Bonds

The forest was still as the river ran silently over rocks as fish jumped here and there. A flock of birds vacated the canopy, creating small dots in the blue sky where a few fluffy white clouds hung. They weren’t threatening as they floated along lazily, just drifting as though they had nowhere to go. The birds were silent in their flight, they didn’t communicate with one another as they flew towards the distance as though there was a predator hunting them. Soon they were gone, disappearing in the light blue sky.

Dark eyes watched the flock until they were gone and even a few moments after that. For as long as Hashirama Senju could remember, he had never been that free. He was shackled by his clan and the blood feud between his clan and another, the Uchiha. Hashirama didn’t know what started the war that had been raging for years, nor did any other member of his clan. It was an answer that eluded them all and when he spoke of ending it, he was ignored. Hashirama had learned at the tender age of four to keep his mouth shut or else his father would punish him.

It wasn’t fair to put children on the front line, their childhood was being ripped from them. From the time he could walk, Hashirama was taught how to control his chakra and how to throw a kunai and make it count. It was gruelling process and one that certainly wasn’t for a child to learn. His experience had given birth a dream of building a village where children were trained in the ninja arts, but they weren’t forced to fight on the frontlines. They would grow into be ninjas slowly and wouldn’t be forced to kill others at the age of five. Hashirama kept the dream close to his heart, cradling and nurturing it with every foul experience he had on the battlefield.

The stone in his hand was cool, having sat in the shade of the trees until now. It was noon and Hashirama had precious little time to himself, his family wanting him to train every moment of the day so he could hone his skills further. He was aware of his talent and Hashirama resented it. The ninja arts came so easily to him that it was uncanny. He had mastered many of his clans jutsu’s and those that were common but harder to master. His chakra control was better than his brother, Tobirama’s, who even though younger, trained more often than Hashirama. He clutched the stone tighter in his hand as he thought of his younger brother.

It wouldn’t do any good to think of his cranky brother, perched in a tree. Tobirama had the ability to irritate Hashirama in the best of moods, bringing him down immediately. It was one of the reasons he had come to the river, so he could escape the stifling threat of death that surrounded his clan. So far, no one had discovered where he had run off to and hopefully it would stay that way. This was Hashirama’s sanctuary and he would do anything to protect it, even if it meant fighting his brother.

Movement on the other side caught his attention, drawing it like a moth to the flame. His stance on the tree limb changed, if this was an enemy he had to be alert because there was always the chance that the other knew he was there. The person that stepped out from the bushes had Hashirama blinking in surprise. It was a boy around his age who was glancing in all directions. Cautiously he approached the river and picked up a rock.

Hashirama watched as the stone was thrown, the stone skirting over the river’s surface until it sunk. The boy frowned, obviously not pleased with the results of his throw. Hashirama watched him intently for several minutes, he could sense the boy’s chakra and knew he was a ninja. It didn’t stop his curiosity though as he watched another rock attempt to skip across the river and then another. It was amusing to watch annoyance flicker over the boy’s face as he failed in his skipping. A long time had passed since Hashirama had entertainment outside of his clan. It was rare for a member of the Senju to interact with someone outside of their clan unless there was a marriage contract involved with another clan.

A snort left Hashirama, he was ten and already his father was setting up a marriage. At fourteen he would be expected to marry the girl even though he didn’t know her. He hated the idea of arranged marriage, to be forced to marry some stranger he didn’t know before he even experienced half of his life, considering he didn’t die in this pathetic and senseless war. He was only ten and wise beyond his years. His innocence was gone by the time he was six and Hashirama already felt as though he lived through his life. He could only hope the feeling didn’t follow him into adulthood.

Jumping down from the branch, Hashirama decided to make his presence known to the other. A cocky smile passed over his lips as the other child’s face screwed up into a grimace. Again the other threw the rock, his arm sliding from his body with ease. He had to have been used to throwing shuriken with the way he was throwing. From his perch in the tree, Hashirama hadn’t been able to see this. But it didn’t matter to him, this kid could have been an Uchiha and he wouldn’t have given a damn.

“So, who are you?” The boy asked, cocking his head to the side after failing to make the rock reach the other side. Hashirama wasn’t sure if the guy was restraining himself or not. It seemed as though not reaching the other side of the river was irritating him, but if he was used to throwing shuriken, then it should have been easy. This also could have a game.

“I’m Hashirama.” He said, holding his hand out but he was given a glare.

“I asked who you are, that is only a first name.” The other’s gaze became serious, eyes narrowing as though he were looking at an enemy.

