This fanfiction was inspired by a Naruto fan artwork featured in Deviant Art : art/To-Eternal-Love-and-Peace-165304555
I didn't draw it, but it's an amazing picture and you should definently check it out.
There it was.
His life goal, shinobi paradise. The calm little village, hidden between the vast forest.
What a lovely view, if not for the giant statue of his best-friend-turned nemesis.
And they accused him of being self-centered.
He leaned back, making himself comfortable. The sun was shinning bright in the sky and there was a sense of calm and peace in the air. Reminded him of the days when he had met Hashirama for the first time and how rare and strange those days used to feel, the silence and beauty between bloody battles and violent suffering.
That's the whole reason the village was created in the first place, no? To make sure those days stayed as the general rule and not the exception.
What a fool he had been. Sharing his view with another, believe him to be his ally. Of course they couldn't be allies, what had he been thinking? There were generations of war separating them. Perhaps in a few decades the Senju and Uchiha could be allies, once the hostility had ceassed completly.
Assuming, of course, Konoha would last until then.
The division between the two leaders – oh, excuse, between the chosen leader and the idiot that had sacrificed most of his life just to be outcasted – was a threat to the stability Hashirama wanted to bring upon their people.
Were them their people? Or just Hashirama's people?
When Madara first met Hashirama, the kid was an idiot. A lame, bipolar idiot. Sure, he had some vision, but he would never have guessed that dope looking boy would become the leader of the first and most importante shinobi nation.
Really, forgetting the fact he was also a bloody traitor and an overall despicable person, it was quite a story. You had to admire the skillfull shinobi, worthy of respect and devotion, that kid had become.
For years, their lives gravitated around eachother. Since that legendary meeting at the riverbend, once could not fully exist without the other. If the acknowledgement wasn't mutual, it didn't matter how many other ninjas bowed at their feet. There was one and only one person who could proudly stand as Madara's rival and that was Hashirama.
'How sad he won't live past tomorrow' Madara mused, thinking of the battle approaching. The final battle, the one who would even the score once and for all.
He picked up a bottle of sake and poured it. Then, he lifted his cup towards the mighty statue of Hashirama.
'To your death. In the end, it was all worth it.'