Madara was feeling rather proud of himself. Very proud in fact. And why not? His plan was finally coming to fruition. After many long years of preparation, the goal he'd trained his eye so long ago was at last within touching distance. He was so close he could all but taste it. Such a monumental moment was deserving of self-praise.

He wasn't like that hapless fool, Pein. He didn't think himself a God of all things, although when this was all over he pretty much would be. He thought of himself somewhat more modestly – the Grandfather of all the shinobi world was perhaps was closer to the mark than a God. Such a title wasn't unjustified either. After all, he was definitely older than any other ninja and his skills were unrivalled by even the most revered of this day and age. The only man he deemed a worthy opponent any longer was his old rival, Senju Hashirama, and he was long dead, defeated by time the way the Uchiha master had never been.

Sitting cross legged on the rock precipice that was his own statue's finger, Madara looked out over the impressive landscape of the Valley of the End. Directly below him the waterfall crashed thunderously into the comparatively calm river, hemmed in on either side by craggy faces of rock from which overhangs the size of small balconies jutted at random intervals. Atop the cliffs wildlife reined supreme, carpeting the land as far as the eye could see with the splendour of it's emerald forests, and in the distance, it's dusky green-brown grasslands. But the stone walls which encapsulated the valley were heedless of mother nature's might, little if any plants daring to encroach on it's barren façade.

The Final Valley was without a doubt one of Madara's favourite places in the world. There was no other place quite like it in his opinion, and he would know – when one lived to be his age, one saw a great many places. His greatest battle to date was fought in this very location and he found it a prime spot for intense thinking – he could focus here like nowhere else.

The thought made him smile nostalgically beneath his orange swirling mask. It was ironic in a way. Irony was by far the most entertaining of all fate's tools and it amused him that the site of his most focused battle was also the site of his most focused internalization.

Like now, for example. He'd never been the 'deep' type, even in his more enthusiastic years, but today marked a success he had never felt in his some hundred or so years of life. It made him feel strangely philosophical. This world, which would soon be his in all but name, was a fascinating place. Full of petty idealism and naivete. But he'd seen reality; he knew the nature of things, and humans, shinobi or otherwise, were all the same. They all resided in a realm where their own wants and needs came first, even if they dressed those desires up to look ethical and – heaven forbid – noble.

The Hidden Leaf was particularly bad for that hypocrisy – proof that allowing the Senju clan to take leadership when it was first founded was a grave mistake. They fought for what they arrogantly called justice and what was right, when they were really no different to any other ninja village. The truth was they fought for their own interests, protecting theirs and to hell with everyone else.

As well it should be. Madara had no objections to what they did; it was how they did it that bothered him. Their methods had made them soft. Had he been appointed first Hokage things would have been different. There would've been none of this 'Will of Fire' nonsense – the ninja fledglings would've been trained properly, to fight and kill without mercy.

As it was, his task had been that much more troublesome because of their misguided intrusions, always getting themselves involved where it was no buisness of theirs to get involved. To think that he would have to step forth and take up position in Akatsuki was beyond belief – and all because the Leaf had managed to take out one of the peons. It was unthinkable!

He had to admit though, his personal agenda would be more easily accomplished from this point on if he were concealed within the bowls of Akatsuki.

He snorted. Hiding darkness within more darkness. It was a stroke of genius only he could come up with. And his disguise was perfection personified. 'Tobi' he would call himself. And he would be a member of the criminal organisation no one would ever forget.

The remaining members, who he naturally knew every tiny detail about, right down to their favourite foods, were an impressive bunch. Of course, they were. He'd pretty much hand-picked them, like a deity choosing his apostles. Or a demon choosing his sins.

It had already occurred to him during one of his more poetic musings that the Akatsuki were like the 'Seven Deadly Sins', in more ways than one. Each individual member could be intimately associated with one of the 'Capital Vices', something that amused Madara to no end both for it's aptness and for it's charming humour. But what pleased him the most about his clever observation was that all sins were eventually punished. It was karma's key principle and coincided perfectly with his wishes. He wouldn't need Akatsuki forever and if their likeness to the sins were anything to go by, he wouldn't even have to go to the trouble of disposing of them. A greater power would assure they diminished when their usefulness ended.

Pein and Konan, his first recruits, were probably the easiest to assign to a sin. They were powerful ninja in their own right, he wouldn't deny that, but they so obviously wore their hearts... or rather their idealistic principles on their sleeves. They were ruthless in their work, killing indiscriminately where and when necessary and focusing only on the end to their means, which was why he chose them to head up this operation. They were as close to the ideal shinobi, Madara thought, as he was going to get in a world that had grown so soft. But for all that, their reason for fighting was somewhat skewed.