“I can’t really tell you my surname,” Hashirama said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he smiled. He tried to make himself seem as nonthreatening as possible. The air between them was already tense and Hashirama didn’t want to set off an explosion.

“Heh, Hashirama, huh? Well, watch me make this one.” The boy’s arm flung from his side, the rock skipping across the water at a high speed. It sank before it even reached the other side of the river bed.

“You stood right behind me, bastard! Just to distract me! I can’t even pee if someone’s hovering over me!” The boy yelled, pointing at Hashirama with an angry face.

Immediately, Hashirama dropped to his butt and gathered his knees to his chest. He mumbled an apology as he took on the illusion of being upset because he had been yelled at. It was the only way he could be himself and not feel stifled. Even though this was an act, he felt free in front of this stranger. Like he could just be a kid and act as silly as he wished. It had been a long time since Hashirama had felt like this.

“Hey, that wasn’t really an excuse so you don’t have to get that depressed.” The stranger said, his hands moving in front of his body and waving about.

“I wasn’t sure of it, but now I am. You have annoying subjective symptoms,” Hashirama said laughing. He doubled over onto ground, landing on his hands as his body shook with laughter. It wasn’t forced for the first time in a long time.

“I can’t make out if you’re a good guy or a bad one, you jerk.”

“Well, at least you understand I’m better at skipping rocks.” Hashirama exclaimed, jumping to his feet and dancing. It was the first time he wasn’t engaged in a dance of death for months and so he indulged himself. He waved his arms around as he moved his feet on the ground.

“Ugh, next time I’ll use you, bastard, as the skipping stone! Even if you don’t get that far, because I’m sure you’d sink right off the first skip!” The boy yelled, once again pointing at Hashirama.

Once again, Hashirama took the opportunity and fell back to his original position on the ground, clutching his knees. He sat there for a few moments, dragging it out as much as possible. Hashirama knew that once he got home, it would be a long before he could act this silly. All he wanted was to be a kid.

“I’m sorry, I can only hope I can make it to the other side. You can go ahead and throw me, I won’t mind. I just hope I don’t disappoint you.” He said softly, eyes downcast.

“You’re so annoying! I really can’t stand you..so just go away!” The other spat, pointing to the woods with his hand and waving angrily.

Hashirama stood, his posture defeated as he walked slowly towards the woods. He honestly didn’t want to leave and head back home to the Senju clan. The atmosphere was depressing there and heavy, weighing down on his young shoulders and pushing them down to the ground.

“Wait! Wait! Hey, I didn’t really mean that! Don’t go!” Hashirama heard before he felt a hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping him from moving any further. He turned around and pinned the boy with a bored expression.

“Do you want me to stay or go? Make up your mind please.” Hashirama requested before his eyes spotted something floating slowly in the river. It bobbed up and down with the flow, much like a dead body.

With the realization of what it was, Hashirama shed his mask and became the shinobi he was trained to be. He shook the hand off his shoulder and jumped onto the water, making his way to the body. It wasn’t rotting yet, so that meant it was a fresh kill. He almost missed the question the other boy asked about him being a shinobi as he studied the corpse. His family’s symbol was etched onto the armor, his expression becoming serious. He would have to return to his home now with this recent death. It was a cousin of his who had barely reached eighteen. Hashirama sighed before he jumped back to his side of the river in one jump. He turned back to the other child, watching him with interest as he spoke.

“I’m Madara. And not revealing your surname to a stranger is the number one rule of shinobi.” Madara said, with a wry smile.

“I thought you were a shinobi as well, the way you skipped that rock was just like throwing a shuriken.” Hashirama answered with his own smile before he took off for home. The trip was short, being a shinobi had it perks when it came to travel since chakra could be used to cover long distances in a short time. His mind wandered to Madara and how normal it had been to interact with another child who was a shinobi. It was obvious he had been looking for a distraction from his life like Hashirama had been.

Before long, Hashirama was on the outskirts of the walls that held his clan. They were tall and fortified with traps and shinobi. There was a regular patrol to make sure the Uchiha wouldn’t infiltrate their home. He could hear the shuffling of dirt and was curious as to what was going on. Hashirama stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the post that bore a name he was more than familiar with.

“Kawarama...” He whispered. Itama was crying beside him, his hands rubbing at the tears that fell from his eyes. Hashirama was enraged, Kawarama was only seven. He hadn’t had time to skip rocks to just be a child and that only burned his dream brighter. Hashirama wouldn’t allow such cruelty to happen to children who should have been playing instead of going out to fight.

