The thing about using forbidden jutsu is that you could never be sure what it would demand of you, or what cost it would enact on you. One thing you can be certain of is that it would strip you of something most precious, the greatest thing of value, dear to your being. Myths, legends, and even written accounts were vague about it. That's why it became labeled as forbidden, for those who had used it, had lost something irreplaceable, never to be recovered.

Shinobi clans, in particular, had amassed their own repertoire of forbidden jutsus throughout the centuries they've existed. Very rarely do written accounts jot down more than the procedure or way to cast it, the handful that has were brimming with foreboding caution. Caution to not use the jutsu unless absolutely necessary, and even so, to recognise the damnation one would bring oneself with its power. For once cast, there would be no turning back.

The Uchiha clan was no exception. Their forbidden jutsus were centered around the cost of their eyes. Every single recorded account ultimately summarizes a caster's loss of life or their sight. Though for a clan as proud of their dojutsu as the Uchiha were, losing their life was far more preferable than losing their sight, both scenarios being tantamount to death.

It was those accounts that Uchiha Madara banked on as she gambled her life away, in one final act against Senju Hashirama. She would die in this battle and in the process, take with her the inky malevolence that had rooted its rot deep inside of her. It had once introduced itself as Zetsu, an outcast seeking peace, and whispered sweet promises to her. To bring about peace and order to this wretched world. To stop the never-ending wars, to stop the senseless violence and bloodshed drowning its lands. Madara, weary of even life itself in this hell… had believed it.

So here she was, an accursed seal marring her chest, with the burden of her regrets threatening to crush what was left of her heart. She should have trusted Hashirama more. Peace was not something that could have been achieved in a few short years, let alone mere months. No, it would have to have been toiled upon till the end of their days, driven by no more than the hope that the seeds of peace sown would be brought to bloom by their descendants. It was the next generation, and the next after that that would continue the fight, and someday… someday their grandchildren would have created their time-worn dream a reality.

She would sacrifice, one more time, for their dream. She knows Hashirama would continue the fight, even without her, as he had been doing for the past couple of years. She would die, by Hashirama's hand, on her terms and nobody else's.

Though content to die, there was a treacherous part of her heart that still desired to live, to have but one last moment to apologize to the person who had become most dear to her heart. To have another chance to pursue their dream, together, to open herself bare to the man who had been her bulwark, who had shaped her for what she is right now.

So, Madara fought, heart pounding in her chest. She fought and maneuvered and baited Hashirama until such a time when she could strike down Zetsu. On and on it went, a desperate dance of blades for dominance. They were reaching their limits, Hashirama and her. She had crossed blades with him for the better part of her life and she knew, she could see the signs, could feel the signs. It would only be a matter of time before both of them would be spent, and she needed to end this now.

In a sudden moment, however, the opening that she had been waiting for finally presented itself as exhaustion threatened to drag her under. The moment Hashirama struck her from behind was the moment Zetsu emerged from where it had been hiding. It was also the moment Madara had seized the vile abomination with clutching hands. The Mangekyo Sharingan was active, even as her life force burnt to embers. All it took was a simple thought to cast Amaterasu. The burning black flames consuming the world around them, cleansing it from Zetsu's corrupted taint.

The inhuman shriek rang throughout the valley, music to her relieved ears, unburdening the breath that had caught in her throat, a quiet yet broken, "Finally," slipping past her lips.


"What was that?" Hashirama had never heard something like it in his life, a never-ending bestial shriek echoing for what seemed like an eternity.

"Finally," Madara's faint voice whispered out.

Hashirama took a step forward to steady Madara, "Did you do that?"

Madara turned and looked at him, exhaustion darkening her eyes with a relieved smile pulling at her lips, blood leaking past them. "It's over, Hashirama," her cracked voice breathed out.

"What do you mean?" Hashirama had never been this confused in his life.

"It would never … have the chance … to … touch you," Madara choked out as even more blood bubbled from her mouth. Hashirama couldn't help but reach out and tried to conjure a burst of healing chakra from his palm.

"Don't," Madara clasped the hand that was over her heart. "It's… too late to heal me. Conserve… conserve your energy."

Madara was right, despite his overwhelming desire to undo her wounds, Hashirama could feel the emptiness of his spent chakra protest against his will. If he wanted to return home alive he needed to conserve it, but with the way Madara was talking… "Did you intend for this to happen?"

"I'm sorry, Hashirama."

"You…" Hashirama tightened his grip, his mind unwilling to accept her sheer recklessness as it all finally dawned on him. "You wanted me to kill you."

"It was… the only… way," Madara was fading fast, but she needed to tell Hashirama. "It was controlling… me. I had to… to find a way… for it to die. It was not human, Hashi… Hashirama. I have discovered that… that Zetsu had been behind our… our clans' continuous conflict throughout the centuries."

Madara suddenly retched painfully, splatters of blood splattering the ground before her, Hashirama had tried to turn her aside with growing despair as blood continued to pour from her orifices. He carefully lowered them both to the ground, trying his best to steady the still embedded sword to avoid further harming Madara.

"Hashirama, listen to me." Madara implored, desperately. "The moment you come back to the village, you have to destroy the Uchiha tablet. You're still keyed to the seals, I have not revoked your access. It is imperative as Zetsu… Zetsu had tampered with it. The next generation of Uchiha… does not need to be manipulated by… by that. It needs to be destroyed… as the last remnant of Zetsu."

Hashirama couldn't process what Madara was telling him. His mind swirling with helplessness, urging him to heal Madara enough so they could get help. He couldn't-

"It's… okay," Madara smiled forgivingly, gently clasping his outstretched hands with soft affection. "I'll die by your hands… the only one worthy of my life."

-he couldn't lose her.

"No," he blubbered furiously, hot tears streaming down his face as he bent over her. "Not yet, Madara. Please… I can't do this without you."

Hashirama wanted to do something, anything, but his body was frozen with shock as he carefully cradled the fading body of Madara.

"...I love you."

Uchiha Madara closed her eyes to the sight that she had always wanted to be her last. That of Senju Hashirama.


In the end, no matter how prepared she was to die, the small part of Madara that wanted to live won, yearning for a second chance. A new beginning where she could stand and stay by Hashirama's side as they both paved the way for their dream; and so, unwittingly, Izanagi was activated as Uchiha Madara took her last breath.