A/N This story is actually one that amuses me a lot. I had a lot of fun writing it because its really outside the realm of my usual writing in more ways than one. So I'm kind of proud of it. Anyway the inspiration sprang from a pretty hilarious thread on Naruto forum about how Madara's feels about Hashirama.
I glanced through that thread and I decided to challenge myself. So here you go this is essentially my perspective on Madara
I must say I am surprised.
Surely the marriage contract is not fulfilled unless I agree to it. Yet here I discover you warming my bed as a practiced wife. Is this your own boldness or a contrivance of my clan?
Admired me? From afar you say. Is that so?
No, I laugh because apparently your tongue is as a silken as your skin. Hmm indeed I've been incessantly told you are a great beauty and that I would come to love you in time. Though I wonder what you know truly of love and beauty.
Do not speak, I was not asking you a question. I was merely wondering to myself.
They tell me also, that you are an artist. Is that so? Truly? Are you to show me beauty with stokes of ink and brush, or will you sing to me of love as I lay my head down to rest? Perhaps you shall tell me stories of both that will send me off to wondrous dreams?
Is that so? You are quite accomplished, as one would expect from a potential bride of Uchiha Madara.
You've shown daring sneaking into my bed, know however that if you had found me in a lesser mood you certainly would have incurred my wrath no matter whom your parents are. Fortunately you've caught me in a reflective mood. Nights like these, when the clouds hang low I am stolen by my memories.
Hmmm seeing as you are an accomplished storyteller I wonder if you could enjoy a story of my own.
First I shall tell of when I first learned of true beauty. I was but a young boy at the time, well before I had even awakened my sharingan. It amazes me still how after so long I can still close my eyes and see vividly a single view of a battlefield where once a village stood. The light of the moon illuminates the waves of flames that flare from the homes of the villagers. Corpses come together into formless masses skating the dark surface of the nearby river. The stones of the wall that once protected that village were made of a material that absorbed sunlight by day and gave off a soft green glow at night. After being shaken by explosions these toppled stones encircle the land in a ghastly glow. Tremendous acts of cruelty and brutality have combined to create such a wickedly exquisite scene.
As I took all this in as a boy an almost choking sense of beauty overwhelmed me and yet at the same I was scared to death.
Woman, war be it a battle, a skirmish, a raid, an ambush, or a duel, is a spectacle, a spectacle for all senses but more especially for the eyes. It is with your eyes that you can appreciate beauty, and I felt it then in my blood, that my eyes, the eyes of the Uchiha, were meant to admire such scenes. I have taken in many in my short life, scenes hateful and gorgeous, malicious and majestic. I have admired and created them.
I can see by your face, that you did not consider the aesthetics of war. Hmm well there is a song I am fond of. It is sung by a people who live to the south of the Land of the Wind, it's a ballad about The Goddess of Love and Beauty and The God of War. They are found by the other Gods entwined in a passionate embrace. The Gods each ask themselves how War could seduce Beauty. What did Love find in War? It is a fine song, do you know of it?
A pity, perhaps I would have appreciated your rendition. You seem to have a capable voice.
Well no matter, I am no real mood for song. However it occurs to me now that I've regaled you with my first contact with beauty. But what of love? Hmmm? You are an astute girl. Indeed the essence of love and beauty I have come to discover both on the field of battle.
This time on a battlefield shared with Hashirama and the accursed Senju.
It was a time before I was Uchiha Madara the leader of the Uchiha Clan, when I was just a young man, with a group of exceptional men under my service including my late brother Izuna. We had been hired by a local warlord to suppress insurgents in his territory and it seemed an easy campaign. It was to be honest, banal, and tedious work. However a few weeks in we discovered news that the rebels had hired the Senju for countermeasures. We searched for days for evidence of Senju intrusion in the land and we found neither hide nor hair of them. A less prudent group of shinobi would have passed the information off as rumor, as misinformation. But we continued our campaign prepared for an inevitable ambush.
Ambushes at the time were the most accepted strategy for many shinobi when faced with the might of the Uchiha clan.
