It seemed she couldn't escape it. The smell. The smell of blood, rot and inevitable death. She was tired, her body failing her, but she couldn't stop. Stopping now wasn't an option. Just a bit more. After what seemed like hours of running, she was sure she wasn't being followed anymore. As her knees were tremblibg due to all the exhaustion, she fell on the ground, not being able to even move a finger anymore. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, deafening her from her surroundings. At this point she didn't really care anymore. The adrenaline made her numb to all the sores in her body, but as she lay there on the river bank, it started to wear off and slowly she started feeling the gentle breeze brushing against the wounds on her feet. The throbbing intensified with the smallest attempt to move, even the slightest, but she wanted to get to the river. It seemed it took her forever to get there, but when she finally did, everything arround her turned black.

She didn't know for how long she had laid there, passed out. The sun was rising as the wilderness around her welcomed a new day. She was woken up by small waves of water hitting her face. Everything still hurt. From her feet to her head, both sharp and throbbing pain were still there, draining her from her energy. As her dried lips felt the water splash them, she swiftly widenned her eyes, and like a wildling frantically got up to drink it. You couldn't really call it drinking, as she splattered it all over her face in an attempt to drink it all at once. It was like someone turned on a switch on her body, and as she became more aware of herself and her surroundings, everything started hurting even more. But it seemed the water helped in a way, so it was all much more bearable. And then she looked at her reflection in the water. Hattori Mizumi didn't look like herself. Her young face coverred in blood and soil, eyes bloody and half closed, brusies and swellings on almost every part of her body. Why did they have to send me? I'm a child. A child, so young yet sent into a war, fighting battles, killing men and trying not to get killed. Just like today, she was running way from three men, chasing her as their last victim. The saddest part was, that after all this time, she still didn't know what she was fighting for. It was a widespread chaos. At some point it had been about two sides fighting for power, at least her childish perception of war had made her think that way, but now it seemed everyone was fighting everyone. There were no rules. Adults killing enemy children, children killing other children, the circle was neverending. Tears streamed down her face. She wasn't sure whether she cried due to the pain or due to these dark thoughts awakening too many emotions. She was sad, and angry, and scared and tired. As she sat there trying to compose herself, regaining a bit of strenght, if it was even possible, she decided to cross the river and find her way home. Before she could cross, however, her path was blocked by two boys. Enemies. In just a few seconds she stiffened and got into her fighting stance, but as she tried to launch onto them, she only fell into the water. Next thing she knew, the same two boys pulled her out.

He met with him again near the river. It was a very sad life they all lived, since none of them had one good memories. No happy moments. It was just war. But meeting with this boy, who he would even dare call a friend, was something that was much needed in his life. Madara thought about it, it was the first time he could actually play with someone, talk about something that wasn't war related, maybe even have fun if that was even possible. He was sick of it. The war. How he despised the sound of the word. He met this stranger not long ago, and in this short time he had come to realize they had much in common. They both came from shinobi families that were at war, they both lost a lot of family memeber and neither of them understood why all of it was happening. They never said what their family names were, since deep down they both knew names could change it all. In their world, names meant everything. Uchiha. Senju. Sarutobi. Hatake. Hyuuga. It went on and on. They were very young, but they were too smart and too measured in everything they did. That's what war does to children. And that's why they both loved to just come to the river and simply throw stones and talk about everything that popped out in their minds.

"Oi, you still haven't approved since the last time." said the boy with hair in a bowl-cut style, mocking his friend who just gave him an angry look. He didn't mean to upset him, he never did. Soft spoken and genuine, Hashirama's personality contrasted the reserved and measured behaviour of Madara. But even with these differences, they were so similar. And that's why they both loved coming to this place.

"Shut up Hashirama. I can't concentrate when you look at me!"

Before he could throw yet another stone, he noticed something in the distance. Better said, he felt a faint trace of chakra. Immediately, he looked at his friend, and the look on Hashirama's face said he felt it too. Carefully, like any other shinobi, they first jumped into the threes, slowely moving from one branch to another, getting nearer to the intruder.

