Dedicated to RogueAngleofSatin

Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto

Dead Boy's Poem; The Crow, The Owl, and The Dove; Eva, While Your Lips Are Still Red, Whoever Brings The Night, Ghost Love Score (c) Nightwish

If only my heart had a home. My love letter to nobody. Failed in becoming a god. A lonely soul, an ocean soul! Nightwish

The rush of the waves echoed dully in Madara's ears as he stared out at the vast grey ocean. This was the end of Fire Country. Beyond the horizon lied the islands that made up Water Country, and the budding new village of Kirigakure, Village Hidden in the Mists. On the rocks below Madara heard the odd barking of the seals. He shook his head in annoyance, the seals' constant barking reminding him of Hashirama's constant talking. An eagle cried over head and Madara flicked his gaze heavenwards. His heart panged with longing, wishing he could be free like the raptors that soared on the thermals high over head. He hated being a groundling, being bound to the earth.

The door opened to the little sea-side cabin, and the innkeeper shuffled out the door. "Sir, your meal is ready," she called. Madara looked over his shoulder and nodded. He fixed his gaze over the ocean, trying to determine how best to get to Kirigakure and the lands it made up. "If you are trying to get to Water Country, I suggest you go north, through the swamps," the innkeeper gifted him with a kind smile.

Madara mutely nodded. He knew from the days before the peace, that the swamplands were inhabitable by the Kaguya clan. A clan that many wrongly thought the Uchiha desired to be like. The Uchiha had pride and honor, the Kaguya only cared about how much blood they could shed with their kekkei genkai, Shikotsumyaku.

The once proud leader of the Uchiha walked up to the innkeeper, noting that she was a woman around his age, with a warm smile and plump yet buxom figure. She almost reminded him of a simpler time, almost made him crave the comforts of a woman. But he didn't want to forge any new bonds, especially with strangers. It would get messy. He wanted to fade into the mists of time and plot out his revenge before the sands of time decay his mortal form. He entered the inn and closed the door with a soft click behind him.

He had heard stories of the Senju clan as a child. How they were children of tree spirits and were powerful in all manners of ninjutsu and genjutsu. Then he stumbled on upon the secret history, the truth behind the hatred that is half-remembered and completely forgotten. But, at the time of the discovery, he preferred the tree spirit tale over the historical truth. He was merely thirteen, his newly awakened Mangekyou Sharingan in his eyes, he had just killed Torazaki, the general and so-called leader of the Uchiha clan, and looked up from his grim crime at a fairly tall and lanky brunette youth. "What?" he spat, his sharp eyes honing in on the clan crest burned into the wooden neck-guard of the boy's sanguine armour.

"You killed your leader," the youth stated.

Madara gave a gleefully nasty grin, "I guess that makes me leader, huh?"

"Those are the rules," the Senju boy replied. Madara picked up the sickle of his kusarigama.

"Are you the Senju leader?" Madara asked, "I heard he's extremely strong, master of a rare kekkei genkai called mokuton."

"Oh, I've never heard of that before," the boy said.

"I want to fight him, if I defeat him I'll be the strongest shinobi in the world," Madara replied as he began to twirl the sickle, the Senju boy slid back into a defensive stance to counter Madara's attack. "Do you know his name?"

"I believe his name is Senju Hashirama," the boy said with a mysterious smile.

"Tell me where he is!" Madara's Sharingan spun eagerly at the thought of battling the so-called world's strongest shinobi.

The Senju youth smiled, "I don't know."

Madara frowned and let loose a fierce roar and tossed his twirling sickle. The Senju youth countered with a doton jutsu and Madara countered with a katon jutsu. And thus, they traded blows, each measuring the other's strength. They learned about each other. The Senju learned of Madara's fierce pride in himself and his clan, the devotion to his younger brother and keeping his shinobi skills sharp, and his burning desire to be loved and accepted unconditionally.

Madara learned of the Senju boy's calm and patient nature, like a tree that steadily reaches for the glorious golden disc of the sun. That he too, had a brother, that was his opposite, was fierce as a raging flood yet flexible as the very element he commanded. Madara also learned of the Senju boy's pressure of living up to the expectations of his clan and family, having been born the clan leader's son, there was immense pressure on the boy's shoulders.

