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9 | Hope

He tells Hashirama the truth—that it was Madara Uchiha who gave him the necklace, the same Madara Uchiha that he fought only a few weeks ago.

"He was your childhood friend," he supplies further.

The look that Hashirama gave him isn't from someone who is surprised by the news, or maybe his anija is just too sleepy (the concoction must be taking effect by now) to react properly. He trusts that it's because of the latter.

"I had a feeling that I know him," Hashirama hums softly, his voice almost fading out. The corner of his lips turn slightly upwards and the crease on his eyebrows softens.

Tobirama frowns. Madara is Hashirama's 'most important person,’ as what he told him one time. He wouldn’t forget him just like that.

"Yes, you know each other. A lot."

He watches as his older brother closes his eyes and falls in a deep slumber.

"Good night, anija."

-----

Madara drags his nearly chakra-drained body towards the room given to him by the inn-keeper. Sleeping in an open area is no longer a choice, now that the enemy is in pursuit. He figures he'll rest here for the night, move to a nearby village come tomorrow, and hope that he's recuperated enough when the need to fight again comes.

The enemies that he had just fought seemed endless in number. It's like the enemy had sent him an army, learning from what happened the first and second time they'd sent men to kill him. Madara could say that a lot of them were formidable opponents, but he's fought stronger ones before. While they had their number, Madara had his skills alone, and that was more than enough.

But a Tailed Beast was absolutely unexpected. He had a hard time trying to subdue it but who was he kidding? He had just recovered from chakra exhaustion (from fighting Hashirama)—he was not in his best condition. He knew he would die first before the Nine Tails submits to him.

Good thing he still had enough chakra to transport the raging Beast to the Kamui world before it's too late. Perhaps when he's fully recovered, he can put it to good use.

He arrives in the rented room and takes a look around. It's not so small that it's just enough for sleeping, yet not so large for a lone guest. (Well, not that he cares). It also has its own private onsen. Maybe the inn keeper was terrified of him—his battle-worn armor was still covered with the blood of men he killed earlier, and he wore a deadly glare on his face from the moment he entered the inn—that he gave their probably one of the best rooms to him.

He feebly unties his heavy armor and lets it drop on the tatami mat. Once he’s free from all his clothing, he makes a beeline to the small onsen.

He finds himself sighing relaxedly once he’s soaked in the warm water. It's therapeutic and at the same time, nostalgic—Hashirama also has a private onsen like this one in his house.

Madara couldn’t help but recall the many times they bathed there together. How time seemed to stop and how tranquil it felt with just the two of them in that small onsen. Hashirama was always the one to invite him for a soak, and he does that to help Madara take a break when he’s feeling particularly stressed out, from his duties as the leader of a stubborn clan and as the co-founder of a growing village.