Chapter Thirty-eight: Grief

Touka flashed them back to Mito's home. The illness of travel this time hardly compared to the knot that had already formed in her stomach, so she ignored it completely. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, her fist pressed to her belly, trying to quell the nausea. She felt Touka's rough clap on her shoulder again, then the kunoichi pulled Mito in for a rough hug, pinching delicate skin between the joints of her armor. "Momoka-chan is already in bed," she said quietly. "I'd have kept her myself, but…" She huffed a quiet laugh. "I think my man needs me as badly as yours needs you, and he's fun when he has felt the kiss of death."

Mito nodded, not ready to speak. She rested her fingers on Touka's hand for a moment in thanks. The slow rasp of steel was the only warning she had before Touka's Hiraishin took her away, leaving Mito with… him.

Her line of sight drifted shamefully, slowly, to where he sat upon their porch, his face darkened by the shadows of the rising sun. She'd seen him like this once before, but not quite… like this. He held his hands out before him, staring. The blood was already dried, but there was so much of it, deep red, almost black in the low lighting, that Mito was certain she was going to be sick. Again, the force of her guilt hit her fully. The tears started before her feet even started moving.

He needed her. He at least needed something. Even if he stuffed a dagger into her heart, she needed to go to him, even if facing him in his sorrow was harder than sealing a giant chakra demon inside her own flesh. Making her feet move took far too much effort, but she dragged herself there, one slow, shuffling step after another, until she crashed just before him, her body crumpling beneath her. Then, as if it had taken all the rest of her effort to drop herself before him, her forehead merely tipped over against his knee. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to.

She felt his hands upon her bare shoulders, felt the sticky velvet of dried blood, and let the tears come. She felt the tremor in his hands, heard the sharp intake of breath. Then, something she had never heard before: the hitching gasp of a sob, from Senju Hashirama, the god of Shinobi and the strongest man she had ever known. At the first sound of it, her heart twisted into an ugly, painful knot, wrapping itself around her throat and threatening to suffocate her.

She felt the overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around him and never let go, so she did, scooting her body, merging into him, until she was between his legs. She buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around his middle, stuffing her nose into the unmistakable stench of blood and sweat, her stomach heaving, but she didn't care. As his chest rose and fell with the force of heavy, grief-filled sobs, she held on, letting her own tears pour silently. There was nothing that words could do to fix this. No amount of chakra or medicine could repair what was torn, for wounds of the heart were deep and difficult to heal. For all of her training and stubborn spirit, Mito was powerless to save him from his loss. So she did the only thing that she could do, and she held him.

And for a wonder, he held her, too, draping his own arms over her shoulders and tipping the side of his head down upon hers, the soft curtain of his hair hiding her from the world as they shared their private pain. Together, they squeezed tightly, having no outlet for an agony that none other would understand, shaking, crying, mourning.

It seemed they had found another thing in common. For whatever reasons they had had, each of them had loved Uchiha Madara. It was a deep, abiding love that none had ever been able to fathom, none could understand but them. Somehow, some way, the man had wormed his way right to the deepest, most secret parts of their hearts. Whatever sins he had committed, whatever darkness he carried as proudly as any torch, he had meant something illogically profound to both of them. Perhaps that was why they had understood each other on a spiritual level that had never made any kind of sense. Maybe that was why he had chosen to forgive her slight, or why she had looked to him to save her when her friends had come down on her for her treachery.

Right now, none of it mattered. In their arms was the only other soul in existence that could understand. And that was why they cried.

It was hours later and still they remained. The sobbing had long since ceased, but in its place was an empty, meaningless silence. There wasn't really anything to say. Both of them had killed him, even if Hashirama himself had dealt the blow. He didn't know she had gone back, though. He had only seen her leave. Perhaps he believed that he had landed the fatal strike, but Mito knew the harsh truth. She could have saved him, had wanted to save him.

She hadn't.

So here they were, sitting side by side on their porch. Hashirama, drenched in blood. Mito, who might as well have been. "Wish I could go back," he muttered finally, taking a deep breath. His voice was hoarse from disuse, and from crying.

"Me, too," she admitted.

"What would you have done differently?" he wondered.

She sighed and thought about it. "A lot of things. Insisted he take me with him, for one. There was always darkness in him, but maybe he would have been different then. I can't be sure." He nodded in understanding. "I wouldn't have… well…" she trailed off, not even daring to voice it out loud.

"I already forgave you that, so please, stop torturing yourself over it."

"It's not that simple," she mumbled, but left it at that for now. "What about you?"

He laced his fingers together, hiding most of the blood that still coated his hands, shifted his feet, and sighed as she had. "In all honesty… I'd have let him die that day."

