#together. So Hashirama stabs him! Love loses.

[everymadara]

Chapter 625

[amyrallis]

So I Waged War Against The Skies -The Old Gods Are No More-

Written for my amazing anija, @sleepysenseis (love you uwu) because they are great and they're perfect and so is their art and anija knows exactly how to enable me, dammit. Enabled™ smol otouto me and here is the MASTERPIECE:

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“No.” Tobirama breathed, his body a mess from all the times he had been stabbed straight through, the pain barely registering. He sometimes thought it was a good thing he had never finished with the Edo Tensei. This was one of those times.

Madara hummed next to him, his now a greenish white hair drifting in the breeze as he surveyed the broken battlefield in front of him. “No? They already lost. There’s no point in denying it, Tobirama. It’s not like you.” The purple eyed man turned around, a madness that made Tobirama lose his breath settled deep in his eyes.

Tobirama knew Madara was right. The battlefield had gone painfully silent, the symbol of hope that Naruto was having fallen somewhere in the chaos and left them stumbling blindly in the dark. He closed his eyes as another pang went through him. To attack this man so openly without any plan was nothing short of foolish, something that Tobirama had known for a long time but Naruto had somehow missed.  

Sasuke laid on the ground close to them, his blood a pool of red around him as the wind blew over the battlefield –more like massacre, Tobirama couldn’t help but think, a pang of sorrow rushing through his veins- lifting the dust and leaving the painful picture clear for all to see. They had lost and Madara had won.

It was ironic. The way a defeated air hung around the place, the one driving force one side had, lost in grief, ıt reminded him all too clearly of another battlefield. One where Madara had laid on his back and said, me or the village Hashirama. One which Madara had said those things, his sharingan spinning an entirely new shape in his grief and looked straight at Tobirama while doing so.

His breath had hitched lightly, his eyes turning to avoid the cursed red of the sharingan –cursed by gods, cursed for daring to love so very deeply, in a way that no mortal, no god had ever dared to and cursed for caring so much, enough to give everything for fleeting lives. Tobirama knew the feeling very well, in the blood that ran through his veins, in the way that his eyes were the same shade of red as the curse of gods, the beat of his heart as he held pieces of his younger brother in his arms… really, he should’ve known in the beginning- and felt something in him burn. Izuna may have had been an enemy but he was also human. They were at war and Tobirama had his own family to keep safe. He didn’t have to regret protecting his family.

Even if it was at the cost of another’s, for that was how life had dared to work, always so cruel against those who took the chance and thrived in it. 

He already had too many of those very same family’s blood on his hands because Hashirama was brilliant, a sea of hope in the midst of a thunderstorm, burning bright and beautiful and Tobirama could only hope to rest in his shores for some time, before he had to get up and stop the storm from breaching that sacred place, because even though Hashirama was impossible and brilliant and everything, he was only one men. And men were good at one thing above all. Falling.

Tobirama had to stop that, he had to interfere and help his Anija against the fate that was so very determined to stop him and if the cost was his own conscious, nights spent awake, feeling like his very soul would never feel together again and sitting up once more because he could never hope to be enough but that never meant he couldn’t try his best, that was his own problem.

Anija tended to overlook lives, tiny and insignificant as they were to him, for his eyes were burned and blinded by the future he was always marching towards but Tobirama was there to ground him and carry the burdens that grounding would normally lay on Hashirama. He had chosen Izuna for a reason.

Izuna was close to his power, so very close in chakra, maybe even in strength but Tobirama was an inventor and a seal master, he wasn’t known as the greatest suiton master ever seen for nothing. 

Izuna, just, didn’t match up. But Tobirama made it so, allowing the illusion of him being equal to power because if he didn’t, he would have to reach behind him and go full force, after revealing his entire power and skill set, there’d be no stopping for him, he’d be pushed to do it and not even Hashirama could try for his peace when so much of the Uchiha had been slaughtered by his own heir, no one would trust them.

İf the cost came with the Senju that Tobirama hadn’t been fast enough to protect while engaging Izuna, the ones he would’ve been able to had he already gotten rid of the other younger brother, then those were his own demons, hidden behind to be revealed at night, after everyone was asleep and the graveyard in his mind had been awakened once more.

His eyes snapped open as Madara’s hand clasped his chin, forcing his eyes to meet the Rinnegan and the shorter man leaned down slightly with an intense look in his eyes. “What have they done to you? I’m sure you could make the Edo Tensei work so much better than this. All they did was bring back you at  your last second. Truly pitiful like they are. I'm not surprised at all that they had to bring you back to fight me and still managed to mess it up.” Tobirama glared up at him, unable to retort because the Uchiha was right but also unwilling to let the slight against his village go while stubbornly denying the back handed compliment.

“As pitiful as your plan, I suppose? Or are you truly that gone in the head Uchiha? Your plan has so many loopholes in it that Anija could stick his head in it.”

Madara’s eyes twisted with fury even as he slowly caressed Tobirama’s cheek, a wondering look replacing the fury in the next second and making Tobirama question if it had even happened.

“That’s why you’re the one who plans things, Tobirama.” Madara murmured, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he leaned down even more. Tobirama struggled in his kneeling position, the callousness burning at him even as he hid the discomfort from the way Madara looked at him. 

Madara chuckled, his hand coming up to keep Tobirama in place and circled him. “You were always so beautiful when you got angry.” Madara stopped behind him, his fingers sinking into Tobirama’s hair and yanked his head back. Tobirama looked at him, his neck bent at an odd angle as pieces of paper floated in the air. “What are you talking about?” he said, trying to ignore the pressing feeling in his mind.

Madara always acted strange when Tobirama was around, Hashirama had said once. His eyes would focus on Tobirama and all his words would be for him, like he was literally unable to forget that the albino was there and that he existed, even for one moment.  His chakra would seek Tobirama out during the day and his questions would be pointed to Tobirama, something that made Hashirama wonder a lot. Tobirama had tried to ignore his Anija’s foolishness, instead thinking that it was Madara assessing the highest likely threat to himself, because it was so obvious that Hashirama wouldn’t hurt him, the bumbling buffoon.

