So, this idea has just been bouncing around in my head for a while. I would think about Galbatorix and the extremely pathetic way in which Eragon defeated him. "I used my power and the power of countless Eldunari to make him feel bad for what he did." Seriously? (well, that was the gist of it) Anyways, my thoughts on the Cycle aside, I just figured it would be really fun idea to insert Senju Hashirama into Alagaesia. I'm especially interested in how the elves would view him. While they can, of course, use the Ancient Language to sing trees, flowers and so forth to their will, what Hashirama can do and the ease with which he does it is many magnitudes above what they're capable of.

Important: Hashirama's story will differ from canon. More specifically, the later stages of his life. I'll also be changing the circumstances of his death (which were never very clear in the first place). Most importantly, he does NOT get summoned as an Edo Tensei. Not by Orochimaru, not by Kabuto, not by anyone. I hope you read this, because if at a later point of time someone writes me a long winding review about Hashirama's story being different from canon...well, that person would feel pretty silly wouldn't they? And I would be laughing :P

Whether or not I continue this story depends completely and utterly on the response I get. So inundate me with reviews and the like, and I promise to continue updating, though Reaping Destiny remains my primary story.

Well, without further ado, here's the prologue.

Leola pushed her hair away from her face, strands of dark brown clinging to her forehead as she toiled away beneath the morning sun. Already her face was covered in a glimmer of sweat, with the odd fleck of dark earth breaking the sheen. Sighing, she stood and stretched, her muscles screaming in protest at the sudden movement. Tending to the fields was hard work, especially now, when the crops were mere seedlings and at their most delicate. But it was, of course, one of the most critical periods in the year. Without being tended to carefully, the harvest would be a poor one, and her family would suffer in the winter.

"You still tire too easily, Leola," called her mother, smiling slightly as she worked some distance away. Leola shook her head good naturedly at her mother's rebuke, knowing she was right. Despite having worked on a farm too easily, she didn't possess the fortitude that her mother and father had when it came to tending to their land.

"Please. it's you and father who possess unnatural strength when it comes to farmwork. Even the farmhands who come and go with the sowing season can't keep up with you," she called back, relishing in the feeling of her blood rushing through her sore limbs. Her parents had never, beyond the occasional bout of teasing, called out her seeming ineptitude in the realm of farmwork. But that was because her skill lay in another area entirely.

Ever since she was young, she had been a natural with herbs. She would spend hours studying them, though she had been strictly supervised after it was discovered that her preferred means of studying unknown herbs was to eat them.

In her defense, the first one had tasted pleasantly minty.

But that was when she had been young. Now, she had achieved something of a reputation in the area they lived in. She could care for livestock and tend to common illnesses. And her dream was to study under a herbalist in one of the major cities in Alagaesia.

Father has been working so hard to see that dream fulfilled she thought to herself, feeling the familiar twang of guilt gnaw at her heart. Despite the fact that she was the sole child in the family, neither of her parents had objected to her dreams. Indeed, they actively worked to raise the money that she would need to find a worthy apprenticeship, at no small cost to their own comfort.

With renewed determination, she was about to plunge back into her work when her mother called to her again, distracting her from her thoughts.

"Leola, go see what's keeping your father so long will you?" called her mother, a faint hint of exasperation on her face, "You know how prone he is to lapse into those fits of thought."

Leola giggled as she complied and stepped carefully through the fields, careful not to damage the seedlings. What her mother so aptly called "fits of thought" was a common occurrence in their household. They would find Sigerich staring off into the distance, a deeply contemplative look on his face. He would lose all sense of the then and there, content to fix his eyes on the horizon as his mind dwelt on something far away.

She had learned not to ask for a while, but knew that it was something to do with his past. Her family had not always been farmers after all. Indeed, as far as the neighbouring farms were concerned - and farms in these parts were far apart - they were newcomers, with the others having deep roots in their land. Between them, they were able to cater to the needs of various traders and settlements without infighting. That Leola had at one time or another tended to the health of most of these farmers had done much to ingratiate herself and her family to the others.

Now she was close to their house, and already she could see her father some distance away, staring at something intensely.

I wonder how he ever got on before he met mother Leola thought fondly, changing direction to head towards him. But as she drew closer, she realized something was wrong. Her father was not looking off into the distance, eyes unfocused. Instead, he seemed to be looking at something on the ground. Not just looking, but staring. His usually impassive face was now set in an expression of...disbelief? And apprehension?

"Father? Is everything alright?" she called out in a concerned tone. Her father did not often lose his stoicism, a trait that had become something of a joke over time.

