Summary: Hashirama, the leader of the Senju clan meets young Uchiha Madara at the riverbank. Against all odds, they become friends and change the fate of their clans. HashiMada, a What-If AU.

Warnings: for underage sexual situations. Madara is 14-15 in this story, Hashirama is over 20.

Notes: This is another happy-ending-AU attempt from me – I can't seem to give up on them. I was fiddling with the possibilities of what if Hashirama was older than Madara. Would he listen to the Senju more when he talked about peace if he didn't have a real possibility to defeat him straight away? Would Hashirama be able hold onto him if he was already an adult?

I wrote this… 9 months ago or so (others give birth to children under this time) and finally got around to post it. Wow. This is five chapters in total and 17,000 + words.

Special thanks to: Lilly for her interest in my stories. Pikacheeka for her more than useful suggestions where to improve this fic.

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Meetings at the Riverbank

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It wasn't the first time he saw the boy at the riverbank, but on previous occasions he always hid his presence and went away quietly if he was there as well, even if it meant giving up on his favourite spot, the only place he could use as an escape from the madness of everyday. He wondered if the kid knew the risks he faced. Other Senjus could happen on him, even if they weren't close to their territory, and as his appearance made his lineage quite obvious... It would have been so easy to kill him - just the right jutsu and the world would be free of one Uchiha - but no matter how many years he'd spent in battle already, Hashirama just couldn't be at peace with killing children. So he even watched after this boy with his unruly, black hair from a safe distance, to make sure no harm would come to him.

Probably that's why he felt that he'd begun to know him after a while. He felt relief when he appeared from time to time, even if it meant staying in the shadows of the trees, as at least he knew he was safe and whole. He seemed to be around fourteen, so well into the age when his clan surely expected him to sacrifice his life on a battlefield if it came to that.

He didn't know what prompted him to talk to the boy this time. Maybe it was how lost he appeared that day, as he stood by the river and tried to skip stones against the surface. They kept sinking after a few jumps, and the pale face became more and more peevish with each unsuccessful try.

But maybe it was because just a few hours passed since they buried Itama, who was about the same age as the Uchiha boy currently looking for suitable pebbles on the bank. He wanted to forbid him to fight, but neither his little brother, nor the clan in general agreed on that. He was a shinobi, he'd told him, and the life of shinobi was to fight. Their lives and deaths were to fight... Hashirama hated himself for not having enough strength to put an end to the killings where they massacred adults and children without a second thought.

We are lucky to have such gentle weather for December, Tobirama had told him, though his face was pained, making it obvious that he felt anything but lucky, we can dig the grave properly, with shovels. Using a jutsu for this reason always seems so profane. Hashirama just had to escape from the encampment after the burial, and now here he was again, watching this unknown boy at the riverbank.

"Aim a bit higher when you throw and you'll manage to get it to the other side," he stepped out from between the trees. The young Uchiha spun around at hearing his voice.

"Who are you?"

"Currently we could say I'm your teacher in stone skipping."

"I don't need your help," he turned back towards the water, but he was obviously paying attention to every move the man made. Though he was still too careless. A naive kid, who thought no harm could reach him.

Hashirama picked up a flat stone and threw it against the river's surface. He hadn't practiced this in years, but the pebble popped through the gentle waves in long, graceful arcs.

"You see? If you aim higher, you can get it farther." The boy looked at him with such contempt that he couldn't help but laugh out loud. Still, the Uchiha picked up a stone as well and when he threw it, he was obviously heeding his advice.

"I asked who are you? What's your name?!" he demanded.

"Hashirama," he bowed his head just slightly, watching the sulking face from the corners of his eyes, but the kid didn't seem to draw the connection between his name and the leader of the Senju clan. Maybe it shouldn't have surprised him; when Hashirama had been fourteen, his father hardly shared any intelligence about their enemies with him. Looking back, he saw there was wisdom behind this, that his old man hadn't done it - as Hashirama had assumed at the time - because he thought so little of his sons that he hadn't considered sharing information could do them any good. No, actually it was easier to kill someone if you didn't know their names, had no clue whose sons they were, whether they had kids of their own, someone to wait for them at home. Murdering nameless, sometimes faceless foes evoked fewer nightmares.

Of course they were both quite far away from home too, and he, just as the young Uchiha, wore simple clothing with no weapons at any visible places. "And who would you be?"

"Madara. I won't tell you my last name."

