No Sign of Land
(Prompt for @hashirama-of-the-forest)
Hikaku
Hikaku's first impression of Madara is that he needs to put better care into brushing his hair. He would not be surprised to learn that he trims it himself with a rusty kunai. The second is that he would make a poor heir. Not only is he completely undignified in the way he talks, acts and carries himself, but he is stubborn to a fault and he has the charisma of a prickly feral cat. He may show unparalleled strength and promise but he is unrefined, and battle prowess does not necessarily make a good leader. Certainly not when he hardly has the patience to sit still to learn how to read and write.
Tajima-sama requested that his father introduce them in the hopes that Hikaku can act as a positive influence, and they're now sitting opposite each other pouring over poetry scrolls Hikaku is already all too familiar with. Madara is slouched in his seat, having long since stopped paying attention, brush tapping incessantly against the table and eyes wandering outside to their cousins sparring and learning their first katons.
"Madara-sama, can you please focus." Madara merely spares him a glance before returning to his tapping with increased fervour. A small smile tugs at his lips and despite knowing that he's probably smiling at something his little siblings did, Hikaku can't help feeling disrespected.
"Madara-sama." He sounds irritated to his own ears now, patience about to snap, and he mentally chastises himself for the fact. Instead of taking offence Madara eyes him with new intrigue.
"Is there a problem, Hikaku-kun?" Madara sounds perfectly polite as he meets his gaze, eyes full of mischief. Hikaku suddenly wished he'd refused to entertain the clan head's request.
"Please stop that tapping and focus on your assignment."
"You were doing well." He adds as an afterthought, hoping positive affirmation works in his favour.
"My bad." Madara's smile is entirely more mocking than polite, and the tapping becomes irregular and entirely more grating. They stare each other down for a tense few seconds before Hikaku's patience snaps and he snatches the brush from his hand. Madara lets him, smile turning victorious, and Hikaku fights the urge to strike him on the knuckles with the fan he's gripping under the table like his tutor might have if he were to act half as disrespectfully.
"Would I not need a brush to write with, Hikaku-kun?" Hikaku slams it on the table with entirely more force than is proper and it draws a laugh from Madara. He decides then and there that he can't stand Madara in the slightest.