“Shinobi don’t whine, Itama.” His father said sternly, not even glancing at his youngest son. “You should be grateful we were able to recover the corpse, or what was left of it. It wasn’t only the Hagoromo clan, but the Uchiha as well. They’re becoming more ruthless.”

Hashirama’s fists clenched at his side, he couldn’t believe what his father was saying. Itama was only seven! Seven! He was a child who didn’t know the joys of the outside world because he was busy fighting a war that no one knew how it had started. It fueled Hashirama’s temper, guiding it and nurturing until he spoke.

“He was just a child!” He grit out between his teeth, the bones grinding together. “How long will this war go on?”

“Until our enemies are decimated. This is not an easy road to peace and it will be be full of pain. It is not a path for the weak.”

“And you’re willing to sacrifice the lives of children for this peace? You’ve been chasing after it for generations! Must we die for this fabled dream that will never occur!” Hashirama said lowly, his body tense as he spoke his mind. This was part of his child personality, his ability to speak his mind on what he perceived as the truth. He wouldn’t sugarcoat his words like the adults and lie. No, he was still a child and he would act like it in such an occasion.

He had never seen the fist coming, only when pain flared across his cheek was he aware of what had happened. Tobirama caught him as he fell, supporting Hashirama as he watched his father’s enraged face. He was beyond pissed and the aura that rolled off him was threatening.

“I will not allow you to speak of Kawarama like that! He died as an honorable shinobi in the line of battle! He was not a child!”

Tobirama lowered Hashirama to the ground. Blood dribbled down his chin as he watched his father stalk away, his large hands clenched at his sides, the veins popping on the back. It was obvious that his father did not believe they should have a childhood, that they were nothing but a tool to be used for this peace that was out of reach. His brothers spoke to him, lecturing on opposing their father as Hashirama glared as he raged on, speaking of adults sending children to their deaths. Their father stopped for moment and spoke.

“We are doing the same to the Uchiha clan. It is respect for your enemy to do such a thing. And infant with a weapon is an enemy as well. Loving your children means turning them into worthy shinobi. It is why I strive to make you stronger, Hashirama, Tobirama, Itama.”

The words sent Hashirama to his feet. He couldn’t grasp his father’s concept. It was only a circle of hate that wouldn’t stop at all. It would continue for generations until something was done about it and it made Hashirama’s stomach twist savagely. This wasn’t the future he wanted for him and his brothers or his clan. The only future he could see was one soaked in blood in an never ending cycle of hate.

“But we don’t even know where it started! You only kill and be killed without knowing how this whole this whole thing started! How is that being a worthy shinobi? To just die!” Hashirama yelled, eyes wild as he continued his rant. “You can’t even say your surname because it’s too dangerous! How shinobi conduct themselves in this world is wrong!”

Hashirama watched as his father stopped and turned. His fist was raised once again as he came at his son. Hashirama’s expression was hardened and determined as he stood his ground as his father spoke, “it is people like you that are called kids!”

Hashirama waited for the fist to connect to his face, but it never came. Tobirama was standing in front of him, arms spread wide to prevent their father from striking him. His younger brother had a good head about him and knew how to diffuse any situation when it dealt with Hashirama’s temper crashing with his fathers. Tobirama made an excuse for Hashirama, claiming that he was upset about today’s event and that he wasn’t thinking clearly. He didn’t buy it of course, but Tobirama knew something needed to be said to diffuse the situation. Hashirama was told to calm down as he glared. He still wasn’t satisfied with this life or the grief and turmoil it brought to his family. It was tearing at their bond, trying to sever it until the Senju clan was too divided to protect each other. This war was a poison that spread far and wide, it’s tendrils reaching every heart it came into contact with. Suddenly, Hashirama felt older than his ten years and the burden on his shoulder only became heavier.

~*~

He was sitting by the river bed, his knees pulled to his chest as he watched the current of the river. Hashirama was entranced by it, how it flowed so easily without a care in the world, ignorant of the war that was plaguing the world. He wished he were the river, to run wild and not to have to worry about engaging the enemy every time he stepped outside of his clan’s home. The river was timeless and had probably seen more bloodshed he had, but it had the option of ignoring what was happening around it.

Itama was dead, gone from this world in a blink of an eye. He had been cornered by Uchiha and killed against a rock. By the time Hashirama had arrived, he was already dead. Another family member had been taken from him, killed before he was even nine. It left a bad taste in Hashirama’s mouth. Itama’s childhood had been taken from him because of this violence, even the average lifespan of a shinobi was dwindling. This stupid war was going too far with the extent of what the shinobi were willing to kill. They were ruthless and killing machines, what they were trained to be. Hashirama vowed that he would reach his goal, he would have his village and missions would be assigned accordingly.