Hashirama wouldn't hurt him? Like he hadn't killed Madara? Tobirama couldn’t help but question. Just like Madara hadn’t sometimes sought Tobirama out, his chakra exhausted and on the verge of something that Tobirama had never known what? Instead, his mind had been focused on trying to stop what had felt inevitable to him, always, always dangling just over their future and overwhelming. Because even if Madara hadn’t been so beloved by Anija, and hadn’t that always burned so deeply inside him, Tobirama respected the man. For his strength, maybe, for his ability to look past the Senju elders, always trying to manipulate everything, certainly, for his kindness with children , always. 

Tobirama was a man of practicality, he liked solutions and ideas, he liked his science and he liked building things –sometimes, in the midst of the night when everyone was asleep, he dared to think he’d have made a good teacher, a good adventurer, maybe even a good man. In another life. Good for life, maybe or maybe good for humans, perhaps even good as humans had decreed it, he didn’t know. He supposed he’d get used to not doing so. It was one of the first things he had resigned to never knowing, but certainly not the last (the last had been the question, will it ever truly end?)- he always liked kids and helping them. There’d been a certain joy to be found in imparting knowledge to others and knowing that, at least in that way, they’d be safer. Madara had always been that way, something that Tobirama had  known to respect in humans.

Madara was also complicated. Sometimes, they’d tear each other’s throats out and sometimes, it’d be silence in a winter midnight, something that could almost be called amiable between them as the snow rested on their faces and hair. Once, Madara had approached during that time, his hand slowly extending to brush against Tobirama’s cheek and he had muttered, snow is a good look on you, Tobirama. There had been the potential of so many things in that second, and perhaps they had taken that potential and used it, in another life.

Madara had left the other day, gone for a whole week before he returned, one last time, on the back of the Kyuubi and so very desperate. They had come across each other when Madara had waited for Tobirama in his room and there had been an unspoken question before his gaze had sharpened.  Tobirama had looked into the sharingan for the last time and into Madara’s eyes, the first. –the first time he had looked into the sharingan since he had when he was five and there was blood in the air and Anija was gone, gone, gone, missing and the very air was screaming with him and the world had cracked open, the fury of gods falling upon it with his loss, his desperation-

-a bargain was made that day-

“You, Tobirama, I’m always talking about you.” Tobirama’s breath got stuck in his chest, his mind on the cusp of something, a realization so dangerous, too much to even contemplate. Madara gazed towards the skyline, the mural of his victory laid out before him and a self deprecating smile painted on his face. “Always.” 

Tobirama didn’t want to hear it. Tobirama didn’t want to hear anything, he was dead and he was gone, he had done everything he could for this World and he had deserved his happiness, his end, his rest. If Madara wanted him so badly, he could join Tobirama –and Hashirama and everyone he had loved and lost because why was he trying to drag them back up to the very place that had destroyed them, why was he so damn selfish?- in the Pure Lands, saving everyone the pain and exhaustion. Why did he have to be so stubborn, so damn blind? If he loved them, then he could’ve come to them, because his time was over but Madara was always chasing the fleeting wasn’t he? And there was the problem, Tobirama thought bitterly, the man who loved him –he had felt that for a long time, but he would save the breakdown till later- was an Uchiha, the very epitome of loving the fleeting and cursing the ethereal, the endless.

Those eyes weren’t given for naught. 

Amaterasu, seeing their pain  and loss, had blessed the sad, fallen mortals with the chance to always remember their loved ones and in doing so, had also cursed them. There was a reason that Gods didn’t walk the earth anymore, didn’t interfere with their affairs.

-Gods could fall too-

 “Look at me. All the sights of the world, laid out at my feet and I can only look at you.” Madara turned his gaze back down to Tobirama, his hair swaying in the wind as he did so.

Tobirama stopped the imitation of breathing, all his senses focused on Madara. Why was he saying these things? Why now? The war was over, he had won, so why was he still playing this game? Tobirama had seen the way Madara had looked at him as he clashed with Naruto, the other Kage, always, a part of his attention was on Tobirama, he could feel it like the gaze of someone on his back, the feeling of a breath on his nape, with his everything. 

For once during the battle, his chakra had reached out, coaxing and playful and tried to intertwine with Tobirama whose eyes had widened, his attention turning to the Bijuu he was next to. He had departed right after, the idea of pressing the advantage forming in his head. Madara was somehow calm towards Tobirama, something that could’ve been used for their advantage and if Tobirama could give the others an advantage to press forward by making Madara focus on him, then he would. Madara had always been a creature of passion, someone who could easily focus elsewhere if one knew how to play him. It hadn’t worked.

The bright golden of Minato and Anija echoed in his senses as the silence continued, Madara having leant down and sat next to him. His arm raised, grabbing Tobirama’s hair once more and using it to angle his face to stare at Madara. Tobirama's eyes narrowed.

“Close your eyes, if it irks you so.” Madara gave a surprised laugh, the sound escaping with a strange timbre like he honestly hadn’t expected Tobirama to respond that way –and wasn’t that stupid, Madara always knew Tobirama had a sharp tongue, and was logically wary of it. Perhaps he had foolishly thought being in Madara’s hold would stop him from lashing with it, an idea fit for clueless people because Tobirama wasn’t one to bow to pressure.- and he threw his head back for a second before leaning down and crushing their lips together. 

Tobirama froze stiff, his entire being wanting to continue to reject the very idea of the situation yet his mind so very aware as Madara pressed impossibly closer, his eyes wide open and running over Tobirama‘s face reverently, the edge of something insane burning in them.

Madara slowly drew back, a satisfied smile on his face as he gave Tobirama a smug look. “I prefer to continue looking. You’re quite the sight, after all.” 

