In the Valley – Part 1 of a Madara VS The First Hokage Fanfic

Hey Disciples of Teh Awesomeness!

It’s Jourdahn (aka DarkAvatar), a relative noob with a head full of silly ideas and WAY too much time on his hands, and Jeremiah has kindly allowed me to share my fanfic (the first that I’ve EVER written) on IRA. ^_^

As the name implies, it is my take on how the battle between the strongest of Konoha’s two most powerful nin would have unfolded.

This is the first part of a 6-part story. I will post a new part every week (or until everyone starts screaming “PLEASE, SOMEONE SHUT HIM UP!!!”).

Special thanks goes to Elfarren for taking the time to read over this story. Without her incredibly sharp eye this story would never have made it past the draft stage. You are pure awesomeness, El!

And also much thanks to all those who read and reviewed the first couple of parts in its draft stage and gave feedback.

Please, enjoy, and feel free to leave feedback!

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New parts of the story will be flagged here once posted

In The Valley – Part 1 of a Madara VS The First Hokage Fanfic

Dancing Leaves – Part 2 of a Madara VS The First Hokage Fanfic

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Uchiha Madara vs Hashirama - Artwork by Iruko

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(DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters, and i do not stand to make any profit from this story)

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It was a good place.

Hashirama had picked it out specifically. It was a huge, grassy field with dense forest lining the edges. A light breeze swirled around them, carrying the scent of pine into this hauntingly beautiful place. And it was far enough away from the village that the citizens of Konoha wouldn’t know about the fight that would ensue.

The two great adversaries stood at a fair distance from each other – perhaps 20 steps, maybe 30. It was ironic that they wore similar armour in the same shade of maroon. Madara stood with his trademark warfan and scythe, both inscribed with the same red and white fan, the symbol of the Uchiha Clan.

Hashirama carried naught but his forbidden scroll, which was slung across his back.

“Why do you insist on this madness, Madara?” he boomed, the deep tones of his voice reverberating with authority in each syllable. “The Senju and Uchiha are allies! Must we fight?”

The response was just as powerful.

“Why? Because of YOU, Hashirama!” Madara’s voice was infused with a ferocity that he could not contain. Didn’t want to contain. “You should never have been made Hokage! The Uchiha will lose their place as equals to the Senju clan! We will be an oppressed, ostracised people with little standing in Konoha, even if my brothers are too ignorant to see it! I will NOT allow it!”

“You cannot defeat me, Uchiha! Do not force my hand or I will destroy you!”

“Do you truly think me so weak as to be entirely defenseless?” Madara shook with rage at the insult. “Surely you jest. I am the strongest of the Uchiha!”

“You are disgraced,” Hashirama spat. “You claim to be Uchiha? You were banished, Madara! Banished by the very men you call ‘brothers’! They knew, as well as I, that you view the village’s well-being as second to your own selfish ambition! You are a threat to Konoha’s peace, and as Hokage I will do all in my power to stop you. And I will! I swear to you Madara that I will end you right here if you persist, you spineless traitor!”

Madara snarled.

“If you will not change your mind, then I’ll do it for you. FIGHT ME, MADARA!”

Madara closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The upstart Senju’s confidence unsettled him, and that feeling would not serve him well in this fight. As he breathed in, he focused on one thought: that no matter how this battle ended, he was doing his best to ensure the future of the Uchiha clan. That thought was more warming to him than a mouthful of sake, sending a surge of heat into his muscles and putting the fire back in his spirit.

Ironic, Madara thought to himself, that the Will of Fire should come to me when I’m about to try and destroy Konoha’s Hokage.

…

There was something about the way Madara now held himself that made Hashirama’s skin prickle and the hair on the back of his neck rise. He had felt so sure that he had disturbed Madara in such a way that it would influence his actions and give Hashirama the edge in this fight. He had seen it in those red eyes of his. But there was a new strength in him. He seemed taller, stronger.

Hmph, Hashirama thought to himself. A challenge at least.

