To be looked upon as children was at the same time an insult and a relief.

Soldiers aren't children; the first time they set foot on the battlefield, their childhood is taken away.

Their parents are by their side, watching their every move, acting as judges and protectors. A good parent is above all a good teacher, and a good kid is the one who won't get killed.

The funerals are short and uninspired. The mechanical burrying of the bodies is an almost weekly ritual and most of the adults no longer care about traditional ceremonies. There's no time to mourn the dead – the only way they can pay homage to them is to murder whoever killed them in the first place.

The families gather in small clans, suspicious of outsiders. The feeling is claustrophobic. You can't escape the war and you can't escape the family you are meant to protect. Even if their idea of love is teaching you how to be a most capable murderer.

So when an adult sees you as a child, it's only for their benefit. They want to pretend your ideia doesn't count, your point of view is naive. But how could it possibly be naive, if all the innocence was robbed long ago?

And yet...how nice would it be, to truly be a child, for a few moments? To really be put aside, not forced into war or any of the present affairs, left to enjoy whatever is left of your childhood?

Hashirama doesn't remember being a child. He's been a weapon for as long as he can remember. Neither does Madara. These boys' little portion of innocence was shared with brothers, which died and took a piece of it with them.

But now, now they are learning how to play. A luxury, to able to play, something that's usually out of reach for those who are prodigies in the art of killing.

More than that, they are learning how to dream, and imagine, and built ideals based on "ridiculous" ideas.

Finally, they are becoming humans again.

And that's worth any clans' loyalty.