Yet, both discovered a worthy opponent and rival in the other. Madara felt utterly alive for the first time in his life.

By the time their battle was finished both were exhausted, yet grinning like madmen, the landscape around them ruined. Larger craters and huge upturned roots scarred the earth. Ominous black flames flickered on large broken tree trunks. Countless shuriken, senbon, and kunai littered the ground. It looked like a war took place, oppose to a battle within the war.

Both of the young boys were on their hands and knees panting. Madara studied his opponent with now black eyes, blood caked on his pale cheeks. He never felt so exhausted before, not even when he trained with Izuna, he didn't even have enough chakra to keep his Sharingan present. With a groan he pushed himself to his feet, his opponent mimicked him. "Uchiha Madara," he said, eyeing the Senju. The Senju smiled pleasantly despite his tired state.

"Senju Hashirama," he replied. Madara felt his blood freeze and then swiftly boil over. With a scream he charged at Hashirama. The Senju boy did the same and they both punched each other in the jaw. They staggered back a few feet, staring at each other before, panting heavily before collapsing from sheer exhaustion. Both had smiles on their faces.

A swan came to me. I kissed her neck, adored her grace, but needed nothing she could give! — Nightwish

"Hashirama?" Mito called to her husband, who was busy at his desk, writing furiously. "Are you coming to bed?" the Uzumaki woman leaned against the door frame, resting her hand on her swelling belly. "The baby's been kicking a lot lately."

"That's nice," Hashirama looked up and smiled at her with warmth and affection. "I'll be in bed in a few moments, I just have to finish a few things up."

"Okay," Mito gave a small nod before walking off. As soon as her back was turned, silent tears cascaded down her cheeks. She knew from the beginning that this was a loveless marriage, despite how much she wished it wasn't. Hashirama's heart belonged to another, and she couldn't blame herself for hating that man that stole her beloved Hashirama's heart.

"Mito? Are you okay?" Tobirama asked, walking up to the Uzumaki woman that was keeping the village safe by housing the Kyuubi no Kitsune in her body.

"I'm fine Tobirama," Mito wiped her tears from her cheeks, her blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. "Just hormones, ya know?" she laughed softly.

"I'll take your word for it," the younger Senju shrugged. Mito smiled prettily at him. Their love affair had been brief and forbidden, yet she still craved to be in his arms: safe, wanted, and loved.

"Is Nii-san, still working?" Tobirama asked, trying not to upset the Uzumaki woman.

"Yes, very busy being the Hokage and everything," Mito subconsciously rubbed her belly.

"Hn," Tobirama gave a curt nod, and cupped the fūinjutsu specialist's cheek, "don't cry," he whispered, "if you cry my heart breaks. I hate seeing a flower wilt when it's so close to a river." His lips ghosted over her's before he turned and walked down the dark corridor. Mito crumbled to the floor and began to sob.

"Mommy?" a girl's voice came out of the darkness.

"Married?" Madara blinked, when Hashirama informed him of his impending nuptials. "I don't think our clans will approve of two men getting married. Not that I really care. If the Uchiha don't like it, I'll just tell them to suck it up and get over it. It's what I want to do and I do what I want," Madara shrugged.

"Not to you," Hashirama whispered. Madara paused in putting the dango into his mouth.

"What?" he hissed.

"I said: Not to you. I'm getting married, to a woman," Hashirama said.

"A woman?" Madara seethed. "A fucking woman? Who's idea was it?"
"The elders of my clan and her's. She's Uzumaki, our clans are distant blood relations, it only seems natural. Every now and again we mix blood," Hashirama shrugged.

"And how do you feel about this?" the Uchiha asked his forbidden lover.

"It's a duty I must perform for the safety and future of my clan," Hashirama said. Madara smacked him.

"I want to know how you feel about this! Not the robotic answer you give people!"

"I don't like it, Madara," Hashirama rubbed his cheek, "I rather marry you," he whispered. Madara nodded with a small smirk on his lips.

"As you should, I'm much better than any mere woman," Madara snorted. Hashirama chuckled softly.

"And prettier too," the Senju added.

