Chapter 3
Demon

The leaves of the greening trees above swirled as the hidden shinobi bounded upon the forest floor shrouded in shadows. One after another, the Senju's silent footsteps tapped against the fell trees covered in moss. The air was cool and lifeless as they neared the edge of the great forest that covered the lands claimed by their daimyo in the south. Away from conflict and the horrors of war, the daimyo of their land lived comfortably in his great palace with servants, concubines, and his council. The only worries that plagued the daimyo were his fear of consuming poisoned food and how long it would take him to stroll the palace gardens. The fears that plagued the common-folk were if they would still be alive when they wake – and these fears were shared by all who lived in their gracious lord's lands beyond the palace surrounded by high walls of carved stone. If the daimyo had heeded their request, they would have had an army of one thousand strong – twice the size of the ruthless Uchiha Madara's army of five-hundred that awaited them just ahead of their dense and lush forest.

Serving the rival lord at the northern tip of the region where the plains began with their tall grasses and weaving rivers, the Uchiha pledged their servitude to the young daimyo – a boy who assumed the title shortly after his father passed from a fever that claimed many lives during the winter months that recently passed. Barely thirteen years, the young lord retained an unquenchable thirst for power and the Uchiha stood behind the strong, and only the strong. Sensing strength with their eyes of blood, they flocked behind the banners of any daimyo who possessed a similar thirst for power – and adequate coin. As with the curse of hatred, it was spoken in hushed tones amongst the other clans that the Uchiha were also a victim of the curse of power.

That was something Hashirama regretfully believed to be true.

As the six Senju men dashed upon the forest floor in silence towards their destination, the scattered light of day gleamed upon their armor, reflecting off each crack, each groove, and each crest that decorated the plating on their chest and shoulders. Out of all of them, Tohei's armor was the most immaculate. He was barely eighteen years of age, and thus was limited only to guard duty back in the settlement. Unlike his friend Jun, Tohei was fortunate enough to not see combat firsthand – only the injured and the dead that he encountered while on duty. While he followed close behind the backs of his superiors, he narrowed his dark green eyes upon the forest thicket that lay ahead. Although still considered a boy, he was the only man remaining of his family line as a fever claimed the lives of both his mother and father – and his little sister of only seven years. A proud Senju, he aspired to be a great swordsman and become as skilled in his ninjutsu as Tobirama – who he idolized since he was a child. Both he and Jun shared that together. Revenge festering inside his heart, he bounded behind his superiors as the hilt of his sword reminded him of the blade upon his back. The next time he would unsheathe the blade, it would be against an Uchiha – he thought to himself.

Suddenly, Hashirama came to a pause upon the forest floor, his stance crouched and prepared for what awaited him a distance away. The others soon halted behind him, confused as to why their chieftain stopped so abruptly. His dark eyes widened, he turned towards the direction of the chakra he sensed. As Tobirama was about to open his mouth to speak, he suddenly sensed the presence on the winds. Looking in the same direction, he gnashed his teeth in shock at the feel of the monstrous and burgeoning chakra that lumbered amongst the forest only a distance away. Hashirama knew what it was – he could tell as the air grew dense and heavy around them from its presence. The other Senju who stood with them clad in armor sensed the chakra as well – the presence all too familiar and reminiscent of a nightmare. Bewildered, Tohei stepped forward to the brothers. Unlike his superiors, he lacked the sensory capabilities to understand what was happening.

"What is it?" He asked. "Why did we stop? Is -,"

"Quiet, Tohei…!" Tobirama silenced.

Leaning against a tree, he narrowed his red eyes towards the chakra he detected in the distance. As the air fell dead within his senses, he jolted for a moment – his eyes widening. Whipping his head towards his elder brother who listened carefully as he knelt by a tree trunk, he gave him a glance mired in urgency.

"Brother -!"

"All of you," Hashirama spoke in a whisper, not taking his gaze away from the direction of the massive chakra that lurked close by. "Stay down and stay still… Do not make a sound…"

Heeding his command, the armored Senju crouched in their places at the foot of the trees, concealed by the shadows that coated the forest floor like a shroud. As Tohei sat amongst his armed clansmen, he noticed their controlled expressions while fear painted their eyes that were locked upon the green earth below. Hashirama and Tobirama sat crouched beside each other, both of them looking towards the direction of the chakra that ripped fear through the hearts of their comrades. Curious, Tohei still did not understand. Then, he felt a sudden rumble erupt from the earth beneath his feet.

Turning towards the east, the rumble disappeared as if a figment of his imagination. Once again, the rumble returned, lingering longer than the last. It felt as if a silent earthquake was stirring beneath him – only the earth stayed still. Startling him, the tree leaves above shivered with each rumble as it approached closer. A cold wind blew past, and then – he suddenly felt the presence enter his senses. Instantly, he froze where he sat crouched amongst his clansmen – a faint quiver shocking through him as he tried his best to contain his bewilderment. Bringing himself to glance towards the forest canopy, his dark green eyes widened greatly at the sight. Towering over the forest with its gargantuan size, the tailed-beast whipped each of its nine tails as it strode across the land in search of prey.

