Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she was insane. Maybe she was gone. Maybe she was dead. But none of that never stopped him from ever remembering their shared past. He loved the way how she could take on any hit and brushing it off like it was nothing. He loved the way her white hair complimented her pale green eyes and weird red makeup. But... years later, she was still the same. Same power-house, same white hair, same green eyes, same weird red makeup. To him, nothing has changed, they were still the same children playing at the river, the same children fighting over what to practice, same children who... who... focused too much into the past.

They were older now. She was older now.

Hashirama sighed, pressing a hand on the bridge of his nose. Only if things had been different, then she wouldn't have left, Madara wouldn't have hated him, Izuna wouldn't have died... but if none of those things happened, then would there not be a village? The thing that he, Madara, and Tsukiko desired once upon a time? The thing they spent weeks planning and smiling and dreaming about?

"So," a low voice rasped, snapping Hashirama out of his thoughts, "are we just gonna stare at each other, or are we goin' to talk about why I attacked your 'shinobi'."

He realized the position she was in. Sprawled out with branches he created holding her wrists and ankles together, with her white hair occasionally flying in the warm breezes as they passed through the just born village, and shinobi ready to fight again. He then realized another thing, she was older. Her voice was lower. She was taller, more feminine, more brutal...

More beautiful.

"Hashi-baka, you gonna talk?"

His cheeks tinted pink as he glanced away, "O-Oh, yeah, I-I'll just get Madara, then we can... talk."

Tsukiko laughed, her voice cracking and rasping and her body shook with laughter. "No, no, no," she cried out, "talk now, Mada-baka later, been waiting-waiting for weeks."

Her chakra flailed out, scaring him by the sudden mass and harsh feeling of her raw chakra being forced out. The scare caused him to spiked his own chakra, to which she forced her own chakra back down, muting it.

He realized his mistake a little too late. What was she planning? An a-attack? Did she plan on harming their dream? Or was she planning on getting Madara there? He knew that Madara remembered Tsukiko's chakra signature, but did she know? Or was it all a fluke and her emotions got the better of her and she let it out?

Madara's chakra signature spiked for barely a second, and within a moment he joined the shinobi. His hair was long like Hashirama's, and his style still matched his from all of those years ago.

Tsukiko was howling and trashing in Hashirama's wooden cage, her mint green eyes sparkling with amusement.

"How ya' doin'?" she rasped out, her hysteric laughter having calmed down a few seconds before, "it seems you two have been creatin' a theme without me."

Madara looked at the girl who was trapped in his friends wooden techniques, and he stood like he was a statue. Before him was the one who left, the one who helped in the activation of his sharingan, the one whose chakra pools made his look like a puddle.

"Glad to see me?" She inquired, smirking gleefully, "I know I am, after all I can only be me when all of the pieces are together to make one. Been awhile, hmm?"

His stare hardened, and his eyebrows furrowed. Was this the same girl he knew? Did she really change that much over four years? She looked the same; white hair, pale green eyes, pale complexion, same nose, lazy eye shape, same rounded face, same feminine, deep voice. She was just different in a... different way. She seemed to be more mocking, aggressive, a little less happy, more tired.

She nastily grinned at him, barring her crooked and pointed teeth at them, "Gonna let me go?" she inquired in a voice akin to a snarl, harshly trashing in the wooden trap, her skin tearing and bleeding at its abuse.

Hashirama rushed to let the girl down, while Madara's stance tenses. Tsukiko took notice of it, and smirked ruefully.

"Ah," she mused, "seen how I've changed?"

Madara clenched his hands, face tight with swirling emotions.

Tsukiko's green eyes softened, and she sighed. Lifting herself up from the ground, she ignored her ruffled yukata and stared at Madara. "I've changed. You've changed. We all've changed. It's apart of being a shinobi."

Madara didn't relax, but he did look like he wanted to say something. Tsukiko's limited knowledge on human contact and emotions didn't help her the least, and Tsukiko stiffened herself, prepared for a fight.

Hashirama must have seen the tension between the two, "L-Look, lets-lets-why don't we, like, get to know each other again? It would be like the old days!" he exclaimed, smiling happily, hope in his eyes.

Tsukiko snorted, "Like that'd help." she grunted, harshly, but continued more casually, "Been doin' things - nasty things - and seriously need shower, like, now."

She was different, Madara noted gruffly, taking in her appearance and speech patterns. She still had the annoying white hair, pale green eyes, and weird red makeup. But... she was more violent and... independent, her social skills seemed to have deteriorate, and so had her speech, considering that fact that she casually asked for a bath and didn't even bothering adding an 'I', or anything that shows that she was talking about herself.