"Father?" she called again, and still there was no answer. Her father looked positively wary, as if he were staring down a wild animal of some sort. Had a wolf made it past their fences? No, if so, her father would have driven it away or put it down. Now he merely looked indecisive, as if confronted by an enigma.

Her pace picked up slightly in her anxiety, covering the distance between her and her father with surprising speed.

As she drew closer, she suddenly skidded to a stop with a cry of embarrassment. Leola felt heat rush up to her cheeks in a matter of seconds, staining them a dull red as she looked anywhere but where her father was looking. The noise of surprise finally caught Sigerich's attention, and he turned around to see his wildly blushing daughter look away uncomfortably.

"There's a naked man lying in the fields," she muttered uncomfortably. Even from the brief glimpse, she could tell that the man was not normal. With tanned skin and unusually angular features, he looked like no one she had ever seen, including the merchants who travelled from as far away as Surda.

"Yes," he agreed solemnly, "More troublingly, a naked man who doesn't look like anyone I've ever seen in my life."

"How is that more important?!" she demanded, still looking away from the unconscious man lying in their field without a stitch on him.

"Were this the neighbor or his layabout son, that would make more sense would it not?" her father replied, and she could almost sense the customary shrug he usually gave when explaining such things.

"What do we do about him?" she pressed on determinedly, refusing to engage in light mannered talk with the situation they were facing, "If anything, shouldn't we get him off the seedlings? He's probably ruined a few of them by now."

Sigerich hesitated, as if internally arguing about the merits of leaving the man on a nearby trail or being a little more humane about it. They lived in dangerous times, and a kind gesture could cost them dearly, especially if this man turned out to be one of the rebels. The king's soldiers showed no mercy in such matters, and took no risks. The wrath of Galbatorix was a terrible thing, for it could extend to the offender's family, comrades, or even birthplace, if rumours were to be believed.

Then his face hardened, as if he had reached a decision.

"Leola, go the house and take out the linen and bring it to me. Then you should tell mother about...this," he gestured, as if unable to find the appropriate word to describe what they were experiencing. Leola gave him a disbelieving glance.

"You want to bring a stranger to our house?!"

"Of course not," Sigerich snapped, "The barn will keep him safe enough, for now. I refuse to completely ignore one who so clearly needs our help!"

"And should it come to be that he's not a good man?" Leola asked dubiously. Sigerich's eyes hardened.

"I still have my sword. Now, go."

Leola nodded sharply and ran towards the house. It went against her conscience, having to act so suspiciously in light of someone who was in need of aid. But with each passing day their life grew more dangerous. With hostilities against the Varden showing no signs of abating, the soldiers grew bitter and angry, and more than a few merchants had talked of being harassed as they passed by.

The linen in question looked tattered and worn, having weathered the assault of many a passing season. But it still held together well, and had been kept clean by the her mother.

Seeing as this man has nary a stitch on him, even this is certain to be an improvement she found herself thinking as she made the run back to Sigerich. Her father took the linen from her and turned away, leaving her with the task of telling her mother what had transpired.

Sigerich sighed, wondering if he hadn't hastened to take the moral choice in the matter. He had seen far too much of the world to hold on to such naive ideals, and yet, here he was. But what was done was done, and he had to stow away this man in the barn before explaining to his wife why the barn was no longer the abode of their animals alone.

Sigerich sighed again. It would be a long day.

Death had come for him, not in the middle of a battlefield as many had been led to believe, but during his time as a recluse. He remembered the sensation when life had exited his body peacefully, soft as a whisper that faded into the night. He remembered how he never resisted, never struggled to keep his body and soul together like Madara had in his final moments. He had merely accepted it, as one would the soothing feeling that sleep brought with it. Not that he had much choice in the matter, the Shinigami was never denied its due.

In death he knew he had fallen out of time and space, for he could not remember possessing a form in death, nor could he bring himself to estimate how long he had been dead. Without his senses to aid him, he could not even remember what he had experienced. Had he experienced anything at all? He could only remember that he had existed. That his mind had not disintegrated when it had been separated from his body.

Take that, Nara! he would have exclaimed exuberantly once, for the head of the Nara clan who had agreed to the creation of Konoha had not believed in an afterlife. Or rather, he thought it was too troublesome to come up with ideas of what would happen after Earth.

But this wasn't then. And his friend was no longer here.

Physical awareness had greeted him with a painful flood of information from his sensory organs. Wait, he had a body?

