Sibby's Notes: Oh, writer's block. You murder me. Nonetheless, I've been very tempted to write a Madara fanfiction for awhile now, so here you have it! Also, I'll probably edit this prologue into a full chapter soon, but I wanted to get this out to see what you all think. Remember, the setting is pre-Konoha, back with the constant warring of clans and whatnot, and the italics are flashbacks. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: All concepts, copyrights and canon characters in 'Naruto' belong to Masashi Kishimoto. The OCs and plot are all properties of the author. There is no profit being made by the creation of this story, nor does the author claim any unlawful property to the series—it's all for the creativity.
Rating: Teen, though rating will go up later on.
Inspiration: Music has always been very inspirational to me when it comes to writing. Never Enough by Epica is the most fitting song for this.
Summary: Her expression was effortlessly neutral—not by mere indifference, but by complete detachment. He was amazed that, even in her condition, she could hold so much refinement and poise whereas, internally, her body was falling story is based on the past. MadaraxOC, implied IzunaxOC
x. Written by Sibbyna
Prologue
"When a man learns to love, he must bear the risk of hatred."
-Uchiha Madara
To avoid being misunderstood again, the young Uchiha gathered his wits and sucked in a cold breath of air, his chest rising underneath his plated armour as he stepped into the clearing. His fingers anxiously twitched and curled at his sides; his hands soon clenched into two tight fists as he kept his stride jaunty and mannered. The early morning light poured into his black eyes once he broke free from the forest's dapples, pupils contracting as he shoved his gloved fists into his pockets.
Bathed in rich golden sunlight were the vast outskirts of the Fire Country, where the jagged mountain peaks emerged from the wild forests and into the scattered clouds, protruding through them, and were left to overlook the rough landscape of the Lightning Country. The skies bled wondrous hues of oranges and pinks over the black, starry night as dusk approached, draping a blanket of sunlight and warmth over the earth.
Long shadows remained draped throughout the unmoving forest, wilting over trees and branches, covering the ground with speckled shades. But through their clawed fingers the man slipped away from their grasp, continuing on with his journey, breaking into dusk.
Uchiha Izuna crossed through the grassy field with a purposeful stride, his spine straight as the katana attached to his belt repeatedly bumped against his thigh, mimicking his rhythm. He kept his footing precise as the early morning sunlight pooled into the clearing, kissing his tanned skin as his maroon armour glistened on his muscular frame. The Uchiha clan symbol—the notorious red and white fan that was feared throughout the shinobi world—was printed proudly on his sword's hilt.
As he had a habit of doing, Izuna's calloused fingers traced over the imprint of the symbol as he stalked through the meadow, his long black hair whipping freely behind his back.
Abruptly, the Uchiha stopped walking and cocked his head to his left, his chin inclined as he glared at the trail of trampled grass behind him. He turned slowly—deliberately, even—as his smoldering gaze intensified once he activated his Sharingan.
Only a brief moment passed as Izuna completely pivoted and leaned the majority of his weight on his right foot, his hands defiantly perched on his hips as he kept his chin inclined, his posture stiff and austere. Dark shadows lingered over his impassive features, his fiery eyes blazing in contrast to the minimal light.
She was scared, and he knew it.
Despite that knowledge, not one thread of sympathy was laced in his speech. "I'll leave you behind if you continue to hold me back."
The girl he faced appeared to be utterly indifferent towards his threat, her features masked by a generic façade as she lingered in the shadows, standing at the edge of the clearing. She eyed Izuna closely, keeping her obsidian glare intact, yearning to be able to trust him without any hesitation. However, despite herself, she ensured some distance between them and stayed in the shadows, her frail body leaning on a nearby tree as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Izuna waited for a reply, idly switching his weight from his right foot to his left once the first got tired. Their gazes locked and held, mirroring the frustration they both shared as a thick cloud obscured the sun, shielding the earth. It was dark again, but only fleetingly.
"In my current condition," she finally began, keeping her tone light and crisp, "I would last twenty-four hours without you." She purposefully cocked her head to the side, her black eyes half-lidded as she graced the Uchiha with a soft smile. "If I'm lucky, that is. It'd be better for me to say nineteen hours instead."
Izuna snorted, straightening his posture. "Aren't you optimistic," he said, sarcasm dripping from his words as the girl rose to her full height and took a step forward, breaking away from the shadows just like he had done. She crossed the field to meet him, and neither said anything until she finally stood before him, just mere inches away from his towering body.
She was short—just barely standing up to the Uchiha's shoulders—and had to incline her chin in order to meet Izuna's gaze. "I'm a realist," she said, the corners of her lips pulling back farther, widening her smile, "It's better to know what you can and cannot do before you go out and kill yourself."
She took a small step forward, closing in on the short distance that still lingered between them, her smile wiped away as she tilted her chin. Izuna stiffened, keeping his lips tightly pursed and his eyes securely locked onto hers.
Her expression was effortlessly neutral—not by mere indifference, but by complete detachment. He was amazed that, even in her condition, she could hold so much refinement and poise whereas, internally, her body was falling apart.
A silence fell between them; she breathed his name.
"Izuna…"
The Uchiha clung onto the silence and remained impassive, his body stiff as his Sharingan burned into her lackluster gaze, seeping into her mind and yielding all of her rational thoughts. Izuna felt the pressure of her palm push against his armour, her long fingers stretched over his plated abdomen as she held his gaze, peering through her dark lashes when she closed her eyes.
"It hurts, doesn't it? The ache you feel right here," she asked, her fingers trailing over his metallic armour as she leaned closer, pushing against him.
Izuna stifled a sigh and reached up, his fingers outstretched before closing in around her wrist, jerking her hand away. His grasp lingered on her wrist as his gaze trailed from her eyes to her mouth, watching her lips curve when she spoke.
"I know that feeling. I'm actually rather familiar with it."
He was quick to retort, "That doesn't mean you know how to cure it."
Izuna pulled away and allowed an empty space to settle between them, taking a few steps back before he pivoted and continued walking, just like how he did before.
It was then that Izuna saw Shiramatsu Yuki for the last time, silently treading underneath the forest's canopy with her hot on his heels, always lurking in his shadow. When they finally reached the Fire Country's border, Yuki was abandoned at the rendezvous point with other shinobi, never to meet Izuna again.
The cadence of Izuna's murder was a calamity etched into the clan's history and ruthless foundation, where Uchiha shinobi sacrificed fellow kinsmen for immortality and everlasting power, using others as mere tools to reach ascension—just like the one who had started these rituals in the first place.
With his brother's blood on his hands, Uchiha Madara unknowingly fell into a covenant tied by fate's red string.
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