Madara adjusted his weight slightly, taking the pressure off his ankles which had begun to complain in dull, pulsing groans. It was a pain, getting old. He'd already far outlived his welcome in the realm of the living – a fact he bore with some pride – but it was not without it's consequences. He'd known even he would have to endure the side effects of time some day and he accepted his weakening skeletal structure with good grace. That didn't mean he liked it though.

Where was he? Ah yes. Pein and Konan. There was no doubt in the old Uchiha's mind that those two represented 'Envy' – the sin of wanting something one does not possess. With some of the others he'd had to think long and hard but the Rain orphans had been exceptionally simple to place. They longed for a world of peace, a world where war and fighting were notions completely abhorrent to people – in other words, a world that did not exist. A world they didn't possess. That wish is what drove them and by extension Akatsuki, and such a motive didn't sit well with Madara. Ninja should not battle to end that which kept them; without war there would be no need for shinobi and that wasn't something Madara wanted at all.

'Sloth' was another easy sin to allocate and it irked him somewhat that it was embodied by one of his own kinsmen. Uchiha were not meant to be lazy or lethargic and they certainly hadn't been in the days before the Leaf village – yet another mark of the poor judgement of the people in those times. Itachi, for as brilliant as the boy was, was as idle as they came. Most likely an attribute borne of his baffling pacifism and ridiculous sense of loyalty to the Leaf, neither of which Madara had been able to quash in their training together. In fact, and here he frowned a little, Itachi seemed to cling to them almost as if they were some sort of lifeline. Even now, when he'd done things that made the likes Momochi Zabuza look like charitable do-gooders, he held fast to his old life. The others didn't see it, but Madara did.

It was this devotion to his old village that made him so indolent – 'Sloth-like'. He was unwilling to do anything that endangered the Leaf, including killing any of it's shinobi.

Madara chortled. Well, that was some of the reason. The kid didn't do any more than was absolutely necessary whether it involved the Leaf or not, so maybe he really was just a lazy pacifist.

Unlike a certain miser in the group. Kakuzu was an admirable worker when it came to missions, often doing more than was required – for additional profit, of course. A bounty hunter in his spare time and a fighter whose only purpose was to obey orders and – more importantly – look out for number one first and foremost, Kakuzu exhibited the rationale of a true ninja. Nothing was done unless it had a gain in his favour, and Madara respected a shinobi who had a good set of values. The real world as no place for freebies of goodwill after all. His initial thought, and most would agree – had the masked Uchiha seen fit to include anyone else in his meanderings – was that 'Greed' was Kakuzu's ideal sin, which wasn't a bad thing to be in his modest opinion.

However, for as respectable as his thinking was, Kakuzu was a man with anger management issues and thus was more suited to 'Wrath'. He never got angry in the traditional 'raised voice, narrow eyed' fashion, because that would be too civilian for it to be acceptable to the surprisingly old shinobi. He got angry in the 'annihilate now, ask questions later' manner which although theoretically worthy of a shinobi, caused it's own set of problems. Like replacement of murdered partners, a difficult task given that venerable missing nin were hard to come by.

That's why Madara considered his discovery of Hidan, easily the sin of 'Lust' if there ever was one, an unbelievable touch of good luck. The Jashin-worshipping immortal was the perfect partner for someone as blatantly murderous as Kakuzu. He was equally fierce as his comrade as a soldier, which made them a formidable force since devastating combos could be carried out without fear of death by friendly fire.

Admittedly, Hidan's brand of 'Lust' probably wasn't the kind the sin had been named for, but Madara reasoned that 'Lust' was 'Lust' regardless of the details. The silver-haired priest was a walking, talking contradiction – holy men, the traditional sort at least, were not supposed to be bloodthirsty killers (nor were they supposed to use such potent profanities for that matter). Hidan most certainly was, to the point where it was almost frightening. Ninja were contracted assassins, yes, among other things, but slaughtering the custom was not the best way to conduct business. And he'd done exactly that on more than one occasion, costing Akatsuki time and money which luckily didn't have much weight in the grand scheme of things – Madara would've had to deal with him well before now had it not been so. He still might have to deal with him if his blood-lust became a problem in the future but that remained to be seen.

The real 'Greed', and it wasn't too difficult to see when one thought about it properly, was the Mist nin, Hoshigaki Kisame. Like Hidan and his 'Lust', Kisame's wasn't the conventional 'Greed' either. Whereas the accepted definition of the sin dealt with money and material items, Kisame's 'Greed' dealt with his victims and battle opponents. Never had Madara met a man so loathe to share his kills before. He wondered if, perhaps, it was something to do with his rather shark-like appearance and amused himself for a while with the sheer curiosity of it.