And then he had sat up abruptly, only to nearly faint once more as the flood of information nearly tripled in its intensity. But even through the pain, his heart raced as he reveled in the feeling of being clearly defined once more. It was as if his very soul was rejoicing at being reunited with its container. And that had sent into another fit of emotion. He could experience joy once again. He missed it, the feeling that he had treasured in his time alive, the feeling he had sought to instill in a world torn apart by greed, war and strife.

He wished he hadn't thought of that, for then he remembered the grief, the hopelessness, and the inevitable cynicism that he had experienced when all his efforts had been for naught. He had sacrificed his friendships, his lives, his thoughts of revenge so his children and grandchildren could revel in a peaceful world. But the Elemental Nations had rejected peace at every turn, almost as if the thought of peace was an abhorrent one.

Unable to handle the overload of emotions he was experiencing, he fell to the ground again, only barely aware of his surroundings. He was assaulted by the powerful smell of hay, dung and grain as he lay there, abandoning his internal thoughts in favor of trying to understand where he was.

It was a farm of some sort, of that he became reasonably certain. His movements had alerted animals nearby, and a cacophony of noises reached him.

This has to be a barn he decided, having spent his younger years taking shelter wherever he could find it. It was not unusual for ninjas to seek shelter in remote farms, for it made a pleasant change from sleeping out in the open forest. But that was before he had truly delved into his nature chakra. From then on, sleeping in forest and other aspects of nature was a luxury for him, for he had felt every pulse, every whisper of wind that caressed the trees and plants around him. It was what had made him the most feared sensory ninja of his time, among other things.

His thought had turned to chakra then, and he realized with dismay that his body was nearly drained of chakra - a feeling that he had only experienced a few times in his life. He shook his head as he gradually got accustomed to the sheer volume of information that was reaching him. But his thoughts were still muddled. There were so many questions he had to find answers for.

Was he alive once more?

Where was he?

Why did he possess a body once again? His body for that matter.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a vague movement he caught in the corner of his eye. Immediately he pushed himself up into a sitting position once more, doing his best to get into a defensive position. The results were pathetic. He could only manage a crouch with a hand held weakly before him.

"Calm yourself," came a gruff voice, and a middle aged man came into view, looking wary as his hand went to the sword strapped to his hip. The man looked odd - not as odd as Kakuzu - but different, as if his very fundamental features were different from anything he had seen in the Elemental Nations.

"I'm not sure I could do something even if I tried," he responded, his voice slurred and distorted as he struggled to reacquaint himself with his vocal cords.

"Aye, that's true enough," replied the man in a slightly less tense tone, though his hand never left the hilt of his sword. Despite the sluggish state he was in, Hashirama felt a hint of approval at the man's attitude. He projected wariness, but not hostility. A good mixture when it came to dealing with a complete unknown.

"I have no intention to cause you harm," he said wearily, realizing he had to be the one to make the gesture of peace, "My intentions at this time are to try and keep myself conscious, really."

At this the man's lips twitched and he relaxed a little more, finally letting go of his weapon. He drew a little closer then, looking at Hashirama as if he were an alien. Hashirama too was looking at him the same way. But why did this man act as if he had never seen the likes of him before? Surely a large portion of people in the Elemental Nations looked somewhat like him.

The man pulled out a roughly wrapped package and threw it to Hashirama. Hashirama merely let it fall near him, knowing he stood no chance at actually catching it. A smell invaded his nostrils - the smell of food which immediately made his stomach grumble. Upon opening it, he found bread, cheese and pickled onion in the package. A humble fare, but he devoured it with gusto, savoring the taste of food after so long. By then the man had leaned against a nearby wall, looking at him with mild amusement.

"Name's Sigerich. And you are?"

"Hashirama. Senju Hashirama," he replied immediately through a mouthful of bread, anticipation tightening around his chest like an iron band, squeezing painfully at his heart. This was the moment of truth. The Elemental Nations would not have forgotten the Senju clan quickly, if at all. If this man did not recognize his name, or at least part of it, then he would have his answer.

"A strange name, by any means," Sigerich replied casually, only confusion lacing his tone, "I have heard none like it in my time wandering Alagaesia."

He closed his eyes as the pain in his heart became almost unbearable. Alagaesia. The name of the land they were in. His fingers tightened around the bread they were holding, shredding it into a thousand different pieces as he struggled to accept the reality that greeted him. He was in the world of the living once more. With a body he had possessed in his prime, though a fatigued one.

"Alagaesia," he spoke softly, the foreign name rolling roughly off his tongue.