"Now you're just stroking my ego," the Uchiha smirked, but a small tint of pink was in his cheeks.

"It's not ego stroking," Hashirama leaned in close and cupped Madara's cheek, "when it's the truth," he pressed his lips against Madara's and the Uchiha swiftly dominated the tender gesture by forcing his tongue between the Senju's lips, coaxing a shuddering moan from Hashirama's throat.

"I like that sound," Madara whispered when he pulled away, "it pleases me greatly."

Hashirama blushed, shyly looking away only to gasp when Madara's hand slid up his shirt. Hands soon found their way between legs, touching the sensitive skin there. Clothes were removed or ripped away with kunai. Passionate kisses left heated trails on bare skin, coaxing moans and groans from parted lips. Hips rocked in time, moving in synch like waves crashing gently upon the shore. They came with shuddering sighs, snuggling against each other's sweat slicked bodies, the blankets tangled around their legs. They stared at each other, murmuring sweet nothings and basking in the after glow until they finally fell asleep.

Eva flies away, dreams a world far away, in this cruel children's game, there's no friend to call her name. — Nightwish

Madara sat up in bed, the blankets falling down around his waist. He looked at the sleeping woman besides him. He shook his head, knowing that it was a stupid idea to sleep with the woman but he wanted to ease the pain in his heart. Silently, he stood up, the blanket falling away and revealing his nakedness. He hunted for his clothes and calmly put them on. He heard a sleepy sigh and turned to look at the innkeeper. "You leaving?" she muttered softly, a lazy smile on her lips.

"Hn," Madara blinked on his Sharingan and easily slipped a genjutsu over her, putting her back to sleep. He fingered a kunai, debating if he should just slit the woman's throat and be done with it. He decided against it, knowing how Hashirama would chide him that he was too quick to inflict pain upon people. Madara gathered the rest of his things, placed some money on the nightstand near the woman and left the inn.

He took a deep breath, tasting the brine in the back of his throat, welcoming the tang of the sea, before he took a running leap off the cliff. He landed on the water, chakra buzzing around his feet. He knew he had enough chakra to make it to the next island, and from there he'll catch a boat and head to the main island where Kirigakure was located. He just had a lie low for a few years, just until he was half-remembered and nearly forgotten.

At that thought, a strange pain gripped his heart and he touched the skin below his eyes. He would fade out of history just like his brother did. His poor little brother who was sacrificed for a clan that ended up turning it's back on him. "Izuna," Madara muttered, hating the fact that the Uchiha were blind to Izuna's sacrificed and were to quick to slander him and then hang him as their scapegoat.

He felt his blood boil with rage at the mere thought of how the Uchiha hung him to dry just because Hashirama was their dazzling new peace-providing leader. They didn't understand, they didn't see the writing on the walls. Writing that was written in their own blood like he did. He knew that after Hashirama died, that his brother would become Hokage, and that Tobirama will never come to trust the Uchiha, no matter how much he said he will follow his brother's example.

In fact, Madara never trusted Tobirama. Tobirama always did send up red flags for Madara. He didn't look like any of the other Senju; having white hair and red eyes. Most people could never tell that Hashirama and Tobirama were related.

A gull cried overhead, drawing Madara out of his thoughts. He stopped, bobbing with the lapping waves of the ocean and raised his head to track it's path. The sound reminded him of the same sadness in his heart. It reminded him of how lonely he's been. So very lonely.

Madara groaned when he came to. It had only been a few months since his parents died, and the orphaned seven-year-old was an ostracized and alienated outcast among the clan, along with his brother. They swiftly earned a reputation as bullies and thieves, though Madara was quickly becoming a rising star among the ranks of shinobi, his natural born talent at being a ninja blossoming on the blood soaked battlefield.

But he was putting all that behind him. He'll start his own clan if he had to. He'll become so powerful that his power will rival that of the Sage of Six Paths. Yes, he was running away and he didn't care if that was a coward's way out. The only mishap in his plan was that he didn't expect to be attacked by a deer that was in rut nor being saved by another boy that could whisper to trees.

