#i cannot draw armor and i cannot draw bodies but it can't stop me lol

[simmonsized]

A Day in the Life of Private Michael J Caboose, Post-Restoration.

It's three days late, but this is my comic for #makeaterriblecomicday. I became possessed by the idea, and could not stop until it was complete. I haven't drawn rvb in a really long time, but I had a lot of fun!

[retroillustrates]

I'm here to annoy yall with tragic (and slightly exaggerated) art I reused an old illustration to draw a scene from my microfic

(I don't promise I won't do this again lol)

Fic under cut if yall don't feel like going to my AO3

Hashirama's eyes followed the man who is staggering in front of him. His moves sluggish and raw from the battle, both of their armors half destroyed.

"I guess I underestimated you, Hashirama." Madara half laughed, half choked on his own blood which he promptly spat on the muddy ground. Rain had begun pouring down at some point.

"Madara, cease this. It's not too late to return." Hashirama started, but Madara laughed at him

"You're still at it, Hashirama? Haven't we decided upon that in battle? It is too late. It had been for quite some time." Madara wiped the blood off his lip, his sharingan deactivating from exhaustion.

Hashirama clenched his fists "You're willing to just throw away our dream like that? What changed, Madara?" he didn't want to acknowledge what protecting the dream meant: stopping anyone who opposed it, even if it meant death.

"Wake up to reality, Hashirama. I never changed. I'm simply taking action. It's time to properly establish peace upon the world, and I'll be the one to accomplish it."

"Is that not what we both wanted, Madara?" Hashirama took a step towards him. Had all of what they went through been for naught? Just empty words? "Your idea of peace is unstable, and doomed to fail. How can you see prosper in such a foolish ideal? People are not like you, they are selfish and self serving. No one will ever ne truly able to understand each other." Madara took a step forward as well.

Another step, and another step, and they were face to face again.

Hashirama looked at Madara's form. He was battered and bruised all over, but his eyes showed determination. Misguided determination. Hashirama almost pitied him. He wanted to help him but at the same time he could not abandon his legacy just as it was starting to grow it's roots.

"Madara, stop this. We both want the same thing, and we cannot achieve it alone. Come back to the village. If it's about the Uchiha discrimination issue, I'll resolve it with Tobirama, and-"

Madara laughed again. Hashirama found it unsettling "You just can't get a grip, can you? It's not about the damn clan, Hashirama, not even about my dead kin!" he growled, revealing a kunai he sneaked from his sleeve. Hashirama met it instantly with his katana and disarmed Madara in a matter of seconds. Madara fell to his knee.

"You've exhausted yourself. You can't fight me like this." he looked down at the man, who was taking in painful breaths. "I don't wish to kill you, Madara."

Madara huffed "And yet you fought me with all your might." he looked up at the man, who had his sword still pointed at him "And you also want me at your side for your silly ideale that are doomed to fail and bring more traumas to the following generations. You may preserve the" peace," but will you be able to preserve those for whom that peace will be for?" he grinned, his face twisted and sinister. Hashirama took a step back. He'd never seen Madara like that.

"And if you really want me and need me that bad, then take me!" Madara laughed again, and charged at him, allowing Hashirama's blade to run through his heart. Hashirama screamed in horror as Madara's body fell to the ground, the rain spreading the crimson across the wet ground.

"Anything for your dream, is that so? Curse you for a slayer." the Uchiha's eye glowed in the dark, dripping with red, and Hashirama felt sick, felt like he wanted to scream over and over.

*

"Hashirama!" a voice called out to him.

His body shook and he jolted up with a yell. He felt Mito's hands on him, a comforting presence in the hell of his mind.

"Nightmares?" she knew him well. He nodded.

"I know well how bad they are." she whispered. He leaned into her arms and she found no more words of comfort.