Aizou

Title: River of Dreams

Rating: M

Warnings: graphic yaoi

Pairings: Hashirama x Madara; background Tobirama x Mito

Summary: Reality pales in the face of that which could have been. HashiMada.

A/N: I do not own the soundtrack to Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, or make any profit from it.

~~~

Another exhausting day in the life of the Shodai Hokage. Hashirama collapsed with a sigh into a chair at his kitchen table, glad to finally be able to take a load off. He reached up, pulled off the Hokage headdress (terrible thing, who’s bright idea was it, what purpose does it serve besides making me look ridiculous?), letting his head fall back against the crest rail.

‘Deities, this should not be the most comfortable I’ve been in the past several days.’

“Hashirama? Was that you?”

Mito. “Yes, it’s me,” he croaked, his throat dry but eyes beginning to water. Just a few days ago, he had been cleared by the hospital for active duty, though he had been healed long before the staff had gotten around to giving him an exam. Just a few days ago, Madara had died in the Valley of the End.

He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think of that day – his own Darkest Day – but his mind called up those images against his will.

A massive blast – the Bijuu Dama – carving through the earth and the river crossing it, creating a new valley that quickly filled with water, drowning their battlegrounds. Mito screaming in agony as she sealed the Kyuubi within herself, doubling over even as their opponent threw his scythe at her, trying to stop the imprisonment of his greatest weapon.

Madara falling to his knees, blood dribbling from his mouth, a sword through his chest.

Hashirama turned his head away when the still-recovering Jinchuuriki entered the room, forcing his tears back. Even without his “emotional sixth sense,” he would have known that she was worried about him. He could feel her gaze boring into him as he composed himself before turning to look at her.

Her eyes softened when she saw the puppy-kicked-in-front-of-an-oncoming-car expression on his face. His eyes were empty, and he was giving her a look that said he didn’t think he could do this anymore. “Go get some rest, Hashirama,” she said gently, moving closer to lay a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.”

He nodded, and pushed himself to his feet, plodding away to his room. He was so tired that he simply collapsed onto the bed before he even got fully on the bed, falling asleep without changing out of his robes.

The sheets smelled of fire and incense.

~~~

The Shodai woke to the smell of mushrooms. He could hear them being sautéed in a pan on the range. Mm… sautéing them always brought out so much more flavor when they were finally made into soup…

The Hokage inhaled deeply. He released the breath in a sigh of pleasure. He felt relaxed, more so that he had been in a long time. He stretched, then rolled out of bed, absently meandering towards the kitchen. But he found himself pausing in the living room, staring at the house.

There was light streaming in through the windows (hadn’t Mito said that she would wake me for dinner?), and the furniture was strange, austere but comfortable. The photos on the mantelpiece weren’t there when he went to sleep. He was about to walk closer to get a better look at them when he saw Konoha outside one of the windows.

The village was huge, bigger than he ever remembered it being. There were new buildings going up around the edges of the village inside the walls, and several of the shops along the main thoroughfare appeared to be getting renovated. Based on the angle that he was looking from, this house was on top of the Hokage monument.

Footsteps behind him. “Ah, you’re awake. I was beginning to wonder.”

Hashirama whipped around, startled, and beheld something he never thought he would see. Uchiha Madara, alive and well, was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He looked as he always had, long jagged black hair framing his face and spilling down his back, skin as pale as the moon, the red Sharingan the only real color on him. He was wearing a loose pair of gray sweat pants and nothing else. There was no scar on his chest.

The Uchiha seemed to realize right away that something was wrong. He frowned and said, “Hashirama?”

He staggered backwards when the Senju suddenly tackled him into a hug, almost crying with joy. “You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive,” he whispered, clutching Madara close and burying his face in his throat, uncaring of the vulnerability of the position.

Madara’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him with shocking gentleness. “Hashirama, come, sit down. Talk to me.” The Shodai was pulled into the kitchen, where he was seated at the wooden table (one of mine) while the Uchiha finished up the food and set it out. “Okay,” he said, “Talk to me, Hashirama. What do you remember?”

“We fought… three days ago. In the Valley of the End.” He reached out and rested a hand over the spot where his sword had punched through the Uchiha’s chest. “I killed you… or, I thought I did.”

There was a brief flash of pain through Madara’s eyes. He covered Hashirama’s hand with his own. “That never happened,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of the Shodai’s hand, “That didn’t happen, Hashirama.”