"Which day?" she asked curiously, looking at him, though she was sure she already knew.

His head turned, and their eyes met. Yes, she had known. "The day I asked you to save him." Her lips twisted in grudging agreement. Yes, both of their lives might have been easier then.

But then… "What about the village?" she asked. For, if Hashirama had not had a friend among the Uchiha, their alliance might never have happened.

His smile was rueful. "In all honesty, the Uchiha were a weakening force. Uchiha Tajima was pressing his own forces against unbeatable odds on a regular basis. It was laughably easy to bait him into death traps. I didn't do it often, because I knew that he was among them and I didn't want him to get hurt. It wouldn't have taken more than another five years, and we'd have conquered them. I didn't want it that way, though. I didn't want to see the Uchiha fall. They're a proud, strong clan, very powerful. It would have been much better for everyone if Senju and Uchiha could stand as one." He smiled a bit more brightly then. "And see how much they've done already?"

Mito thought about Kasumi and her husband, and could not help but agree. "You think of everything, don't you?"

His smile slipped, and he glanced away. "Not everything," he said quietly. "I'm not invincible, Mito." Their eyes met, then, and she saw. That cheery brightness he often displayed on the surface was subdued. It might not ever be the same again. In the past few hours, he had aged considerably.

She had almost thought that he was, actually. Senju Hashirama had been untouchable, solid and strong. Despite the era in which he lived, he had managed to emerge from the end smiling and filled with infectious energy, shaping a torn world into a beautiful age of peace and prosperity. Though she had known early on that he suffered his own set of insecurities, he had shown them so rarely that Mito had often forgotten that they even existed. As it turned out, the man had but one weakness.

As it turned out, it was the same one that she had had.

Tired and sad, she let her head fall upon his shoulder. For a long time they sat there, silently supporting the other as the sun came up over the horizon. The birds began to wake up, chirping to each other across the yard, arguing about who got the best spots for breakfast at the metaphorical table. She smiled, but it, too was subdued. It seemed unfair, in a way, that the world just kept on turning when everything about it was falling apart at the edges. As if nothing had happened. As if no one had died.

Yet, the sunrise was beautiful. The colors seemed exceptionally brilliant this morning, the star itself so bright that it hurt. The birdsong never sounded so harmonic, multiple voices working in perfect unison, the song of morning. It was almost all too wonderful, unjustly so. That brought more tears to her eyes, and she wasn't even quite sure why other than that it was too pretty for her to handle right now. She ground her face into his shoulder, glad for something real, someone as agonized as she. At least she wasn't alone in this.

"It's strange, isn't it?" he asked, his voice soft, as if he were afraid he might interrupt the music. "How the world keeps on just as it always has, even when we're hurting." He wrapped an arm around her then, and his head rested gently upon hers.

It was so similar to what she had been thinking that she laughed. "I was just thinking much the same thing," she confessed.

"Ah, well," he mused. "There you have it, then."

The peace was too much. If it continued much longer this way she would be destroyed. "Hashi…" she started, dreading this conversation already. "It might not be the right time, but—"

"Shh," he consoled, rubbing her shoulders. "I already know. From the moment I learned how you'd kept Madara from becoming Hokage, I was aware of the possibility. I made my peace with it." His voice was relaxed, almost happy, even. "You haven't been well, and I know what that means. It's a good thing, you know."

Her eyes widened, too choked up to even speak. All that came out was a dry whisper, more of a squeak than a voice. "How?"

"Hmm," he hummed, pleased with himself. "Well. I always wanted a son, too, so it gives me another chance. And now, we have something to remember him by, as well. Perhaps we can find healing in that."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, not sure how she felt about it. She felt evil and dirty, so unlike the last time that this had happened. She wasn't even sure she wanted this child. It was actually rather shocking that he did. Why didn't he hate her yet? Shouldn't he hate her?

"Come now, Mito," he purred. "I've loved every moment I've had with Momoka, but I never got to see her first steps, or hear her first words, or watch her teeth grow in." Mito felt her smile grow with every admission, remembering them herself. Her heart swelled with a mother's pride. "Admit it… you love being a mother. Would you really be sad to have another child, and to raise it together with me?"

A reel of images flashed through her head at the thought of another baby, perhaps a pouty, sullen little boy who loved his oto-san more than he loved her, exasperating her. She thought about him tracking dirt throughout the house and shouting at him to please take his shoes off, or to please stop pestering his sister. She thought about breakfast with the four of them, and Hashirama walking him through the village, explaining that someday, it would be his responsibility, too, to protect their people. She thought about Tobirama's cool exterior cracking at the advent of a nephew, even if he knew the absolute truth.