The nine-tailed demon fox, the tailed-beast of legend – it was real.

Stunned, Tohei suddenly felt as if he were turned to stone from the mere sight of it. The chakra of the beast was inconceivable – as if infinite. No man dared to venture close to the creature unless fear of certain death was not a concern. Since ancient times too long ago to remember, the nine-tailed fox made its home in the forest of the lands to the east. Seeing it in such a way was a rare sight, an envy of scholars both near and far. Tales of tailed-beasts were common in the lands of shinobi, each one with a different twist than the other. In the case of the nine-tails, it was said the beast could destroy mountains with a single slash of its tails, cause tsunamis in its wake, and would appear in times where mankind would be consumed with hatred. All in all, the nine-tails was something to be both marveled and feared. Though the winds were calm, the air felt thick with its strength as it approached. The size of the creature from below appeared as though its tails were touching the heavens. With each step of its massive clawed paws, the earth gave a slight quake underneath its path. The creature's fur was a deep orange while its vulpine eyes were a striking red. Gazing over the horizon, the nine-tails continued on its way across the forest – ignoring the presence of the humans below.

Was it mercy, or was it mere luck?

The Senju went with the latter.

Once the beast was gone towards the far reaches of the sprawling woodland, Tohei remained frozen in fear of its chakra. His hand was still shaking upon the tree close to him, his eyes wide with bewilderment. Jolting him, he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder. Whipping his head towards them, he met the calm expression of his chieftain. Unfazed by the beast, he gave a light smile towards his underling.

"It's alright, Tohei," Hashirama spoke. "It's no threat to us now." Glancing towards the thicket where the beast once strode, he felt a calm breeze pass by. "The nine-tails may be a dangerous creature, but if unprovoked – it's harmless. It protects this forest, as we do as the mighty Senju."

"Brother," Tobirama scoffed, walking towards them. "Don't tell him such talk. The nine-tails is a bad omen to all. It appears before war and bloodshed. It's blind with hatred and rage… just like the Uchiha."

Standing, Hashirama gave his brother a concerned look from his dark eyes. "That may be in legends, but in our world, the nine-tails is merely a tailed-beast. Nothing more." He began. "Are you forgetting the tale of its creation, or should I remind you?"

"Why must you waste our time telling us folktales?" Tobirama sighed, dismayed. "Tales are for children -,"

"It was said that the Sage of the Six Paths created the nine-tails, along with the other tailed-beasts." Hashirama said. "There are eight others in this world, each in their own unique appearance and form. The nine-tails resembles the kitsune of legend and it's the guardian of this forest." Gesturing towards the thicket, he gave a light smile. "It was said that there was a temple constructed in the heart of the forest in honor of the nine-tails. It was built a thousand of years ago, but no one has been able to find it."

"That's… amazing," Tohei gasped. "Why has no one been able to find it?"

"Supposedly it's hidden deep within the lands away from human settlement and is concealed by a powerful jutsu of some sort. It's where the nine-tails goes to rest after it appears. It's said that the beast wakes for five years and sleeps for ten… but anyone who approaches too close loses their memory, or gets eaten -,"

"Brother," Tobirama groaned. "We have more important matters to attend to. Don't get so distracted by a mere mass of walking-chakra."

Irked by his sharp tongue, Hashirama jolted for a moment. Noticing his brother's narrowed glare towards him, he let out an embarrassed sigh, averting his eyes from his of piercing red. It was certainly not the first time he was caught in a ramble, but he had to agree – the times were indeed dire.

"You're right… I'm sorry…"

Witnessing the brotherly spat, Tohei could feel the second-hand embarrassment creep through him. Although he had great respect and honor for his chieftain, he did find it underwhelming to have such a powerful leader be so easily talked down to by his own flesh and blood. Hashirama of the Senju – mocked as Hashirama the Spineless by his adversaries. Feeling guilty, Tohei wondering if they were right, after all.

"Hashirama-sama," He started, standing up. "Where do we go next? The beast travelled due east, towards the Silver Sea."

"Right," Hashirama replied, snapping out of his gaze. In an instant, his stern-eyed expression of a natural-born leader returned as he glanced at his envoy of armored Senju shinobi. "The Uchiha are not much farther. This will be a difficult task, so everyone must act cautiously and listen to my commands. We must do all we can to avoid any further conflict… no matter how high the stakes. Remember why we are doing this – we've lost too many for the conflicts of our daimyo. We are doing this to change the ways of the land."

Turning towards the north, he narrowed his eyes on the shadowy canopy ahead. They were within an hour's journey of the Uchiha – and Hashirama could feel their chakra on the winds as they blew past. Once more, the winds became cold, swaying the leaves of green above, their rustling sounding as if the fluttering of flutes. A sorrowful tune, he thought – he could sense the dirge that lay ahead. Glancing back towards his men, he gave a subtle nod as he readied himself for departure.

"We must make haste!"

"Yes, sir!"