"Who do you think this could be? There are no battels anywhere near here." Hashirama asked.

Slowely realizing the source of this chakra was just another child, no threath, Madara jumped down to the ground. "Come down. It's a girl, and her chakra is weak. She is no danger to us."

The two boys slowly walked to this girl, who just started waking up, obviously hurt too much to the point where she couldn't even feel or hear them. And they were only standing on the other side of the thin river. As they looked at her trying to regain herself, Madara couldn't help but feel simpathetic to the girl. She was arround their age, he could tell. At one point she started drinking the water wildly, and then painfully slowly started to get up. Once she did, she turned arround. He could see the instant fear in her eyes. She is like us. As she visibly stiffened, she raised her hands in what might have looked like a fighting stance, and before she could even make a move, she fell into the water. To Madara, it looked like all of the life force left her body at once. He and Hashirama ran to her, pulling her out and laying her down on the bank.

No child ever hurt again. Madara remembered that one line he and his friend always repeated to themselves. Their biggest goal. And yet, this little girl laid broken in front of him. They had to help her. He had to help her.

Once again, she slowely opened her eyes, not knowing where she was. This time though, she heard two voices, very much close to her.

"Don't be scared, we only want to help you" said a black haired boy, smiling. For some reason, she didn't get scared this time.

"Who are you?"she asked, realizing how dry her mouth was, but as if he felt it, the same boy offered her a small wooden cup of water.

"My name is Hashirama, and this is Madara" said the boy who was standing near the river. They didn't look much alike, she noticed, so she assumed they were just some children from the small village nearby. Common children. But once she looked better at the boy who gave her the cup, she saw some old scars, a lot of them actually. Some on his hands, some on his legs, even on his neck and cheek. No common child gets that many scars. They must be shinobi.

"Thank you. For pulling me out of the river."

She didn't have much strenght to even speak.

"No need to thank us. We just hope we didin't scare you that much." Hashirama then sat next to her, not too close but yet close enough for her to see him clearly. One of her eyes was still swallen, but the pain wasn't unbearable anymore.

"You didn't tell us your name..." Madara tillted his hear towards her, his jet black eyes softly watching her.

"Mizumi. My name is H..."

"Your first name is enough" the way Madara interrupted her wasn't rude at all, since it felt like an advice. She understood though. She was a shinobi after all, and usually it didn't take her long to connect certain things. So they are not brothers, but they are both shinobi. Smart thing, not stating any family names.

Even if she said her full name, it probably wouldn't mean much. Her family wasn't a big one, especially now, after so many of them had died. They hadn't pledged they loyalty to anyone, nor had they ever possessed any kind of special chakra like some families had. They were just found cought up in all of this mess, defending themselves, and in order to survive and provide, starting some fighting. That's what everyone did nowdays anyway.

"Let's see if we can help you with those wounds." they both offered their hands to her so she could sit up.

"I think the best thing we can do is take you as near as possible to your home," Hashirama said, "but first let's see if you can even walk by yourself."

She was unusually quite, surprising even herself, but it wasn't that she didn't want to talk, she was just too tired.

"I think I've already caused you enough problems. You really don't have to do anything anymore." was all she could say. She really did appreciate the help, but she had never liked to be a burden. That's one more thing children learn during a war. Everybody has something to do, don't ask for anything and don't be a drag. Get your own bussiness done. Even though we are children and we need someone to help us. Children should not be born to fulfill positions or compensate for something. She remebered how she said that same thing to her father once, earning her a good, big slap.

"But we want to help!" exclaimed Madara, "We know how it is." he added in a whisper.

And with that said, she knew who they were.They were just like her. Thrown into something ugly and scary. At that time none of them had been aware of one thing, which they would learn later in life. Even in the darkest, ugliest and scarriest times, something beautiful can always be created. And they would one day.