"Aye," the man replied, and he now looked confused, "But surely you knew that, stranger."

He shook his head slowly, "My faculties are not my own at the present. Even my own voice seems strange to me."

Ah, the art of deception. Conscious for only a few moments and already it rolled off his tongue smoothly. And the most powerful words of deception were those that did not lie. Nothing of what he had said was false. And yet, the picture they painted would be anything but true.

The man - Sigerich - gave a bark of laughter in response.

"Words spoken so often by those who consume spirits in excess. And yet I sense that is not what you mean."

Already the food was over, and his limbs had stopped trembling as his body embraced the sensation of a full stomach. He looked up at Sigerich with somber eyes. Many of his former friends would have believed him incapable of such an expression. Serious, yes, but never somber. But things had changed in his last years. Oh, how they had changed.

"I don't know, Sigerich-san," he spoke, and immediately felt foolish. Who knew if these people even used suffixes like he would, "I truly cannot remember. So much seems alien to me at the moment."

"San?" Sigerich asked, confused, before shaking his head slightly

Well. That was one of his questions answered at least. Sigerich pulled out what appeared to be a waterskin before throwing it to him.

"Wine. Not much to speak of, but it'll put some warmth in you. Rest, str- Hashirama. Tomorrow I'll see if I can find some old clothes for you. Perhaps sleep will clear your mind," he spoke before beginning to walk away. But then he halted.

"I don't believe you mean us harm, stranger. I hope you will not prove me wrong."

And then he was gone, leaving Hashirama to tentatively pour of some of the wine in his mouth. His eyes widened and he almost spat the liquid out as the strong liquid burned down his throat. Yes, he felt strength enter his limbs as the warmth spread through his body, making his fingers tingle at the sensation. But it takes awful.

"Booze sucks no matter what land I'm in," he muttered to himself as he set the wine aside and fell against the straw on the ground once more. He only noticed it now - that straw had been strewn about to form a rough, though fairly comfortable substitute for a futon. This Sigerich was a good man at heart. Kindness was something he had grown not to expect from people in his later years. Well, not all people.

Soon darkness greeted him once more, and this time he welcomed it, knowing his body would recuperate all the faster. But the thought of the dreams he would have gave him pause for a while. It had been many years since he had dreamt a pleasant dream.

"Would you like to say that again?" Leola enquired with a poisonously sweet tone, reminding Hashirama greatly of his granddaughter Tsunade. Even as a child, the little blonde had been temperamental to the extreme. Perhaps it ran in the Uzumaki blood? People had feared him for his strength. But even the Kages had tip toed around his wife, and not just because she had hosted the Kyuubi within herself.

Did Tsunade look like this girl when she was older? he wondered fondly, even as he took an unconscious step back from the angry young woman in front of him. The first time Sigerich had introduced his daughter to him, the young girl had looked away, blushing furiously for some unknown reason. He would have felt the embarrassment radiating off her even if his sensory abilities had begun to return by that point.

"I'm saying, you're using a lot more herbs than you actually need to," he replied patiently, holding one of her many remedies in his hand. The plant sang to him through his chakra, baring itself joyfully in the presence of a power that seemed so in tune with it.

"Look," he gestured, trying to distract Leola from her temper. He squeezed one of the leaves, and collected the essence in his palm, "This is where the medical benefits of this plant are concentrated. Collect the essence from five leaves and that's all you'll need."

Leola narrowed her eyes and studied the essence he had collected in his hands, before looking up at him suspiciously, "You know a lot about these leaves, Hashi. Are you some kind of herbalist?"

Ah, that was another thing. Leola had recovered from her embarrassment very quickly, and had taken to calling him Hashi within hours. Sigerich had merely told him to take it into stride, apparently she had given people far more embarrassing nicknames. He did not mind, though the nickname did bring back a rush of memories from the past. The family had noticed very quickly that his eyes grew distant for hours together.

"Father does the same thing," was all Leola had said, shrugging.

In his defense, it wasn't always nostalgia. His chakra had soon begun to return at its trademark speed, and within a few days he was himself again. It had always been potent, so it did not surprise him. Food was key, of course, and he had found himself apologizing profusely to Sigerich and Francesca for the quantity of food he had consumed in the first few days.

"Hashi! Stop fading away when I'm talking to you!" Leola exclaimed impatiently, and he found himself drawn back to the present.

"I'm sorry," he smiled slightly, "What were you asking me again?"

"I was asking you if you're a herbalist," Leola repeated impatiently, "Seeing as you seem to know so much of these remedies."