The man picked up another pebble, biding his time before looking up again, so he could stomach this answer. He'd heard this name before, at increasing frequency nowadays. He was standing next to a young, but already notorious ninja. So probably he wasn't naive, he was just too full of self-confidence. Who would have thought? He still radiated some childish innocence, no matter how many death he saw and caused.

"That is a wise thing to do," he replied at last quietly. He knew what he should do – his duty would dictate to kill the boy right away, before he had the chance to grow into his full potential. This was the best interest of his clan and it was very lucky that they'd never know Hashirama didn't act on it. "We live dangerous times, it's better to be cautious."

"You're a strange guy. Do you come here often to throw stones?"

"I like this river. Water has a calming effect on me - it can wash away some of my troubles."

"I thought I'm the only one who knows this place," Madara muttered under his nose. "You're a shinobi as well, aren't you? I only noticed you when you addressed me."

"Then you'd do better to be even more cautious."

"Are you threatening me now?" the dark, expressive eyes narrowed in anger and Hashirama couldn't help but smile. The boy was quite charming like this. How could he take away such a young life in cold blood?

"No. I'm not. But I assume you don't want to get into trouble."

"I can take care of myself!"

He just nodded. He wanted to tell him he'd need to learn to be so much more careful, but it was a mistake to talk to him this much as it was. No matter how young and innocent looking he was, they were enemies. It was time for him to go back home before his clan started to miss him.

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Madara carefully pushed the branches of the bush to the side, trying his best not to make a sound. His victim was about ten meters away from him, and by all appearances unaware of his presence. He smiled with satisfaction, edging closer noiselessly. He'd get him now. The man was lying on his back in the grass, watching the clouds rolling by from under half-closed lids, unknowing of his awaiting doom. When he was at last close enough, the Uchiha pulled his legs under himself and sprang up, charging his target at lightning speed. A kunai flashed up in his hand and he swooped down on his target... but the blade sliced through empty air only and sank into the soft ground where the man was just a heartbeat ago.

Cursing, he spun around, but it was too late. Hashirama grabbed him with one hand, across his chest - quite humiliatingly seizing him under his armpit as if he was picking up a little kid - and slammed him down on the ground with enough force for all air to leave his lungs.

"Not bad," the long haired man sat down next to him. "I only noticed you in the last moment."

The boy folded his arms in front of his chest and turned his head away. He suspected the other was only trying to comfort him, as he so easily blocked his attack just as he had all those times before. He crawled under the thorny bushes, he got dusty from head to toe and got dozens of bleeding scratches for nothing. Damn him to hell!

"Would you like to hear what you've done wrong, or would you rather just sulk?"

"I didn't do anything wrong!" he sat up suddenly as he decided to turn to face him after all. "It's just you! You're too good!" he shoved the man's shoulder and he let him. It very much so seemed as if he was trying to hold back his smile and that angered the Uchiha further.

Half a year had passed since they'd first talked - how and when it had become their habit to meet regularly here on the riverbank, Madara couldn't pinpoint. The second time he'd seen Hashirama he was annoyed with him occupying his spot. Still he went to talk to him, not even knowing why he did it. He appeared to be a harmless guy enough, borderline simple, but he had some cheerfulness around him which otherwise was very much lacking from Madara's life. He suspected him to be an unremarkable warrior of some minor clan, who liked to watch the water run by and daydream about how better his life would be if he wasn't born a shinobi. When the man offered to practice with him, he thought he could amaze him with his abilities. He was used to defeating any adult with ease, and he never thought Hashirama would be an exception, even if they agreed on taijutsu only, in which he was slightly less skilled than in genjutsu and ninjutsu.

When he'd first lost against him, he thought he just had exceptionally bad luck, but soon enough he had to realize; his first impression was very much false. His strange new friend was anything but an unremarkable ninja. Of course he never asked who he was really. Deep inside he suspected he wouldn't like the answer at all. And as bluntly honest Hashirama was most of the time, he might have just told him the truth… He wondered sometimes - he was different in build than most of the Uchiha, taller, more bulky but that was true for the majority of the ninja clans Madara was familiar with. His clothing didn't tell much of his heritage either, just that he was either rather poor or that he didn't give a thing about what he wore. He was dark haired, and compared to Madara's people, dark skinned as well, but once again, that was true for most clans the boy knew of.