Hashirama though, had always been a man of…unusual vision. Breaking the silence of a dense forest HE led a group charging into us head-on. This I admit truly we had not anticipated and the audacity of it had a masterful effect of shock and awe. Now I have no lack of reason to loathe the Senju. The least of them being that the typical Senju is a brutish, graceless creature. But I admit now that Hashirama though he carried the name and blood of Senju was a shining exemption and he left me transfixed upon his arrival.
May I ask have you ever seen Hashirama? Glimpses here and there perhaps in these peaceful times. I say, you have not seen that man until you've watched him do battle. A less mindful man would have said my initial hesitation in combating Hashirama that day was a stratagem. That I had held myself back to gather insight, to have my studious eyes dissect my enemy's ability, but I endeavor to tell the truth and you are potentially to be my...wife, bearer of my children even. Lovers ought to confide in each other no?
You seem lost….I suppose now I should give some further context to my admiration. You must understand the general consensus at the time was that only a fool attacked a Uchiha one on one. Yet I stood and watched Hashirama in rapid succession strike down my clansman in a ravishing display of graceful brutality. There weren't any wasted movements in his technique and every blow landed, those not aimed at vitals, left debilitating side effects. He deflected and sidestepped attacks by skilled Uchiha as if he were a chief instructor moving amongst clumsy adolescent shinobi.
Listen to me when I say power radiates from that man. Immense strength buried beneath a veneer of self-righteous conceit. I have seen Hashirama emerge from battle blood splattered across his tanned face, matted in his flowing hair, and streaked across his armor; I tell you blood flowed freely if and when this peacemaker moved with purpose and intent. Yet still I admit there is an aura of serenity around him, calmness in the depth of his dark eyes. And though the tonality of his voice, his laugh, in on itself soothes like balm upon a burning wound, the words he spoke and the commands he gave spiked fear in the hearts of his enemies.
Hashirama is a contradiction to the logic and reason of the world that gave birth to him.
As I watched him wage war I felt as though watching a dream, a surreal image encased in a glassy pool in which all the world floated.
I pulled away from my own mind only when Hashirama bore down upon my brother. I found myself then filled with an uncompromising rage that was unfamiliar to me. Again I hated the Senju, for many of my own were lost to them, but I never held that rage that separates a man from his reason. Many are not aware of such fine a distinction.
You see Hashirama's existence was an insult to my own. I hated him for dispatching my brethren before my very eyes, for his presence leaving my feet rooted to the floor and a lump in my throat.
I hated him for ignoring me.
So I impressed upon him a katon that cast shadows on all those in the vicinity.
Perhaps if I had not lost my composure I would have not wasted substantial chakra on what I had inkling was a clone. Moments before somewhere in the midst of Senju chaos, Hashirama had slipped away and left in his place a living clone. But my annoyance was great and I felt that the sooner I drew the real enemy back out the better.
Hashirama obliged, when his clone went up in flames. A string of shuriken cut through the air towards me, but they were merely a distraction. The moment I dodged them, Hashirama was upon me. I begrudgingly admit that I barely managed to block and withstand the thrust of his fist. Seizing a small window of opportunity I attempted to catch Hashirama's eyes, but a shinobi could not survive more than a single battle with the Uchiha if he couldn't avoid eye contact.
Hashirama was experienced.
His head came crashing down onto the bridge of my nose just as my knee came crashing into his waist. Despite the ferocity of our respective blows neither of us gave up any ground. Not even a half step backwards. As I prepared to reengage in close quarter combat I noticed the ground beneath my feet was beginning to quiver.
I leaped backwards just as a massive root speared up from the ground. The root abruptly split multiplying before my very eyes. As I sprinted backwards the overgrown flowering plant continued snapping at me like petulant vipers. I was forced to strain my eyes and reveal one of my trump cards to reduce them to ashes.
There was no such thing as holding back when it came to a duel with Hashirama.
Now as I was preparing to launch another attack upon my rival, an addle-brained Senju leaped at me from a perceived blind spot. My blood boiled, what arrogance, what ignorance to imagine that he could disrupt our duel. It was his honor to have the pleasure to even watch his clear superiors in a clash of wills. Yet he had the gall to disturb art in the making with his blundering attack. The thought of it to this day appalls me still. Needless to say I rewarded his intrusion; I paralyzed him with a genjutsu right before driving his own sword between his backbone and shoulder.
