Chapter 1:

Valley of The End

Madara froze, stunned by the sudden coldness in his chest that spread like ice in his veins, weakly grasping at the blade that had run through his heart. So he still had enough Chakra for a wood clone…damned monster. "You have changed…you've got your priorities backwards." Madara gasped out, falling to his knees. "It will someday lead the village to darkness."

Hashirama did not say another word. His face impassive, he held his sword until he felt the weight of Madara's limp torso resting fully upon it. He relaxed his grip on the hilt, sorrow carved into his features as he watched Madara's corpse collapse to his side.

The Uchiha's hands were still futilely clasped around the blade in his chest. His eyes, now absent the glowing red irises of his Mangekyou Sharingan, stared blankly into space, wide open in defiance until the end. Hashirama did not retrieve his blade. No, that sword had too many memories attached to it. The blood and dreams of too many victims of this war clung to it like a miasma.

Hashirama turned and slowly staggered back toward the village. His sword that had seen too much death and destruction would have its last resting place, buried in the heart of his best friend. Such a weapon had no place in the upcoming era of peace that he envisioned. He looked up and around him. All the fire and burning wood from their clash had torn an ugly scar into the land. Thunderclaps and lightning accompanied his trek back to the village.

His eyes stung, blurring as he refused to cry. He had to keep moving forward. The path to peace and prosperity could not begin with tears and mourning. He would celebrate Madara's life, not mourn his death. With that thought, a genuine smile tugged at the corners of Hashirama's lips. Madara's sacrifice has finally made their shared dream a true possibility. This was the beginning of a new shinobi Era.

Madara woke in a haze. He made to get up but realized he was already standing, his two feet not at all sinking into the wet mud beneath them. Strange. He thought, flexing his fingers and noticing how light and numb his body seemed to feel. And then it hit him. Hashirama! The bastard! He scanned his immediate surroundings and did not take long to notice a very familiar red armor half-buried in the mud. No. Not armor. A body. My body…So I activated Izanagi in time, after all. I don't remember activating the jutsu.

His eyes fell on Hashirama's sword embedded in the back of his armor. As he made to reach for it two things happened simultaneously that caused a sinking feeling to form in Madara's stomach. His hand passed through the hilt of Hashirama's sword, and as he stepped forward to rebalance himself, he heard a sound of clinking chains coming from his own chest. He looked down, and sure enough, a short length of metal chain hung from his chest, seemingly bolted in place with a hexagonal plate.

My death should be re-written. My corpse should have dissipated when Izanagi was activated. What is going on here? Madara reached for the hilt again, and once more his hand passed through. He suspected the truth now, but he didn't want to believe it. He reached for the chain attached to his hand and tugged at it. A jolt of pain wracked his body and he grunted in pain. No… He thought. He yanked at it again more forcefully, bracing for the pain, except this time the pain was infinitely more visceral. It was unlike any pain he had felt before - like it was searing his soul more deeply than even Hashirama's blade had pierced.

"No!" He roared. "I used Izanagi! I planned for this. I cannot be dead!" He closed his left eye and looked around. His vision was clear. He closed his right. Still clear. The Izanagi required the sacrifice of a sharingan eye. If he could see clearly, then…Madara channeled his chakra and activated his sharingan, and at that instant he knew beyond any shadow of doubt that he had, in fact, died. He felt no chakra points flare. He felt no change in his vision, and that was only confirmed when, bending down to look at his reflection on the side of Hashirama's sword, his pupils remained white, with black irises quivering in anger. Indignation welled up from within him, and at that instant, the chain on his chest sprouted teeth and started consuming itself. The same searing pain overcame him and though he fought to stay lucid, Madara felt his consciousness slip away, the last thing he noticed being the echoing of his own screams reverberating off the valley cliffs around him.

Elsewhere, Takomi, an 11th seat shinigami from the 10th division was patrolling the elemental nations when he sensed the unmistakable pressure of a hollow's reiatsu. It felt incredibly unstable - likely a newborn - but strong enough to warrant taking it seriously. Hollows were quite common in the last few decades here in the elemental nations. The constant war left many dead with lingering regret and attachments. Takomi was one of the shinigami in charge of patrolling and performing konso on pluses and purifying hollows in the Land of Fire. He cautiously scoped out the hollow's reiatsu, and after reassuring himself that it was nothing his shikai couldn't take care of, took off with a shunpo toward the source.

Madara opened his eyes again. This time his body felt much more substantial. His thoughts were consumed by ravenous hunger. He felt cold, wet mud on his skin, and noticed he was on the ground this time. As he moved to push himself up, a muscular, clawed limb entered into view. He quickly jumped back to put some distance between himself and this new entity, and fell over as he felt a strange weight behind him as well as a sharp pain somewhere that he thought shouldn't belong to his body. He looked behind and a thick, pasty white tail was crumpled beneath him.

Remembering the limb from before, he looked to where he jumped away from. His corpse with Hashirama's sword jutting from the back was still there, but nothing else. And then he noticed his hands. The claws were his. He had a tail, and the chain at his chest was gone.

"What is going on here?" He spoke to himself, starting as he heard a stranger's voice coming from his throat. It was a high-pitched, double layered voice that bore no resemblance to his natural rumbling baritone. Before he had time to gather his bearings, he heard a gust of wind from above him. A flash of steel caught his eye and only instinct saved his head from being cleaved from his shoulders. He dashed to the side, only suffering a shallow cut to his right shoulder.

