‘Clank’, Clank’. The sharp rasp of blades grazing across the other rang throughout the vastness of an open field a battle was being waged in, the weapons creating the ruckus belonging to the respective leaders of the Uchiha and Senju clans.
Both had perspiration beading their brows, their composers steeled as they gauged what the other might do next.
”There’s no way you can win against me, Madara. Sure, this can be fun, but isn’t it time we truly stopped all this fighting?” Hashirama bellowed out to his childhood friend, not quite comprehending just how insulting the statement was to Madara.
”Can’t win against you? That doesn’t entirely sound like you want a ceasefire. No. It sounds more like you want me to submit to you; to which you know I simply can’t do that. Sorry, Hashirama. We aren’t children anymore, and I am not beneath you!” Madara scoffed at Hashirama’s pitiful extension of an olive branch, and he felt no remorse in swatting away any potential future where there would be any sort of reconciliation between the two.
Madara’s conviction seemed to render Hashirama speechless, and a deep frown found its way onto his features as his face shifted to convey more of how he truly felt about his friend attempting to permanently cut ties with him.
Hashirama was the first to take a lunge, swinging his sword down in an attempt to cut one of Madara’s limbs off. Madara was swift to evade the oncoming attack, although the minor cut now forcing his upper arm to sting served as a nuisance to him. The tear made to his shirt was beyond mending, and he discarded the sleeve altogether to diminish the chances of it getting snagged later.
The blood of his shed trickled down his arm and dripped onto semi-tall strands of grass, and as a personal ‘fuck you’ for having been wounded so easily: he weaved his signs for his majestic destroyer flame.
A wall of scorching heat was launched at Hashirama, forcing him to retreat a few yards back. A quick assessment of himself found a fair bit of his hair singed, and a portion of his left calf felt the agonizing bite of the burn it now had. The area wasted little time showcasing a furious fire truck red, and blisters bubbled to the surface before his very eyes.
Hashirama wasn’t given the chance to heal, though, with Madara slicing through the smoke and forcing the Senju up and onto his feet from his crouched position once more.
”What’s the matter, Hashirama?! I thought you wanted this? You did strike first, after all!” Madara mocked him, driving him back towards the river separating their clans from the other.
”I don’t want this! Think of Izuna, of your clan and how much better –“ Hashirama should’ve known better, and the moment Izuna’s name left his mouth, Madara’s rage couldn’t be quelled.
”YOU DARE SPEAK OF IZUNA?! You dare to speak of my clan and of the ‘good’ intentions you have; but I’ve yet to see you fulfill a single promise you’ve ever pledged!” Madara confronted Hashirama, outing his friend for the many failed oaths he’d shouted across the battlefield at the Uchiha’s scion since before his father died.
”This ends today! Not tomorrow, not the day after, or even months from now. No more games, just two men seeing this pipe dream to its inevitable end! Ready yourself, Hashirama!” Madara commanded his friend to take a stand, to quit hiding behind the front he took on to make those feel more at ease around him. He couldn’t fool Madara, and he wasn’t going to give Hashirama the illusion that he could.
”Fine. Have it your way, Madara. Don’t say I didn’t give you an out if this doesn’t go as you planned.” Hashirama conceded, bracing himself once more for combat as he steeled himself to the torment his leg was subjecting him to.
”I won’t. I promise you that. Once I cut you down, I’m going after that prick of a brother of yours.” Madara poked at Hashirama’s anger, pissing him off quite well and evoking the Senju to make the first move strictly out of impulse.
Madara’s grin over eliciting such an impressive reaction out of his enemy was brimming enough to numb his cheeks a bit, and their skirmish carried on for several hours before both were too spent to continue making swings at the other.
”Will this truly go on forever?” Madara inquired, still attempting to catch his breath while examining the various injuries now littering his body. Some required more immediate attention from the depth in which Hashirama lodged his katana into him, and some were more minor and something Madara didn’t think was worth the effort of pouring his chakra into to patch up.
”I cannot say. Only time will reveal what’s supposed to happen.” Hashirama made a feeble attempt at consoling Madara, and the Uchiha wasn’t all too disappointed with the response. It was very much like the Senju to give such vague answers, and he shouldn’t have expected this time to be any different.
”I suppose that’s true. Looks like you get to fight another day. I’d enjoy what little time you have remaining. I’ll be at it again in no time.” Madara forewarned his old friend before finding the strength to hoist himself up and leaving Hashirama to tend to his own wounds (the burn done to his leg, and a few chunks taken out of his left arm).
I’ll be looking forward to it, Madara.