Every question they ask me is a difficult one to answer he groaned internally. He supposed he did possess the skill to be a herbalist, but that wasn't who he was.

"It is...a part of what I am, I suppose," he nodded slowly, already anticipating the scowl that she would send at him. He could not blame her. Almost every question they had asked him he had to answer in half truths. It was not that he didn't trust them, no. Once his sensory abilities had returned, it was more than easy to realize that they were indeed good people without a doubt.

No, it was because ever since he had awoken in this world, he could not sense chakra in any of the humans he had come across. In nature chakra still flowed strong, with a vibrancy that gladdened his heart. But he had spread out his sensory net, using nature to extend his reach. Not a single human had exhibited signs of chakra. Why? Had the humans in this land never awakened that ability?

Regardless, it meant that he could not explain who he was. Not without drawing scorn, distrust, perhaps even fear. And he did not want these people to direct those emotions at him. Already he had grown fond of them, and saw them as people to safeguard, even from himself, as the situation now stood.

"You twist words more than the bards do," Leola muttered, though her irritation only lasted a few moments, "Well, we'll see how effective your remedy is shall we?"

She bustled off then, a look of concentration on her face as she tried what he had just taught her. He shook his head fondly before heading back to the fields. Sigerich had told him, with his characteristic mixture of bluntness and kindness, that he was free to stay with them so long as he could work in the fields. He had accepted hesitantly, realizing that he would have to learn more about this land before he could venture out of their home. Besides, he would work for them at least until his debt had been paid.

Sigerich and Francesca stood some distance away, getting into yet another secretive conversation as anxiety radiated from them. He had been at the farm for almost two weeks now, and within the first week, he had noticed the first signs that something was wrong. That they were going to sizeable lengths to keep him and Leola in the dark merely amplified that feeling.

"What are going to do, Sigerich?" came Francesca's voice, tinged with worry as it reached his ears. With his heightened senses, it had taken far more effort to deliberately avoid eavesdropping on them. He did not want to violate their trust. But now, with their anxiety reaching new heights, he could no longer hold himself back.

"Be calm, beloved," Sigerich replied, though his voice was haggard, and he radiated just as much anxiety as his wife, "We will find a way."

"These seedlings are near dead, Sigerich! They should be thriving by now. We were wrong to take a gamble on that new merchant."

"What choice did we have, Francesca?" replied Sigerich wearily, "That merchant was the only one with any seeds this season. Without him, we would have had nothing to sow."

"This is not much better than nothing," Francesca quietly before walking a few feet away, her head hanging low. Sigerich had clenched his fists in an open show of emotion, and Hashirama made sure he was facing the other direction. So that was the problem. He had noticed that the crops presented an uninspiring spectable, but Sigerich had assured him that it was normal for such crops to begin their cycle of growth rather late. Looking back at the incident now, he felt rather foolish. He had merely taken Sigerich's word for it, even though his sensory abilities had said differently. But he had been too preoccupied with the other things he had sensed to pay too much attention to the crops.

I need to help them spoke a voice in his head, the idealistic voice that had never truly faded, even if it had lessened in intensity.

But what if they see my abilities as something to be afraid of?

It doesn't matter. They need help. You can help them.

I don't want them to hate me.

Would you rather they died loving you then? Let them live, even if your friendship is the cost.

And that was that. These were good people, people who had taken him in when all they need have done was carried him out of their fields and to a nearby farm. He could not let them die, even if it meant him leaving their lives forever.

He walked towards Sigerich with slow steps, gathering his chakra after so long. His chakra responded almost joyfully to his will, as he prepared to mold chakra in a way he had not done in so long. Sigerich looked startled by the look he was wearing.

"What is it, Hashirama?" he asked, no traces of his previous anxiety entering his tone.

"I overheard what you were speaking about," he said simply, and Sigerich looked shocked at the admission.

"But how? You were nowhere within earshot!"

Hashirama merely looked at him with a touch of sorrow on his face.

"You have helped me greatly, Sigerich. This I will do to pay my debt," was all he said before he bent on one knee, head bowed as if in prayer as he touched the ground with his hands.

First he molded earth and water chakra together, spreading out his chakra through the Earth. Now he knew every nook and cranny of the land, every insect that dwelt within it, every rivulet of water that passed through it. The seeds had not been rotten, but their life force was faint, as if they had come from harsh lands. All the water and dung in the world would not help them now, for the fault lay at a deeper level.

