Summary: Instead of waking up on a battlefield as shinobi from all the nations stare at him with fear, he awakens to bird song and a cool spring breeze curling around his frame. MadaTobi Time Travel fix-it
I did NOT think this would be something people would like? I posted it just to get it out of my head, but apparently people want more?
lets get one thing straight before we continue forward: I will never EVER have a consistent upload schedule! Do NOT expect updates to happen all that regularly. I've got some other stuff going on and I still have to go to work even with whats going on in the world right now, so I don't have that much free time.
ab·solve
ii. some sign of life
Instead of waking up on a battlefield as shinobi from all the nations stare at him with fear, he awakens to bird song and a cool spring breeze curling around his frame.
He inhales fresh air, the smell of grass so overwhelming he can almost taste it on his tongue. He had become so used to dank, stale air, that this fresh air has caught in his lungs, ever-expanding as he tries to breathe as deeply as he can force himself to. He can feel the warmth of sunlight on his face, the subtle heat bringing life back into his bones. He keeps his eyes closed for a second, taking it all in, before he finally opens his eyes to get a glimpse of the scene he has found himself in.
Grass dances around him, the bright green plants swaying in the light breeze. There's a pop of color in the distance where grass turns into flowers, but there is only green around him. The grass is tall enough to reach his chest when he sits up, his long hair gently pushed back by the welcoming breeze. To his left, there is the first beginnings of trees. The closer he looks the more trees he sees. Madara glances back at the open field to his right and then back to the forest. He quickly stands and makes his way to the forest as fast as he can.
Madara grew up in a forest much like this one. Large trees with many green leaves are a welcome sight, a soothing balm to his anxious soul. He gained family and lost brothers in woods like these, a never-changing forest of history that lived for decades after he was gone.
Madara remembers.
He met Hashirama by a quiet stream surrounded by forest. He helped grow a village hidden within a forest's leafy branches. Then he left the safety of the forest and died in a tomb of dirt and rock.
Madara remembers the future he had glimpsed while he was dead. He knows the truth that was once so cleverly hidden from him. He knows Zetsu's true purpose and Kaguya's dark plans. He knows how foolish he was and he knows deep regret.
What he doesn't know is where the hell he is. He saw himself wake against an army of allied shinobi. Not once did he see a serene meadow as gentle breeze disturbed the peace. He should be ignorant of Kaguya's plans. He should be fighting shinobi doing whatever they can to protect their homes.
Should, should, should.
Madara meanders through this new forest, lost in both mind and body. He is in his early twenties. He can tell, immediately, because he feels good. His late twenties and early thirties were the time of dead brothers and the newly founded Konoha. He had a constant ache in his back by then, always accompanying the ache in his heart. He had been worn down and tired, fueled only by anger and spite.
Now he just feels—none of that. No cracking joints as he walks, no twinging ache in his shoulder as he swings an arm lazily. His eyes are clear and sharp, no distorted vision only stopped by Izuna's dying sacrifice. He feels young and included by grief for the first time in decades.
Even when he was resurrected in the future he saw, he had been in his thirties; the condition he had been in during his fated fight against Hashirama. He had bulked up months before the original fight, gaining muscle where once he was lean. The Uchiha fought like flames, dancing around with lean muscles and flexibility. They weren't the heavy muscle built Senju or the bulky Akamichi. Lean muscle was the Uchiha normal.
Why had he changed that? What made him decide that he wanted to change his entire fighting style? When did he become someone he couldn't even recognize?
Had Zetsu's manipulations truly done so much to him? Had he really forgotten who he was? Or was he simply so lost in his own importance that he simply ignored what he was doing? Ignoring the monster that was growing inside him? Opening his arms to the beast that had lived in his chest for so long.
