It was manipulation in the highest sense. The cycle that has started ever since he had the searing jealously of seeing the other glorified bastard of the Senju clan talk to his brother as if he had meant something to him. It had uncurled a heat of what seemed to be utter envy under the Uchiha's skin. Despite the fact they had been mere children then, something inside of him had twitched and left a nasty sour taste in the inside of his mouth.
The cycle of games that had been created upon the mere facts that Madara had been talking to the Senju as if they weren't their enemies wanting peace. The wicked game created in the pretense of not only setting forth war but also creating a discord in his own heart. His heart that was already twisted in a purpose of defeating the Senju that had brought forth after Izuna had revealed the lies cast upon him.
How naive he had been. The petty insolence that had become his heart, actually believing the lies that had been thrown aganist it. The shattered fragments of the supposed wanting of peace. They had been nothing but a manipulation. As if the deeds of those men could ever want the peace that Madara had sought after for years.
Blood drenching his fingers, the colour of liars. Ignorance had became nothing more than a petty whisper by the time he had reached late into his late teenage years. By then his hands had been stained by the carnage of war by at least hundreds of men. The innocence of a child washed out with a cruel and manipulative tongue, that held sense and purpose as he spoke among his clan. It had been vicious, and the cycle often left him gasping for air.
The darkness that dawned upon his heart and pulled him under. The weight that pulled him under, encasing his heart in a power, one that could be said was abhorring but most saw it as the shadows of a curse. Madara pursed his lips twisting into a snarl, one that was a forced to be reckoned with when saw itself.
"You should not ∂αη¢є if one has no wings to fly yet."
The words spoken by beyond someone of his age. That seemed less like a young man, and more like a wiser man. One whom had seen past the age of war, it was almost uncanny. How the tongue was so smooth and fluid when talking matters of blood and war. Casting them as if they were nothing into the pool without the bitterness lacing his thoughts spoken out-loud.
But none the less, there was always one other making the choices with the same tongue but of a younger age. His fingers resting upon the shoulder of his younger sibling, Izuna. Whom was staring out into the battle-field that was barren of traces of life only dead bodies.
"One should hold thier stance , if they cannot 𝒇𝒍𝒚."
The mirrored alike patterns of thinking left nothing more to say. The brothers has the full cycle of understanding one another even if the other had tainted him to do so. Tainted him in a sense that he used his love and affection to create a warrior that was without mercy and emotions upon the batter field.
The war was not just in the battle-field,
but raging among the men that called one another
brothers.