"Mokuton," he whispered and a faint silver aura surrounded him as he willed his power into existence, feeding the energy to the plants around him as they drew in his chakra hungrily, their cells absorbing the healing chakra that Mokuton could be, when he wanted it to be. He had cultivated the forest near Konoha with his own strength, though he could never understand why it had been dubbed the Forest of Death. He thought it was a lovely place.

Before the thunderstruck eyes of Sigerich and Francesca, the field bloomed into a vision of lush green, from the dying brown it had been a few seconds ago. Leaves sprouted and arched towards the sun as the seedlings began to grow as they should have done from the very start. To his senses, the air around him began to thrum with life as the chakra within them began to radiate brightly. A few seconds more and he ceased the flow of chakra, stepping back and admiring his handiwork.

I was afraid something was lost in the time gone he pondered, reveling in the fact that his chakra was as potent as ever, and his skill with Mokuton remained unchanged. The exercise had barely caused a dent in his energy, which was only to be expected. Compared to the rapid growth he had to cause during battle, this was rather tame. Sigerich and Francesca looked as they had been struck in the gut, the wind knocked out of them as they surveyed the sight around them with disbelief in their eyes.

"Hashi?" came a hesitant voice and he looked to his side to see Leola, who had walked up to him at some point. So she had seen it too. He looked away from her quickly, and hesitated, wondering if the best thing to do was simply walk away.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when he felt Leola slam into him, drawing him into a tight embrace. Shock radiated through him, and it must have shown on his face, for Sigerich gave a small chuckle and clasped his shoulder with a reasurring hand.

No. Are they deceiving me? he thought wildly, throwing out his sensory abilities. But no, they were not. He found shock, disbelief, joy. But no anger. No hatred. No fear.

They aren't he thought disbelievingly, still resisting the emotions he felt. But that resistance was washed away when he saw the radiant smile Francesca sent his way, a smile that was pure in its joy. She had always been rather distant, if not suspicious of him, then at least cautious.

"Thank you," said Sigerich, emotion clouding his voice as he look out at the field once more. Hashirama shook his head immediately, waving away the man's gratitude embarrassedly. He had never grown accustomed to receiving gratitude with grace, not even as Hokage. Tobirama had given up trying to teach him after a point.

"Forget that, I have a far more important question for you," Leola spoke up seriously, stepping away from the embrace.

"When are you going to teach me how to do that?!" she asked him excitedly, and he could almost see the stars shining in her eyes. He sighed, as he realized he would have no peace, at least for the next few days.

Now he would have to explain everything. Beginning with chakra and the land he had once called home. Perhaps he would gloss over some of the details, such as the fact that he had been dead. Even he wasn't sure what had happened after that.

Perhaps I should give that wine another try he thought despairingly as the family closed in on him, a thousand questions in their eyes, and perhaps a thousand more at the tip of their tongue. He began to back away slowly, wondering if he could make a run for it, if only for a few hours.

He just couldn't catch a break.

A tall shade lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked human, save for his red hair and crimson eyes, which shone with malice when a beam of moonlight fell upon his face. The urgals near him shuddered at how eerily restrained their master was, like a cobra waiting to pounce. The shade's thin frame hid a deceptive level of strength - one that they had all come to know well, and did not want to experience firsthand. And so they waited, away from the track, keeping as still and quiet as possible.

His eyes widened as a new wind brought with a scent - a scent that would change the balance of power as it existed now. Oh, his master held the upper hand nonetheless, but there was pleasure to be had in stripping the opponent away of everything. Hopes, dreams, ambitions. And then, when death would be considered a blissful release, rid their pathetically fragile bodies of their souls.

His lips curled up in a cold smile as he tasted the air once more. Yes. Elves had a very distinctive smell, and few wandered beyond the borders of their little patch of foliage in these uncertain times. The informant had not lied to him. Perhaps he would kill him quickly once he had dealt with the elves and the egg they carried.

He waited, sword in hand, and only the small movements he kept making with his sword gave away his impatience as the minutes slowly passed them by. The scent grew ever closer, and in turn, his gaze upon the Urgals grew ever stricter. Cold was beginning to bite at his skin, but he paid it no mind. Fire or smoke was out of the question, for it would alert the elves, and he needed them oblivious. Days of travel would have worn away at their senses, dulling them, though their abilities would still be above what any normal human could possess.

He hissed in displeasure when one particularly clumsy Urgal stomped on dry twigs as the beast tried to warm itself up. If the elves didn't kill this one, he would. And there would be a thousand more to replace this one, Galbatorix had seen to that.