Tobirama looked back, something sharp in his gaze. He had never wanted any of this. He was tired of his life always being one battle, one challenge after another and just when he thought he was done, he had closure…

“I’d rather not to be looked at actually, especially by a madman who can’t even plan.” He bit back, his words trying and failing to mask his unease. Madara smiled and leant down, leaning his head against Tobirama’s shoulder and raising his lips to his ear.

“Always with the insults, To-bi-ra. Don’t worry, I’ll have enough time to look my fill. Right after I’m done with them.” Madara muttered, his body tensing once more. Tobirama lightly flinched at the touch of his horn against his neck, his instincts overwhelming him as he tried to ignore the words, to leave this world and go back to his tranquil existence of before. “Then we can be together, like we’ve always wanted.”

The chakra receiver through his head warmed lightly as Madara moved his hand over it and melted over his body, binding Tobirama more thoroughly than anything else ever could. The edges of panic peeked from his mind as they did, Tobirama having to fight an uphill battle to push them back

Madara was gone with the blast of a wind, his outrageous claims not seeming so stupid. Tobirama knew, there was no way they’d be able to win and Madara was just gloating his victory over them. Naruto was gone, truly honestly dead in the way that Tobirama could sense his chakra pooling out of his body, leaving an empty husk and he didn’t want to think anymore.

He didn’t want to think about what Madara was implying, didn’t want to think about how he wasn’t able to get free as long as Orochimaru didn’t set him -and he wouldn’t if he was trapped in an endless dream, Tobirama was well and truly stuck in a way he’d never been, had always avoided, even without the seals that had locked over his form and bound him to the mortal plane-  he didn’t want to think about losing once more –because no matter what was said, Konoha had been a loss. One that Tobirama had tried his best to salvage but perhaps, perhaps some things weren't meant to be saved.- about all the people who laid dead for a system that had been made to kill them in the first place, the system that Tobirama himself had failed in creating properly and thus, left them to their fates, sent them to their deaths.

Instead, he closed his eyes and let go, his mind soaring through nebulae and galaxies, starlight and  black holes with a pale moon lighting the way home.

[fuckyoucanada]

better hurry 'cause i'm leavin' soon

Summary: Madara is dead, so he doesn't feel the storm of chakra that approaches from the east, worry and panic heavy in the swirling mass. He doesn't know that when a frantic Hashirama finds his still figure, every plant in a five-mile radius withers and dies, blackened just like Hashirama's grieving heart. Angsty Time Travel HashiMada

warnings for this include character death, assisted suicide, and depression. this is a heavy one, folks. take care of yourselves.

#11 fic for my bad things happen bingo card. prompt was infected wound. 

He is alone on his death bed.

The lucky shot he took to the gut has long since become infected. The redness has grown worse as the days go by, slowly growing puffy from infection. He feels cold as he shivers on his bedroll, his lungs expanding painfully in his ribcage. The wound is a disgusting black color, the putrid smell of death heavy in the hair around it. His chakra has been fighting the infection, but he has done his best to keep his survival instinct at bay.

He has no plans to survive this, so why fight it?

He coughs a painful wrenching hack that threatens to turn into upchucked bile if he isn't careful. He is in so much pain, and yet he relishes the feeling, darkly smug as his body slowly loses its will to live.

The last time he saw Hashirama was when the man gave him his latest mission scroll.

"I know you've been feeling cooped up," he had said, a brilliant smile on his face. "I figured getting out of the village for a bit would help! You should even be back in time for my wedding!"

Madara had taken the scroll, ever silent at the reminder of the man's upcoming nuptials. Madara had packed for his mission, thoughts flighty and distracted, and then he had left the village.

He feels delirious as he gags once more, the sound echoing in the cave he has sequestered himself inside. He keeps seeing people in the corner of his eyes, haunting images of his future come to visit him.

Sasuke and Naruto always appear together, faces drawn with determination as they stare down at his vulnerable figure. They are the most peaceful of his hallucinations.

He sees Izuna as he was just before he died: eyes gone and bitter. His lips never move, and yet Madara can here the bitter regrets he shares, the hatred he carries in his heart for the clan Madara had made peace with.

Black Zetsu's image also appears, but it's always tucked into a shadowy corner of the cave. The hallucination never steps out into the light coming from the small fire Madara had set. He has started to move closer as the fire dies, yellow eyes making Madara's skin cawl. He never speaks, though Madara feels as if he understands the unspoken message anyway.

The worse one is Obito. Every time Madara sees his twisted scars, the cold hatred on his face, he fights against his own survival just a bit more. Obito is the only one who actually speaks. His mouth moves as he damns Madara for the part he played in breaking him; in almost bringing the destruction of the very world Madara had claimed he wanted to save. He hates Madara so fiercely that Madara feels like he is burning from the inside, that broken regret so volatile that it actually makes Madara shed tears.

Or is that simply the pain of dying, overwhelming even his iron will?

He supposes he feels grateful that no one from his past appears before him. He doesn't know what he would do if Hashirama appeared before him, young and bright, still holding trust in Madara. He can picture him, even as his mind grows hazier.

"What have you done to yourself, old friend?" he would say, a sad look in his eye as his hand would caress Madara's pale cheek.

Tears continuing streaming from his eyes, leaving tracks of blood down his cheeks. Exhausting his chakra by keeping his Sharingan activated is killing him faster, so he keeps it up, mind wandering.

He had woken up in Konoha, surrounded by the warmth from the blanket one of his clan members had gifted him. He had instinctively known that he was where he had once been, all those years ago. He had seen the village in its infancy, images of the destruction he had caused flashing through his mind.

Seeing the excited civilians whispering about their Hokage's upcoming wedding had further confirmed the date, his heart pounding in his chest as he found himself climbing up the Hokage Monument until he rested safely atop Hashirama's head.

The first time Hashirama had gotten married, Madara had broken just a little bit further. Bright, beautiful Hashirama who was the man Madara would always pine after. The man that Madara had dreamed of, who had once taken his hands and smiled at him, promising him peace in a dark, cruel world.

He had seen the way Hashirama had greeted Uzumaki Mito, a nervous flush on his cheeks, and he had known all was lost for him.

