Chapter 16: An Encounter by the River
Uchiha Raizen sat by the river, the cold seeping through his clothes, and hurled a stone into the dark water with a frustrated grunt.
Plunk.
The sound was followed a moment later by another, smaller splash a few feet away. Uchiha Raizen's head snapped up. A boy, probably no older than eleven, stood a short distance away, another flat stone ready in his hand.
"Who are you?" Uchiha Raizen asked, his voice rough with emotion.
"I'm Hashirama. But I can't tell you my family name," the boy replied frankly. It was a common caution during the Warring States Period; revealing one's clan could be a death sentence if the other person was from a rival family.
"Hashirama?" The name sent a jolt through Uchiha Raizen, clearing the fog of his self-pity. Senju Hashirama. The future God of Shinobi, currently just a kid skipping stones. He was sure of it. Though Hashirama had been on the battlefield since he was eight, few outside the Senju elite would recognize him by sight.
"Yeah, that's right. Is my name strange?" Hashirama asked, his hand subtly moving behind his back, likely gripping a hidden kunai.
"Not strange. Mine is stranger. I'm Raizen." He deliberately omitted his clan name, a mirror of Hashirama's own caution.
"Raizen? Huh, that is a bit different! But, you're not the person I was waiting for," Hashirama said, his posture relaxing slightly as he let go of the kunai. He picked up another stone and expertly skipped it across the water's surface, making it bounce half a dozen times before sinking.
"Is it really that fun?" Uchiha Raizen muttered, picking up a flat stone of his own and giving it a throw. It skipped three times before disappearing. Watching the ripples spread, he found his churning thoughts beginning to still. The simple, physical action was a temporary balm.
"Not bad! You're pretty good at that too! I—" Hashirama began.
Plunk.
Another stone hit the water, and a new figure emerged from the tree line. A boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a perpetually serious expression.
"Hashirama, you're here," the new arrival said, his eyes immediately locking onto Uchiha Raizen with sharp suspicion.
"Yeah, I am. This is Raizen. I met him here tonight," Hashirama introduced casually.
Uchiha Raizen's blood ran cold. He didn't need an introduction for this one. The piercing eyes, the arrogant tilt of his chin—this was Uchiha Madara.
"Raizen?" Madara's voice was a low growl. "I don't care who you are. This is our territory. You. Leave." His tone was dismissive, dripping with the innate superiority of the clan leader's son speaking to someone he deemed beneath notice.
That tone, that look—it was the final spark on a pile of tinder. The shame from his sister's words, the frustration of his powerlessness, the burning need to prove he was no longer the "useless" boy—it all erupted.
"Madara," Uchiha Raizen said, rising to his feet, his voice dangerously calm. "I've always wondered... just how strong are you, really?"
"Are you challenging me?" Madara's lips curled into a sneer, his Sharingan beginning to spin to life.
"Let's find out. I can feel the fight in you, too," Uchiha Raizen retorted, his own body tensing.
"Fine. Come on! Fire Release—!" Madara's hands flew up to form a seal.
"Wait! Stop, both of you!" Hashirama jumped between them, his arms outstretched. "We were able to meet here by chance! That's a kind of fate, isn't it? Madara, you always say you hate the fighting! Why does it always have to come to this?"
He looked from one to the other, his expression earnest. Seeing Hashirama's intervention, the palpable killing intent between them lessened slightly. Madara's hands slowly lowered, and Uchiha Raizen unclenched his fists, the moment of explosive confrontation temporarily defused by the future First Hokage's innate desire for peace.