Chapter Text
March 12
The riverbank was where Hashirama and Madara first met. And now, as the sun sets, the sky is painted in shades of gold and crimson. The world around them is quiet, with only the sound of the river flowing and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. A rare moment of peace.
Hashirama sat by the river, throwing a stone into the water with a casual flick of his wrist. He leaned back against a tree, his face lit by the fading light of the day. His thoughts wandered, and for a moment, the weight of the war on his shoulders seemed lighter. This was their place — a sanctuary from the conflict, a place where he could breathe.
He glanced at his pocket watch — something from a mission a few months ago with a wealthy merchant who had ties to the Daimyo Land of Snow. Who had given it to him as a sign of respect for his leadership. He found it both practical and sentimental. A small, practical item that now seemed to symbolize the fleeting moments of peace he could get in this life. His fingers drummed absently on the watch, waiting for Madara. He knew he would come — Madara always came when it mattered. But Madara was never on time.
The pocket watch clicked shut as Hashirama slipped it into the fold of his hakama. The air was still, save for the distant rustling of leaves. Then—soft footsteps. Barely a sound, yet enough to draw his attention.
Madara emerged from the trees, his gaze as piercing as ever. His eyes scanned the area, ensuring they were alone. When he spotted Hashirama, he paused, his posture as rigid as always. But there was a slight shift in his expression, a softness that only Hashirama would notice.
"You're always late…" Hashirama sighed, though there was no real irritation in his voice. "Maybe it's because you know I’ll wait for you, right? I swear, one of these days, I’ll leave you waiting."
"Leave me waiting? You’d never. You’re not that cruel." Madara lowered himself to the grass beside Hashirama, his movements fluid. He sat with one knee drawn up, forearm resting loosely on it.
Hashirama let out a soft laugh, with a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. "You always know how to make an entrance, don’t you? You’ve got a talent for it. It’s like you enjoy keeping me on edge."
"Someone has to keep you on your toes. I’d say it’s a good thing. Otherwise, you’d be too distracted." Madara tilted his head slightly, his voice was as even as ever, before the corners of his lips twitched into the faintest smile. "Not that I mind… but the last thing I need is you getting too comfortable."
Hashirama shaking his head as if brushing the comment aside. He was used to Madara’s seriousness, and over time, he'd learned to spot the rare flickers of humor that slipped through his guard. Those fleeting moments always put him in a good mood.
"Comfortable? I don’t think I’ve ever been comfortable with you, Madara. I’m always on my feet when I’m around you. It’s like I’m preparing for the worst... or maybe the best."
Madara raised an eyebrow, but his lips twitching into a grin.
"So, what do you want to do now? Want to visit Rice Village? I heard they just opened a new restaurant."
Madara scoffed, eyes narrowing slightly. "Not Rice. The Shimura clan has moved near that area. I’m not about to sit down for soup with them breathing down my neck."
"Oh... so they really did move in, huh?"
Hashirama glanced at Madara, studying him for a moment as his fingers idly toyed with a blade of grass, his usual playfulness dimming just slightly.
"Anyway," he murmured, his voice laced with concern. "Did you hear about the Kaguya clan's new alliance with the Shimura clan?"
"There are rumors, but we both know it’s not confirmed yet. And if it does turn out to be true..." He exhaled, his gaze flickering to the distance. "Times like this... the time we have together... just isn’t something we can afford right now. Not with the Kaguya Clan making moves on the eastern border."
Hashirama glanced down as the blade of grass he’d been playing with came loose, fluttering from his fingers and carried off by the wind.
"They’re setting things up for something bigger. And we can’t just ignore it." He hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. "If the Shimura clan is aligning with them... it complicates everything. It’s like they’re preparing for a bigger war, and we’ll be caught right in the middle."
Hashirama let out a slow breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wouldn’t be surprised if things blow up sooner than we expect. Hmm... considering the Kaguya currently reside near the Waterfall region, I think a noble from that territory is trying to provoke the Fire Daimyo—using the Kaguya as pawns to spark a conflict over land."
For a moment, there was silence. The tension in the air was palpable.
Madara’s expression shifted. The Kaguya clan were far more aggressive than the Shimura—wild and violent by nature—and far more dangerous. His jaw tightened. "I’ve run into them before... If they catch you, you’re as good as dead, and tortured beyond recognition." His fingers curled slightly, as if recalling something unpleasant. "I’m sure by now, they’ve come up with something even more brutal."
Hashirama’s brows furrowed. "Madara..." His voice was softer now, concern flickering in his eyes.
Madara shook his head, brushing it off. "It doesn’t matter."
It did matter, but Hashirama knew better than to push. Instead, he shifted the topic just enough. "Madara, who do you think the Fire Daimyo will hire to deal with the Kaguya?"
Madara glanced at him, thoughtful. "Hmm… maybe the Hagoromo. They’re closest to Kaguya territory. Or maybe—like usual—your clan. Why do you ask? You’ve met the Fire Daimyo more often than I have. You know what kind of person he is. Who do you think he’ll choose?"
"Uchiha," Hashirama replied without hesitation.
Madara raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why are you so sure?"
"The Daimyo wants the Senju to take over the mining village near the border. The Sarutobi are still tied up in the Rouran ruins and the Hyuuga haven’t returned from their assignment yet. The other clans are too weak to face the Kaguya, and he’s not the kind of man who’ll waste money on a clan that’s bound to lose. That leaves the Uchiha. So, what will you do if the offer comes?"