“What? But-“ He straightened in his chair, concerned. “I saw – I swear-“

“That never happened,” he repeated, subtly sad, “We did fight in the Valley of the End, but…”

~~~

Though there were a number of other weapons with it, it was the sword that Madara saw first, unsealed unexpectedly when he set fire to the Kage’s summoning scroll. Desperate for escape, he threw himself out of the way, tumbling ungracefully through the dirt. He was panting with the effort of all the combat he was putting his body through, but he took comfort in the fact that Hashirama wasn’t in much better shape. Their exertions had carved out a massive canyon in the countryside, which was quickly filling with water from the river that it had blasted through. Mito was unconscious at the edge of the new lake, the Nine-Tails sealed inside her – Madara gritted his teeth and vowed that he would retrieve the bijuu as soon as he could.

His head jerked up as the Hokage charged him with a wakizashi in hand. The Uchiha barely had the chakra to keep his Sharingan active, much less perform a technique. So he did the only thing he could; he waited until the last possible second, taking the blade through his obliques, just below the right side of his ribcage. Then he backhanded the Shodai with all the strength he had left, sending the other flying. Hashirama slammed into a protruding boulder and slumped to the ground, blood running down one side of his face.

Madara limped towards the Kage, holding the wakizashi in to plug the wound. The other combatant was rolling onto all fours, red curtaining one side of his head. He barely regained his feet in time to face the challenger, but the moment he did, he lost his footing and staggered into the Uchiha, holding onto him in desperation. His eyes were cloudy, glazed – there must have been brain damage. Madara was about to whip his kusarigama around to kill the Senju when the Mokuton user said something truly strange.

“Don’t leave me here alone, Madara,” he gasped, half-incoherent, dazed and confused as he clutched at the Uchiha’s shoulders, “They tried to kill me, I swear they did! Why is your clan loyal when mine is not?” And then he passed out in the Uchiha’s arms, forcing him to bear his weight.

Barely a minute later, Tobirama arrived with reinforcements. Madara was too weak to resist when they took him into custody and dragged him back to Konoha, the unconscious Hashirama and Mito being carried by their respective clansmen. The Shodai and the new Jinchuuriki were taken to the hospital, while the Uchiha was forced into chakra suppressors and given the bare minimum of treatment necessary to keep him alive before being shoved into a cell below the Hokage Tower.

It was only four days later that the Hokage’s brother came to get him. He’d been given shitty food and water by his army of guards, as if in exchange for the harsh beatings they gave him at the same time. It just so happened that Tobirama walked in on one of these one-sided fights. Madara was debating whether or not it would be worth the backlash to forgo his usual self-control in favor of tearing out the throats of the guards with his teeth (it might give my reputation a certain something it lacks right now) when the younger Senju said, “Enough.”

The guards instantly backed off, letting Tobirama haul the proud Uchiha to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said bluntly, “Hashirama is asking for you.”

Madara’s lips curled back off his teeth. “And why the hell would I want to see him?” he snarled, “I’d rather stay here, if you don’t mind. At least the ‘attentions’ of your guards are increasing my endurance and tolerance for pain!”

Tobirama rounded on him, eyes flashing. “You will see him,” he hissed dangerously, “because your actions have given him possibly permanent memory damage. He has become convinced that we tried to kill him, and that you and your clan offered him sanctuary before we took him back. He refuses to allow any one of us to even approach the floor where his hospital room is located until he speaks to you. Let’s. Go.”

He grabbed the Uchiha by the upper arm, but Madara jerked out of his grip. “I’ll walk under my own power, thank you,” he snapped, and strode out past him, hands still cuffed together with the chakra suppressors.

Tobirama let him to the hospital through side streets and back alleys, avoiding the main thoroughfares to prevent the whole population of Konoha from staring at him or doing him harm. Even so, those people who did see them glared and hissed, until Madara force-activated his Sharingan, sending them scattering. Even restrained, he was still enough of a threat to be greatly feared.

The Senju took him to one of the service entrances and took him up to the top floor, the third, where Hashirama had effectively barricaded himself. “He should be in his room,” he said, opening the stairwell door, “Number Three-Oh-Seven. Don’t hurt him any more than you already have, or you will regret it.”

Madara stepped out into the hall, ignoring the angry clang of the steel behind him. The light from the lamps overhead was stark and clinical, and it hurt his eyes. He reached over and flipped off the switch next to the door, letting the natural light from the setting sun fill the hall with swaths of gold. He began walking, following the faint brush of the Shodai’s chakra rather than the numbers on the doors.

It was as he had suspected. Hashirama had relocated all the way across the floor, lurking instead in room 356. The moment the Uchiha appeared in the doorway, he looked up, blinked, then practically flew across the room to pull the shocked rogue nin into an embrace. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore, Madara,” he whispered, his face buried in jagged black locks, “They think they’re telling the truth, but I know what I saw, what I felt!”

“It’s okay,” the Uchiha found himself saying, “We’ll muddle through this together. I’m here.”