Standing where he was a moment ago was a young man dressed in a black garb. He had a large two-handed sword, which he briefly lowered before pointing two fingers at Madara and shouting "Sai!" Madara felt an invisible force snap his arms behind his back and hold him in place. WIth that, the newcomer raised his sword again and charged.

Madara could not move his arms. He tried to jump back, but his new body was too alien to him and he tripped on his tail again, toppling backward defenselessly. There were a dozen thoughts flooding through his mind at this instant; What is going on? Why do I have a tail? What is this new body? Am I in some kind of Genjutsu? Who is this man powerful enough to restrain me with two fingers? But as his would-be executioner was almost upon him again, Madara only had time for one word: "Cero."

The assailant's eyes widened, and held his sword lengthwise across his body to block a beam of red energy that had fired from Madara's eyes. The sword shattered, and the remaining energy from the blast knocked the man backward, tumbling to a stop into Madara's own dead body. He struggled to his hands and knees, heavily burned and bruised from the impact, but still breathing. Madara clutched at his right eye, noting that his arms had been freed. He had meant to use amaterasu to burn his assailant but instinct took over and he said "Cero" instead. He needed to find out what was going on, and fast. Too many things were happening too quickly for his liking, especially now that he had confirmed he was dead.

Madara closed his eyes, focussing his chakra and declared "Release!" He opened his eyes. His skin was still pasty white. His hands were still claws, and the black-garbed man who was struggling to his knees had collapsed again, holding some strange device and muttering into it. So not a genjutsu. It never hurts to check, but nobody can place a genjutsu on me. Madara thought as he lumbered toward his attacker, picking him up by the front of his shirt.

Before he could open his mouth to say a word, the wounded man spat in his face. Madara was stunned. "Just kill me and be done with it. I've got nothing to say to a filthy hollow." He wheezed. Some of his ribs must have punctured a lung. Blood was flowing freely from his mouth and it disturbed Madara to no end how much he was craving just taking a bite out of the man.

He quelled his hunger for now, though, collecting himself, and laughed. "Just saliva? Of all the oral jutsu I've encountered throughout the years, I can't believe I'm surprised that when someone spits, it's only saliva." Madara set the man down slowly, maintaining eye contact the entire way. He lowered the shinigami carefully, so as not to aggravate his wounds and kill him before he could get any useful information. A few moments passed with the shinigami quivering where he sat but without saying a word. Madara sighed; "How strong do you believe yourself to be to try and ambush Madara Uchiha? What clan are you from? I see no headband on your head."

"I don't know who you are," Takomi finally muttered, "and it doesn't matter because you've become a hollow. A monster formed from tormented souls that feeds on spiritual energy. I'm a shinigami, a soul reaper…my job is to aid the passage of souls into soul society and purify hollows like you in preparation for reincarnation." After all, it was his job to educate the recently deceased as to the proper order of things.

"A soul reaper? So I truly am dead. I suppose there is no getting around that fact, is there?" Madara pondered out loud. Then his brow hardened, glaring down at the shinigami, voice low and menacing, "But do you really expect me to believe that you trying to cut my head off is going to aid in this so-called 'reincarnation'?"

Takomi was panting heavily. He had called in back-up and they should be arriving soon. He could already feel the spiritual energy of captain Hitsugaya and vice-captain Matsumoto from a senkaimon not far from here. They were closing in by the second. His distress call had been in regard to a hollow with spiritual power rivaling that of a vice-captain, so he was glad that the captain himself was present to deal with this 'Madara' hollow. Nevertheless, they were not here at this very moment, and he was alone. He had to stall.

"A soul reaper's zanpaktou has specific properties that purify hollows when we slay them…I-I don't know the specifics but it is not a permanent death. You will be reincarnated as a new soul without any of your former memories to burden you in the soul society."

"You speak as if I have no choice in this matter." Madara stated.

The shinigami took some time to respond. "It is just the way things are. It's the way it's always been. You must feel it, don't you? A hunger for human souls. To protect those that were once dear to you, you must let yourself be purified." He reasoned.

At this, Madara burst out into a cackling laughter. "Those dear to me? Boy, do not presume to know me. There is nothing left that I hold dear. I-"

Madara was a weathered warrior. Decades of fighting experience from when he was but a child had honed his instincts to a razor's edge, but before he could say any more, the shinigami was whisked away by a blur of motion. So fast! In the man's place stood an auburn haired woman with a freckle slightly offset to her right below her bottom lip. A similar looking sword to what the injured soul reaper had been using was unsheathed and pointed toward him. Behind the woman, a white-haired boy wearing a white haori had the man in his arms. Madara's instincts screamed at him to escape.

The woman before him disappeared into a flurry of strikes. Madara desperately tried to maneuver his way around them, but he was slowly losing ground and had no weapon of his own. These soul reapers were fast enough that he could only register their movements as blurs. As more and more cuts streaked across his forearms as he tried to block the woman's strikes, his mind raced. I will not run. I am the strongest shinobi in the history of the elemental nations. I cannot be killed again so quickly after dying to Hashirama! He thought as he lashed out at the shinigami woman.

However, that was the opening she needed as she dodged his claw and cut into his right shoulder further, slicing through the tendons and disabling his arm. Madara hissed in pain. Giving into his instincts again, he slashed at the air, instinctively knowing that a portal was going to open. Ducking a horizontal slash from the shinigami, he grabbed his corpse with his working arm and dove into the garganta.

AN- So I got an idea for a Bleach/Naruto crossover fic where Madara is the main protagonist. It's going to be a bittersweet story, and there's a lot of action planned :P

Read and review if you find it interesting please!