Madara paused, considering. "I won’t turn down the job if the pay is right and if the Daimyo is willing to hire two clans, considering the Kaguya might bring the Shimura into this. And given how close they are to Hagoromo territory—and the fact that Hagoromo are allied with us—this could be the perfect chance. We could turn this into a two-on-two fight, Uchiha and Hagoromo against Kaguya and Shimura."
Hashirama didn’t answer immediately. His fingers tapped lightly against his knee as he mulled over the idea.
“You’re going to accept it, huh... I was hoping you’d say no.”
“You’re worried?”
"The Shimura clan may not be as sharp as the Nara, but I’ll give them credit for their strategy." He hesitated. "The Sharingan gives you an edge no other clan can match and the Shimura have always feared that. But, their former leader was obsessed with getting his hands on your eyes. I’m worried his successor might try the same thing."
Madara’s expression tightened. "He wasn’t the only one obsessed. But he was the only one who tried to take my eyes by force, and I burned him alive as a warning." His voice dropped. "No one’s dared since."
Hashirama let out a quiet breath. “Still, I’m worried. This might provoke them even more... but you’re right. If you involve the Hagoromo clan, and war does break out, it might help tip the scales. Alright, I’m with you. Just... be careful. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one. I hope I won’t hear any more reports about someone trying to steal your eyes. It’s not something I want to hear again."
Madara’s eyes flickered with the slightest hint of discomfort at the mention of the attempt to steal his Sharingan. The power of his eyes was both his strength and his greatest burden. His fingers curled slightly against his knee, a nearly imperceptible movement, but Hashirama noticed.
“They can try. But even if some idiot from the Shimura clan actually managed to steal a Sharingan… they wouldn’t last,” Madara murmured, almost as if convincing himself. “That kind of power, it feeds on chakra. It doesn’t belong to just anyone.”
Hashirama nodded slightly.
“Even so... people will keep trying. Not because they understand it, but because they want control. They think power is something you can steal and use. They don’t see the cost.”
“Yeah. And I hate people like that. I can respect an enemy—even if we’re on opposite sides—as long as they fight with conviction. But those kinds of people…” His voice dropped. “They look at us, at our eyes, and forget everything else. Well... I guess to everyone outside the Uchiha, the Sharingan is just a trophy.”
Hashirama turned to him, watching carefully. “I don’t.”
Madara’s voice was steady, but tinged with quiet sadness. “Of course I know that. When I said everyone, I didn’t mean you, Hashi. You’ve always been the exception. But that doesn’t change the truth. Most people see the Sharingan and think of it as a threat or wonder what they could do with it in their hands. Maybe that’s just the price of being born with a weapon in our eyes.”
A cool breeze passed between them, rustling the water’s surface. Hashirama watched Madara’s expression, the tightness in his jaw, the distant look in his eyes. Without thinking, he moved closer, his hand instinctively reaching out to place a reassuring grip on Madara’s shoulder.
"You’ve never been just a weapon, Madara. Not in my eyes," Hashirama said softly. "You’re... so much more than that."
Madara didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond either. His gaze remained locked on the river, his silence stretching between them like an invisible wall. The sound of the water filled the empty space, a steady rhythm against the weight of words.
For a long moment, Hashirama said nothing, simply letting his presence speak for him. Then, at last, Madara exhaled.
"Maybe I am..." he finally admitted. "But the war we’re fighting isn’t about that anymore. It’s about survival. It’s about power." His fingers clenched briefly before relaxing. "And honestly... I’m not sure how much longer I can keep fighting for a cause that feels... endless."
Hashirama tilted his head, weighing Madara’s words carefully. He knew that exhaustion well—the feeling of chasing a peace that always seemed just out of reach.
"That’s why we’re here, Madara," he said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. "You can let your guard down, just for once. We both know we can’t change the past, but we can make sure the future is something worth fighting for."
He gave a small grin, but this time, there was no teasing in his eyes—just quiet, stubborn hope.
Madara looked at him then, truly looked at him. His usual sharp gaze softened ever so slightly. The weight of his words still hung in the air, but for a moment, it felt... lighter.
"Maybe," Madara murmured, voice softer than usual. "But I’m not sure if I can believe in that future... not yet. It feels so far away."
Hashirama smiled, warm and unwavering, placing a hand on Madara’s waist.
"Well, that’s why I’m here, right?" he said with a lopsided grin. "To keep that fire in you burning. You can’t let it die, Madara. Not yet."
Madara glanced at him, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty in his eyes. He wasn't one for showing his emotions openly, but with Hashirama there, something inside him shifted—a small flicker of hope, hidden deep within.
"You’re impossible, you know that?" Madara muttered, shaking his head slightly.
"I know," Hashirama replied, his grin widening just a bit. "But I’m your impossible."
Madara let out a quiet chuckle, the sound barely audible over the river’s flow. He shook his head again, but this time, there was no frustration in it, only quiet acceptance.
"Why do I put up with you, Senju?" he murmured.
Hashirama’s eyes twinkled mischievously. "Because, my dear Uchiha, I make life interesting. You can’t get enough of me."
Madara glanced at him, his expression unreadable, but there was a subtle softness in his eyes. For a brief moment, it felt as if the war was a distant memory. Here, with Hashirama, Madara felt... almost at peace.
For a moment, they in comfortable silence, the quiet of the river their only companion. The weight of the world was still there — The war, their duties, the weight of their clans — all of it looming in the background. But here, by the river, there was just the two of them, and for once, they could be just Hashirama and Madara, not leaders or enemies, but something more... something hidden.