((Cross posted to my Ao3 account: /users/creatureofgraphite/pseuds/creatureofgraphite
This story is a prequel to What The Winds Bring, but shouldn't spoil much for that fanfiction. Along The Darkening Breeze will cover a rather large span of the timeline and give background to the AU that What The Winds Bring presents, so Obito, Nagato and Konan won't be appearing until much later.
I won't be abandoning What the Winds Bring, but chapters for that fic take me forever, so I wanted another project to alternate between. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
I do not own Naruto and its characters.))
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Long grass swept the plains, billowing in the silent wind. It cloaked the land well, hiding the deep scars scored into it by generations of war. Clouds kept the sunlight dim. Hopefully, it wouldn't rain until the succession battle finished.
Madara took a deep, quiet breath, stepping down the steep hill and toward the flat lands. The chain linking his gunbai and kama clinked quietly, yet it still sounded too loud to his ears. If not for the clan full of eyes watching now, he would have flinched at the unnecessary noise. But now was not the time to show weakness.
Uncle fell into step beside him, quiet but looming in Madara's periphery. Likely, the man felt nothing right now. He, unlike his nephew, was a confident veteran with no reason to be nervous.
There was a reason Uncle was chosen as regent until the Council deemed Madara old enough to become clan head. The man was Father's little brother, powerful and perfectly qualified to lead, but also loyal enough to train Madara into a capable heir rather than sabotaging him. Oh, generations ago there were stories of past regents pretending to be loyal even when they weren't, but it wasn't like the man had any heirs to replace Madara with.
The war took them, just like it took Madara's older brothers years ago.
Nothing could remove Uncle's good standing at the moment. Either he would win and meet the expectations his skill gave everyone, or he would lose to Madara, which wouldn't be remotely embarrassing for the old man. Madara was supposed to win eventually, after all, and was steadily gaining a fearsome reputation of his own.
"Remember not to falter, no matter what happens," Uncle's deep, rough voice shattered the stillness.
Madara blinked at the sudden order, resisting the urge to frown. "Aa." A firm noise, one that acknowledged the old man's words while also hiding the flicker of unease they caused.
Uncle only held this fight because he deemed his nephew ready to win and rule the Uchiha. Why on earth did he think that reminder necessary?
Figuring out such missing details could mean the difference between life and death on the battlefield. Yet...for all practical purposes, this was just a spar. No one was going to get killed. The reminder was probably just that.
Shoving the thought away, Madara tried to concentrate as Uncle deemed them far enough from their audience and stopped.
As per tradition, they bowed to each other before walking ten paces away. The gunbai's chain swayed with each step. Glancing to the side, he saw the crowd, full of family and comrades. Aside from the sick and those guarding the camp, everyone came to witness the fight, even though they were tired and hungry after their most recent bouts with the Senju.
Izuna looked worn, but smiled all the same, ready for his Nii san to win. They all needed his victory, so they could know their next leader would be strong.
'I'll make sure that happens, little brother.'
The tenth stride came, and with a shout, the two opponents unsheathed their weapons and lunged forward.
Their eyes blazed scarlet with the sharingan, and blades cut the air with each rapid movement their wielders took. Now days, Madara feared very little and was challenged by precious few. Yet, it was all he could do to keep up with Uncle. On the battlefield, there was usually time to think ahead a few steps and make decisions.
But now, against the fastest living Uchiha, there was no room for choices, only instinct and reflex as Madara dodged and blocked and lunged.
Minutes zipped past, and suddenly, the gunbai twisted out of Madara's hands and landed a few yards away. He stumbled back a few steps until he fell, broken chain dangling from the kama in his hand. The wicked point of a blade glinted in his face.
"Is that it?" Uncle asked lowly, letting the question linger as he brought his katana back to strike.
Reflex took over, and Madara dodged just in time. "What are you doing?!" He hissed, barely bringing his kama up in time to block the next attack. This was not the way things were supposed to go. At all.
Uncle just won. He wasn't supposed to keep attacking. What's worse, every move was now one that would be used on a real battlefield, instead of altered for safety as required in a contest like this.
Was Uncle trying to kill him? This was certainly one of his most desperate fights. Every time one of them seemed to win, the old man kept attacking, pushing the situation further and further into kill or die mode.
"Enough!" Madara growled, over and over, only to be ignored.
Then, ever so suddenly, one of his blows connected. The kama's blade stabbed into Uncle's gut, tearing a wide hole as Madara darted by.
That realization jolted him to a halt. Turning, Madara stared, watching Uncle stagger to his knees.
Numbness seized Madara's hands as his opponent looked up, face flecked with sweat and blood and dirt, entrails oozing from his middle. But then, a pleased smile spread across the old man's mouth. "Congratulations, Madara sama."
Frozen, Madara could only watch as Uncle swayed, life fading as he collapsed forward. Vermillion pooled beneath the corpse, arresting all attention.
It must have been a full minute before Madara could bring himself to turn to the hillside, to face his people's reaction.
There was shock. Shock on all their faces, shock on Izuna's face as they stared down at the carnage.
Grave, grave silence fell for what seemed like forever before they strode to him, clapping him on the shoulder or offering subdued congratulations.
They were sincere, though a little uncertain in the face of what just happened. They weren't yelling or accusing, or even angry.
Of course, silly him. They wouldn't blame him under these circumstances. They respected Uncle, but Madara was their heir, and they knew he only acted in self defense.
Trepidation still twisted his insides, but he won, and his comrades accepted him. That was all that mattered, regardless of how he actually felt.
And thus, at the age of fifteen, Madara became lord of the Uchiha Clan.
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((Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts in the reviews, as it encourages me and helps me know how to improve.))