Yes, Kisame was indeed 'Greedy' when it came to opponents. That wasn't to say he rushed in with no forethought and no reservations like Hidan did; unlike the Jashinite, Kisame was blessed with a bit more restraint. But once he identified acceptable fodder he was not above going through his comrades to have the pleasure of finishing the unfortunate off himself. And as far as Madara knew, the only exception to that rule was Itachi for reasons unknown.

A light, caressing breeze played through Madara's messy, cropped hair and he ran a hand through it absently, mildly surprised as usual when he came to the uneven ends just above his neck. One would think he'd be used to it by now but his hair's length – or lack thereof – never ceased to startle him. In his youth, his long hair was said to be his most defining feature – besides his rare, highly treasured Mangekyou Sharingan – and he would admit, he'd quite liked it. But needs must.

He'd chopped it off awhile ago, when taking appropriate care of it had become both bothersome and too time-consuming for his busy schedule. Sometimes he missed the length, simply because it had remained when much else of his former self had not. But for sensibility's sake he knew it was necessary. Nowadays he had things of greater import to attend than grooming himself.

Which brought him to the sixth sin; 'Pride'. Deidara, the young Stone terrorist bomber, was an appropriate fill in for 'Pride' he felt. If his obvious care for his appearance were not proof enough – and Madara knew he must have some care, for no one could possibly maintain hair that long (as long if not longer than his own had been) without some form of vanity – his tendency to boast about his 'artwork' was a dead giveaway. The kid was a broken record. Madara had yet to personally meet him, a pleasure he would have soon enough given that Deidara was to be his partner, but he'd been told 'Art is a bang!' was likely his most frequently used phrase and it wouldn't be unseemly to have it become his epitaph.

Actually, their forthcoming partnership was another irony in which Madara took deep pleasure. Deidara, apparently, did not like learning his 'art' was inferior to anyone or anything and had carried something of a burning hatred for Uchihas since the time of his induction to Akatsuki. Something about Itachi using his Sharingan to trick him... Madara disremembered the details. It was amusing that Deidara would be partnered with him, greatest of all Uchihas, and never suspect a thing. Very amusing indeed.

"Are you ready to go, Sir?" someone asked softly from behind him.

"We have to move quickly and retrieve Sasori's ring." another rasped impatiently.

Madara smirked behind his mask, recognising the two voices as belonging to his most trusted subordinate and informant in... well, anything he wanted to know really.

Zetsu was a truly fascinating specimen. His peculiar Venus Flytrap appearance and symmetrical black-white split down the middle were interesting enough, but his abilities were something else. Madara hadn't heard him approach (though he would never speak such an atrocity) and that in itself spoke volumes. Added to this his... ah... exotic diet, and you had one first-rate shinobi.

It was his diet which made him the perfect incarnation of the final sin, 'Gluttony'. Madara had never been certain what Zetsu's abnormalities were attributed to – a bloodline limit or perhaps some irreversible jutsu? And although he'd asked on several separate occasions, somehow he'd always managed to avoid the questions. But whatever it was had gifted the man with an insatiable appetite for flesh. Human flesh in particular, though Madara had a suspicion he wasn't adverse to other meats either. Yes, Zetsu was a fine 'Gluttony'...

"Sir...?"

"Ah! Zetsu-senpai! I wondered when you'd get here; I was getting tired of waiting, you know?" Madara finally answered him, speaking in a voice that was not his own. It was 'Tobi's' voice – the voice of a hyperactive boy with the attention span of a duck. It was a falsetto of his true voice and much more immature sounding; perfect.

"I'm sure you were, Tobi." Zetsu replied kindly, taking up the act easily and without query. "Tobi's a good boy."

That said, they left the Valley of the End together to travel the many miles to River Country, keeping up the performance the entire time. It was Madara's firm belief that the best disguises were the ones that didn't simply cover the outside appearance of a person – it was the ones that constituted becoming another person entirely. No one could uncover you if you were who you claimed to be.

So for now until the foreseeable future, Madara would become Tobi. An eighth sin, in a sense. The most deadly of all and the only sin un-punishable by the laws of karma; the sin of 'Naivete'.

Just a little pointer – I did a lot of research and thinking for this one but I couldn't find Madara's exact age. The closest I got was a vague description that said he was growing up 80 years before the fox demon attacked the Leaf at the beginning of the series. Adding it all up and assuming he was a reasonable age (between 14-20) during this 'growing up' phase, that puts him at over 100 years old. Not sure if it's right but it's the best I could get.