~~~

“So what happened?”

“After about three days, your memory corrected itself,” Madara said quietly. They had finished breakfast and moved to the living room, sitting side by side on the couch. The Uchiha was staring off into space, absently toying with some of the Kage’s hair. “I was fully prepared to leave again the moment I was sure you were all right, but…”

“But…?”

“But – in full view of your family and a fair bit of the village – you literally got down on your knees and begged me to stay. You said that even if you hadn’t been at one hundred percent at the time, you meant what you said, that you didn’t want me to leave again.”

“So you stayed.”

“I did.” He nodded, then looked down at Hashirama. “You looked like you were going to have a mental breakdown if I said no, and your family looked like they were going to murder me for driving you to it.”

“Do you regret it?” Hashirama asked, lifting his head to look at the Uchiha.

“In the beginning? Yes. I liked the freedom I had, being able to go wherever I chose and do whatever I wanted. But you needed me. It was a few months before you had another relapse, and went essentially batshit insane. It took everything Mito and I had to stop you from killing someone.”

Hashirama flinched at the statement. “Was that the worst?”

“Comparatively.”

“’Comparatively?’”

“By pretty much everyone’s standards but mine, this last one was the worst – the one before this one.” He looked down at the Kage, apparently gauging his reaction. “You thought that I had knocked you unconscious during our fight, long enough for me to extract Kurama – the Nine-Tails – and use him to slaughter the citizens of Konoha – all of them. You sealed yourself in your room and refused to come out, convinced that everyone you saw was a delusion. I had to break off an ambassadorial mission to Suna to come home and persuade you to eat something, because you were starving yourself. I offered you my life, if that was what you wanted.” He shifted his mane out of the way, then tilted his head so that Hashirama could see a thin, four-inch-long white line on the side of his neck. “Fortunately, your memory corrected itself in time.”

“Thank goodness.” He let his head fall onto the back of the couch. “I’m-“

“Don’t say you’re sorry – you wouldn’t stop apologizing to me for weeks afterwards.” Madara scowled at him. “I’ve heard enough of them to last a lifetime.”

Hashirama found himself smiling. For all that the Uchiha was different from what he remembered, he still had his acerbic temper. “As you wish.”

A clock chimed elsewhere in the house. Madara glanced toward it, then stood up. “We should get dressed. Mito and your brother are coming over today with Shizuka.”

“Shizuka?” he asked, also standing.

“Yes.” He paused, then said, “Tobirama and Mito married, seven years ago. Shizuka was their third child. They have two others: Isao and his fraternal twin Kasumi, both 6 and in the Academy.”

“Wish I could remember the wedding. I bet it was interesting.”

Madara snorted. “Probably one of the strangest I’ve ever attended. I was tricked somehow, I don’t know how it happened, but I wound up being his best man.”

That made Hashirama start laughing out loud. He could just see the scowling Uchiha standing next to Tobirama at the altar, bedecked in the formal kimono, hakama, and haori and generally looking like he wanted to set the world on fire because he really wanted to be somewhere else.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We still need to get dressed. Styles have changed quite a bit since the Valley of the End; I’ll pick something out for you.”

Hashirama followed Madara into the bedroom that he had left an hour ago. The sheets were still mussed from sleep, but now the Uchiha drew his attention to the dresser up against one wall as he began to dig through it. It was a simple affair in fine black walnut wood; again, the Kage recognized his own work. It seemed that he had furnished the vast majority of the house.

“Here.” Madara pressed a navy shirt and pants into his hands, along with a set of standard issue underwear. “Shower’s through there; you might want to clean up before they arrive.” He tipped his head in the direction of another door, though which the Hokage could see a tiled bathroom.

