To Protect Someone Precious To You
"You have any siblings?" The child Madara Uchiha had been thought about the word's of the boy across from the river. The tears that had streaked across his face burned in the boy's mind. He frowned, trying to make sense of why he felt so connected to this boy. His name is Hashirama, Madara remembered. The straight brown hair contrasted to his own spiked black hair, and their personalities were vastly different. Why was it that his heart had constricted in pain when Hashirama had cried? It wasn't because of their shared experiences or because of the war that tore their families apart. "I have four brothers. Or rather, I had them." Madara's own words whispered in his mind. Hashirama was experiencing a loss that Madara and his younger brother Izuna had encountered many times before in their young lives. Madara was only seven years old, and yet he had watched more burials than he had years. Madara had only been a year old when his eldest brother, Yukinori, had been slain in battle at five years old. The next brother had been Akinobu, who Madara had known. The seven year old still remembered training with him with kunai and suriken at five years old. Inzuna was still a toddler, but Madara remembered how their youngest brother had gripped the kunai with such curiosity. Madara and Akinobu had laughed at Inzuna's antics, and the laughter rang in Madara's ears two years after his brother's death. Madara had been there when Kenta had fallen. The twin boys had been able to fend off the Senju with limited casualties, but it was only when he heard Kenta groan in pain did Madara realize that his twin brother could not be saved. Madara still remembered how the childish tears had fallen from his eyes, and of how his hands had been coated in Kenta's blood. "Don't let…your dream…die." Kenta had spoken his last words to his beloved twin brother, and had died in Madara's arms as his brother continued to sob.
Madara had been numb when his brother had been buried. His eyes stayed dry, not because his hard father was watching him, but because he had no tears to spare. As his youngest brother, Inzuna, who had an expression graver than his five years, Madara thought of the lives that had been lost. He thought of the people that could never accomplish their dreams because of this unending war. How many more…? Madara thought, staring where Kenta's coffin had been buried. How many? Ever since he could remember, he had been told that he would be killed in battle someday. It was only now that Madara realized what that meant. His thoughts were not on his own death, but of Izuna's. He thought of the little boy who played with butterflies and who liked rice balls and dango, smeared and drowning in his own blood. A deep darkness drowned Madara as he thought of his little brother, dead, just as their brothers before them. He thought about what Hashirama had said, about peace. And he thought of his own words. Madara thought of his beloved brother, his only living brother, as he thought and thought about how to achieve peace. I will not let anything happen to you, Izuna. I promise. Those were his last thoughts as he went to the other side of the river.
Late at night, Madara felt chakra in his room. Even at his young age, he could sense someone's chakra. He was relieved when he felt Izuna's, and called out to him. The five year old child crawled underneath the blankets and shivered until his cheek rested against Madara's heart. Madara felt his little brother's heart beating rapidly, and held Inzuna's body close.
"Niisan?" Madara felt his brother's warm and sticky breath in his ear. His high voice trembled.
"Hai?"
"Please don't die, niisan." In the moonlight, Madara could see that his tiny little brother's face was coated in tears. "Promise me…that you'll always protect me."
Madara wondered if Inzuna could see his smile. "I will always protect you, Izuna. I would rather die an untimely death than to have you die before me." Slowly, the beloved brothers embraced, feeling their heartbeats beat against one another. "I will promise to protect a precious person, someone I hold dear to me, something I haven't been able to. And the precious person…is you."
Izuna's smile still echoed in Madara's mind as he was buried. His brother had died protecting him from an enemy blade. I was the one who was supposed to protect him, Madara thought as the rain poured down onto the soft soil. But it was him instead…who protected me. Madara gritted his teeth, wanting to moan in frustration and grief. He couldn't, because that was not the way of the shinobi. No tears, no screams, no sadness, and no emotions. That had been ingrained in his mind countless times since he was a child. The rain pelted down, soaking Madara's hair and face so he couldn't tell if he was crying or not. It was Hashirama who had killed his beloved Izuna. The former friends had almost battled to death as their comrades died around them, and Hashirama had been able to get Madara from behind. But it was Izuna who had protected him. It was he who had sacrificed his own life to protect someone precious to him. Madara remembered standing frozen as Izuna's blood dripped onto him. For a moment he was a child again, seven years old. Hashirama had not killed him. He didn't know why. Madara clenched his fists until they bled. He knows he killed the one person I cared about and lived for. I will never forgive him. Never, and I will destroy his life just as he destroyed mine.
As the rain continued to pour down, Madara began to speak. The rain drowned out his words, but unknown to him, he would begin to say those words again sixty years later to his successor.
"In this world, whenever there is light, there are also shadows. As long as the concept of winners exist, there must also be losers. The selfish desire of wanting to maintain peace causes wars and hatred is born to protect love."