She bounded happily behind him, as he escorted her to the Hokage's office. She kept on getting weird stares from the villagers, but she ignored them and kept on trailing behind him without a care. With a second long glance behind him, he saw that she was dirty and bloody, and looked like she actually needed a long bath. There were brown and red marks and dots in her hair and face and clothes, which were shredded in their own right. Half a sleeve missing, the bottom was tattered and torn, and her pale grey obi seemed like it has never seen a good day in years.

Why did she even choose white? White was an obvious color, especially in the woods or dark areas. It was a pretty obvious question if he actually thought about it; she didn't have much resources, and had to make due with what ever she could get a hold of, and she could produce bones from her body, he was pretty sure that made her significantly stronger than Hashirama and himself in a spar. And considering the condition of the shinobi and land around them after her fight, he was sure she had more hidden in her sleeves... well, sleeve.

"So," Tsukiko started, her voice low and raspy, "what have I missed since I left? Any deaths I should be aware of, rumors, anything?"

Madara glanced at her again, and huffed, "Before Hashirama and I built this village, there were rumors going on about a white haired woman who is wanted by over fifty villages, for murdering some important merchants or something along those lines."

She hummed, nodding her head, her long white hair trailing behind her, leaving marks on the ground, "I think I know what you are talking about," she said softly, "it's kinda sad how important merchants are willing to knock a girl out for some unknown reason."

Madara glanced ahead of him, opening the door of the tower for her to enter. She entered the building, inspecting every corner of the room, which didn't surprise him, considering her status in the shinobi world. They walked through halls and staircases, and finally entered the Hokage's office, where Hashirama was sorting through some papers and tiding up his desk.

Hashirama noticed them entered, and smiled, "So, how was you walk?"

Tsukiko stared at him, her lips quirked up, a good sign, "If you wanted to know if I were a threat, you should have better people for it." She got two shocked looks, and she giggled freely, "I'm feeling out of character today, so you should be glad that I didn't actually hurt someone."

The two men didn't say anything, questioning the woman's mental health to think that she did not harm their shinobi in her brawl. Hashirama cleared his throat, rubbing his cheek, "Well," he started cheerfully, grinning, "let get to know each other!"

They talked about what happened after Tsukiko left, and they felt that they should have rethought of the circumstances that Tsukiko might have to face if she ever wanted to be a Konohagakure shinobi. She was crazy, and they both realized this, albeit a little bit late. She told them her life, but there wasn't much about it; just killing and surviving, she even added some details about what it was like for her to try to filter muddy water, or how she dealt with shinobi with kekki genkai's. After she went, they told her their lives, how they became clan leaders, how they've lost their loved ones, how their built Konoha, how they succeeded in life.

"Ah," she sighed, "it seems that I'm a wild rat compared to two pampered cats." She mused, slightly smiling at her imagination. With an un-ladylike snort, she closed her eyes, smirking, "I think I'm gonna go now, I need to find a tree that'll hold me for a night."

"What do you mean by that?" Hashirama asked quickly, scooting closer to her, trying to get a better look at her face. "We could find an extra room for you to stay in until you can find yourself you own apartment."

Madara glanced at the both of them, ignoring Tsukiko's slight huff of annoyance. "Well," she growled out, feeling the vibrations in her chest, "I could care less, as long as I don't get attacked by some asses who think they can take me on, I'll be fine."

Hashirama scooted even closer, his seiza position never leaving it's proper form, and swung his arm around Tsukiko, oblivious to the girl's tense position, "You can stay at my clan's compound!" He exclaimed excitedly, "There're a lot of rooms, and I think the clan won't mind an old friend staying for a night or two."

The woman shuffled nervously, memories crashing back into her mind like a tidal wave. "You don't have too," she said quietly, trying to scoot away from the brunette, "I'm fine sleeping outside."

"Nonsense!" Hashirama grinned, and positioned himself so he was facing her, his hand still on her shoulder; and the other one to be placed on the other shoulder, but she shrieked and bit the arm causing him to fall back and scrabble away from her, holding his wrist. Tsukiko had jumped onto her feet, baring her teeth at him, which held a piece of his clothing, while Madara stood up too, with a kunai in his grip.

She growled at the both of them, her hands clutched into fists.

I really, really, really hate this chapter; almost like how I hate my life. School sucks, life sucks, and writing sucks. Sorry for the lack of updates, but that should be fixed soon.