"Oh, you're finally awake," his savior stood in front of the little wooden hut that seemed to have been made by magic or some secret ninjutsu that Madara didn't know of. "I brought you some mushroom soup," the boy said. "It's my favorite, it's really tasty and don't worry I know which mushrooms people can eat."

The brunette boy walked up to Madara and set the bowl down in front of him and then took a few steps back, treating the young Uchiha child like a wild animal. Madara frowned but took the bowl and began to eat it. "Gah!" he dropped the spoon back into the soup.

"Erm... careful, it's kinda hot," the brunette scratched at his temple with a finger.

"Hn," Madara blushed, with a pout on his lips but blew on the soup before eating it. He ate the soup mechanically, all under the wide watchful hazel eyes of the brunette boy. "What's in this?" Madara asked when he finished the soup.

"Shimeji, maitake, enoki, shiitake, and reishi mushrooms," the brunette grinned. "I gathered them myself and washed them in the river nearby. By the way, what's your name?"

Madara gulped, unsure how to respond. He didn't want anyone to know who he really was or the fact that he was an Uchiha. He tried to glance slyly over his shoulder to look at the back of his shirt, which was solid black, having yet to master Katon: Gokakyuu no jutsu, thus having no right to wear the red and white uchiwa crest of his clan. "Speckles," Madara finally forced out, his expression blank.

"Speckles?" the brunette wrinkled his nose. "What an odd name, to have."

"Well what's your then?" Madara snapped. "I gave you mine."

The other boy smiled gently, "Clearly it's a secret name."

"Huh?" Madara blinked, confused.

"I don't think it's your real name."

"How do you know it's not my real name?" Madara groused, folding his arms over his chest. He hated the fact that he still had some baby fat in his arms and cheeks. Old women like to oooh and aww and pinch his cheeks, saying how cute and adorable he looked. But the other boy simple chuckled.

"My name is Moku," the boy said. Madara burst into laughter.

"Wood? Your name is wood?" Madara sneered.

"Well, it's clearly better than speckles I think," the other boy shrugged.

"Bastard!" Madara threw the bowl down and jumped to his feet. "I was named Speckles because... they are speckles of good fortune!"

"Or stains of dishonor," the boy replied. Madara shook with suppressed rage and fury. He cried out and charged at the other boy, punching him in the face.

"I'll bring honor to my clan! Honor, glory and good fortune! I'm not a failure!"

"I never said you were," the other boy replied, walking passed Madara and picking up the broken pieces of the bowl. He calmly looked over at the door, when he heard banging and tearful sounds of a young child calling for his brother. "By the way, your wounds aren't that bad. Just scraps and cuts."

"Hn," Madara opened the door and gasped when he saw Izuna standing in the door way, shaking, snot dripping from his nose, tears cascading down his cheeks and his lips twisted in a fear.

"Onii-chama?" the five-year-old boy sobbed. "I... I... I'm sorry!" Izuna threw himself at Madara and heaved great big sobs. "I'm sorry! I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry! I promise I won't be a crybaby any more! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just don't leave me all alone anymore!"

Madara blinked but he squeezed his brother in return. In his anger at the treatment he'd been receiving from the clan, he forgot about his precious little brother. "Izuna," Madara smoothed his brother's black hair.

"I'll get stronger so I can come with you to battle and fight! I'll make you the proudest big brother ever! I swear it! Just don't leave me! Please, I don't want you to leave me! Mama left and so did Papa! I don't wanna lose you too!" Izuna looked up at Madara, sniffling pathetically.

"Hey, it's okay, you won't lose me." Madara said, squeezing Izuna tightly.

"I won't?" Izuna wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"Course not," Madara smirked. "We're going to be strong together!"

"Really? I'm gonna be strong?"

"Yes, so very very strong," Madara grinned nuzzling his brother's forehead with his owns. Izuna grinned.

"I love you Onii-chama!" Izuna chirped.

"As do I, otouto-kun, as do I."

Kiss while your lips are still red, while he's still silent. Drown into eyes while they're still blind. Love while the night still hides the withering dawn. — Nightwish

Hashirama finally crawled into bed next to his wife. Mito was sleeping soundly with her back to him. The Senju was content to watch her side rise and fall with her even breathing. Hashirama reached out and wove his fingers through her hair, which was long and loose, falling over her bare back and white bed like a cascading wave of flame. He pushed those fiery locks away and found her smooth back, unmarked and soft. So different from Madara's back, which was crisscrossed with a myriad of scars.

