"…Madara… is that you?"
Before the words even finished leaving his lips, Uchiha Madara's body suddenly stiffened. A storm of emotions flashed in his deep eyes — shock, disbelief, confusion, nostalgia…
That voice… it sounded like Hashirama. But wasn't he supposed to be dead?
Madara's thoughts churned violently. Countless possibilities raced through his mind, but he quickly forced himself to calm down.
So… Hashirama had faked his death just to find him? That would mean he had already suspected Madara wasn't dead…
It wasn't impossible.
Given their bond, it wouldn't be strange for Hashirama to notice something unusual about the body Madara had left behind.
But right now, Madara didn't want to meet Hashirama at all. His dream had not yet been fulfilled.
Their ideologies had diverged too much. If Hashirama learned of his plans, he would undoubtedly try to stop him.
Not that Madara feared Hashirama — he simply didn't see the point.
He had no desire to argue anymore about who was right or wrong. All he wanted now was to shake Hashirama off and finish pursuing the dream he had yet to achieve.
The game board hadn't even been set. Any disruption now was unacceptable.
And Senju Hashirama… was the single biggest obstacle standing in the way of his dream.
...
"Madara… is it really you?" Hashirama's voice called out again.
Just as he prepared to step forward to confirm, the long-haired man suddenly moved!
Madara spun around, snatched up his straw hat and black cloak, and in a blur of movement, his body vanished like a phantom. Chakra surged under his feet, and in an instant, he was dashing across the water's surface at breakneck speed. Within moments, his figure disappeared completely.
At the very instant Madara turned, Hashirama finally caught a clear glimpse of his face — those deep, piercing eyes, the sharp, cold features, and that eternally proud expression.
That face… the one he had longed to see for years.
Uchiha Madara.
There was no doubt. It was him.
He was alive!
"Madara! Wait for me!" Without hesitation, Senju Hashirama lunged forward, leaping onto the water's surface and giving chase.
His voice echoed through the forest, but the only response was Madara's figure accelerating, fleeing even faster.
...
Under the blazing sun, two black shadows darted swiftly through the dense forest.
Madara's black cloak billowed violently in the wind, the rustling sound sharp against the silence.
He could clearly hear the familiar footsteps behind him, yet he never once looked back.
Hashirama was still the same as ever… relentlessly persistent.
Suddenly, a violent coughing fit sounded from behind.
Madara's brows furrowed ever so slightly. His pace unconsciously slowed.
Through strands of loose black hair, he glanced back — and caught sight of Hashirama's gradually paling face.
Hashirama was clutching his chest in pain, his breathing shallow and ragged. His chakra flow had become unstable, yet he stubbornly kept trying to push forward.
Every time he forcefully circulated his chakra, his complexion worsened.
He'd forgotten… his injuries were still severe. Pouring all his strength into chakra control would only make things worse.
But to catch Madara, he had no choice but to endure it.
With each passing second, his pace slowed more and more, and soon, Madara had put a significant distance between them.
No… he couldn't let Madara disappear again!
Madara noticed the change behind him, a hint of puzzlement flickering in his eyes.
What was going on?
Why was Hashirama's physical state so bad?
For someone of Hashirama's level, this shouldn't even be possible.
There was only one explanation — he had sustained grave injuries, drastically weakening his strength.
Hashirama's breathing grew heavier and heavier, each footstep landing with a labored gasp.
His gaze locked stubbornly onto the figure ahead, terrified that if he blinked, Madara would vanish from his life once again.
"Madara!" he shouted hoarsely. "Stop!"
But at this rate, he would lose him again…
Madara caught the sight of Hashirama's staggering figure from the corner of his eye.
His brows furrowed slightly.
Hashirama's chakra flow was completely chaotic — this was nothing like the man once hailed as the God of Shinobi, his equal in every way.
"Kh… khak… Madara!"
Hashirama's voice rasped out again, his body clearly at its limits.
Madara's steps gradually slowed… until he finally came to a stop on a large tree branch.
The gentle wind tugged at his long, untamed hair, revealing eyes as calm and cold as still water.
"You look pathetic, Hashirama." Madara gazed down from above at the gasping man below. "The way you are now, you don't even qualify to make me run at full strength."
Hashirama, still panting heavily, nevertheless broke into a bright, relieved smile.
"Heh… so it really is you, Madara!"
"Why are you chasing me?" Madara's voice was icy, detached. He didn't want to entangle himself with Hashirama before achieving his dream.
"In your current state, you wouldn't survive even a single blow from me."
It wasn't an exaggeration. In his condition, Hashirama wasn't even close to being his opponent.
If Madara wished it, Hashirama could die here today.
Hashirama leaned against a tree trunk, breath ragged, yet his smile remained unshaken.
"Because… it's you."
After two long years of searching, he had finally found his closest friend. How could he possibly allow Madara to walk away now?
Even if it killed him… he would die chasing Madara.
...
"Don't talk to me like that!" Madara suddenly unleashed his Sharingan, the three black tomoe spinning wildly within his crimson eyes.
"Do you think this is still the past?!"
He had been far too naive back then… believing Hashirama's lies. That mistake had led to this — to everything collapsing — even his own clan had refused to follow him when he left.
"Stop following me… or I really will kill you!"
Madara's gaze locked coldly onto Hashirama. Then, with a flick of his cloak, he turned and left. Yet this time… his pace was noticeably slower.
A faint smile curved on Hashirama's pale lips as he staggered forward to chase once again.
Within the forest, two shadows — one ahead, one behind — pursued each other, maintaining a delicate, unspoken balance.
Madara's cloak fluttered in the wind, sometimes obscuring Hashirama's view… yet always leaving him just enough hope to keep chasing.
Time slipped by. Hashirama's vision grew blurry, his body nearing its absolute limit. And yet… he somehow managed to keep within reach.
He knew.
Madara was letting him catch up.
But… he couldn't hold on any longer…
That thought barely formed when darkness consumed his sight. His entire body lost strength.
Staggering, he took one last faltering step — then toppled from the treetops, crashing heavily onto the ground.
Thud—!
"Madara…"
His lips trembled, the faintest whisper escaping.
His eyes, filled with helplessness, fixed on Madara's retreating figure… before finally slipping into unconsciousness.
"…I still… can't catch up…?"
Madara froze mid-stride at the sound behind him, his body stiffening.
For a moment, conflict flickered in his eyes.
And then… he turned back.
Walking over, he stopped before Hashirama's fallen body.
Looking at his pale, drained face, Madara couldn't help but frown.
"You… reckless fool…"
He crouched down, inspecting his injuries. Upon confirming Hashirama had merely fainted, he finally let out a soft sigh of relief.
"Next time…" Madara murmured quietly, rising to his feet, "…don't follow me."
Just as he turned to leave, something suddenly tugged at his ankle.
A trembling hand… clutching tightly at the hem of his pants.
"Madara… please… don't go… okay?"