Hashirama shook his head, trying to clear it. He hadn’t been to the river in a few days because of his brother’s funeral. It had been hard grieving for Itama, to believe that he was gone from this world. It had sparked another argument between him and his father. This one more violent because of the subject. Butsuma had praised his son’s death, stating that he had died a worthy shinobi and honored their clan by not running from his fate.

But Hashirama knew better, he knew Itama better than anyone else. His brother had more than likely been scared being surrounded by Uchiha, knowing that there was no way out since they were all adults. Hashirama had explored the scene of his brother’s death, had noticed the footprints that were embedded into the earth. His brother hadn’t been killed, he’d been massacred. There was no way Itama had the ability to fight back against five grown Uchiha. He had more than likely been too busy to think about anything but his death before he was taken from this world. Hashirama’s fist tightened in his clothes. If this war didn’t stop, there would be no future because every child would be dead and there would be no way to produce new clan members.

The adults were too caught up in their feud to notice what was happening around them, that they were slowly losing their families one by one. Even if the Senju and Uchiha clan were large, they were still dwindling in numbers with the bodies that piled up almost every day. Soon, the only people left in the clans would be the elderly.

Children were the ones who were suffering from this war, being trained from birth to be a killer. They were taken from their mothers once they could eat more solidified foods and put with a shinobi to be raised. When they learned to walk, they were trained in the arts of their clan. It was not a life for a child so young, but the adults were set in their ways and continued with the tradition. It was awful and Hashirama felt disgusted by what they were doing. But there was nothing he could do, he was only a child this moment and no one would listen to him.

He promised his brother’s memory that he would do all within his power to create a future where children weren’t massacred and would have the childhood they deserved. Hashirama sat for a few more by himself, allowing the breeze to ruffle his short hair as he stared out into the sparkling blue water. He could feel Madara behind him, the other’s chakra giving him away. Hashirama suspected him of being an Uchiha. It wouldn’t be far fetched, but it was nice to interact with a member from the clan without clashing kunai together.

“Hey...it’s been a few days.” Madara said, standing behind Hashirama. “Hashirama, you can’t be depressed already, I haven’t done anything.”

Even though they had met that one time, Madara knew Hashirama well. Perhaps they were more alike than Hashirama had guessed and he could see past the mask that he had put on the first time they had met by the river. It was nice to speak to someone outside of his clan, even if they were a potential enemy. Hashirama hoped that as they met, they would cross the line from enemy to friend and that they could convince their clans to follow their lead. Of course Senju were hard headed as the Uchiha were hotheaded. It was a clash that did not mix well and Hashirama hoped that they could breach the enmity between them.

“It’s nothing,” Hashirama answered, still staring out at the river. He didn’t want to voice his grief to Madara, to have to tell a somewhat stranger that his little brother was dead.

“It’s more than nothing, Hashirama. I can see how tense you are.” Madara said, frowning even though Hashirama couldn’t see him. “Don’t drag it out, just tell me. I’ll listen to you, whatever it is.”

“My younger brother and cousin are dead! Both just children and they didn’t even live a full life! It was taken from them by this cruel world of shinobi! Why must we be robbed of an opportunity to grow?” Hashirama growled, turning around and facing Madara. Angry tears stained his cheeks as he looked up to the other boy. “I come here to the river because it soothes me to not think like it does. I feel as though the water can carry these feelings away. Do you have siblings?

Madara was silent for a moment, as though he were contemplating what he was going to say before he finally spoke. “We are shinobi, whether we embrace that or not. They were as well, there are no such as children in our world. Only those that kill and are killed, that is the only way we count in this vicious cycle of blood. Three of my brothers died knowing that this was the only life they had and still they faced death as though it were an old friend. They were taught to think like that, that it was honorable to die as a shinobi on a mission.”

He was silent for a few more moments, holding a rock in his hand and bouncing it gently before Hashirama spoke again. “I’ve thought long and hard about how to not die. It’s been on my mind for a long time. You have to show your enemy everything, not hide anything that you are thinking and eventually become allies with them.”

“How would that work, Hashirama? We are shinobi and are taught deception from birth. You would never know what the other was truly thinking and feeling. It is suicide to think such a thing is possible. But despite that...I still think there’s a way. I hope that there is anyway.” Madara said, his tone a bit wistful as he skipped another stone. His eyes were still guarded, though they held hope in the dark depths.

Hashirama watched as the stone skipped to the other side, finally reaching the destination Madara had wanted. They were silent for a bit, just watching the water flow as hope built between them. Hashirama had no doubts now that Madara was an Uchiha and he was sure the boy knew he was a Senju.