"Madara..." Hashirama rolled onto his back with a sigh. He closed his eyes, trying to will his body to fall to sleep, but all that played behind his eyelids were imagines of Madara. Madara fighting, Madara laughing, Madara stretching as he stepped out of the hot-spring, smirking as Hashirama's eyes stared at his tone naked body. The Senju leader groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He didn't want his thoughts to drift in that direction at the moment. His body was exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep.

But his brain clearly had other ideas, as more images of Madara danced across his psyche. A majority of them featured Madara naked. Oh, how Hashirama hated himself at that moment. He wanted so much to run his hands over those smooth muscles of the Uchiha, feel Madara's flesh against his, hear Madara's soft gasps in his ear and see that adorable blush on the normally stoic Uchiha's pale cheeks.

Hashirama rolled onto his side, one hand grabbing his erection. He closed his eyes and thought of the happier times he had with Madara, while his fingers danced sinfully on the sensitive skin of his manhood. He bit his lip, trying to keep his moans and whimpers to a minimum. He didn't want to wake his pregnant wife. He gripped the bed sheet with his spare hand as the sensations between his legs began to reach a dizzying height, that all to familiar knot in his gut tightening. His thumb ghosted over his hyper-sensitive crown and he came with a shuddering gasp. Sticky sweet cum covering his hand. He pulled his hand away while a soft breath laugh escaped his throat: "Madara, look what you do to me." Hashirama began to lick his cum off his fingers.

"Rain's not letting up," Hashirama said offhandedly as he swiftly glanced over his shoulder. Madara frowned. The two got separated from their respective clans, both ended up battered and bruised, Madara more so than Hashirama, and had taken refuge in a cave.

"Duh, we're in Rain Country," Madara sneered with a roll of his eyes. He winced though, as he had a few broken bones.

"Thank you," Hashirama said politely, even though he clearly didn't have to say anything. Madara made a face but wasn't about the let the Senju have the last word.

"Maybe if you studied your maps a little bit better we wouldn't be lost," Madara spat. Hashirama sighed tiredly.

"I study my maps, but unfortunately I don't have my maps on me at the moment otherwise we'd be on our way home."

"I'm not going home with you like some stray dog you found on the streets, Senju."

"I never said I that I was going to take you home, Uchiha."

Madara blinked when Hashirama said his clan name, he grumbled something that sounded like 'bastard' and proceeded to brood silently for an untold amount of time. During Madara's period of sullen brooding Hashirama left the cave to see if he couldn't find any dry firewood and get a fire going for the two of them. He came back later without firewood, but with some food.

"I got some food," Hashirama said, showing Madara his collection of river fish, wild mushrooms and roots. Madara snorted.

"Have fun starting the fire by yourself, because I'm not helping you," Madara continued to glare threateningly at the Senju leader.

Hashirama made a face but let the comment go. He used his mokuton to get the firewood he couldn't find and began to make some soup. Madara wondered where the Senju got the cooking utensils, but soon the smell of soup began to fill the cave and Madara's stomach began to growl hungrily.

"Do you want some?" Hashirama asked.

"Tch," Madara snorted, "don't be ridiculous, you will probably poison my serving."

"I wouldn't do something like that," Hashirama gifted Madara with a look that should be on a beaten puppy. "Besides, you're hungry. I can hear your stomach growl."

"I'm not hungry," Madara snapped, glaring at his rival. He shifted and looked at the rocks, purposely ignoring Hashirama and the food. The Senju shrugged. Once the rather bland soup was finished he began to eat.

Madara shot a look over at the Senju has he dished out seconds for himself. Madara licked his chapped lips, wanting to have some of the soup as well, but his pride (and paranoia) held him back. He looked away and tired to ignore the growling of his empty belly. He jerked suddenly after a few minutes when Hashirama nudged him with a bowl of soup.

"I swear on my honor that I didn't poison it," Hashirama smiled.