An artless death for an oblivious buffoon.
As the Senju wheezed out his final breath my eyes cut to my true enemy, I looked for a touch of anguish upon his features. Pain registered briefly, but even with the sight of a fallen comrade, Hashirama wasn't gracious enough to let his hurt last more than a moment. He placed a single hand in the air and all fighting around us ceased. He ordered the remaining Senju away and I followed suit with the Uchiha.
Only Izuna was reluctant to leave.
"Brother" he stated. "Where Hashirama is Tobirama is not far behind."
My brother was loyal and caring but he did not understand. Hashirama would not allow his brother or anyone else to interfere. When he and I danced it was only the two of us! There would be no one else until one of us had died, that was what I had felt at the core of my being then. Izuna departed and I was left alone suddenly keenly aware of my environment. The brief exchange with Hashirama had changed some of the environment. Much of the earth around us had been upturned, the scent of burnt wood wafted through the air, the salty tang of blood from my nose and sweat from my brow mingled on my tongue, the sounds of our respective breaths seemed to echo each other.
Indeed I felt a terrible joy and exaltation at the sight and sound and taste and smell of all this destruction. That moment, to attempt to describe how I felt in a song would be to show you a shadow; a painting would merely be a distorted reflection, a tale no more than an idea for you to attempt to grasp. You cannot describe such a moment you can only live it.
"Make peace with the Gods Hashirama, know that I will be the man who ushers you toheaven!"
I lived in that moment in the wake of my declaration for about thousand lifetimes before I charged forward.
And we resumed our dance.
As all the dances to come, it was truly sublime.
Now I spoke of Hashirama as a living contradiction to reason and the very world we lived in. You'd imagine that would be enough, but no, his existence also formed contradictions within myself. I've done everything I can to kill this man, yet it has been he, more than my father, more than my brother, who has inspired me to reach even further beyond my natural talents. I admit now that Hashirama has been a source of my strength; I also admit that he is the only man who has made me fear defeat, to accept it as a real possibility. And that is a weakness within me that I cannot ever forgive.
Defeat at the hands of Hashirama had further reaching consequence than a fall of my own pride. I knew then that he would eventually have the power to subjugate my people, as I would have the power to bring the Senju to their knees. Our clans were destined to do battle and in all battle there could be only one victor. Only one clan would survive and I knew that if either of us fell so would our clan. We both knew this, the two of us alone were waging a war generations in the making.
Alas these thoughts did not run through my mind as Hashirama and I danced, despite the future of our clans hanging in the balance, I simply enjoyed every moment. Every success, every failure, every attack, every defense I reveled in the majesty of it. On that day we danced for I know not how long, perhaps hours, perhaps just minutes. Do you understand? We battled till it was no longer possible to think, my mind broken, my tongue heavy as lead, a blazing fire coursing beneath my skin. No sight in my eyes but the brief flashes of limbs, a low hum in my ears, sweat pouring down me as intense trembling seize my body. I had given up my body and my soul to this battle and at times I did not know if I was short of dying or was I just learning to live, drawing in air as a newborn babe.
When I thought I'd be completely enveloped in the fog of war I saw an opportunity. A minor miscalculation by my foe, awkward footing in the midst of a counter attack caused him to miss me with a kick. For a split second he was mine. I used the upward swing of his leg against him, lifting it, and countered with a powerful blow of my own to his midsection. The blow sent him sliding across the floor, kicking up earth and leaves. He was sure to be stunned as I had knocked the wind from him. He rolled off his back to his knees clutching his sides. I was unwilling to waste an opportunity.
I leaped into the air.
If he heard anything coming at all it would not be my footsteps but the soft whistle of my sickle slicing through the air.
He glanced up, caught sight of my kama hurtling down upon him, and he smiled.
It is amusing that I find myself smiling now because of it.
Do not interrupt me while I reminisce. I shall reveal to you the significance of this smile. Hashirama had been enjoying the dance as well, I know this. But even in the face of death where other men would quiver or quake, he smiled.