Experiencing it a second time is just as devastating and just as heartwrenching. He knew that within two weeks' time he would lose any hope of having Hashirama return his affections.

Or had he lost that a hundred or so years ago when this had happened the first time? he wonders, fever spiking as the fire beside him finally goes out, only the soft glow of embers left burning in the ash.

Taking the mission was simply repeating history. Getting stabbed was déjà vu. Not returning to the village to seek help? That, however, was new.

He's missed Hashirama's wedding.

He's been due to report back from his mission for three days now. He found the cave four days ago. He's been in a state of fever dreams for the past two days.

He stays where he is, sentencing himself to a lonely, painful death.

He does not deserve a second chance, he thinks stubbornly, sobs escaping him. What he does deserve is to die alone and forgotten, killed by some unknown shinobi in the deepest parts of one of the thickest forests in Hi no Kuni. He does not deserve the Uchiha clan rights that are meant to lay a soul to rest. He must seclude his shame in a small cave, infected wound sending excruciating waves of pain through his body.

Madara is too much of a coward to take his own sword to his throat, so this will have to do.

He knows he will lose consciousness soon; he can feel it in the way his wound has grown numb and his limbs have suddenly become so heavy he can't even twitch his fingers. His eyesight dims, any light the fading sun has been providing no longer helping him. He fades, much like the sun does, slipping away as the moon finally peeks her head above the horizon, the ethereal glow barely penetrating the cave mouth.

Madara is dead, so he doesn't feel the storm of chakra that approaches from the east, worry and panic heavy in the swirling mass. He doesn't know that when a frantic Hashirama finds his still figure, every plant in a five-mile radius withers and dies, blackened just like Hashirama's grieving heart.

What he does know is that when he next opens his eyes, the warmth of a hand and the white of the hospital ward greets his vision.

What he does know is that the first thing Hashirama says to him is, "I love you, please don't leave me again."

[raendown]

Is there a limit to how many prompts we can submit? If there isn’t I have another 😁 HashiMada, time travel au where when Hashirama dies he ends up going back in time to right before Izuna is struck down. Thank you Rae ❤️❤️❤️

AO3 

-

Hashirama had never actually given much thought to how hewould die. Unlike what most people would probably assume, that he was sofocused on peace that he simply couldn’t conceive of violence enough to foreseeit causing his own end, the truth was much more shameful. It was hubris, plainand simple. Since he was a child Hashirama had gotten used to being lauded as aprodigy superior to even the adults around him. As the Hokage of the first militaryvillage he had been named the God of Shinobi. When he met his end the biggestsurprise of all for Hashirama was that there existed anyone strong enough toface him and come away the victor.

Of course, age was something he’d never paid much attentionto and had failed to take in to account as his own increased year by year. Hiswife begged him not to answer the call to battle that day and as he lay dyingin a pool of his own blood Hashirama thought not that he should have listenedto her, though he supposed most men would save their dying thoughts for the onethey had promised to love and cherish.

No, Hashirama's last moments were spent wishing for a facethat he hadn’t seen since the day they separated at the village gates, since Madaraturned his back on the dream they once shared when it was finally clear that itcould not give him what he wanted. There was no peace in Konoha for him. Notwith Izuna.

Darkness closed in much faster than expected and Hashiramaaccepted his own death with great reluctance, some part of him stubbornlyconvinced that he still could have fixed the one relationship he most regrettedlosing. Then suddenly he was opening his eyes again but not to darkness, not tothe forest filled with blood and shadows and enemy faces leering down at him invictory. This was not the moment of his death.

This was a moment long past. Hashirama barely managed toduck out of the way as Madara's gunbai came swinging towards his neck, hardlyable to process what was happening. Before him the Uchiha clan stood in battlelines bristling with weapons and gritted teeth. Behind him the Senju forceswere a brilliant spot against his senses the likes of which he hadn’t feltsince the peace treaties were signed. And to one side, from the corner of his eyewhere he stood staring in awe at the one man he had so dearly missed, he couldsee another moment in history he sorely regretted.

He may have never blamed Tobirama for taking the kill strikewhen he saw an opportunity but that did not mean he didn’t wish it neverhappened.

As though in a dream, not convinced that this wasn’t a dream, Hashirama turned andrerouted as much chakra as he could in to one of his legs to throw himselfacross the battlefield. He was on time by a single instant. Tobirama’s reflexeswere exactly as sharp as he remembered them being at this age and his brotherhad just enough time to spot the extra body in front of the one he’d meant tostab, flashing away with a second hiraishin just before running a sword throughhis own sibling. Izuna, on the other hand, was not so careful of the newcomer.Hashirama grunted at the sensation of steel tearing through the weak spotbetween two plates of armor.

Madara's cry of shock was like sweet music to his ears. Itwas hard to split his attention between his brother’s worry and the sameemotion hidden somewhere in the complicated expression on Madara's face so hesettled on holding a hand out and entirely ignoring the gasps from both oftheir little siblings.

“Please,” he begged. “The future is in our hands. Let meshow you, my friend. Let me show you everything we could do, everything wecould be, as long as we’re together.”

He watched the color rising on Madara's cheeks, the thoughtschurning behind those beautiful eyes, and thought to himself that if this was adream he never wanted to wake up. If this was the light at the end of thetunnel he wanted it to last forever. This was a new path to have everything hehad ever wanted and Hashirama desperately hoped he got his chance to see itthrough to the end.

[crystallized-shadow]

Chapter: 1/1 Rating: Mature Pairing: Madara/Tobirama Word Count: 2567 Warnings: Swearing, blood, betrayal, character death, forced to take part in a ritual Summary: It's been over 1000 years since Tobirama and Madara spent the Winter Solstice together and Tobirama swears it won't end like last time. But can Tobirama keep such a promise?