Soon enough he stopped trying to guess where he was from and rather settled for befriending this man who was his senior by almost a decade. Save for his brothers, Madara never felt being close to anyone in his own clan, he couldn't bond easily, or make friendships. But with this stranger, who didn't really know who he was, he could be, for once, free. He also found it flattering how he treated him as an equal despite the age difference. If only he wasn't losing all of their matches...

Of course it just made him try harder on every occasion, but no matter how he put all he had into his attacks, his opponent kept up easily with him. As if to rub salt into his wounds, Hashirama always wanted to tell him where he made a mistake, and he just couldn't stand that. He wasn't used to anyone doubting his strength. It drove him mad with frustration that he couldn't best Hashirama.

"Well, it's your choice," his friend stood up and stretched out lazily. "If you don't want to learn, you can just end up in the dust again next time as well."

Madara resisted the childish urge to blow him a raspberry. Instead he quickly spun around as he was sitting on the ground, trying to kick Hashirama's legs out. When he failed to, he chose the easiest if not a very sophisticated method - lunged at him to drag him down to the ground with simply using his weight. Though he knew very well that he only succeeded as Hashirama let himself be "defeated", it didn't keep him back from kneeling above him with a triumphant smile while he pinned his shoulders down.

"You've lost, old man!" he cried, gloating. Even if it wasn't a real victory, it felt nice to play it.

"That hurts," though he put a hand above his heart in a dramatic gesture, Hashirama's eyes were glinting with repressed laughter and this time Madara couldn't help but grin as well.

"Next time, I'm going to defeat you for real."

"I've heard that already. It's time you heeded my advices, so you can stand a chance."

They were actually always useful. Madara already had a vast amount of battle experience, but it couldn't rival Hashirama's. But it wasn't only that - he had a might that the Uchiha never came across before. If they were the same age, would he have more chance, he wondered. It wasn't the issue that the other was a grown-up - Madara had no problem defeating an average shinobi of any age since he turned ten. It wasn't simply his physique - yes, he was tall and wide shouldered, and when they struggled like they had just now, Madara could feel his hard muscles under his loose clothes, but an Uchiha didn't need brawn to beat someone. It was just simply Hashirama being, without any acceptable explanation, better than him.

They continued the taijutsu practice for a long time that day. When they finally finished Madara was flushed and breathing just a bit hard. They never tried any other techniques - it would have been too much of a clue about which clan he was from and probably it was the same for his friend as well.

"I did better today," he stated with self-confidence. It annoyed him that Hashirama didn't praise him for it.

"You did," came the agreement and that instantly cheered up his mood. They sat down, close to the river and he leaned against the man's side. "You improved a lot again," Hashirama ruffled his hair - something Madara wouldn't have let anyone else to do, but now he was just grinning at it. When he was with Hashirama, everything seemed so easy - he didn't have to think about wars, to worry about Izuna, to fight adult's battles and make serious decisions. He felt he could be really be himself only when he was with his friend.

"Hashirama?"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing," he wanted to ask him why he kept coming here to spend time with him, but in the end he decided against it. Probably he just didn't have anything better to do than trying to teach him stuff. He didn't want to hear if he didn't mean anything important for the other.

"What's the matter now?" Madara turned away angrily when the man leaned in to look into his face. It was annoying how he never did what he expected him to do. "Spill it out, if you started it."

When he didn't get a reply, he wrestled Madara down to the ground and started to tickle him. The boy wasn't prepared for such a sneak attack. He tried to escape but he couldn't keep back his laughter no matter how he tried. He wanted to put on a haughty face, to make it obvious he was deeply affronted in his dignity, but it didn't work out much as Hashirama held him down securely and somehow managed to find his most ticklish points, between his ribs, at the underside of his arms...

He couldn't disguise his disappointment when the other suddenly pulled away, crouching back on his heels. Madara sat up and tried to arrange his ruffled hair and wrinkled clothing. When he glanced up, Hashirama was watching him, but not with a smile this time, but with some strange, unfathomable expression he couldn't place. His first thought was that he did something to bring forth this change, but that of course was ridiculous.

'What's wrong?" his voice was annoyingly insecure. He grimaced, angry at himself and at the man as well.

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I just got a bit warm," Hashirama stood up and walked down to the river.

Madara looked after his broad back with conflicting emotions as he crouched down next to the water to wash his face. Something happened but he didn't understand what, and that vexed him. After a while he got up as well and went after the other. He wouldn't leave it like that.

TBC…