☆HashiMada OneShots☆

Nightmare

An exhausted Hashirama wandered the streets of the leaf village, searching and searching for someone in particular. Without success in his search, he decided to leave behind that fateful activity. He had many doubts, and they were all about the same thing, "Madara and the valley of the end".

Pensive, is the right word to describe his state of mind in the last few weeks after "it", and this morning, it would be no different. He kept walking. But something made him stop dead.

There I was in front of Him, the only one who could tell him "everything is going to be fine, idiot" and I would know that I could trust those words more than an I love you... or that had been in the past

"Hey!, Hokage-sama."- said a villager, although his voice was not heard, his head was elsewhere, and his focus was another. "I'm sorry" he mumbled, without even looking at him.

"I'm a little busy" he finished before beginning to walk among the people to get to him, to his arms, to his nightmares. I needed it, and I wanted it. Finishing cutting through the crowd, he couldn't focus on it in his field of vision, so he tried to feel his chakra, but no results either.

He wasn't there, he was gone again. His mind began to work; maybe he didn't want to see it and that's why he left, or maybe he was never there; and it is that, deep down, he knew that it was like that and he had to get used to it. He felt how his chest was oppressed, and he continued on his path, correct and pretending to be sincere.

He walked and walked unconsciously, aimlessly, until he looked up and ran into a special place that he had visited accompanied 3 weeks ago, where his nightmare was located and where it also became real; The Valley of the End

While Hashirama observed the magnitude of the facing statues, he thought a lot about something. In them. In it.

It was the most vivid memory he had of his beloved. Does not lie; is the only memory that was left of him.

He sat on the edge of the cliff, on the edge of the empirical abyss; waiting for someone that he knew would never appear, that by his side he would never return. "Madara..." he released, sighing in unbearable pain at the wind, closing his eyes, reminding him of everything and waiting for the wind to carry everything away on its back.

He remembers and revives, opens the wounds that have not healed yet, and closes his eyes, ready to see the scene of the disastrous event again in his imagination, to see projected on his retina the scene where the gloom approaches and overflows his luminous life; the scene where chaos dominates and breaks them to leave the job half done to the hateful and envious death, who separates them.

Hashirama tried to control the fury of the Kyuubi who had been summoned by his childhood friend, and also...his lover.

Words weren't needed to prove anything, just their looks wary at the idea of ​​turning away, even when they would kill each other, defining. One filled with pain, and the other with hate. One completely stained with blood spilt long ago, unable to see the dawn again as a day that could be better than the previous one. And the other with her gaze always on the present, on the future, on progress, and on the fact that everything that had happened was past already overcome, that life went on. In the eyes of his opponent, Hashirama was naive and had dreams of a little boy who does not know the true face of reality, a boy who dreamed of world peace, something impossible to achieve, according to the Uchiha, who in reality, he only made sense to remember that, unlike the Senju, he had lost absolutely everything.

After an arduous deadly fight for Madara, Hashirama fell to his knees in front of the body of his friend and lover.

"Hashirama..." the Uchiha whispered weakly, extending his arm to the cheek of The only one who made an effort to show him that the world was better than he thought "thank you...my...love," he said in a whisper that was almost inaudible to the contrary. "Madara..." the Senju murmured as he cradled the now lifeless body of his lover in his arms. He caressed his wet hair, contemplated his features and lifeless eyes for a few seconds while wild tears escaped him, and finally, he lifted him to take him with him to his Home... Home, what a word that.....