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The sound resembles a hollow, rasping terror.

It echoes through the dark winds that tear through his loose, rough strands of hair, while blood washes down his deeply exposed shoulder. The rain that falls on his thin eyelashes only add more weight to the heavy sight in front of him. Feeling the adrenaline that had been rapidly coursing through his veins begin to vanish, he stands, allowing his body a few more seconds to remain above the corpse before collapsing onto the ground, kneeling, at a height not so great…

Uchiha Madara is dead. His best friend…his lover, his companion, his brother… Madara.

He is no more. And Senju Hashirama is the man to blame.

Several minutes pass in numb reflection until his eyes begin to sting with quiet tears of grief, and anger. His throat burns with the hollow taste of encouraging words, loving phrases, snarky remarks, and speech of ages… Without concern for his injuries and diminished chakra, his anguish finds its purchase in the salted droplets that fall from his dark, heavy-lidded eyes, mixed with the cool rain in a free fall of tensional release.

Just as with his generation and all generations before, killing enemy shinobi is something Hashirama has been trained to do from a very young age; so why does this feel so different? To find his answer, Hashirama forces down the reality of the situation, reaffirming his ultimate decision – Madara had just been another enemy shinobi, who had threatened the peace of their successful joint creation. So...why...

Why?

How could it feel so different? Why couldn't Hashirama understand what Madara had been feeling, during all that time? And why couldn't Madara see what he had been feeling all these years? As if in reply, the muscles in his chest tighten unsubtly, hinting toward the answer.

But there is only one truth that rings in Hashirama's mind. No matter what Madara had done, no matter the cost he had placed upon himself, his friends, his family, and his village... it is impossible for Hashirama to deny their bond. It is a bond like no other…

It is a bond beyond family like Tobirama, and Toka… it is beyond friends like those in his village… it is beyond the romance he had once desired, and beyond the ideals of a young, naïve mind. Their bond is unbreakable – and it doesn't matter if any of them are alive to feel it. Because it transcends the physical presence of any being on Earth…

But with his other half dead, Hashirama can't help but wonder what those feelings do for him now.

From the darkened, ominous sky, the ash-colored clouds soon begin to pour their release at a faster pace, penetrating the dirt with a thousand shallow pockets of its sympathy, providing Hashirama with the tears he can no longer shed. Each tiny pool glitters with the revealing glow of the moon, illuminating the soggy field around him against his blank, careless gaze.

Soon his breaths come more rapidly, but he makes no effort against it. Inner calm is a state of mind no shinobi deserves. Whether or not one chose to display it, there is always a storm behind a kill.

Who kills their best friend?

While blood slowly trickles down his bruised and riven lips, Hashirama's wooden resolve begins to crack and splinter under the weight of his actions. He had said and had truly thought that he could kill his friend, to protect their creation...but now that it is said and done, Hashirama finally know what he has taken away from himself.

Because, of course, Madara had meant everything to him.

Lightning strikes, and the gravity forces Hashirama's eyelids heavy as lead, and he falls forward beside his kill. Without the life of his intense, familiar gaze, Madara's dark eyes stare back at him blankly, unbetraying of the even curve to his lips. The small smile he had borne just moments ago has disappeared just as quickly as his final breath onto the cool, wet mud of the land over which they had once exchanged their goals, dreams, and secrets…

…so long ago. And he remembers:

'Your wish has come true, at last, Senju Hashirama.'

"Our wish," he had corrected him smoothly, underneath the ever-rising banter from their clans. "Our dream." Their hands release from the handshake, and a growing confidence appears on both of their faces.

But now, with slow, and gentle finality, when Hashirama reaches out with his hand, it shakes; he places it gently over Madara's long, wet locks.

Even for you, Madara… I will never give up.

The village shall not suffer any longer, just as we both have…under your wrath.

For the longest time, under the guise of the greater good, it was your happiness I had worked so long and hard for… But I know now that it had been false.

It was our happiness I had wanted to achieve.

And now, you have taken a piece of my soul with you, as well as my flesh... I hope you are content. You forever have a part of me, and Madara, I hope it will be easier for me to find you once my time has come. And then, we will be together again, in another world where we can understand each other once more…

Just as we used to, when we were so young...

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