Hashirama's POV
The battlefield was chaos—a symphony of clashing blades, roaring fire, and desperate cries. Every strike, every movement, was another thread woven into the tapestry of destruction. Yet in the center of it all, my focus remained on one man.
"Madara, stop this madness!" I shouted, blocking a strike aimed at me by one of his clan members and forcing them back with a surge of chakra.
Madara stood a short distance away, his Sharingan glowing with ferocious intensity. His armor was scorched, his face smeared with dirt and blood, yet his posture was unyielding. He was the very embodiment of the Uchiha's relentless will.
"There's no point to this war!" I continued, stepping closer, even as my heart ached with the weight of the bodies strewn around us. "How many more must die before we realize this isn't the way?"
Madara's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a snarl. "You think you can convince me, Hashirama? After all these years, after all the bloodshed, do you truly believe there's a path forward for us that doesn't end in one of our clans annihilated?"
"Yes!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos around us. "We can end this together, Madara. We've spoken of peace before. We've dreamed of it. Don't let those dreams die here!"
He hesitated, if only for a moment, his gaze flickering with something I couldn't place—doubt, perhaps, or sorrow. But before either of us could say more, a scream tore through the battlefield.
"IZUNA!"
Madara's head snapped toward the sound, his Sharingan spinning wildly. I followed his gaze and felt my breath catch.
Izuna Uchiha lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. Standing over him was Tobirama, his blade slick with crimson.
The battle seemed to freeze around us. The Senju warriors paused, their gazes darting between Tobirama and Izuna. The Uchiha, too, halted, their Sharingan spinning with fury and grief as they watched their second-in-command fall.
Madara's scream was primal, filled with rage and anguish. "IZUNA!"
He blurred forward, reaching his brother in an instant. Dropping to his knees, he cradled Izuna's broken body, his hands trembling as he pressed them to the wound.
"Stay with me," Madara said, his voice cracking. "You're not allowed to die, Izuna! Do you hear me?!"
Izuna coughed, blood staining his lips. His Sharingan dimmed, but he managed to lift a hand to grasp Madara's. "Brother... I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the battlefield. "I... wasn't strong enough."
"No," Madara growled, his eyes blazing with fury. "Don't say that. You've always been strong. You've always been my equal."
I stepped forward cautiously, my heart heavy as I took in the sight. "Madara... I'm sorry. I didn't want this."
"Don't," Madara hissed, his gaze snapping up to meet mine. His Sharingan spun violently, a maelstrom of fury and despair. "Don't you dare act like you care!"
"Madara," I said softly, my hands raised in a gesture of peace. "This doesn't have to continue. Please. Let's end this before more lives are lost."
"You think you can lecture me now?!" Madara roared, rising to his feet and clutching Izuna's lifeless body to his chest. "You preach peace while your brother kills mine?! You're no better than the rest of them, Hashirama!"
I wanted to argue, to say something—anything—that might ease his pain. But what could I say? Tobirama's actions had spoken louder than any words ever could.
The battlefield was silent now, all eyes on Madara as he stood there, his chakra flaring wildly. I could feel the weight of his grief, the raw power of his rage. He was a man on the edge, ready to destroy everything in his path.
And yet, as his gaze swept across the battlefield, taking in the devastation, the blood, the bodies of both Uchiha and Senju, something in him seemed to shift.
"This isn't over, Hashirama," he said, his voice cold and steady. "But not today."
He turned to the Uchiha warriors, his Sharingan blazing. "Retreat!"
There was a moment of hesitation, but the Uchiha obeyed, pulling back as their leader began to walk away, Izuna's body still cradled in his arms.
I watched them go, my heart heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. The battlefield was still, the silence oppressive. Around me, the Senju warriors began to lower their weapons, their expressions a mix of relief and uncertainty.
"Tobirama," I said quietly, my voice strained.
He approached, his face impassive as ever, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps guilt, or maybe just resignation.
"You acted rashly," I said, my tone sharper than I intended.
"He was a threat," Tobirama replied simply.
I clenched my fists, frustration boiling within me. But there was no time for arguments, not now. The damage had already been done.
As I stared at the retreating Uchiha, a sense of foreboding settled over me. This wasn't the end. If anything, it was only the beginning.
To Be Continued...