Bounding across the forest floor, the Senju once more resumed their path towards the settlement of the red-eyed shinobi who claimed the lands north of the forest and all that inhabited it. With his eyes glaring ahead, Tohei dashed alongside Tobirama with his heart full of pain and hatred. Noticing his expression, Tobirama could feel what his dark green eyes conveyed. They had similar eyes, he thought – eyes that sought to see their enemies fall for the sins they have committed – and for the lives they wrongful stole.

The scattered sunlight of noon soon disappeared with the appearance of dark clouds…

As he stood with his gunbai at his side, he dusted off the dirt from the plated armor that covered his broad shoulders. Madara was no stranger to inciting conflict, but he insisted that the Sarutobi were bent to betray them. It was better to finish them off when they could, he thought – before they approached the other clans that wandered the war-torn lands of the sprawling forest. Hundreds of armed Sarutobi clansmen lay bloodied in their garbs and crests, not a single man alive left to tell the tale. Although they put up a good fight, the battle was easily called from the start by the appearance of Madara and his small team of elite Uchiha warriors – one of them being his brother Izuna, his own flesh and blood. Living in a hidden settlement to the west of the forested lands, the Sarutobi still clung to existence in the shinobi world. In their faint attempt to compromise with the Uchiha who claimed the barren lands of iron as their own, they lost nearly all their able-bodied shinobi to the infamous blood-eyed brothers. The last thing many of those monkey-worshipping warriors saw before their deaths was the gleam of their Sharingan before the life was snuffed out of them by their encroaching flames.

"Brother," Izuna spoke, placing his katana into its sheath. "Perhaps this was unnecessary?"

"Nonsense," Madara mused, eyeing the field of death that lay before them. "They were adamant on betrayal. What more could have been done?"

Glancing towards the armored back of his elder brother, Izuna saw the path of destruction that lay in their wake. Dotted around them in the field of ash were the charred and burnt bodies of their adversaries, some of them with their final screams etched permanently onto their grey-laden faces. Their corpses unsettled him greatly. Although no stranger to combat himself, he considered the act before him a mere massacre. Since the advent of his elder brother becoming chieftain after the death of their father Tajima, Izuna had sensed an unraveling within Madara. He grew colder, ruthless, and unreachable. Even the gleam of his powerful Sharingan proved more menacing, striking enough fear into Izuna to prevent him from coming close to his once-loving elder brother.

Taking after their late-mother's kindness, the elders of the clan had wished Izuna had been fortunate enough to have been born before Madara. That, however, was not the case – and so the clan was forced to take on the manic and unstable Madara for their leader. Out of five sons to carry on Tajima's name, only Madara and Izuna survived long enough to see the fruits and labors of adulthood. Wearing the proud fan-shaped crests of the Uchiha onto their backs, their three older brothers were lost amongst the thousands of casualties that claimed the lives of shinobi. Izuna thought of their names every day, while Madara merely thought of the clans that claimed them.

"Madara-sama,"

Turning towards their comrades, Izuna saw their armored clansmen approach from the other corners of the battlefield. One of them was carrying a scroll and had a scowl marked in urgency forged upon his brow. This narrowed eyes of the Sharingan conveyed what Izuna hope he would not speak – but it was futile.

"Word has reached our clan that the Senju are sending an envoy to our settlement to discuss matters of a truce," The armored Uchiha spoke. "What say you?"

"We have an army of five hundred waiting at the settlement," Another entered. "Should we send word?"

"No," Madara spoke, surprising them. "That won't be necessary…"

Keeping in his stance overlooking the ash-filled lands, Madara sneered with excitement. He knew exactly who was approaching them, and he intended to send his regards in person. Grasping his arm tighter as he crossed his arms against his chest, the name of his long-lost friend of childhood rang through his mind.

Hashirama of the Senju.

Meeting in numerous conflicts since their first encounter as mere children, he fantasized about the day where he would finally have his due rematch – from the day his father was slain by Butsuma upon the forked river that separated their enemy territories. All that remained of his family was Izuna, his caring brother who fought viciously on the battlefield but yearned for a peace that went ridiculed by his brother and unheard by his clansmen. Hearing rumors against the winds of the inconceivable strength that flowed through Hashirama's gentle veins, Madara wanted nothing more than to burn every ounce of his wood-release back into the very earth from which it came. He relished in the thought of scorching every Senju – be it a man, woman, or child. As much as the name Senju excited his stirring blood, Madara would never admit the slight fear that tinged through him at the notion of someone other than himself being stronger.

Fighting Hashirama would prove it, he thought – it had to.

"Send forth a message to our elders," Madara said. "Tell them to summon one hundred of our men. The Senju will meet with us here… away from our settlement."

"Yes, sir!"

As he felt the winds sway against his blood-soaked armor, Madara cracked a snide grin upon his face. His Mangekyo activated, he looked towards the skies with a longing for the taste of iron on his lips once again. Standing still in the winds, Izuna knew the dreaded feeling all too well. The feel of his elder brother's chakra chilled him, reminding him that it were to be no use to talk him out of it.

The Senju were due to arrive shortly…