a flick of the whip, the first lash, swift and fierce, struck Madara's back like a viper darting from its den. The watching crowd let out a gasp of shock, but Madara merely quivered, not uttering a single sound.

The second lash followed swiftly without a pause. Madara clenched his teeth, maintaining his silence. By the third hit, his breaths were coming in heavy gasps. Hashirama noticed this sign, a pang of heartache in his chest, yet he tightened his grasp, resolved to see the punishment through.

Then came the fourth and fifth lashes, cold sweat started to trickle down Madara's temples. The merciless whir of the whip split the air, and he bit down on his lip until it bled. Subdued moans began to seep out, yet with his astonishing self-restraint, he managed to stifle back any of them.

Hashirama didn't show the slightest compassion for Madara's tremble and agony, the punishment was still ongoing. Madara bore the piercing pain that scorched his back. It was undeniable that at this very moment, he realised the hatred he held for himself, his failure, his powerlessness, and in the midst of suffering, he paradoxically felt a sense of liberation. He even wished Hashirama would be more brutal and ruthless, to end his life, as that would be his true deliverance.

The flogging seemed to persist until the world's end, only ceasing when Madara was completely spent, hunched over, with one hand instinctively bracing against the ground. It all stopped without a warning.

Hashirama dropped the whip, extended his hand and ran it gently through Madara's hair, now soaked with cold sweat. In a soft soothing tone, he reassured, “Madara, it's over, everything's alright now.” He then offered his hand to lift Madara from the ground.

However, Madara forcefully shrugged off Hashirama, and with great effort, struggled to raise himself up from the ground. “I can return to the garden on my own. I won't engage in anything you disapprove of. So don't trail behind me,” he declared.

Hashirama hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement. At least he could afford to give Madara some space to breathe.

Madara scanned the square, relieved to find no members of the Uchiha clan. Swallowing the feelings of humiliation, he turned and left.

On the road, Mito was waiting for him, with Tobirama following behind her.

“Your Highness, you shouldn't have come here,” Madara said.

The two looked at him, words on the tips of their tongues. It seemed as if Madara could hear their unspoken words.

“What a disgrace,” Madara said calmly, “speak as you will, by all means, proceed.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself, Lord Madara. You will hear no judgement from us. The one who should feel ashamed is the Hokage,” Mito said.

“Maybe,” Madara said, “or maybe this indignity can only be wiped out with blood.”

At that moment, the seal suddenly cracked, and Madara unexpectedly collapsed into Mito's arms. She managed to catch him.

Mito and Tobirama accompanied Madara back to the garden. As his brother had always forbidden Tobirama to approach Madara, it fell upon Mito to remain and attend to him.

Madara endured the pain both physically and emotionally, remaining silent the whole time. Mito gathered him into her embrace, providing solace.

Madara reciprocated her gesture, pulling her closer into his arms, his head nestled against her neck, breathing in the scent that lingered on her body and in her hair. The comforting warmth that a woman could provide was a soothing balm to the wounds, something no man could resist.

With tenderness and softness, Mito assisted Madara to lie down, letting his head rest on her lap. Her fingers danced gently through his fluffy, raven hair.

Resting against Mito, Madara found himself compelled to share his burdens with her. At this point, with things as they were, he didn't care whether Hashirama was listening or not.

“I spent all those days living in a fairytale, but now I'm forced to confront reality. He claimed to respect my choices - such a farce. All he does is shackle me with invisible chains, expecting compliance from me,” Madara confessed.

Mito stroked his cheek, a serene smile gracing her lips as she spoke softly, “Not for much longer. I will set you free.”

“Soon.”