By the time his squad arrived to answer the distress call the fight was nearly over already. He stopped for a moment at the edge of the clearing, looking out over the landscape; ignoring a sarcastic remark from his brother as he took the lead. He was always so anxious for battle it seemed. Since he and Tobirama had started working as squad leaders it was always the same. Tobirama would immediately lead everyone into the fight, while Hashirama always needed a moment to take everything in.
He had been to this meadow just the day before. It had been a beautiful picture in his mind, the long grasses swaying slightly in the summer breeze, and trees scattered across the small hills providing shade for those resting. It was supposed to be a new base to work from in the upcoming battle, but it seemed that the Uchiha had already caught word and intended to stop them before they even had a chance to start.
Now the clearing was dark with clouds of smoke from where fires had easily scorched through it all, the sweet smell of a warm summer replaced by intense heat that radiated from the area and carried the stench of burnt flesh just below the surface. Ash slowly rained down from the sky, swirling in bursts of wind here and there in a bitter mockery of winter. The tell-tale signs of a fight with the Uchiha clan; another perfect landscape turned into the same battlefield they always fought each other on.
With a sad sigh Hashirama clasped his hands together forming the snake seal that allowed him to concentrate his chakra. It had barely been a year since he discovered his kekkei genkai, and despite the fact knowing how to use it was instinctive, he had been training relentlessly to control it on a larger scale and respond with it faster. His momentary survey of the area had been enough to spot his injured clansmen, and from below each of them branches formed, growing thicker and stronger as they cradled each of the men delicately before undulating towards him, resting the wounded bodies on the ground nearby. As he released his hands the branches retracted some, though didn't disappear. They stood as a stark contrast to the landscape, the richly colored wood giving new vigor to the men still fighting, as if their lives had been tied to the charred trees that smoldered as hot embers slowly destroyed them, eating away their determination.
The medical ninjas who had come with them quickly rushed to the men and began healing them. Hashirama looked at them sadly, wanting to help as he had been excelling in medical ninjutsu, but he knew that his place would be among the ones fighting. His strength and unique skill on the battlefield outweighed his use as a healer. He turned back towards the battle and spotted his younger brother easily, the steam from his water techniques rising like a beacon. Hashirama ran towards his brother, using his mokuton to separate the Uchihas enough he could slip between them.
"Who's leading?" he asked, his back to Tobirama's as they fought together, not easily able to overcome the numbers of the Uchiha surrounding them, but strong enough to gradually push them back and break their disciplined attack. His brother's sensory techniques had proved invaluable in battle, as he had shown an ability to detect chakra locations, strength, and the user with unprecedented range and precision.
"The same bastard that's been leading these raids."
Hashirama pulled a scroll from a pouch attached to the back of his armor, opening it with a kind of grace that went overlooked in such chaos as he summoned the katana held inside it and began fighting off the taijutsu attacks of a trio closing in on him. He wasn't really surprised by his brother's answer. The last few months had been devastating to the Senju clan, nearly all of their scouting trips ending in a battle like this if they were lucky; finding all of their comrades slain if they weren't. It was clear that someone new was leading attacks, and while Tobirama had memorized their chakra, they had managed to keep from being identified by face or name.
"Where?" Hashirama ignored the splash of water that hit his back as his younger sibling used one of his stronger techniques to scatter the Uchihas. He was determined to find this person, wanting to stop them from hurting anyone else before they became any stronger.
"Your four o'clock." Not even a hint of his usual attitude in his tone; Tobirama had obviously turned his attention completely towards the battle.
He used his katana as if it were a kunai, his developing strength easily sending the blade though the chest of an approaching enemy and staking him to the ground. Once more his hands were in a single seal to concentrate his chakra, a sturdy limb raising from the ground below his feet and lifting him into the air as he turned to the direction his brother indicated. From his higher vantage point, Hashirama could easily spot the person leading the attack, a large number of Senju clansmen trying to make a coordinated counterstrike. There had barely been enough time for him to visually process the information before the line broke, a powerful blast of wind scattering men and sending them flying in several directions.
Hashirama leapt from the tree he had grown and bolted in that direction. The shockwave of wind felt like frost bite stinging his face; whoever it was had to be unusually strong for their chakra to have reached this far out.
"Fall back! Take the injured back to the medics and leave this line to me." His fellow Senju parted to let Hashirama through, and finally he came face to face with the enemy who had been causing devastation to his clan.
The vivid crimson eyes of a sharingan user fell on determined brown ones; both the Uchiha and Senju froze in their steps.
"M-Madara?" His hands dropped slightly in surprise, though he wasn't completely off guard.
"Senju Hashirama…" he gave a slight smirk as he looked over Hashirama, flipping his fan to set it on the ground. "I knew I'd be seeing you soon."
He had changed. Even though Hashirama's memories of him seemed so recent, it was easy to look at him and know just how much time had passed since that day by the river. His face had lost what little semblance of childhood innocence it had. Messy locks of black hair had grown down past his shoulders and were collecting flakes of falling ash in a scorching breeze. The charred grass and flames still spreading over the landscape behind him somehow made the perfect backdrop.
"Madara… Has all of this," he glanced briefly around him "all of these attacks have been led by you?"