Ko-Fi // Commission Info

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

As happy as Tobirama was that his summer was back, he realized he might have forced the awakening too soon. Madara was neither the god he'd loved for innumerable ages nor the human reincarnation, but something in between the two. The winter god knew it was painful for the summer god, all too aware of his missing power but unable to reclaim it. That being said, Madara's idea was stupid and he wasn't going to let it happen.

"No."

"You can't tell me no," Madara huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares his eternal partner, "I'm still the master in this relationship, you are my summon."

"You were never my master," Tobirama points out, getting right in Madara's personal space, "you are mine and I will not lose you to those monsters again."

"Tobirama," Madara sighs, "I can't not go, I've gone every year."

"That was before you reawakened the powers they originally stole from you." Tobirama states, seeing the flame in Madara's eyes waver just enough that he knows he's getting through to him. "Please my summer," he pleads, pressing their foreheads together and staring deep into the other's eyes, "I've already lost you once, I won't survive losing you a second time."

Madara closes his eyes for a long moment before reopens them, his sad gaze finding Tobirama's easily. "I am so sorry I put you through that my winter, but I have to go," the summer god mutters, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss, "not only would it be odd for my human half to miss it, but I need to get my power back, this half revival is killing me."

"There must be another way."

"There isn't and you know it."

"If you go I won't talk to you for the next millennia," Tobirama states with a huff, turning away from Madara to avoid the summer god seeing just how hurt he is right now.

"If I don't go I won't be around in a millennia," Madara points out, rolling his eyes, "I need my power back or I'll just die again."

Tobirama goes rigid, hating that Madara has a very valid point. Rather than admit he's wrong, Tobirama disappears in a swirl of snow, leaving Madara alone in the human's living room.

Madara just sighs, shaking his head at Tobirama's childish actions before he goes to gather the few things he'll need for the trip. It wasn't as if he didn't understand Tobirama's hesitance to let him near the Uchiha, he didn't want to be on the same plane as them, let alone trapped in a room with them, but he truly had no choice. True reincarnation, especially for a god as powerful as himself, took millennia upon millennia to happen naturally. Normally it would have taken at least another 9 millennia or so before his fellow seasons should have been able to sense him; at which point they would have been able to help him reclaim his lost powers. However since Tobirama had found him so much earlier, and reawakened his soul, Madara had little choice but to speed the process up or risk starting it all over again. Without the other gods able to sense him, and Hashirama currently pissed at him for stealing Tobirama, Madara knew the only god he might get help from is Tobirama, if the winter god can stop pouting long enough to actually be helpful.

Much too soon for Madara's liking he's standing before the Uchiha's meeting place. Now that he remembered his past, he couldn't help but admire the amount of balls Tajima must have had to select here of all places for the Uchiha's "ancestral shrine". The fact that this place had survived Tobirama's rage for over 1000 years is even more impressive, he knew his death site was always the epicenter of a truly horrifying blizzard each year. Steeling his nerves, Madara takes a deep breath and walks into what he hoped wouldn't turn into his grave again.

Everything goes smoothly at first, no one suspects that Madara is anything but human, until it's his turn to "present an issue" to the clan. Finding himself in the center of the room where he had once died, it takes every ounce of willpower he has to keep his voice steady as he speaks.

"Honorable elders," Madara greets with a proper bow, his father had beaten manners into him at a young age, "thank you for agreeing to hear my rather unorthodox request."

"It's rare you wish to speak to us at all," the oldest elder mutters, drawing a puff from his pipe despite his wife's frown, "for someone rumored to be the great Tajima's reincarnation you don't usually take an active part in our clan."

"Cut the boy some slack dear," his wife chides, "he's still young enough that clan politics probably bore him to tears."

"What did you wish to speak with us about Brother?" Obito questions, drawing Madara's eyes to his older brother's scarred face; the elder Uchiha had been caught in one of Tobirama's avalanches and would always bare the marks. Fitting Madara found himself thinking, since Obito acted more like Tajima than he ever had.

"I met the God of Winter," Madara states, his tone even and his eyes hard, "he claims our powers weren't freely given, but stolen from the God of Summer. Our clan is responsible for the seasons being thrown out of balance; we need to return our power to the gods."

"You are aware of what you're asking us, correct?" Obito asks, his lone eye flat in a way that makes Madara nervous.

"I am, but we are already a strong clan, returning what was stolen won't hurt us." For a long moment no one speaks and Madara resists the urge to fidget under the unimpressed looks the elders are sending him. He was beginning to regret not listening to Tobirama.

"How do you know the seasons are off balance?" Obito asks instead, making Madara's brows furrow in confusion.

"What do you mean Brother? The ancient texts Father made us read talk about it."

"You mean the ancient texts that no Uchiha has ever been able to decipher?" Obito presses and Madara feels his blood run cold. "Why would the winter god appear before someone from the clan it hates?"

"What are you saying?" Madara mutters, pulling his weakening magic to his fingertips, ready to launch enough fireballs to escape.

"What I'm saying," Obito begins with a cruel smirk, a flare of his magic activating the runes around Madara, "is we've known the truth about you since you were a child; our little summer come back to strengthen us once more."

The runes glow brightly, and Madara feels a very familiar flash of horror, before his magic is forcibly shoved back into his core and a scream is torn from his throat as he collapses to his knees. "Please...Brother, don't do this..." Madara pants, glancing up at his brother through his bangs, praying he can reach the older man.

Obito's face remains impassive as he leaves his elevated perch and walks down to stand above Madara. "You have never been my brother," he states, disgust tainting his words, "you're nothing more than fodder to strengthen my great clan."

Terror grips Madara's soul as the truth crashes into him like a tidal wave; the elders had always known the truth. His clan had never forgotten how they got their power; instead they were just waiting for him to do this so they could repeat Tajima's actions once more. Darkness licks at the corners of Madara's vision as he feels Obito flare his magic once more. The glowing runes around him slowly crawl onto his skin, burning like brands, and Madara bites through his lip in an effort to hold back a blood curdling scream. When unconsciousness mercifully pulls at him, Madara just lets himself fall.

