Conspiracy
Are the whispers turning your mind?
They're the wolves nipping at your heels.
Trying to drag you down when the light is gone.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. You should know better than to ask.
After years of peace under the reign of Senju Hashirama, discontent grows in Konohagakure...
It starts slowly.
A quiet voice at the back of his mind, asking—Is this it? This is the best that the Senju and Uchiha, that Hashirama and I, can manage? This is the safe haven we envisioned when we were children?
...This is peace?
No.
Because at best, what they have is a ceasefire, as temporary as any other illusion.
Already, other clans have begun formalizing alliances, building new hidden villages around the Elemental Countries. It isn't difficult to guess where things will go from here. Competition for work, for resources... Conflict. Death. A different kind of war.
What will come will be worse than the constant squabbles between clans. But whatever shape war takes, it will end the childhoods of both Senju and Uchiha alike, before stealing away their lives.
Senju Hashirama is too much of an idealist to see it.
Senju Tobirama, their recently appointed Nidaime Hokage, ever pragmatic, is already planning and preparing for the worst.
And Uchiha Madara thinks— This? This fragile peace is what I, what all of us, have sacrificed so much for?
Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara have changed the future for their descendants... or have they?
Everything has changed, and yet nothing at all has changed.
Madara knows, has known since he was little more than a toddler, that sacrifice is a part of life.
Before, during the time of ceaseless conflict, every Uchiha sacrificed their childhood, for the survival of their people, their clan. When he was nine, for his family, Uchiha Madara severed his friendship with Hashirama, swearing that their shared memories would never stay his hand in battle. Hashirama would remain his rival, his enemy. Because they were born to rival clans, they could never again be friends.
Anything and everything, for the good of the Uchiha Clan.
Years later, his family finally tired of war. The endless bloodshed... parents burying their children, and children mourning their parents. It's about time, he had thought on that fateful day. While Madara loves to dance, both he and Hashirama had understood the sheer pointlessness of war before they were ten.
The clan's decision comes far too late.
Too late for Izuna, the only one of his brothers to survive to adulthood, fallen to a Senju blade. When he buries Izuna it feels as if he buries what remains of his heart. That it was Senju Tobirama's blade that was the cause— it burns. It sparks in him a voracious hunger for revenge.
That people suspect he had stolen Izuna's eyes and hastened if not outright caused his death... it is a sinister poison in Madara's blood. It only strengthens his hatred. They already think I am a monster, so why not become one?
Still, Uchiha Madara loves his family, so when he is asked to negotiate peace with the Senju, he sacrifices his hatred, his need for revenge. He strives to forgive, just as Hashirama does. To forgive the rivers of blood and the mountain of corpses, of murdered children with gouged-out eyes. But as an Uchiha, he can never forget— such is the nature of the sharingan.
Slowly, life improves.
Konohagakure, the dream he and Hashirama had shared as children, becomes reality. Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama can be friends once again.
And yet... The cycle of hatred and revenge is too strong. The animosity between Uchiha and Senju is too strong.
I should have known.
I should have listened to Izuna.
Critically wounded by that white-haired bastard, his otouto had begged— "Don't, brother... Don't let them fool you."— but Madara had nurtured dreams of peace, of a happier future.
Hashirama is my friend, but his clan... I should have never trusted the Senju.
First, there comes a campaign of whispers.
While the various clans that had been allied with the Uchiha are slowly integrating into Konohagakure, his family is still regarded with caution. "Thieves with demon eyes," the rumors say, "A clan of berserkers, hungry for power, for blood, for war. Their eyes are strengthened only by hatred." Forgiveness of the Uchiha's sins, it seems, would not be coming from anyone besides Konoha's Shodaime Hokage.
And although Madara forgives each slight, he remembers them. He remains duty-bound to protect his family, regardless the source of the threat.
The death knell of Madara's hopes, his dream of peace, comes when Hashirama stands down from his position as leader of the village, and Tobirama takes his place. Things escalate quickly. Everywhere, they are watched with suspicion. Uchiha are slowly pushed out of decision-making positions in the village infrastructure, offered pittances in exchange.
Madara makes his final decision once his people began to disappear. Younger Uchiha, quietly going missing on relatively easy missions. Gender didn't seem to matter to the perpetrators, but it is always a child with potential. They are being hunted down— eliminated, one by one.
