MadaTobi OneShots

"The dead are onto us. "

(Inspiration from Ao3- Across Dead Seas by TheDarkSide)

Hashirama is the Beckett of this story.

Madara is somewhat Jack Sparrow and Tobirama kinda Davy Jones :)))).

Madara looked over at the wide open sea,  feeling the wind in his hair,  the red bandana barely holding it out of his face,  golden earings glistening in the light.  Despite the seemingly peaceful atmosphere... Somethig... Just feels... Wrong.   Like the calm before the storm. He looked over his ship.  The Susanoo...  Once owned by another.  He swollows the lump in his throat,  remembering those red,  betrayed eyes as the man sunk into the water.  Betrayed by the one he thought he could trust the most. 

Already hunted by his own brother for crimes he had not commited,  labled as a pirate for something he did not do.

Madara's own brother standing by his side as they watch their ex captain sink to the deep blue waters.  Tied to a canon,  his crew celebrating his demise.

Madara did not feel quilt.  That was the plan from the very start after all.  He knew Hashirama and his weasel of a brother.  Following him arround like a lost puppy only to be labled as a pirate by the very same man he trusted with his life,  only to be later killed by said man's best friend,  believing that maybe,  the fact that they were both betrayed by Hashirama could be enough of a reason to trust. 

He was wary at first,  of course,  he wasn't stupid.  It took them years before they could gain his trust.  Even a speck of it. 

Madara turned sharply when he heared one of his crew member's shout.  A ship was onto them. 

He grit his teeth as he saw the familiar flag of Hashirama's praised flag ship.  The Hokage.  One ship of many from his fleet,  Konoha. 

He ordered to fleet,  but get the cannons ready,  who knows what situation they might find themselves in. 

The Susanoo was faster then The Hokage,  as the ship was large,  filled with heavy weaponary. 

A storm begun brewing,  the wonderdul weather disappeaeing as the chase continued.  Madara looked up at the unnatural red lighting.  Somethig felf horribly,  horribly wrong. 

He pulled out his telescope and looked at The Hokage,  a flash of lightning and a ship seemingly rose from the sea it self.  Dread filled Madara's chest.  The view wasn't clear but the ship's sails were torn,  as if a wreck had came to life.

He frowned as he looked at the ship,  a flash of lightning and he finds himself stumbling backwards,  falling on his rear end.

His eyes wide as his brother frowned down at him.  "What did you see brother?"

"... Get out of here as fast as we can,  away from that red eyed demon. "

And so they did,  sailing away as if the death it self was onto them.

But then again... They aren't far from it.

Hashirama looked through his telescope at the fleeting ship.  A small smirk forming on his lips,  a flash of lightning and he's not alone.

"Follow him."

A splash of water and the storm vanished along with the ghastly ship and it's undead captain. Following The Susanoo in the cover of deep blue sea.

<><><><><>

Madara scowled at the map,  something has been nagging him at the back of his mind.  Surely he couldn't be alive?  That is just not possible. He must have been hallucinating.  He sights and gets up from his chair.  He needs a drink. 

He walks down into the storage of their ship,  taking a bottle of sake and took a long sip.

"What will we do with the drunken whaler,  what will we do with the drunken whaler.  What will we do with the drunken whaler,  early in the morning... "

Madara stopped in his track of taking another sip.  Turning arround as the song continued.  Walking arround the many barrels,  following the low,  young,  raspy and so familiar voice to the very back of the room.  Madara felt a lump form in his throat as the song continued.  The song he had sung when he strapped him to that canon. 
He stepped into the darkness,  raising a lamp that was sitting on a barrel.  His eyes widdening as he saw the deathly pale,  young man sitting in the corner,  sharpening a sea-life covered sword.  His form dripping wet,  covered in sea-life just like his sword.  Like a ghost of the sea itself.

"Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver,  slice his throat with a rusty cleaver.  Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver early in the morning. "

A horrible skin crawling echo made the words that were gritted out more eerie as the man's eyes snapped to him.  Madara dropped the bottle in his hand,  the arm holding up the lamp shaking. 

A terrifying sharp-toothed smirk was aimed in his direction.

"Hello,  Madara. "

Song: Drunken Whaler