Sacrifices for Peace

Part Two: Arrival III

Izuna fell asleep almost instantly upon their return home, but Madara didn't stay, he was gone the moment Izuna's breathing evened out. There was somewhere he needed to go, that place from his childhood. The one place he had felt a sense of freedom from his life of never-ending war and death. Hashirama was waiting for him. His chakra was masked - an attempt to hide from Tobirama, no doubt - but even without sensing him, Madara knew Hashirama would be there. He knew Hashirama all too well, though he oftentimes tried to forget that.

With each blow they exchanged, in every battle they faced each other, he felt the depth and truth of Hashirama's feelings. Hashirama didn't want to fight anymore, he still believed in that dream they had once shared. Their battles had become little more than a performance to their clans, and it made both of them hate it. They fought without truly aiming to kill, while others died. It made Madara sick, but it was the reason why he knew Hashirama would pull back on his attack when Madara turned his focus from their fight to his brother. He remained amazed and disgusted at himself with the level of trust he had in someone who should be considered his mortal enemy.

Seeing Izuna almost die had shaken him, more than anything else had in his life. He'd completely disregarded the arrival of the strangely dressed people in the midst of their battle, ignoring them and any danger they posed to get to his brother's side. All his focus had turned to Izuna.

Izuna.

His chest still tightened at the sight of the blood pouring from his side. That bastard Tobirama - so intent on the death of his clan - had taken the advantage of the distraction to land a killing blow. Yet Izuna did not die. He was saved by that strange pink-haired girl. Madara's brow furrowed thoughtfully. It wasn't just their astonishing arrival or her healing capabilities that had him questioning their origins. He might have imagined it, but for a second, just a flash in time, he was sure he'd seen the Sharingan in the man's eyes. Putting all of that to the side, there was something about the two of them that felt peculiar to Madara. The chakra they'd all felt as the pair arrived was immense and powerful, but there was something else about it, something he couldn't quite grasp or understand. It grated him that he couldn't figure out what it was that seemed to call to him.

The girl was the main reason he chose to hold back and observe them further. He'd never seen a shinobi with pink hair, and that purple diamond on her forehead was another mystery. Some kind of chakra seal, he saw, but didn't recognise the exact nature of it. More important than her appearance was her actions. On the battlefield he watched her do exactly what he had done: she'd disregarded any possible danger - surrounding her, there was a lot of it - to heal Izuna.

 He'd held back his startled throw of a kunai when he saw the determined and concerned look on her face. He could see she wasn't going to attack. But where did she learn her skill? He'd never seen anyone heal so effectively, and her chakra control was almost unrivalled, as good as himself and Hashirama. His brow furrowed further. Surely, if she'd been able to hone her skills to such a degree, she must be well-known. But he had never heard of a healer like her before, and with her appearance, she would be easily recognised wherever she went.

He jumped from branch to branch, gnawing at the inside of his cheek in thought, hurrying but not rushing to the river. There were many strange things that had happened that needed answers. He felt like something in the world around him had shifted, it unsettled him, and for whatever reason, he needed to speak with Hashirama Senju to feel some semblance of calm. Damn that fool for continuing to draw him in.

He reached the edge of the forest and jumped down from the tree, landing lightly on the grass below. A few steps forwards and the grass became loose pebbles and stones at the banks of the river. His footfalls were so light and well-placed that only the smallest crunch at impact could be heard. His eyes shifted over the dark landscape, and he activated his Sharingan to see clearer. His arms were folded across his chest, and he leaned back on his right leg whilst he waited for the approaching Senju. He was, of course, dressed in his red armour and fully armed. Even if this was a secret meeting, he didn't doubt Tobirama would be carefully watching over his foolish elder brother. The chance of an ambush was high.