Hashirama already knew the answer to his question. He had known from the deep chill that was turning his stomach as he stood in the area of radiating chakra. He had known from the tone of Madara's voice.
"Next time we'll meet on the battlefield Senju Hashirama… I am Uchiha Madara."
That moment their friendship had been shattered flashed through his mind, the first time his former friend had spoken to him with such bitterness in his voice. That was why he didn't wait for an answer, but when he spoke next, his usually calm demeanor on the battlefield was shaken slightly.
"Why?" was all he could think to say, and the pain and sadness from years ago, laced with a plea for their old friendship to return, rang in the air until Madara's voice, deeper with age, cut through it.
"Why? That's an ignorant question Hashirama." He was mocking him, laughter hidden under his words. "I told you that years ago. My brothers were killed by the Senju… And that's all the reason I need."
"What happened to our dream then, Madara? What happened to the days when we agreed that talking with each other could end all of this? When did you stop believing we could bring an end to this bloodshed? Did our friendship really mean so little to you that you could throw it aside and kill my clansmen so easily?"
Madara took the three steps forward to close the space between them. The three tomoe of a fully awakened sharingan, blazing with hatred, stared into Hashirama's own eyes. He tensed some, acutely aware of how Madara had raised his scythe slightly and the increase in chakra.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me you've never killed an Uchiha." His voice was quiet, but the edge of it hit Hashirama as hard as if Madara had physically attacked him. "We both know the blood of my clan is on your hands every bit as much as your clan's blood is on mine. We both know that's been true since before either of us even met."
"But Madara…" Hashirama felt a cold sensation clenching around his stomach from hearing those words, the truth behind them threatening to make him sick.
"Don't try to justify it. You can't deny the past just so you can cling to an idiotic childhood dream."
"Then you can't deny the past either, Madara! We both did what we had to do to protect the ones we loved. Things didn't have to end that way, you let that happen."
He wasn't usually one to get angry, but Madara had touched on something that was too dear to him. It only took a moment for the anger to fade though, and he looked back into the eyes of the man in front of him, eyes that had once belonged to his best friend.
"We can still change things, Madara," this time his voice was soft, a slight plea in the deep tones. "This isn't the same situation it was when we were children. You obviously hold a position of power in your clan, so that means that now, more than ever, we can change things. Our words will be heard this time, because we're not children anymore."
Before Madara even had the chance to respond the sound of angrily churning water filled the air. With reflexes that already outmatched even the most experienced of the Uchiha clansmen, Madara leapt into the air, throwing his fan up and making seals faster than Hashirama could distinguish. A blast of fire roared to life and met the wall of water, both disappearing into a steam that hissed as it dispersed.
Hashirama could sense his brother's chakra beside him and both looked ahead as the haze parted on either side of the Uchiha as he walked towards them, fan and scythe both back in hand.
"Heard or not, no one will listen. If you can't even convince your own brother, then how could you ever sway anyone else?"
"I don't need to be convinced of what kind of person you are. You can quit pretending to be superior, too. You've already admitted Hashirama is stronger than you." Tobirama's tone was flat, almost as if he thought the entire conversation was a waste of time.
The air around the trio grew heavy, small debris on the ground rattling slightly. The younger Senju looked to his sibling, who stared back at him.
"Enough, brother."
Hashirama's voice rang with power, chakra coiling around his words like ivy. His peripheral vision caught a flash of something in the Uchiha's eyes; a split second of unchecked excitement. Then as fast as it had appeared the weight lifted. He took a deep breath and softened his tone before speaking next.
"Enough."
"You don't need to do that. I was only speaking the truth."
"And what makes you think that the truth is unchanging?" Madara interjected. "Our reality is fluid, every moment undecided until it unravels around you." Tobirama narrowed his eyes, and Hashirama himself felt a slight unease about the potential meaning behind those words. "It's been many years since you and I sparred, Hashirama. A great deal has changed about us both in that time. There is only one way to find out what the reality of today is."
Hashirama closed his eyes for a moment with a saddened sigh. Madara had completely forgotten their dream, and it ripped away some part of him that had held on to hope that when they finally met again, they might be able achieve the things they had once longed for. The sensation of loss tugged at him, time conveniently slowing to allow the wound to fester and grow. When he opened his eyes again he caught a view of Madara's younger brother running towards them, both Tobirama and the older Uchiha dropping into attack stances.
Everything happened with such speed that only a sharingan user would have been able to say who moved first. A geyser erupted below Tobirama, propelling him as he leapt towards Izuna, both drawing their blades. Madara's movements were even faster, making him appear to nearly vanish as he moved behind Hashirama, his scythe held ready to deliver a fatal blow. Hashirama turned and unfurled a small scroll, summoning from it a large sturdy blade. Despite the reality of how quickly the four of them moved, Hashirama felt as if he were experiencing the world in slow motion, leaving ample time for the exuberant expression on the face of his childhood friend to painfully sear its way into his memory.
Those who still remained on the battle field had all stopped to watch the interaction between their leaders, waiting with vain hope that enough blood had soaked into the ground for one day. They received their answer as the sound of four blades clashing together shook the air like a violent clap of thunder.
Hope you all enjoyed! Please leave comments and feedback as it helps motivate me to write more!