He nodded, and headed through the door. The tile was cool beneath his feet, comfortable in the summer heat, and he spent a moment enjoying it, wiggling his toes on the porcelain. Then he stripped off his sleep shirt and pants – only to freeze when he saw himself in the mirror. There were finger shaped bruises forming on his hips and a bite mark on his neck, along with several hickeys. More love bites on his chest, smaller ones, barely nips, and his lips were faintly bruised and swollen. When he lifted his hands to check them, he saw dead skin and dried blood caked under his nails – as if he had raked them down Madara’s back while they were having sex.

Hashirama focused on the signals the rest of his body was giving him, having been unconsciously pushing the sensations aside to focus on the apparently-not-dead Uchiha. He became aware of a muted, sort-of-unpleasant ache in his lower back and tailbone, and realized that yes, apparently he and Madara had had sex last night.

“Oh.”

~~~

The Shodai was still red in the face when he got out of the shower. He went through the relatively mindless task of drying his hair and getting dressed, thinking instead on this change in his relationship with the Uchiha clan head – assuming, of course, that he was still clan head.

That thought made him frown. Surely after he had come back to the village, Madara would have eventually been reinstated. He was too powerful a Sharingan user to remain estranged from the rest of the Uchiha. Then that made him wonder; why was Madara living here with him above the village, rather than in the clan compound with what was left of his family? Unless – he found himself turning even redder, if that was possible – unless at some point in the past he couldn’t remember, he had asked the Uchiha to move in with him.

Hashirama heard voices in the main part of the house, a few of which he recognized but some of which he didn’t. Madara was talking to the people who had just entered the house, no doubt warning them about his relapse, so he let them speak for a moment before emerging.

It was Mito and Tobirama, along with a red-haired child he assumed was Shizuka. They became aware of him almost immediately, and though the Uchiha had already warned them, the young girl leaped into his arms anyway, calling, “Unka Hashi!”

He caught her with ease, and settled her on his hip as he moved further into the main room. She seemed to realize her mistake and said, “Oops. Sorry, Unka Hashi. Forgot.”

“It’s all right, Shizuka,” he told her, setting her back on her feet, “I might not remember you, but I am happy to see you.”

She beamed up at him, then leapt at Madara with a cry of his name, accidentally head-butting him in the gut. He gasped in pain but held himself upright with admirable strength, glaring when Tobirama and Mito started laughing at him. Hashirama bit his lips to hide his smile. For all that the Uchiha had been a raging egomaniac, he was good with kids.

The family departed from the house, heading for a small stream that ran through the forests around Konoha a fair distance from the gates. It spilled off of some rocks to form a short waterfall and plunge pool, which was where they gathered for the picnic celebrating Shizuka’s birthday.

Hashirama pulled his hair over his shoulders and looked critically at it, noticing that there were already some gray strands threading through the brown. Madara noticed and nudged his shoulder, raising an eyebrow when the Kage glanced at him. “Has it really only been ten years? It feels like longer.”

“Stress,” was the Uchiha’s reply, “I’ve been trying to convince you to retire and let your brother take over for a bit now, but you never listened to me.”

“Oh? Not you?”

“I’ve got enough to worry about with you and my clan; I don’t need the whole rest of the village dumped on me, too.” He rolled his eyes. “Seeing you running yourself into the ground for the sake of the people here is enough to turn me off of wanting to be Hokage. I’m not that selfless.”

That made Hashirama grin. “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

“Just a bit.” Madara turned back to watching Shizuka play with her parents. “You once told me that you wanted kids.”

“I do. I told you that?”

“In passing. You said that if there was one regret you had, it was that the two of us couldn’t have children together.” He snorted. “Would have been an interesting sight to see, a child of the two of us.”

Hashirama tilted his head back. “Only one, I think. A girl, with your eyes and coloring, but my hair.” He leaned against the other man’s shoulder. “She’d be stubborn like you, but that’s just because she cares. She’d have both the Mokuton and the Sharingan. Her peers would probably be jealous of her, but they would respect her just the same.”

“And her name?” Madara tilted his head so that it rested on top of Hashirama’s.

“Mmm… Amaya or Tsukiko.”

“I like Tsukiko better. If she does have my coloring, she really will be a ‘child of the moon.’”

“Tsukiko it is.” Though he was smiling, something in him ached to have that child, to hold her in his arms, watch her grow. He could see her and Madara playing in the grass outside their home, her dark brown hair short and tousled, her eyes already bright vermillion with her Sharingan as she honed her doujutsu with the Uchiha. Her skin was just as pale as his, making her hair and clothes look darker than they really were. She wanted to be a great shinobi, just like her parents, even if she didn’t entirely understand yet why she had two fathers and her classmates only had one. He was hit with incredible jealousy towards Tobirama and Mito, who didn’t realize what they had, and an unbearable longing – he wanted that child – their child, his and Madara’s – more than anything.

Madara’s thumb brushed away a tear he didn’t realize he had shed. “I know,” he said softly, and Hashirama turned his face into the Uchiha’s shoulder. The Hokage managed to gain control of himself before Tobirama, Mito, or Shizuka saw, watching the family with wistful eyes.