"Hn," Madara grabbed the bowl, "what good is a Senju's honor anyways. Know this, if I end up dead, Izuna will kill you." Madara began to eat, reminded of the time when a strange boy named Moku took him in and fed him. "Do you always watch when a man eats?" Madara growled, getting annoyed with feeling Hashirama's eyes on him.

"I uuh... have to use the bathroom," Hashirama stood up, wincing as he bumped his head. Madara gave a nasty smirk in delight at this and watched the Senju stumble outside into the rain to piss. Madara finished the soup and moved to help himself to more. He'd never admit it, but the Senju was a pretty good cook.

Hashirama came back a long while later, wringing his long brown hair from water. Madara was on his third bowl of soup. He paused suddenly, the spoon halfway to his mouth. He couldn't help put find the Senju alluringly beautiful in the dim light and how his wet hair clung to his face. Grunting in annoyance Madara continued to eat. He set the bowl aside and began to lie down, intent on sleeping and forgetting that utterly insane thought of Senju Hashirama looking, of all things, beautiful!

"What are you doing?" Madara pushed against Hashirama's chest.

"Sharing body heat, it's rather cold and... I don't want you to get sick," Hashirama said with a blush. Madara scowled.

"I'm perfectly fine! I don't get cold, unlike weaklings like you nor do I get sick!" Madara pushed Hashirama away and curled up into a sleeping position and went to sleep. Hashirama looked at the Uchiha leader with a beaten puppy expression before going asleep himself.

Hashirama woke in the dead of night, to soft whimpering. When he looked over at Madara he realized that the younger man was shivering. Being a compassionate person, Hashirama moved closer to Madara with his blanket in hand. Hashirama lied down and tossed the blanket over both of them. When the warm fabric touched Madara, the Uchiha snapped his eyes. He rolled over and glowered hateful of the Senju. "What do you think you're doing?" Madara hissed.

"You were shivering... you're teeth were chattering," Hashirama replied a bit meekly. Honestly, he was just trying to be nice. Madara didn't need to go and bite his head off. Madara frowned, confused. He understood that Hashirama was just being kind, but he just couldn't comprehend why the Senju would go to such lengths for another person, especially him.

"I was fine," Madara muttered softly.

"No you weren't," Hashirama traced Madara's lower lip in the dim light, "your lips were starting to turn blue."

"Hn," Madara felt his cheeks heat up with that intimate touch.

"You ate a lot of soup, were you hungry?"

"I didn't want you to dump it and attract some wild beast."

"Oh," Hashirama smiled sweetly.

"Hn," Madara looked away, not likely how Hashirama was slowly inching closer.

It happened rather suddenly, but Hashirama pressed his lips gently, timidly... shyly against Madara's cold and chapped ones. Hashirama pulled away blushing. "S-Sorry," he mumbled. Madara huffed.

"If you are going to kiss me, actually kiss me and stop pussy-footing around," Madara growled, grabbed the Senju by his chin and kissed him. Hashirama's eyes grew wide and a soft moan was escaped his lips when Madara forced his tongue into his mouth.

Their tongues did battle for a while before Madara pulled away. "That's how you kiss someone one Senju. Now, let me go to sleep!"

Hashirama watched Madara use his arm for a pillow, snuggle close to him and went to sleep. The Senju chuckled softly.

All your love is a lie! Tonight a fantasy for a zombie, hurt me, I love to suffer! Rotten beauty will haunt you for a lifetime. Unholy, unworthy; my night is a dream for free. — Nightwish

Madara didn't really remember why he walked into the brothel. Maybe it was because he was bored or he couldn't stop thinking about how that cute little innkeeper felt beneath him: Squirming and wriggling and gasping in rapture beneath his tone body. How her erect nipples on her breasts pressed up against his firm pecs whenever she arched her back and shuddering little moans escaped her open mouth as he slammed into her.