See fear stems from a lack of understanding, a discomfort with the current situation you are in. A true shinobi smiled during battle because it was all he knew, it was his natural element. Of course Hashirama smiled. The Senju and the Uchiha are the quintessential warriors of the time and Hashirama and I are the best amongst them. War was our world; it was what we were born in and was what we were the best at it. There did I first feel the touch of true love, and there lay the truth of war. To discover love in war is to form the love of war. And we would die for it. Ah to die for love! Yes artists sing of it, they express it in paintings, they write of it in tales, but truly only warriors do it!
Thinking that I had finally bested this great man I closed my eyes in anticipation of his death reeling as the euphoria of relief rushed through me.
But my actions were premature. A consequence of youth.
I felt a sudden tug on my sickle as a fishermen may on a rod and reel. I opened my eyes to see a vine wrapping itself around the chain connected to my kama.
In hindsight I suppose I should of just let go.
But I abruptly found myself whipped into the bark of a tree, and I saw white. My body cascaded down the trunk and I hit the ground with a thundering thump. The world spinning around me I scrambled to my feet. I caught sight of Hashirama through the corner of my eyes. He sent a kick to my sides but I stopped it from extending fully by moving into it and capturing his legs. But that had not been the main sequence of his attack. I saw the path of the kunai in advance with my eyes, but I was in no position to dodge it. I could only move my torso slightly, disrupting the clear line to my heart. The kunai penetrated my body and I toppled backwards, carrying Hashirama with me, he fell on-top of me thrusting his blade deeper into me.
I cried out, shattering the quiet of the forest.
I floated then, or more precisely it was as if I were floating. I could see the light of the sun in my head, its warmth greeting me like family. Surely I could have embraced death then. But my pride, my resolve, my love of my brethren, would not allow me to surrender to Hashirama on that day. Gathering myself I pushed away the tranquility of the grave and looked up at my rival, past his clenched jaw and into his face. In this position, with his energy spent he could not fight my stare. I looked into his dark eyes and with last remaining bits of my chakra, he was paralyzed, I stuck him along the face and he silently rolled off my body.
Weakly I made an attempt to sit up, but I found I could not. I could only instinctively pull the kunai from my chest and watch my blood spring up and away from my body in a gushing arc. I glanced at Hashirama lying motionless on the ground beside as my life's juices running down my leg. I stared at my enemy and I thought to myself "this man, I must destroy him."
I made a vain attempt to reach over to him, to snuff the life from his body but I blacked out. I awoke some time later in the arms of my brother Izuna. The duel was over, Hashirama would live he announced, and so would I.
Yes I would live to fight another day. And I have been, I've been fighting for my clan and for myself. To this day I fight; to this moment with you here I have been fighting. My blood screams at me that my fight is far from over! Yet you woman, stand here before me offering soft mounds and future children as tributes of love and beauty. You would ask me to surrender myself to your body and to these "peaceful" times. Here see these scars from my battles with Hashirama! These battle scares are beautiful. Feel them! Do they look like they will sag; do they look like they will fade? True beauty never fades, never ages it stays with you forever. I ask will the touch of your skin make me feel alive, are the warmth of your loins worth fighting for?! Dying for?! What is there of true love that you can offer me?!
I touch these scars and I feel the plight of the Uchiha, I feel a thousand battles with the man who gave them to me, I sense a man who has sacrificed much including his own brother, my past and my future lie within these scars! What do you offer me but your insignificant affections and the title of husband? The title of a man at peace! There can be no peace for me when I see these scars!
Oh, yes, yes, yes, you are right...Hashirama yes, he has chosen another...way…..A different dance, a different world then the one that gave birth to us. He has chosen to embrace the title of husband, yes, married to the Uzumaki woman. He is now a man of peace.
Alas always he is the contradiction that Hashirama Senju.
However as history shows us, rarely does one attain peace without the subjugation of others.
Leave me now; they will come to me in the morning and talk of a treaty with the Senju. I have much to consider, and I have no time for a tryst. Understand that not a word of what you heard here shall pass from your lips; you take this night to your grave. I allow you to leave but do not allow this rampant naivete to infect you as it has done with the rest of the Uchiha clan. There is no such thing as lasting peace in this world we live in. Not for the Uchiha, not for anyone, our blood will not allow it.
A/N Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it because this was a challenge I enjoyed taking on. Read and review