~~~

Hashirama pulled the blankets up over himself, acutely aware of the fact that Madara would be joining him in the bed after his shower. It aroused him to know that, however he’d done it, he had claimed the untouchable Uchiha as his lover. He pressed his legs together beneath the sheets, unconsciously rolling away from the door to the bathroom as he heard the former rogue get out of the shower. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he failed to hear the other shinobi approach.

A hand cupped his cheek, turning his head so that lips could meet his. They were dry, faintly chapped, as if his fire jutsu had permanently evaporated most of the water out of them. Hashirama unhesitatingly responded to Madara’s touch, turning the rest of his body so that he could wrap his arms around the other’s neck to pull him closer. When they broke away for air, Madara whispered against his lips, “Please, don’t be embarrassed. Don’t turn away from me.”

By way of a response, he kissed the Uchiha again, tugging him down on top of him. No matter how much he wanted them to, neither of them could hold their breath indefinitely, forcing them to part again. “Are you on top?” Hashirama managed between kisses.

“We switch,” was Madara’s breathless reply, “It took me a long time to get over myself enough to let you top me.”

The Kage bit back a laugh at that. The Uchiha ego was a legend in Konoha, and Madara was no different. Instead, he murmured against his throat, “Please, let me. I can’t remember…”

The other shinobi smirked faintly, then gripped Hashirama’s shoulders and rolled them over so that the Kage was above him. “Do what you like,” he said, stretching out beneath him.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to give me free reign like this?” he asked, dipping his head to kiss the former rogue.

“I trust you.”

Hashirama bit back a moan at that; he had always wanted to hear those words from the other man, but he had thought the opportunity lost when the Uchiha had seemingly died. He kissed his way over the other’s jaw, fingers tracing the muscle of his neck as Madara tilted his head to give him more access to his throat. The first thing the Shodai tasted was the scar on his neck where he had attempted to kill the Uchiha in the past. He followed it to the other man’s carotid artery, and traced his way down to his collar bone. His hands marked out the paths his lips followed a few moments later down his torso and arms, the Uchiha arching restlessly under him. Even so, he stayed true to his word and let the Hokage have free reign over his body.

His skin was still slightly damp from his shower, the slickness enabling Hashirama’s hands to glide easily over him, seeking out all of his scars and sensitive spots. Some of the marks he recognized, some he didn’t, but he traced them just the same, learning their paths with his fingers and his mouth. Occasionally Madara gasped, letting him know that it was a sensitive spot, and he would return to it to feel the Uchiha squirm.

The Hokage reached the towel still wrapped around Madara’s waist and eased it off, tasting the sweat beginning to form on the other’s hipbones. He evaded the Uchiha’s erection but appreciated the soft whimper that came with the action. Instead, he stroked and kissed his way down the former rogue’s legs, memorizing the feel of the powerful muscle under the pale skin. He felt Madara’s fingers wind into his hair, flexing as he tried to encourage Hashirama to hurry the fuck up.

But the Shodai would not be rushed; he was determined to relearn everything that he had forgotten about his lover. He licked along Madara’s femoral artery, quietly relishing the way the muscles quivered and tightened under his tongue. When he finally finished stroking and kissing the Uchiha from head to toe, he looked up, and examined every inch of the other’s flushed face and half-lidded eyes, those incredible weapons memorizing his every move. He crawled his way back up the former rogue’s body, dipping his head to kiss him once he was close enough. He could taste the other’s want, it was so strong.

Hashirama slipped his sweat pants off, then pressed their bodies together. Madara moaned into the kiss when their hard cocks rubbed against one another, the pleasure setting off lights inside their brains. The Kage shuddered, shifted, convincing the Uchiha to spread his legs once again so he could settle between them. They both gasped when it increased the heat and friction between them, making them grind against one another to feel it again. “Lube?” the Senju managed, “Where?”