Madara comes to some time later with a scream, a burning knife stabbing through his wrists and pinning him to the center of the rune circle that still haunts his nightmares. It takes him a second to remember his family betraying him, but when he does, Madara just looks up into his brother's cold eye, resigned.

"Not going to fight me?" Obito sneers, crouched beside Madara with the ceremonial dagger in one hand.

Madara doesn't bother to answer, doesn't see the point; his magic was sealed and without Tobirama at his side he was done for. "You won't survive winter," he mutters because he knows Tobirama will wipe the Uchiha clan off the face of the earth before he succumbs to the madness he'd threatened early.

"We'll take its power too," Obito chuckles, "all the seasons will fall to us."

"Will we now?" An icy voice mutters, the tone making every Uchiha shudder in fear while Madara can't help but grin. Obito slowly turns to face the newcomer, unsure of what to make of the pale man leaning against the wall just outside the reach of the runes binding Madara.

"And who the fuck are you?" He demands, frowning at the sound of wind rattling through frozen trees that greets his question. It takes him a moment to realize the pale bastard is laughing at him.

"I am the God of Winter," Tobirama chuckles, his grin as sharp as the ice he commands, "and you have something of mine."

"Summer belongs to the Uchiha!" Obito growls, standing up to face the god, "once we take its power again we'll take yours too!"

"Have you ever wondered why Summer's power can be stolen only on this day?" Tobirama questions, raising one pale eyebrow when the Uchiha glare at him.

"Summer is weakest on the Winter Solstice, everyone knows that!"

"That is true, because Winter is strongest today," Tobirama points out, freezing the ground with barely a spark of magic. As the ice slowly creeps up the Uchiha's legs, Tobirama finally pushes off the wall and walks toward Obito. "Your despicable ancestors stole Summer from me once, you won't steal him again."

"Fuck you!" Obito snarls, a great blast of fire bursting from him, melting the ice holding him. He catches Tobirama by surprise, the god hadn't expected anyone with fire magic that strong, and he manages to graze the god's cheek with his dagger. "I will make you pay for mocking my clan!"

Tobirama braces himself for another blast of fire, ready to counter it this time, however it never comes. Instead the ball of fire melts away the ice covering the runes around Madara just as Obito activates them. Madara's scream as his magic is torn away stabs right through Tobirama's heart and before he can stop himself, he is lunging for Madara, his ice breaking the circle once more.

"Too easy," Obito mocks, plunging his dagger into Tobirama's exposed back. Or at least he tries too, surprised when a spike of black ice suddenly impales him. Obito's eye travels from the ice to Madara as the dagger clatters uselessly to the ground. "H-how...?"

"I won't let you..." Madara pants from his half-crouched from, wrists bloody and torn from escaping the knife, "touch my winter..." Madara sways, collapsing into Tobirama's waiting arms.

"Always so reckless my summer," Tobirama mummers, gently easing his magic into Madara to heal his wounds even as he fully encases the Uchiha in ice. The bastards wouldn't die yet, not with their stolen fire magic, but Madara needed them alive to extract his power.

"You came..." Madara mutters, nuzzling into the fur surrounding his lover's neck, "thought you were mad at me."

"I’m furious," Tobirama states, carding a hand through Madara's wild mane, "but that doesn't mean I'd let you die."

"Thank you."

The two lapse into an easy silence as Tobirama heals Madara's wounds and gets the branded runes off him. Once the summer god is steady on his feet again, he looks at the people he thought were his family.

"You brought this on yourself Brother," Madara mumbles before he gathers his magic once more, muttering an ancient spell in a language only Tobirama understands.

Tobirama watches as the spell works, watches the stolen magic finally return to its original owner. The changes happen more slowly, first Tobirama feels the bound that had held him as Madara's summon fade away after all a god had no use for a summon. Next pale skin darkens to the sun scorched color only Madara had ever possessed, a lovely shade Tobirama had missed dearly, while dark hair loses the rigidity only humans had. The moment Tobirama knows his summer is back is the when molten eyes slowly blink open and find his.

“Welcome back,” Tobirama murmurs, afraid this is just another dream.

“My winter,” Madara grins, teeth sharp as familiar glowing symbols appear on the visible skin, “thank you…”

Tobirama’s heart beats painfully as he drinks in the sight of his summer, it had been too long since he’d seen his eternal partner in all his glory. His joy quickly turns to worry when Madara sways again and only his arm around the older god’s waist keeps him up right. “Madara!?”

“I’m fine,” the summer god mutters, even as he leans heavily on Tobirama, “just tired…”

“Ah, I suppose you really can’t feel the power you just got back,” Tobirama chuckles, though it sounds a little strained even to his own ears. It would make sense that Madara’s power was still largely absent, it was still Tobirama’s solstice after all, but he was still concerned about his eternal partner.

“Take me home?” Madara requests, his voice quiet in a way that suggests a deeper hurt.

“Of course my winter,” Tobirama mutters, brushing a kiss against the other’s forehead. It’s very telling when Madara doesn’t fight being swept up into a bridal-style hold; if Tobirama shatters the Uchiha icicles in his anger, well Madara doesn’t seem to notice. The two gods disappear in a swirl of snow before a record shattering storm wipes the entire compound off the face of the earth.

Madara barely stirs as they reappear in his human house, and Tobirama frowns as he lays the newly reborn god on the bed. It was clear Madara had been deeply hurt by the Uchiha, betrayed by the ones he thought he loved, and he would need some time away from the other gods to heal. Tobirama is just selfish enough to hide away both their magics, he wanted to keep Madara to himself for a little longer.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Madara grumbles, cracking one eye open to glare at his partner, “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Now who said you get to sleep?” Tobirama chuckles, gracefully dropping down on the bed and pinning the weaker god under him. “I seem to recall making you a promise on the last solstice we spent together.”

“You did?” Madara mutters, his brows furrowing in confusion. It takes him a few moments to remember the last time he’d been with his winter like this, so many centuries ago, but when he remembers a lovely blush colors his cheeks. “With how tired I am, you might be able to keep me out until Spring, if you’re lucky.”