Uchiha Madara loves his clan.
They will survive.
They must.
For his family, he will sacrifice his dreams, his friendship with Hashirama, and even his life.
It has been a little over two years since Senju Hashirama stepped down as leader of Konohagakure, yielding the position of Hokage to his younger brother.
Uchiha Madara summons the Uchiha Clan to a secret meeting.
He calls every full member of the family to a squat, relatively unassuming shrine, placed in a relatively isolated part of their lands. The building sits beneath a dozen layers of genjutsu, with a meeting hall hidden far beneath the floor. It already hides the greatest secrets of their family; it can afford to protect one more.
A handful of their best shinobi are stationed around the perimeter, monitoring their surroundings for eavesdroppers, human or otherwise.
Down a set of winding stone stairs, in a cavernous room lit only by torchlight, Uchiha Madara stands before his assembled family. Forgoing the crimson armor that the Senju had gifted him, he is clad in the traditional black attire of their clan, gunbai in its usual position on his back.
They're here.
It is time.
Taking a slow, deep breath, he steps forward, and begins to speak.
"Already, I can see that you wonder why I have called such a sudden meeting..."
Pacing at the front of the room, Madara outlines the gradual changes they have all observed and experienced. The slow loss of influence of the Uchiha Clan. Civilians' and even shinobi opinions turning against them. The persistent, sinister rumors about their very nature as a people and their bloodline.
Their growing isolation.
He sighs, eyes fluttering closed, brows furrowed in frustration. It is not all feigned. "What you must think of Konohagakure now..." Do you think as I do? Do you believe that this dream is already rotting at its core? That we will be used until we break, and then discarded?
Hashirama and I— we were too optimistic.
Too naïve.
The atmosphere is tense. Nary a whisper can be heard as his audience makes the same connections, the jigsaw pieces falling into place, a more complete picture emerging. Collectively, the Uchiha wonder— what now?
"...We can no longer afford to avert our eyes." Reflecting his words, Madara's eyes fly open to reveal black on crimson— tomoe swirling hypnotically in a sea of red, a sign of his simmering rage. A firestorm is burning furiously beneath the calm façade. His voice, a soothing bass, reverberates eerily in the silent room.
"We are being hunted. Someone is targeting our children— our future."
"Look around you." He gestures at the crowd. Every family member that is a shinobi, an adult in the clan's eyes regardless of physical age, is present, standing before him. Their ages range from six to sixty. "Since Senju Tobirama became the Nidaime Hokage... Over the past two years, how many sons and daughters have disappeared under suspicious circumstances?" His tone turns scornful as he asks, "How many accidents during training or on relatively easy missions?"
Too many. Far too many.
The suspicions he brings to light— he can see the realization dawn in their eyes. It seems that Uchiha and Senju cannot live in harmony after all. Forgive me, Hashirama, I must be your enemy once again. This is something I cannot overlook.
"Such a betrayal... This is something I cannot forgive." A sweeping gesture with his left arm— the torches in the room flare ominously. "It is time for us to accept the bitter truth. For our family, Konohagakure is no longer a safe haven." If it ever was.
"I called you here this evening to discuss—" He gestures, arms spreading wide. "What will the Uchiha do next?"
"As for me? My decision is made. I already have my answer." Reaching back to retrieve the giant fan strapped to his back, brandishing it in a single, fluid movement... The gunbai strikes the ground like a staff— a resolute thud.
"You are my family, and I will fight with every iota of my being, until my last breath and beyond, to protect you. To protect our future."
"...As we are not just a clan, but a family, I ask you this: what do you think the Uchiha should do?" Returning his gunbai to its customary place on his back before crossing his arms... Expression blank, Madara steels his spine and waits for their decision— the future of the Uchiha depends on this moment. His people splinter into groups, talking in hushed voices. Madara fights the temptation to listen in.
He stands alone, aloof, and waits.
Time passes slowly... and eventually, the Uchiha reach a consensus.
"We are Uchiha, so we are proud." Uchiha Nao, his very distant cousin. Barely ten, and already scarred— the boy has lost an eye to friendly fire, a careless blade he could not dodge without endangering an injured comrade.