The shadow of Uchiha Madara was gone. All of the hurt that he would ever cause was robbed of its future. This momentary state of affairs was only temporary. From now on, there would be nothing but laughter, and love, and all of what was left of their lives ahead of them. Happiness, and peace.

Family. Whole and complete, no more doubts or secrets.

She hurt. He did, too. They'd lost something very precious to them; Uchiha Madara could not be replaced. And yet… there was the blossoming of a hopeful feeling that they just might… be… okay. Maybe they didn't need him anymore. "I guess it wouldn't be so bad," she teased.

He kissed the top of her head. "Hey, Mito… that thing you did with the Kyuubi…?"

She froze, the happy feeling fleeing. "What about it?" she asked, remembering how its thoughts had merged with hers momentarily, and how keenly she had wanted to destroy. The feeling had scared her. Still scared her, as the thing she had sealed was still trapped within her body, curled up like a sleeping serpent. She didn't know when it would wake again, or what sorts of vile things it would try to make her do. She didn't regret sealing the fox; With the seal that she had used on it, she could bend the beast to fight for them, using its chakra for the good of Konoha.

But still, the realization that she would have to live this way now for the rest of her life was a terrifying thought, and one that she'd rather ignore as much as possible.

"I saw you fall. I heard you scream." He paused as she stilled, trying not to remember how badly it had hurt. "Are you alright?"

No. She wanted to say yes, but she was sick and tired of lying. So she didn't, not this time. "No, not really." She breathed deeply. It felt so… good to tell the truth. He waited for her to explain. "It hurt. The fox feels… evil, like it's filled with hatred. It wants to destroy, to maim, to kill, and sometimes… sometimes…." she shuddered. He squeezed her hand to remind her that he was there. "Sometimes it feels like its thoughts are my thoughts, and it scares me."

He was quiet for a time, absorbing her words, considering the predicament. "Well," he said at last. "Do you feel it now?"

She shut her eyes and tried to feel it. It was there, a subtle, muted presence, but it was sleepy. "Not really."

"Hm." He was quiet again, thinking it over. "So there's a way to keep it calm." He was nodding. "Let's try not to get it all riled up then. Mito," he finished more firmly. "I don't want you fighting again."

She was in complete agreement. She apparently had some skill as a kunoichi, but she definitely didn't like it. "I won't."

"Good."

He sucked in a great lungful of air with a sharp and audible gasp. It was the first time he had breathed in months. The knowledge of that was a dim awareness, but he knew it to be true. His hand flew to his forehead, eyes closing; his head ached something fierce, and his eyes were sore. He blinked them open and shut several times. No, he realized. The right one was blind. "So that technique has a price," he mumbled, more for his own benefit than anything. He hadn't heard the sound of his own voice either, though it seemed raspier and more cracked than before. He cleared his throat several times, testing.

The memories came back, slowly, achingly. Their last, passionate kiss. The fight with Hashirama. Mito, stealing the Kyuubi from him, proclaiming their severance and spelling his doom. Mito, screaming in pain. Hashirama, stabbing him through the back while subconsciously, he dreamed of her.

He sighed. He had had a long time to make peace with their separation and her betrayal. A long time to realize what needed to be done for it, now. His happiness was locked away in a tower of dreams, unassailable unless he could master the dream itself. His thoughts drifted to that shrine, that stone tablet, speaking of eternal happiness when light and darkness entwined. It spoke of other things, too… things he had not mentioned. Things he had been preparing for, when Mito was his. Well, there was no reason he still couldn't put that plan to work.

He blinked open his left eye, adjusting to the garish colors of the waking world. This… false world. False, because here in this world, Mito did not love him and Hashirama was not his friend, and together the two of them held his daughter for ransom, spoon feeding her lies about her own heritage. He did not belong in this world. He sighed, thinking of the sweet dream he had been having, knowing for a certainty that that had been the only reality. The universe had flipped on its head, where dreams were reality and reality was a dream. The key to restoring the balance was the Infinite Dream, and within that dream was where the real world was now trapped. It was up to him, now, to save that world.

He would become the darkness, and in becoming darkness, he could regain his light.

And then they would be together again.

Forever.

.

..

...

THE END

...

..

.

A/N: Hello. :) Thank you for reading my story! If you liked it, please be sure to find me on . I have the same pen name there as I do here (BlackMajjicDuchess). I've written 50+ stories (almost 600,000 words) so there's a little bit for everyone over there. I don't post to ffn anymore. I posted this one here because it did poorly in the beginning and I was desperate for attention XD.

Also, remember that amyenah on Deviant Art has some fan art for "Forever." You should check it out!

I'm happy to link/mention any fan art or works derived from this one. Artists have to stick together. :) Just drop me a comment.

Spare a review?

Thanks again, and happy travels in the Naruto fandom!

-Duckess