He adopted an offensive stance, right hand with kunai tucked against his chest, blade edge facing Madara. His left arm was fully extended forward, palm facing his opponent. He spread his feet apart and bent his legs at the knee, his body coiled and ready to spring at a moment’s notice.

Madara’s eyes suddenly flew open, revealing his clan’s famous doujutsu in all its glory. They glowed a bright red colour that pulsed as if it were alive – alive with a hatred so intense it felt as though he could feel it heat the air around him.

Madara smiled, then vanished-

-reappearing so quickly behind Hashirama that he barely had a chance to turn his head before Madara had his scythe cutting an arc straight towards him!

Too slow, Madara thought to himself. This fight was over before it even began.

And then – just a fraction of a second before the point entered Hashirama’s body – a wooden arm formed itself out from the Hokage’s back and grabbed the scythe, stopping it in its tracks.

Impossible! Madara was dumbfounded. How did he block my attack in time? He’s not even facing me!

That arm became a fully fledged wood clone, who twisted the scythe out of Madara’s grip. The clone tossed it aside and stood, the dark, soulful eyes of the Hokage staring intently into Madara’s. There was no fear of genjutsu; with a wood clone Hashirama would be able to see his enemy without having to avoid those particular techniques.

The clone grabbed a kunai and thrust his wooden arm towards Madara. Smirking at the apparently vain attempt to harm him, he sidestepped the blow. It wasn’t even worth the wasted chakra to allow it to phase through him.
Therefore, it surprised him when his arm continued to extend past him and lodge in the ground. His arm broke off and – while the clone’s arm grew back – a second clone formed itself out of the leftover wood.

Three Hashiramas. Wasn’t one enough?

Two clones now. One behind, one in front. In between was not an advantageous position for him. But what could he do? If he tried to maneuvre himself into a more defensive position, the clones would shadow him. Anything more extreme than slight movements and the clones would attack. That would not do. Madara knew that in order to defeat an opponent of Hashirama’s calibre, he would need to lead this attack and keep Hashirama on his toes.

Then again, if all else failed, he still had that darned fox…

The front clone twitched slightly, imperceptible to a normal eye, but to a sharingan user it revealed much about his opponent.

The sharingan broke it down. Impassive face, barely perceptible twitch in the neck muscles, the right shoulder rose a fraction of a inch, and he leaned ever so slightly on his right foot, placing more weight on it. This man was tensed to attack from his right, yet was trying hard not to show it. He would quickly approach Madara straight on, keeping low to the ground and either launch a punch or kick to the right side of his body.

Wasn’t fair, in all honesty.

Madara purposefully feinted to the clone’s right, forcing it to attack early. The clone swung hard and fast, aiming for the nerve cluster on the upper ribs near the underarm. Madara caught its fist in one hand and slammed his other palm up into the clone’s jaw. The clone reeled back. Madara took advantage of this and drove his foot hard into its stomach with a powerful front thrust, aiming to create as much distance between them as possible.

The clone flew back, twisted in midair, and landed with cat-like grace roughly ten steps back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the second clone move. Madara spun with instantaneous speed and blocked the incoming punch, then countered with a punch of his own.

Madara’s fist connected with the clone’s face-

-and almost broke on impact.

The pain was excruciating. It felt like he had just smashed his fist into a metal wall. He had seen this technique before, but could not believe that the clone had employed it.

“Iron skin,” he breathed.

But how? The clone had made no hand signs!

Madara was given no time to ponder it, however, as both clones launched a simultaneous attack from both the front and back.

Ah why not? Madara thought to himself as his Mangekyou Sharingan began to spin. I could do with a little time to reevaluate the situation.

He vanished. The clones halted their attacks, landing lightly on their feet. Hashirama dispersed them. The last thing Madara saw before teleporting away was that even throughout this entire encounter, the Hokage had not turned at all.

And it irritated him to no end.

~ by DarkAvatar on May 27, 2009.