“One day you will learn to stop doubting my skills,” Tobirama chuckles, leaning down and claiming Madara’s lips in a searing kiss that chases all the bad thoughts away.

[akariamai]

The Naruto Games (Part 1)

I wanted to see which character in Naruto would win the Hunger Games. There is forty-eight characters in this Reaping. Each district has four tributes. I'm using a Hunger Games Simulator so I'll include the link of said simulator. If you decide to play using Naruto characters, I would love to see who won in your game. I'm going to separate the entire game in parts as I don't want this to be too long. Hope you enjoy!

~~~

The Bloodbath

As the tributes stand on their podiums, the horn sounds. Hashirama runs into the cornucopia and hides. Sakura runs away with a lighter and some rope. Yamato rips a mace out of Hiruzen's hands. Iruka, Shikamaru, Naruto, Konan, Madara, Kisame, Asuma, Choji, Anko, Hidan, Hinata, Kankuro, Zabuza, and Sasuke all run away from the Cornucopia. Rin grabs a backpack and retreats. Tobirama finds a bow, some arrows, and a quiver. Obito kills Kiba with a hatchet. Kakuzu snatches a bottle of alcohol and a rag. Orochimaru severely injures Guy, but puts him out of his misery. Baki strangles Ino after engaging in a fist fight. Zetsu and Shino work together to drown Deidara. Tenten scares Tsunade away from the cornucopia. Konohamaru kills Jiraiya as he tries to run. Kurenai, Sasori, and Kakashi work together to get as many supplies as possible. Itachi kills Gaara as he tries to run. Shizune grabs a jar of fishing bait while Minato gets fishing gear. Lee and Neji fight Temari and Sai. Lee and Neji survive. Haku breaks Nagato's nose for a basket of bread.

Day 1

Hashirama falls into a pit and dies. Konohamaru fishes. Zabuza and Tobirama work together for the day. Hidan shoots a poisonous blow dart into Anko's neck, slowly killing her. Rin accidently steps on a landmine. Sasuke severely injures Zetsu, but puts him out of his misery. Tenten, Lee, and Shikamaru hunt for other tributes. Kankuro stalks Hinata. Choji injures himself. Naruto steals from Kakashi while he isn't looking. Orochimaru makes a wooden spear. Obito receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor. Nagato picks flowers. Shino goes hunting. Madara and Shizune hunt for other tributes. Hiruzen explores the arena. Haku begs for Konan to kill him. She refuses, keeping Haku alive. Yamato injures himself. Minato receives clean water from an unknown sponsor. Tsunade tries to sleep through the entire day. Iruka searches for firewood. Kurenai sprains her ankle while running away from Sakura. Kakuzu and Neji split up to search for resources. Asuma scares Sasori off. Kisame and Kushina work together for the day. Baki defeats Itachi in a fight, but spares his life.

Night 1

Shino loses sight of where he is. Kakuzu, Hinata, Choji, and Hiruzen sleep in shifts. Shizune, Minato, and Kushina start fighting, but Minato runs away as Shizune kills Kushina. Konohamaru goes to sleep. Haku convinces Baki to snuggle with him. Itachi is unable to start a fire and sleeps without warmth. Yamato tries to sing himself to sleep. Kurenai receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor. Tenten is unable to start a fire and sleeps without warmth. Naruto thinks about home. Madara cooks his food before putting his fire out. Asuma convinces Obito to snuggle with him. Kisame tries to sing himself to sleep. Tobirama kills Sakura while she is sleeping. Tsunade attempts to start a fire, but is unsuccessful. Kankuro, Zabuza, and Sasuke cheerfully sing songs together. Shikamaru and Neji talk about the tributes still alive. Sasori and Kakashi huddle for warmth. Lee defeats Konan in a fight, but spares her life. Nagato is unable to start a fire and sleeps without warmth. Orochimaru starts a fire. Hidan stabs Iruka in the back with a trident.

[raendown]

Pairing: none (unless I ever get around to writing the rest) Word count: 1770 Summary: This is the moment. He can feel it. This is the moment he will change the course of their future. (And he does but doesn't. It is the past the changes the future, erases itself, and builds anew.)

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Amends to the Dead

Dust rises in clouds and is tamped down by streams of water and flame. Dirt sprays and gives under twisting heels. Blood spills and drips, oozing from wounds and soaking in to the thirsty earth beneath them. They clash and spring apart, come together and twist aside, again and again and again in the same dance they have engaged in since they were children. This is just another battle in an endless war and Tobirama is tired. But he is not too tired to go as he knows he must. If Hashirama will not put down the dreams of his youth then Tobirama must be the one to bear the weight of the present; it is not a duty he enjoys but it is one he knows well and he will not falter.

The moment is right. He can feel it in his bones and hear it in the screaming wind that rebounds from a jutsu on the far side of the forest clearing, shifting the clouds of steam that he has concealed himself within after his jutsu crashed against Izuna’s in a spectacular show of chemical reaction. Kunai spring to his hands and as he rushes forward he throws them ahead of himself, aiming not actually towards his target but beyond him. Injury is not the purpose of these blades. They are not for the bite but to mark the kill.

His sword is drawn as he bursts from cover, stepping in to position. Izuna meets his eye and for a split second it’s like the younger man knows what is about to happen. Surely he can see his impending death shining in Tobirama’s bloody red eyes. Tobirama hopes he doesn’t. Izuna may be his enemy by circumstance of birth, he might be cursed the way all Uchiha are, but Tobirama holds no true ill will for the other man. He doesn’t know him enough to hate him. Such is the way of life in their generation and though the Uchiha clan pose the greatest threat to his own out of the rest it does not make them different from any other faceless foe seeking to strike down what is his.

Chakra gathers under his skin until his entire body hums with power and he steps – through space and time he steps and every fiber of his being sings with the current that carries him forward. His blade is drawn and aimed, his strike will be true. Izuna will die with a blade through his chest between the third and fourth rib bones and Tobirama-

Light flashes. Tobirama jerks to a stop, unable to cry out in pain for the sheer shock of the blade that sinks in to his chest. Or quite possibly it is the shock of the face that stares back at him, expression grim and grip steady on the familiar sword in his hand.

