I'll Save Your Life

Three and a half years had passed.  Tobirama had been released from jail already, but not a trace of Izuna had been found.  To make  things worse, Madara’s health had taken a rapid decline. 

Hashirama had done all he could to try and help his lover, but there was just nothing that could be done for him; it seemed that the stress of being separated from his brother had only aggravated things.

Tobirama, as expected, had searched desperately for Izuna – and three months later, he found a clue to his whereabouts.  It had been in an article in the newspaper.  Young Izuna had committed suicide. 

While Tobirama’s heart was shattered, nothing could compare with Madara’s heartbreak. 

The surviving Uchiha had taken to locking himself in his bedroom, doing nothing but lying in bed all day.   He refused to come out of the room for anything, and even when Hashirama would bring up food, he just wouldn’t eat. 

Now, almost four years after the whole thing had started, Madara was on his deathbed.  While the boy already had a weak immune system, there was now nothing left of it. 

Madara lay on his bed, skin wrapped tightly around bones as his skin turned ashy grey.  His eyes were lifeless, showing no emotion whatsoever. 

And now, as Hashirama sat on the bed, wiping sweat from the Uchiha’s forehead, it was obvious that the boy wasn’t going to last much longer – the horrible coughs and tremors that wracked Madara’s body were nothing compared to the buckets of blood he had been vomiting.

“The doctor is on her way,” Hashirama whispered, squeezing Madara’s hand.  “Just hold on…”

The Uchiha looked over at the Senju, his eyes showing nothing but sadness and regret.

“I’m sorry…” Uchiha whispered, his voice scratchy and hoarse from keeping silent for so long.  “It’s all my  fault…  It’s all my fault…”

“No,” Hashirama whispered, stroking Madara’s hair.  “None of it is your fault.”

The raven shook his head.  “Yes, it is…  If I chose a different restaurant that day…”

“Madara…” Hashirama whispered.  “You can’t blame yourself.  None of us knew that this would happen…  We all tried to stop it…”

Madara let out a horrible couch before choking.  Tears welled up in his eyes.  “Do you hate me, Hashirama…?”

“No,” the addressed man answered without hesitation.  He leant down and kissed his lover gently on the forehead.  “I love you.  I always will…”

A tear ran down Madara’s cheek.  “…I love you too…  And Tobi…  But I loved Izuna more…  I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry – it’s understandable…”

“Hashirama…  Everything’s going black…”

The brunet sobbed loudly as he bowed his head, knowing exactly what was about to befall him.  “Don’t go…!  Don’t leave me…  Madara!”

Madara was silent.  Still. 

Hashirama shook his lover, but he knew it was useless when the younger didn’t respond.  “…Madara…?”

“…”

Hashirama knew Madara was dead.  He felt a tear roll down his face, followed by hundreds more.  He pulled his lover into his arms, nuzzling the hair that had once been kept shiny and clean – not oily and uncared for like it was now.

Hashirama spent the entire night crying, unable to part with his late boyfriend.