The Need To, The Want To

If he dies early, without surpassing childhood and not having any chance to build up good karma, being forced to pray and build stone towers to climb out of limbo into the Pure Lands, Madara knows the guardian deity Jizō Bosatsu would hide him in the sleeves of his robe. Kā-san won’t have to imagine him lingering at the riverbed of purgatory, unable to cross the river, unable to gain salvation.

The tiny sculpture of Koyasu-sama, sitting undetectable in his pocket, lends him a quiet strength as he strolls outside the compound gates among the main storage for the Uchiha fighters for the first time. The legends say she gave birth to a healthy son while her house succumbed to flames. Madara thinks his own mother knows the scent of smoke too well.

At that moment, when Izuna's body touches the ground, the look on Madara’s face makes Hashirama feel as if he is five and looking up to his father bokkēn, again. He wonders if this is the true moment when he lost his friend. Between them, there were always a few things, maybe several things, that they found very difficult to forget.

“…Mikoto-sama’s youngest has come far away from that time, he ought to be a strong child, I'd told you,” he instantly recognized the speaker. It was an older woman, Hikaku’s aunt, the one who is married to the smith who makes his wire. Sasuke was always able to tell her apart from the crowd because her shrill voice was impossible to ignore, grating on his ears and making him avoid her wherever possible, even if her ayu was the best one he’s ever had — better even then Kā-san’s. “The blood does not lie.”