Madara takes in a deep breath, forest fresh air of leaves and wood overtaking his senses. The smell chases away his darkening mood, flashes of memory leaving him no longer sad, but nostalgic. Izuna's flushed face as he argued heatedly with a smirking Hikaku. Hashirama's obnoxious laugh as he runs from an enraged Tobirama. Little Kagami as he begs Madara for a ride on his shoulders.
There are still happy memories locked up within his mind. He is not only made of regret and bad decisions; there is happiness and laughter hidden inside him.
A crash of thunder startles him, his body flinching as the first drops of rain make their way through the heavy canopy above him. The rain is spring rain, still chilly from the leaving winter, but not as ice-cold as it would have been even a month ago. Madara grew up in a forest that regained its leaves in the early spring, always fighting to hold it's leafy appendages in hand once more. The trees would bloom green and then the early spring rains would come for a week or two. The rest of spring would be sunny with only the slightest of drizzles.
The smell of wet wood and earth sends a pang through his chest as he continues on through the forest, the threat of tears a serious one. He can feel the stinging in his eyes as he slowly loses himself in the memory of his childhood. Of the cold winters and heavy snow. Of the humid summers and frizzy hair.
He is picturing Mito's crimson locks escaping her usually crisp hairstyle, the blush of impropriety on her cheeks as Hashirama smiles at her with a quirk of lips, when he reacts without thinking, already halfway up a random tree before he realizes what he's doing.
He frowns, confused, but he continues on anyway, trusting his baser instincts as he climbs higher. He stops when the branches threaten to break under his weight, his entire body hidden within the green surrounding him. His chakra is still burning low, not yet the inferno it will be once he has rested and started to regain his chakra. It takes only a little effort to bring the spark so low it is unnoticeable amongst the general nature chakra that resides in all plant life.
Madara can't risk activating his Sharingan, not if he wants to stay as hidden as his instincts are telling him to be, so instead he just strains his eyes as much as he can, attention locked onto the trees ahead of him.
A minute or two passes before he can finally hear the distinct sound of shinobi traveling through trees, the swishing of leaves giving them away. He huddles closer together, eyes narrowed as he picks up the direction they're coming from. It only takes another second for him to sense their chakra signatures, both bright and warm.
He has to clamp a hand over his mouth when Izuna and himself fly past his hidden spot. He wants to gasp, all oxygen leaving in a great exhale of shock. He doesn't, suddenly very thankful he trusts his instincts. Madara could never forget Izuna's chakra, the familiarity of it a welcome memory. Madara knows Izuna's signature as well as his own, which is why he knows that the man beside Izuna is indeed him.
Madara watches them until they are out of sight, their signature slowly disappearing after them. He lands gracefully, shinobi skills preventing him from landing flat on his face as he stumbles when he tries to take a step in the direction they had been heading. He stops, staring blankly after them, his heart ricocheting around in his chest.
It suddenly occurs to him that he never actually knew where he was when he woke up. He had assumed that it was sometime during or around when he should have been resurrected originally, the battle against the allied shinobi forces on the horizon. It hadn't occurred to him that he would wake up when Izuna was alive. He hadn't thought he would be confronted with himself.
If Madara has somehow found himself in the past, he realizes, he can't continue being Madara. He needs to find out what year it is, where exactly he is, and then he needs a plan.
A real plan. One he comes up with by himself. No influences from goddesses or dark wills. Just Madara, struggling to keep himself from falling apart.
Madara sighs, already skeptical, before he changes the direction he was going in, taking a sharp right. He doesn't particularly want to know where he and his brother were coming from; either he'd run into the Uchiha compound or he'd stumble upon a finished mission. Both were not places Madara wanted to be with the floor still so shaky beneath him.
Decision made, Madara took his time walking down an unseen path, surrounded by memories of the past and an early spring shower.
here you go :) so now madara knows that 1. he's in the past! and that 2. there are TWO of him; past!madara and him. also sorry chapters arent longer ^^' I'm getting back into writing chaptered fic (what does this mean? who knows ) and I'm struggling lol