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“She’s proposing treason,” Hashirama said. His hand tightened around Madara’s bicep. “I am not comfortable-”

Madara shook him off with a scowl and wheeled on his old friend. “It’s not treason,” he said scornfully. “The will of Heaven supersedes any political allegiance. Besides.” He tossed his hair. “We pledged loyalty to the Daimyo. And there is no Daimyo.”

“There is no Daimyo,” Hashirama said slowly, “because she murdered him.”

Madara raised an eyebrow in genteel disdain. Petty semantics were all that mattered. If loyalty was transferrable, then they wouldn’t have to trek to the capital every time there was a new Daimyo, much less the yearly show of loyalty.

Hashirama grimaced as he acknowledged the point.

He waved that off and stole a glance back where the Priestess held court between Izuna and Tobirama. She was ludicruously tiny in between the two of them. He flicked his Sharingan on so that he could read the details of her expression from this far.

She looked bored. Izuna was chattering her ear off, probably with questions about his future as the Daimyo. Tobirama was stock still, because he had recently learnt that a goddess in mortal flesh personally disliked the sound of his voice and he was not unteachable.

…They had to make this quick. 

“We should do it,” Madara said. He turned to give Hashirama his full attention and serious expression. “She is correct. If we balance the power, we can establish a system of cooperation for mutual benefit.”

“Will anyone trust us?” Hashirama hissed. He stole a glance back at the holy woman. No. The goddess. “Our plan was to open to other clans, to loners, to train and accept anyone.”

“Yes,” Madara said brutally. “If we bury our enmity to cooperate, others who have less contentious histories will see an opportunity to share in. It will be obvious there are more positions of influence and affluence than we can fill with our clan members alone. Others will flock. And besides.” He tossed his hair. “They will come for her.”

Hashirama looked a bit ill.

“A state religion is a powerful tool,” Madara pushed. He was correct, he knew he was. “Faith is unifying. The civilian side of the country has already ceded her an amount of respect and influence-”

“Because they think she’ll kill them-”

“And this can be leveraged for all of our benefit,” Madara doggedly continued, undeterred.

Hashirama’s lips thinned. “And then she becomes a third pillar of power in Konohagakure,” he pointed out. “What shall we do if she advocates and agitates against our interests?”

Madara straightened his back. “She will not,” he said with confidence. “Because I will woo her.”

The look of disbelief he got back was outright unflattering.

“She finds my form appealing,” Madara said, ready to lay out his case. “She looks to me more than she needs to. She has a positive impression of me and certainly of my clan-”

“How Izuna-san managed that is beyond my comprehension-”

“-it would be a perfect solution-”

“-not the type of woman whose opinions you can control, Mada-”

“-for one such as you with no personal charm, perhaps but that is not the situat-”

Someone cleared their throat in the distance. Hashirama and Madara paused in their argument.

All three people seated at the table looked down at them with matching expressions of disbelieving disdain.

Ah. Madara let go of the grip he had on Hashirama’s collar and took a few steps back. “Thank you for your patience,” he purred. He left the Senju behind spluttering. In a matter of moments he had returned to his place at the table.