He smiled as another gust of wind brought him the scent, this time so strong that the elves were no doubt nearly upon them. He called forth his power, keeping it at the ready. For now, the wind would not carry their scent to the elves, which was good. Urgals possessed a stench that made his lip curl. If needed, he would mask their scent.

"Ready yourselves. They are almost here," he whispered, and the Urgals immediately froze, the dull look in their eyes now replaced by a cold focus that they only felt when readying themselves for combat. It was what made them ideal cannon fodder.

Soon they came within sight of the Urgals as well, three elves on magnificent white steeds. Even when their intention was to be inconspicuous, the elves could not bear to saddle themselves with something mundane. He would enjoy burning their precious forest when the time came.

He raised a hand, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Soon the horses were passing by them, and suddenly the wind's direction changed. He snarled, even as the horses reared up in fright, alerting their owners.

"Garjzla!" he barked, sending the spell at the woman who was clearly the leader. The spell struck the horse which fell dead, the owner leaping away nimbly at the last second. Already the urgals were storming into the clearing, hacking away at the two guards. The elves were good, no doubt, but the urgals held the advantage through sheer surprise and numbers.

A sadistic smile dominated his face as he moved forward, the deadly gleam of his sword marred only by a thin scratch that had been put there by a particularly annoying human. He would enjoy every second of this. The woman had to be captured alive, so his king had commanded. But the other two elves? They would be beginning for death before the night was through.

Hashirama was meditating, making the most of the fact that he could exercise his chakra without having to hide it from the people he considered his friends. Once again he using his sensory abilities, for it was the one area where he had fallen short of his previous prowess. Years of self imposed exile and isolation, followed by Kami knew how many more years of...well, death, had made him rusty in the area. And so he extended his senses, overcoming the instinctual urge to withdraw into himself that he had developed in his later years.

As ever, he was disconcerted by the utter lack of human chakra he sensed. It left him with nothing to do but commune through nature, using the ample foliage around them to steadily extend his reach. Sage mode elevated this ability to truly dangerous levels, but in this world, he did not see this ability having much use. Any people he had come across either had no chakra or had coils that were deeply inactive.

And then he came across it - surge of energy that was the sensory equivalent of being slapped on the face. He sprang to his feet, double checking to make sure he hadn't imagined it. There it was - now more energy signatures were springing up in his realm of detection, his eyes wide as he analyzed them.

A large portion of Yin chakra was involved, and there seemed to be no elemental affinities for him to identify. He wasn't even entirely sure if it was Yin chakra. It felt familiar, but not completely the same from how he remembered it, how he wielded it.

Oh think about it later! he admonished himself First, find these people before they move farther away. A kilometre or so to the north west.

Then he was off, using his enhanced abilities to flit through large distances in the blink of an eye. His thin clothes did little to stop the cold bite that was entering the evening air, though he was used to far worse. Foliage passed by him in a blur as he kept moving. Growing closer and closer to the area where he had found the signatures.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. A stench so pungent that he no longer needed his sensory abilities to tell him where to go. Then came the sound - an unmistakeable sound of steel clashing against steel. War cries rent the air, making him pick up the pace a little, even as a cynical smile crossed his lips.

It was the very first time he had come across chakra-like energy, and of course it was being used in battle. It seemed this world was not so different from his own after all.

A bloody spectacle greeted him when he moved within visual range of what was happening. Twelve monstrous looking creatures were attacking travelers of some sort. One of the travelers was already dead, Hashirama's eyes widening when he noticed that these travelers weren't human either. Chakra was strong in them, as opposed to the other creatures. But then there was the man who lead the creatures. His chakra shone like a beacon, when compared to the others, though it felt...wrong.

He cursed when the second traveler crumpled to the ground, struck by a sickly wave of chakra that decided the matter for him. Chakra that sickly could never amount to anything good.

Shunshin he whispered before disappearing in a flash, appearing before the woman traveller, who was desperately trying to fend off three of the creatures that were hacking at her. She was bleeding profusely, but held on with a grim determination. Even as her eyes widened in shock at his sudden appearance, he whirled around and punched the nearest creature in the chest.

The creature gave an inhuman shriek of pain as its body crumpled under the force of his blow, the light leaving its eyes instantly. This surprised even Hashirama, for he had meant for that blow to be the opening salvo.

These creatures are as weak as civilians he realized as the battle froze for a second, everyone trying to assess the new addition to the field. Hashirama blurred out of sight, maximizing the shock to take out the other two Urgals who were near him with quick strikes to the neck. He was beginning to feel guilty, this was easier the time he had pushed around Tobirama's new students.