It is himself. It is his own face yet deeply lined with age. He can hear the cries of shock as more and more people spot the strange distortion: Senju Tobirama stabbing himself through the only weak point in his thick blue armor. He can feel blood bubbling up until it trickles slowly from between his lips and still he does not move. The sword in him shifts, pulls back, and it tugs his flesh in to the motion until he falls forward against his elder self’s chest. Izuna meets his eyes over the shoulder of familiar plates of armor, as stunned and immobile as he is.

His breath ruffles white fur at the same time as hot air washes over his ear and his own voice speaks in a low, terrible whisper.

“Better my own death than Izuna.”

He wants to gasp but his lungs won’t let him. His fingers claw at the figure holding him in a strangely gentle way – and he listens to himself speak in that awful dead tone.

“I broke it all; the entire world. This moment is when it all fell apart. I ruined my brother’s dream of peace when I put that blade through Izuna’s chest. Let him live. Let Brother offer Madara his hand once more and let the world be rid of the plague that is myself.” Tobirama feels his older self bow his head, lips parting but releasing no sound.

He almost thinks that this must be the limit of human pain until suddenly it doubles, triples, as the sword inside of him is pulled out. A fatal move, he knows. His mind cannot help but remind him calmly that one should never remove an object from a wound until there is a healer ready to begin surgery. His knees collapse and his mind is focusing on the strangest things, skittering away from the gaping hole in his chest. The mud from his jutsu is uncomfortable underneath his knees. A single patch of grass in front of him has somehow avoided being churned with the rest of the dirt, shimmering a rich wet green like a beacon of growth in the midst of so much death just as Hashirama stands amidst the waves of dismissal from his own people and dreams his dreams of peace. His skin feels warm and it strikes him as odd; doesn’t every cliché say that he should feel cold?

Distraction only works for so long, just the few seconds it takes for his form to slump forward. His core is damaged, weak, and he finds he does not have the strength to hold himself upright. The same moment that his shoulder impacts the ground, bearing the brunt of his weight and dragging a piteous groan from his lips, the air is rent by a terrible screeching. Touka, he thinks distantly. She’s seen him fall.

From the corner of his vision he can see the older version of himself standing straight, holding out his own hands and looking down at them with the strangest expression of relief. Incredibly, his fingers are rapidly becoming translucent, fading in to the air around him as the rest of him begins to do the same.

“Ah, yes,” he murmurs in his broken voice. “I am disappearing, erased by an earlier death. As it should be.”

Just barely a dozen feet away Hashirama and Madara stand in perfect stillness, their weapons still resting against each other yet neither paying attention to their opponent any longer. Hashirama gapes openly when this strange vision of his brother begins to stagger towards him with one arm stretching to reach out to him in supplication.

“Brother,” the fading man calls. “Brother…how I’ve missed you…”

Mere inches before their skin can touch the fading completes itself, turning a solid man in to shards of light that scatter on the fading breeze. Another moment passes. Touka screams again and it’s as though her voice shatters the stillness. Hashirama dashes forward towards his fallen brother with a cry of his own, sinking to his knees in the mud and pulling the younger man in to his lap.

The entire battlefield holds its breath, both Senju and Uchiha, as Hashirama presses two fingers to his sibling’s neck. When he sobs with relief and lights his hands with the glow of healing green a collective shudder passes through them all, even some of the Uchiha who fear for their life each time they leave the compound without the safety of their second heir’s presence. Izuna himself backs away from the scene they make slowly, crawling to his brother’s side and watching as Touka hurls herself down in his place, a fierce light in her eyes where there would be tears on a weaker woman.

“How can I help?” she demands.

“Chakra,” Hashirama grunts. “I’ll need chakra. He’s already too far from me.”

“Take mine. Take all of it.”

“He wouldn’t want your life in exchange for his.” By contrast, Hashirama’s face streams openly with tears and he shakes his head, expression solemn and regretful as he shatters inside. “That isn’t his way.”

Madara slips an arm around Izuna’s shoulder and gestures to the rest of his forces without looking at them. Not a single one of them protest when he signals the retreat. There is no honor to be found in senseless slaughter, in striking while the enemy mourns, and so the Uchiha begin to slip away in silence. Madara and Izuna are the last to go, watching in amazement as one by one the Senju fighters approach their leader and kneel, offering their chakra to heal the man who fell.

How is he so precious, they wonder, the man who feels nothing?

It’s a question they have no need to ask out loud, one they already know the answer to. All kin are precious. More than bodies to fall and soldiers to expend, their family are their anchors in this blood-soaked ocean of death, more precious than jewels no matter that very few of them live to see their third decade. All shinobi are born to die but they are born loved. Learning to fight does not mean they forget how to feel.

Madara turns his brother away but looks back one more time for himself. He watches the friend he once considered a brother, the tears streaming down his face as he begs the body under his hands to hold on for just a little longer. He watches the man he thought the most bloodthirsty of them all bleed out from a wound none of them understand. If he survives there will be answers. Only he will ever be able to explain how there came to be two Tobiramas, how one of them looked old and worn, the desperation on his face as he reached for Hashirama, why he chose to kill himself instead of his greatest enemies.

As a man who hates unsolved mysteries Madara wants those answers. And as a brother who recognizes that Izuna could have been the one bleeding out in his arms instead, well, it leaves him hoping for something he never thought he would ever hope for.

He hopes Tobirama survives. Not just for his own sake but for Hashirama as well. For the first time in his life he understands that the only way for either of them to come out on top in this senseless war is for one to lose their precious brother, their last surviving sibling. If he cannot even contemplate the idea of surviving so much pain himself how can he possibly ask Hashirama to do the same? How can he ask anyone to suffer losses he won’t?

Perhaps it is time to revisit old dreams at last.