Yes, it was definitely that. He just wanted sex. He didn't want actual love or pleasure out of it. He just wanted sex. Why else would a man go into a whorehouse? Surely he wasn't looking for a blushing bride in there. Regardless of the reason, Madara was currently sitting at one of the tables, three beautiful women with their kimono almost falling off of them sitting around him. Talking, giggling, and touching. They whispered lustful things into his ear: "Come to my room, I'll show you a good time," or "My, my, you sure do have a healthy snake between your legs," that comment was always followed by a light, teasing squeeze to his groin. Madara groaned each time one of the little brothel bitches did that to him. He couldn't help it, he was a man and it felt damn good. He shifted slightly and looked at them. He didn't feel like playing nice. He already played nice with the innkeeper. He pulled the girl closest to him closer and nuzzled her ear.

"Hello my dear," he purred, nibbling at her earlobe with his lips, "you new?"

"Y-Yes," she squeaked, a blush on her face.

"Oh?" he placed his hand on her thigh, studying her beet red face. "Never been with a man before, I take it?"

"Well... n-no," she looked away, shyly. Madara laughed softly as he slipped his hand between her legs.

"My, my," he sucked on her neck, "you're wet, practically dripping."

"S-Sir," she squealed and gasped as he fingered her. The other girls around him backed off, miffed about him choosing the greenhorn over them.

"Why don't you take me back to your room. I'll show you what a real man is like." He flicked her nub and she gasped, high and sweet.

"Y-Yes," she pulled away from him, yet she couldn't help but stare as Madara licked her womanly juices from his fingers. "This way," she got up and began to walk off. Madara rose and followed her, the bulge in his pants clearly evident, but frankly he didn't care. He smirked devilishly as he closed the door to the virgin's room behind him.

"Why do you always do this!" Madara seethed at the Senju. They were just out of sight of the Uchiha village. Hashirama had once again shown up, signaling Madara by making trees dance and the Uchiha leader had to come and investigate. "I will send you a letter, when it's safe to meet!"

"I couldn't wait any longer," Hashirama gave Madara is famous beaten puppy look. The Uchiha leader cursed colorfully. "I had to see you."

Madara didn't know how long this game could go on. This game of love and hate. They took every chance they had. After battles, during battles, sneaking into each others' respected home. Furious, angry passionate make-out sessions. Nothing more and nothing less. It wouldn't to either of them any good if they went to the next level. Sex was completely out of the question. Until their last secret meeting when Hashirama hesitantly brought up the subject. Madara frowned, ranted and raved and punched Hashirama, but in the end they gave it a try.

It ended badly as neither of them knew what to do. Hashirama went up with a black eye and Madara a painfully sore ass. This time... this time Madara didn't know what was going to happen and he hated that feeling of not being in control. He stood, along with Hashirama, in the little house that Hashirama had made using his mokuton. "I see," was all Madara could say. I wanted to see you too, Hashirama. I hate this secrecy! I hate pretending... at least around Izuna. Though I think Izuna already knows we're lovers... I don't care what others think, I never had. I just want to be with you. You are the only person that makes me feel alive! Madara thought. "Shall we dance?" Madara asked.

"I'm not here for a fight," Hashirama grabbed Madara by the shoulders. "I... I've been thinking about... trying... it again."

"Fine, then you will be the one with a sore ass!" Madara pulled away.

"I... I talked to a few people... and... I know what we did wrong. I think we should try again," Hashirama looked at Madara with those big pathetic brown eyes of his. Madara snorted and looked away. Izuna would pull the same shit with him and it.. always worked. Madara looked again at Hashirama and couldn't deny that he too, had wanted to take this fucked-up messed-up relationship to the next level for a long time.

"Very well," Madara said, "but first we dance."

"Madara," Hashirama sighed in exasperation.

"Oh don't deny it. After a good fight, we always feel hornier," Madara smirked. Hashirama blushed, knowing it was true and the two suddenly began to exchange blows. Which soon led to them being only in their underwear on the floor, kissing and touching, gasping and bucking. The underwear was soon removed, and this time... this time they did it correctly.

Madara never felt such unimaginable ecstasy or so in synch with another person. He finally felt like he was one with Hashirama. Their thoughts, spirits, hearts, and minds finally merged into one. When he climaxed, it was white hot and full of sinful rapture. He felt Hashirama's hot seed spill into him as his splattered onto the floor. They collapsed in a tangle heap of limbs. They stared at each other, with that dreamy expression young lovers had. It was a blissful moment, they both locked away tightly in their hearts.