“This time, it looks like there is hope.” Madara’s voice soothed Hashirama better than Tobirama ever could.

~*~

They were sitting on the cliff again, looking over the forest that stretched far into the distance. Hashirama could easily see a village nestled among the trees, surrounded by high walls and flourishing off the land. Children would laugh in the streets and play, not go out on dangerous missions that would eventually end their lives. It was visible to Hashirama, almost as if it was there already. He could see the outline of buildings and children playing in the streets already, almost as if they were really there.

“You can really see the forest from here!” Hashirama mused, excitement bursting in his tone. A grin split his lips as he turned his head to Madara.

“Yeah, you can. But I’m confident that I can see further than you, wanna challenge me?” Madara’s voice was proud, boasting of his ability. It was comforting to Hashirama for some reason, it meant that they were good friends if he was willing to speak about it. For the first time since they began to form this friendship, Madara wasn’t conscious of his words. It spoke a lot to Hashirama and he took it as the other child trusting him. Trust was something that was hard earned between shinobi, but here they were building it to the point where they could almost share.

“You’re really proud of your eyes aren’t you?” Hashirama asked, his expression schooled to hide he felt at Madara speaking so freely. It was almost like there wasn’t a war between their clans and they could be friends without the tight restraints they had to keep on themselves. It would be the stepping stone for the other members of their clans to form a friendship as well. Hashirama knew it would take more than a day to get their families on peaceful terms, but he was nothing if determined. The blood of his fellow kin was precious enough and he would do anything to see it stop flowing.

“I should be proud since I have a sha...” But Madara stopped himself. It saddened Hashirama that they couldn’t be themselves with the threat of their clans having over them. There were ways to gain secrets after all and they couldn’t be kept if one knew them. Hashirama would rather keep his suspicions instead of learning the truth.

“What’s wrong?” Hashirama asked, despite wanting to keep the question locked up in his head. It would be weird if he didn’t ask it and Madara would more than likely call it a day and Hashirama didn’t want that at all. He wanted to bask in the attention of his friend.

“Really...in the end I’m no one and I’m not that much.” Madara’s voice was soft, different from the normal boasting it normally was. It put Hashirama on edge as he studied his friends profile. Madara had been close to admitting he was of the Uchiha clan, but had stopped for fear of what could potentially happen to him. Hashirama couldn’t blame him, not with how their world was.

“If I were that good, my brothers would still be alive. I wasn’t able to protect them, so in the end, I’m not much.”

Hashirama hated how defeated Madara sounded, as though he were just giving up. It didn’t suit the normally boisterous attitude of the other. “Don’t you have a brother left?”

“I have a younger one. No matter what, I’ll protect him.” Madara’s voice was filled with a hard edge that backed his promise. Hashirama knew that the Uchiha clan was connected closely with love and that it fueled them. He was positive without a doubt that Madara would keep this promise.

“Then let’s build our settlement here! The view’s great and children won’t have to kill each other!” Hashirama’s voice rang out over the cliff, scaring up some birds making them take to the skies. His arms were raised high as he smiled like a madman. He gestured enthusiastically to the forest. “Just think, Madara! We could have a school where children are taught and nurtured to grow into strong shinobi! Mission will be assigned by strength and skill by senior members! Children won’t be sent to the battlefield to die! Just think of it!”

“Heh,” Madara huffed, turning to look at Hashirama with a wry smile. “You have the most idiotic ideas.”

“What are your thoughts then?” Hashirama asked, sticking his tongue out to Madara. It was a normal reaction and didn’t bother Madara all that much in the end. They were friends and as such, gestures like that were tolerable.

“When we build our settlement, I can watch my little brother from here and make sure he’s safe.” Madara smiled at Hashirama and he knew it was a true one. They were friends, connected by a bond that they had created despite being Senju and Uchiha. Hopefully if his surname ever came out, Madara would be able to look past it and they would be able to keep the bond. It was a fear that resided inside Hashirama that he would be rejected. He tried to ignore it as he kept the smile plastered on his face for his friend’s sake. Hashirama wanted nothing more than the unification of their clans and would do everything within his power to achieve his dream.

Feeling lighter than he had in months, he looked to the sky and grinned. If he could achieve this peace he wanted so badly, then children would stop dying and be able to live out their lives. It may have cost his own childhood, but that didn’t matter to Hashirama. Thousands of children after him would be able to play and enjoy life before they grew into shinobi capable of killing. It was a dream he held close to his heart and he hoped to achieve it with Madara.