"But we are not so proud as to blind our eyes to what is happening." Uchiha Hitomi, who lost all of her children during the Warring States Era, and raises her grandchildren alone.
As one, they speak the truth that exists in his long-buried heart.
We are family.
As family, we will stand together.
And we will never allow the Senju to destroy us.
Relief washes over him. Madara's hopes, his belief in them, is not unfounded. As he is loyal to his family, so, too, they are loyal to him.
The Uchiha Clan will face the trials of the future as it was always intended— together.
That night, a conspiracy is born.
Many months later, Uchiha Madara, infamous traitor to Konohagakure that has been renounced even by his own clan, lures Senju Hashirama to an area that would one day be known as the Valley of the End.
"Madara. Why? Why are you doing this? Is it—"
Lips curling into a menacing smirk, the Uchiha answers. "Because it is necessary." Because, my friend, as much as I hate him and love you, killing Tobirama would be significantly harder to arrange. Because killing you will at least weaken the Senju and their hold on the village, if not shatter them entirely.
"Necessary?! What—" But before Hashirama can argue any further, Madara interrupts again, "If you cannot see why, you have truly poor eyesight."
And then, brandishing his gunbai, he demands imperiously, "Dance with me, Hashirama." This is the last time; both men acknowledge that one of them will not walk away from this fight. "And know that if you stand aside, I will raze your precious Konoha to the ground, until nothing but ashes of ashes remain."
Madara allows no further conversation, a deep breath heralding the beginning of a fire jutsu— Gouka Messhitsu. An ocean of orange flames rapidly descends on his opponent, fanned to greater heights than typical through the use of his gunbai, blocked by a hastily conjured but thick wooden wall.
Their chosen battlefield is bathed in flames, earth cracking under the intense heat.
He deflects the flurry of shuriken sent by his opponent, redirecting them back at Hashirama— and blocks the familiar blade that sings for his blood with the kama now gripped tightly in his dominant hand, gunbai fan in his right.
In the end, the deciding factor of every one of their fights is will— and never before has Madara fought with no thought whatsoever regarding his life, fought with the will to protect. Hashirama, in turn, defends his dream and his people, his Konohagakure. But even now, Hashirama does not want to kill his friend.
The pair clashes again and again, their strikes alternating between deceitful and direct, with fists, with jutsu, with blades.
They baptize the scorched earth with sweat and blood.
They live breath to breath; nothing exists beyond the now.
Hours later, Uchiha Madara lays defeated, victim of a blade to his back. Once again, he is broken on the unforgiving ground. This time, however, is different than the last. This time, Hashirama has collapsed beside him, and both men waver on that knife's edge between life and death.
The sky is bleeding— orange into a deep red, and finally, the deep, all-encompassing black of a moonless night.
A deep chuckle fades, transforming into a gurgling cough. Lungs filling with blood, Madara struggles to speak, "So. This is... the end. Hashirama," I want you to... "Understand. Whatever... Whatever outcome this dance had—." Another cough, spatters of blood on his lips, "By facing me here... you have already lost."
You lost when you did not look underneath the underneath. When you looked down on your village and failed to see what your clansmen were doing to the Uchiha. And you lost for the last time, when you failed to see that I led you to your death.
Oh, but what a magnificent battle...
Hashirama remains silent. Perhaps, Madara thinks, he is already gone.
His vision swims, the stars—or are those fireflies?— soft, flickering lights in the vast endlessness of the night sky.
"My friend... This is goodbye."
Uchiha Madara dies with a smile on his bloodied lips and joy in his heart.
And as planned, Uchiha Madara wakes, hours later, in a safe house many miles from the place of his death. "Welcome back, Madara-sama," murmurs one of the Uchiha healers fretting over his numerous wounds—the room is a hive of activity. Doubtlessly, his doppelganger is already burned and buried. And while he sacrificed a sharingan eye to change his fate using the Izanagi, he is content.
To change the fate of his family— for the sake of his family... Madara will always be ready to sacrifice everything.
The End?
Obviously, I took a lot of liberties with the timeline...
I don't know where this came from, but it refused to go away... Maybe someday I'll try growing it into a full story— this would be a fun reality to play in. Feel free to borrow the general plot, just give credit where credit is due and send me a link to your first chapter.
Edited: 3 July, 2017. Bloody formatting issues that nobody points out. Troublesome.