Madara managed to roll his upper body enough to reach their nightstand without disconnecting their lower halves. He groped through it, then slapped a tube into his hand, slumping back with a moan. The Kage squeezed some of the gel out onto shaking fingers, spreading it around before reaching down for the Uchiha’s entrance. He planted his feet on the bed, making it easier to access him, biting his lip when the first finger slipped inside.

Muscles flexed, fluttered around him, making him ache to know how they would feel around his cock. The Senju bit back a moan, and forced himself to be patient. They would get there soon enough. Instead, he slipped another finger inside his partner, beginning to stretch him for what was to come. Madara inhaled sharply but slowly, relaxing into the touch and spreading his legs wider, and Hashirama added another, searching, searching…

The Uchiha arched as the Kage found his prostate, hands snapping up to his mouth to muffle his cry. “Don’t,” Hashirama hissed, pulling one down, “Don’t! I want to hear you!”

Madara whimpered as if he was in pain, then dropped his hands, gasping and moaning as the Shodai teased his fingers over the bundle of nerves. “Goddammit, Hashirama…” His muscles clenched again, writhing in pleasure as the brunette pressed against the spot. It was as much as Hashirama could bear; a moment later he pushed himself inside the proud warrior, moaning low in his throat at the heat and pressure. He rested his forehead against his lover’s, their breath mingling as they fought to control themselves, but the longer they fought, the harder it became to resist, to go slow and savor their lovemaking.

Hashirama gave in first. He had never tasted – could not remember tasting release with the Uchiha, and thrust forward sharply. Madara’s nails sank into his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist as he took everything the other man had to give. His gasps and pants rushed past the Senju’s ear, the man determined to memorize every sound he made so that he would never forget again. When he panted out demands for harder and faster, the Shodai was glad to oblige him, gripping his hips to give him a solid spot to work with. As he pounded into the shinobi beneath him, Hashirama could tell by the look on his face when he pulled back slightly, that although the friction of their bodies against his cock was wonderful, it wasn’t quite enough to push the Uchiha over that elusive edge in his mind. He removed a hand from Madara’s hip to stroke his shaft, shivering in pleasure-pain when the former rogue arched and raked his nails down his back.

“Almost…” he nearly whined, “Almost… Ah! Hashirama!” Madara came at last, and clamped down around the Kage, back arching, hips bucking as he came undone at the Senju’s touch. Hashirama gritted his teeth, then thrust as fast and as hard as he could into the tight warmth, moaning out the Uchiha’s name when he followed him over. They slumped against one another, the former rogue wrapping his arms around his lover’s shoulders.

Hashirama buried his face in Madara’s hair, holding him close. “If we could stay like this forever,” he murmured, exhausted, “I could die a happy man.”

The Uchiha chuckled softly. “So could I.”

Though they were uncomfortably warm so close together so soon after finishing, they stayed close anyway, and let the sound of the other’s heartbeat lull them to sleep.

~~~

Hashirama woke, and for a moment didn’t know where he was. The room was dark and empty, and he groped for the switch of the light he knew was on the stand next to his bed. He found it after jamming a finger against it, and turned it on.

He blinked around – and then he recognized the room. His eyes widened, breathing picking up speed. “No,” he gasped, jerking himself to his feet, “No! It couldn’t have – it couldn’t – !” He whipped around, searching, then raced out into the main rooms of the house. “No no no no no!” Nothing was – it couldn’t have just been –

The village fanned out below the Hokage Monument outside the house, still in its infancy, nowhere near the extent that he thought it was. The houses were still new, some not even inhabited yet, and some were still going up.

Hashirama sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands, sobs shaking his body.

It was just a dream.

~~~

I hear the wind call my name,

The sound that leads me home again.

It sparks up the fire,

A flame that still burns,

To you I will always return.



I know the road is long,

But where you are, is home.

Wherever you stay,

I'll find the way!

I'll run like the river,

I'll follow the sun,

I'll fly like an eagle to where I belong!



I can't stand the distance!

I can't dream alone!

I can't wait to see you!

Yes, I'm on my way home!



Now I know it's true,

My every road leads to you,

And in the hour of darkness,

Your light gets me through!



You run like the river,

you shine like the sun!

Yeah, you fly like an eagle!

Yeah, you are the one!

I've seen every sunset,

And with all that I've learned,

Oh, it's to you I will always, always return…

-I Will Always Return (Finale), Bryan Adams (Spirit – Stallion of the Cimarron (Soundtrack from the Motion Picture))