"Garjzla!" barked a voice and his eyes widened as a blast of fire shot from the leader's hand, his red eyes gleaming maliciously.

Hashirama channeled chakra into his hands and sent a concentrated blast at the fireball, forcing it to dissipate harmlessly. The shock on the leader's face was priceless, especially since his red eyes and use of fire reminded him greatly of the Uchiha clan, though they were capable of far more.

"You...what are you?" hissed the leader, holding a pale blade expertly, looking ready to charge.

Hashirama said nothing, instead slapping his palms on the ground. Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu he thought before exhaling, and a giant fireball roared into existence before speeding towards the leader, who leapt nimbly away. The creatures near him were not so lucky, however, and were incinerated by the fireball, the earth cracking under its force.

"That is how you wield fire," he spoke tauntingly, trying to provoke the leader into making a mistake. That proved to be a mistake however, for a felt a crushing force entering his mind - a feeling he recognized from the time the Yamanaka clan had been his enemies. But this pressure was ten times more painful, and he gritted his teeth as a demonic presence entered his mind, with as much hatred as a tailed beast.

Behind him, he heard the woman cry out in a strange voice, and a bright flash of light covered the trail for a few seconds. When the light had receded, the strange object that he woman had been holding had disappeared in a strong wave of chakra. The red haired man howled with rage, and the distraction lessened the pressure on his mind.

Immediately he clapped his hands together, releasing a powerful wave of Yin chakra that shattered the pressure into a million pieces. Without breaking stride, he used another shunshin to disappear before appearing behind the red eyed leader, using the momentum to strike his skull with a chakra concentrated fist, making the skull explode with the force he had used.

He was panting slightly, the assault on his mind taking a small toll on him. He was grateful Tobirama had come up with some solutions to counteract the mind techniques, for it seemed the entities here wielded them far more proficiently. He shivered slightly when he remembered the presence the other man's mind had created before turning to face the remaining creatures, who had by now begun to run away. He contemplated running after them, but he was distracted when he felt yet another presence entering his mental space. He snarled and disrupted the pressure yet again and turned around, only to find the bleeding woman staring at him cautiously.

"Do that again and I'll snap your neck like a twig," he spoke coldly. He despised it when his mind was invaded. Thus, when the Yamanaka clan had become his allies and part of Konoha, he had asked the clan leader for as much information as possible about the techniques, how to detect them, and how to break them.

"Are we clear?" he pressed a little more forcefully, releasing a little of his chakra. A silver aura flared to life around him, the very air becoming heavy under the pressure. This time the woman nodded immediately, and he allowed the pressure to dissipate.

"I mean you no harm," he continued, this time in a softer tone as he moved towards her, holding up a placating hand as she tensed once more. He gently touched the woman's shoulder. His palm began to shine with a green glow as he channeled healing chakra through his hand and into the woman's body. Soon, her major wounds had stopped bleeding and closed up, the woman staring with shock at what he was doing the whole time.

"A-Are they...?" the woman asked hesitantly, her voice sounding strange and musical to his ears. He noticed for the first time that she had pointed ears, furthering his suspicion that she wasn't human.

"I'm sorry. They are both dead," he replied simply. He had felt the chakra drain from their bodies in tangent with their life force. The woman's expression turned to one of utter anguish, even as she fainted against him.

...I could have handled that better he chastised himself. Clearly the pain of losing her comrades, in tangent with adrenaline and blood loss had caused her to fall unconscious. He sighed once again. What would he do now? Would the family appreciate it if he brought them yet another stranger?

I can't choose on their behalf. They took me in when they didn't have to he decided before carefully lifting the woman up in his arms. He also took her sword and strapped it to his side loosely. Then he began moving swiftly in the direction of the farm, his mind racing to process what he had come across.

He had many questions to ask Sigerich when he got back.

I know, I know, Hashirama's personality is quite out of character. But I've dropped some hints as to why that is in this prologue, and I'll continue to develop his past as the story progresses. Trying to make sense of the Inheritance Cycle using Naruto terminology might also be a little clumsy, but that's inevitable with a crossover like this really. Besides, who knows how the two lands are really linked? :r

People who've read my other stories will know that a large portion of what I write surprises even me :P I have a vague idea of the overall outline, but when it comes to the specifics, I'm strapped in for the journey as much as any of you are. So if you have small or large ideas that you think could make my story better, don't hesitate to let me know! This story could very well belong in large portion to the readers as time passes xD

Review, review, review. And then review some more. If I don't know what you think, I won't know what the response to this story is.

Till next time!