The Rabbit by the River Hashirama x Madara
Chapter 2: The Forest
Word count: 2k
Chapter 1
Madara Uchiha is sick of fighting a war he doesn't fully understand. When he meets a young boy with similar ideals their fates are forever intertwined, the only problem is they come from opposite sides of the battlefield. After Madara finds out the truth will he pick his happiness and the promise of a future or will he stick by his clan and live only for the present.
Hashirama sighed at another herb as it crumbled to bits between his fingers. It was so dried out he barely recalled what it was supposed to be.
His grandmother used to tell him and his brothers tales of a powerful jutsu passed down from ancient times–not seen since the Sage of the Sixth Paths walked the earth. A justus once believed to belong to the Senju Clan. A Kekkei Genkai with a devastating power; it was a force to be reckoned with. Believed to be formidable enough to suppress a tailed beast, or so the legends went anyway. It was called Mokuton, a rare wood chakra nature. But the Kekkei Genkai died out years ago, never to be seen again. His grandmother was the only adult to show him kindness and she not only told stories of power and destruction but special one’s of growth and rebirth. Stories reserved especially for him. She would take Hashirama for a walk in the trees and sprawl out on the earth. Only to tell him how that very same Kekkei Genkai was once used to heal as well as to break. That many in their clan were renowned for their healing powers–Mending far more than bone. As myth would have it, the best of the healers could grow herbs from their fingertips alone, making ointments and medicines. Using a special technique to heal even the most abysmal of wounds and illnesses. Hashirama poured over every Clan healing scroll he could find, but they all were just basic medic ninjutsu. Nothing special or secretive about them, yet still they required a concentration far beyond his current abilities. “Those healing jutsu could only be passed down in spirit, even if someone could read it they must first have the heart to understand it.” His grandmother would say with a smile prodding his chest with a wrinkled finger. But soon she died and the stories with her.
Keep reading on Ao3 [x]