.
.
After the battle at the Valley of the End, they went to retrieve Madara's body. Shinobi from both clans descended onto the valley, awestruck at the devastation. Broken bits of earth, forests razed, the Valley of the End was a charcoal waste.
It took some time before they found her, standing alone on the cliffside and looking out into the dark of the horizon.
"Sister," Tobirama said, and she turned slowly. "Sister, what happened? Tell me."
She looked up at him. Solitary figure, cloak still in tatters, she stood against the blood red teardrop of sun that was inching its way into the shadows; everywhere else, the sky was black and thunderous, gusts of wind whipping her hair like war-torn flags.
"I won," she said, and quietly she began to cry.
xXx
.
The meeting takes longer than she expects, and Hashi drums her fingers impatiently on the tabletop, only half listening. As soon as it's adjourned, she jumps up from her seat, throwing her purse-strap cross-ways around her chest and rushing out the door.
Madara had completed a grueling night mission, but the meeting was called suddenly, no one was available to watch the kids. Hashi rushes home, mindful that Madara had barely any chakra left when he returned, there was no way he would be able to sequester the babies in his Susanoo like he'd normally do. "Anata?" She opens the door, slipping off her shoes. "Anata, I came as quick as I could-
"What?!" she says, because Madara is lying face down on the tatami mat, the toddler eating his hair and the baby crawling on top of his back. "Are you okay?!"
"I am resting," Madara says, with all the arrogance and gravitas of a shinobi whose power knows no bounds, not a sleep-deprived father whose children are crawling on top of him.
"Where's the girl?" Hashi says, and she watches Madara muster up enough energy to flop his arm over to point. Their daughter is playing outside with his battle fan, whirling it around and throwing powerful gusts of wind against the house.
"I'm so sorry," she says, and she pulls the baby off, sets him on the floor, then tries the delicate task of extricating their toddler from Madara's back. "No no no, Daddy horse!" the toddler says, and Hashi starts to understand what the hell had happened.
The house is a mess. Everything single toy, every single baby-sized weapon, is lying on the ground. The floor is sticky with crumbs and dried juice spills, and the couch is turned upside down.
Outside, she hears the neighbors screaming. Hashi marches over and flings open the sliding door.
"Stop using your Daddy's gunbai as a mace! You're scaring the neighbors!" Hashi says. Her daughter chirps, "Okay, Mommy!" Hashi slides the door closed again. She kneels next to Madara.
"I'm going to transfer some of my chakra to you," she says, and she sets her hands on his back.
"Can we not beat the children?" his voice is muffled. "Can we not lock them into cages like the old days?"
"You don't mean that," Hashi says, and it's only then that she notices the tiny little braids in his hair, courtesy of their daughter, before she got bored and started messing with their weapons. Hashi stifles a laugh.
"Oh no, you look terrible," Hashi says. Madara glares.