My fall will be for you. My love will be in you. You were the one to cut me. So, I'll bleed forever!— Nightwish

Hashirama stared at where that epic battle took place. He couldn't believe it was only a few months ago that he killed his best friend, his greatest enemy, and his most passionate lover. Why... why did it have to end like that! Didn't the Buddha realize how Hashirama had to tear his own heart out in order to fight Madara effectively! Didn't the gods realize how much it hurt Hashirama to slay Madara!

"If only... if only I could have helped you," Hashirama whispered sadly, feeling tears prick is own eyes. He felt guilty. Terribly guilty. "It's my fault, Madara... I failed you. You were calling out for help, and I failed you. I was so caught up in everything that I forgot and ignored you. I'm sorry," he fell to his knees, bitterly trying to hold back his tears. "Madara..." Hashirama closed his eyes and he could feel a few tears roll down his cheeks.

A hawk screamed high in the sky and Hashirama shot his head up. "Madara," he whispered as he weakly pushed himself to his feet.

"Nii-sama!" a voice called from below. Hashirama sucked in a breath and looked down to see his younger brother, a blue and white speck, running towards him. Tobirama didn't understand. Nobody understood. Not Tobirama, not Mito, not the Uchiha... nobody! Nobody but Madara understood.

"Madara... I'm so sorry," Hashirama whispered before he jumped into the raging waterfall.



Oh how he hated this dawn. He wish this day never came, he wished it had never happened. He just waned to make it go all away, so far away. Senju Hashirama fell to his knees, panting as his brown eyes scanned the battlefield. He jerked his head up, when a soft groan caught his attention.

Madara was still trying to get to his feet, a myriad of weapons through his body, a large sword speared his chest, dangerously close to his heart.

Energy shot through Hashirama's weary limbs and he rushed towards his fallen comrade, to his fallen lover. Hold on Madara, just hold on. I'll heal you and everything can go back to how it was before all this happened. You can be Hokage or whatever! I'll do whatever you want, I'll even commit seppuku, just don't...

"Hashirama..." Mito's voice was soft and weak. She lied near Madara and was pale as the dying Uchiha. If it wasn't for her, Madara would've regain control of the Kyuubi and Hashirama doubted he would've won the battle. Mito has thrown herself into the mist of their battle and sealed the bijuu in her own body. Now she was lying on the ground, probably dying from her foolish actions.

Madara grunted as he fell again, still struggling in vain to rise and continue his fight. Hashirama looked between his wife and his lover. Utterly torn, knowing that whomever he ran to the other would see and bitter, hated feelings would surely be sowed. Biting his lip, Hashirama bowed his head. "I'm sorry Madara..." Hashirama ran to Mito's side and kneeling by her. "H-How are you—"

"HASHIRAMA!" Madara screamed, finally on his feet. A deranged look in his eyes. Hashirama held Mito close to him as Madara howled in agony and misery and pain before charging at him. The Uchiha didn't get fall before he fell, driving the sword in his chest deeper as he hit the ground. Hashirama stared, frozen as Madara stared at him with those black eyes of his, a torrent of conflicting emotions in them. "I... l— hate you..." Madara wheezed out in his final moments.

Hashirama tossed his head back and howled, it was the sound of a man completely gutted by guilt and grief, and it mingled with the endless barking of seals at the farthest sea shores.

Oh, my damn fucking gods! This is an epic oneshot! It's 6547 (story only). I worked rather hard on this. I hope you all enjoy it.

The format is a little confusing, but I shall explain. The story takes place a few months after Madara "died" and what sorta happened. No, Hashirama didn't really die, Tobirama saved him. I wanted to give it a kinda Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon feel. I love that movie. ^^

The lyrics before each section are from Nightwish songs and they are:

Dead Boy's Poem

The Crow, The Owl and The Dove


While Your Lips Are Still Red

Whoever Brings The Night

Ghost Love Score

Please, please listen to those songs in that order. Those songs are sorta the soundtrack for this one shot. They bring everything together. Of course there were other Nightwish songs I wanted to use, but I just couldn't get it right. Anyways enjoys. ^^


Sanguinary Toxicity