Largely the panic had subsided to give way unto a deepened feeling of relief, this was as Naruto stared down upon the widely watching eyes of his son. Perhaps shown upon his visage remained the tranquiled happiness, tears which he could not conceal. Still by his own merit, he wiped them quickly through both a pride he daren't show and a need to keep his identity unknown, by the selfish desires he kept well hidden, he wished to look upon his child and declare himself; alas the harm portrayed within such an action would be extensive, and he knew such a truth well. Yet, he found regardless of his own knowledge his tears still fell down over the broken chest of his son, as if displaying unto him the needless nature of his secrets. At least before the visage of his only remaining family laying broken afore him.

Within, something yearning spoke in question: what would Madara do if faced with such indecision? Would his husband bend down to their son, glare with an Uchiha forged scowl, then look upon him with their matching irises and speak the simple truth? Or would he cast one of his own rare gentle smiles and make a reprimand? The poor matriarch could decide nothing while caught inside his homupowa's -perfectly matched, exacting gaze. Odd unto him as the recurring memory played upon him within, his husband afore him staring downwards disapproval clearly cast, regardless that it was Jiraiya blinking upwards at him. Though his chest was not completely healed, the man sat forward. By instinct, Naruto attempted to put him back to rest, this was not well met as Jiraiya pushed his hands away and ignored the worried gaze the unknown Uchiha omega could not contain. But an anger came frothing forth next.

Naruto's expression morphed glare forming as -accidentally- taught, a scowl near appearing. "Would you simply rest!" Fear drew out his response. He was met in tandem, a replica of his husband's paralyzing vision striking him, from his son. However, as it is well known, a mother can hardly ever be beaten by their son.

And unto his own surprise the sannin found himself yelding upon the angry disapproval he met within Naruto's gaze. Hesitantly he shifted his posturing to that of a more relaxed man, uncertain by the appearance his pupil made before him, to Jiraiya; dauntingly familiar, yet inappropriate for the boy he knew.

Naruto eased at the calming response his son made by him, alas, his worry still remained. As the Uchiha hier was appropriately healed. Yet, the matriarch was uncertain in how to properly explain away his newfound healing prowess, or indeed why he was within the Village of the Hidden Rain. By all standard, he should be within the Village under Ino's careful guard, and waiting for the results of Sakura's team search. His son was no fool. Naruto knew this well enough -he certainly had his father's intelligence- Jiraiya would -and should, be entirely aware of his trappings to Konoha.

Upon him his mind seemed to be making him only experience the pain of understanding; for, afore him sat his son, grown, with whitened hair of strain, having experienced so many hardships which he -Naru- had no knowledge of. Staring upon him, seeing the memories of his husband in the glare he was receiving, in the midnight colour of his eyes, in the ridiculous length of his spiked hair, in his unruly height matching well his father in stature. Naruto perceived the vision of his son at birth, the baby he had held, and the crying Madara had done at the sight of his child, the complete joy he had felt at that moment -far more then any he had while within this time.

It was upon therein that his emotions overwhelmed the logic he had forced himself to maintain. A burn conjured itself within, the ache of missing everyone he had known, the friends he had made under complete truth, the love he had felt and held in a time not his own came upon him in a near desperation. The memory remaining as an almost bitter one. Tears, cascaded over as he attempted to soothe himself without success, sobs began to shake his entire body as everything began to weigh upon him. Great gasps of air he took, doing nothing as the image of his small child smiled before him so alikened that of his homupowa, Hashirama laughing, Tobirama blushing as he presented a flower to him in an act of kindness after the wedding. He came to hyperventilation as he saw not reality, but the memories he wished to be within once more; and in knowing them all to be an illusion, he burned inside.

"Naruto!" Jiraiya near screamed at him, now kneeling before the collapsed visage of his secret mother. Naruto felt his shoulders grasped by strengthened hands, and he looked in front of him. With blurred vision, he saw Madara's image slowly morphing into that of his elder son.

"Jiraiya?" He hiccuped, then jumped forward, something overtaking him as he held onto the grown image of his child. Happiness, joy, replacing all he had previously been encompassed by. He was hugged back, carefully, warming him in comfort, and chilling him through chakra, familiar and lovely to a mind in torment. The Uchiha Omega then surpassed his indecision, and he chose with a slight tightening grasp of Jiraiya's figure. "A Chrysanthemum… a red chrysanthemum."

The grip loosened over him, and reluctantly, so did his own, now facing the frowning expression over the true heir of the Uchiha, with his own eyes downcast. "They are… were your father's representing flower meaning: an eternal love. Your Mother had sunflowers assigned upon him, meaning: adortion, loyalty and longevity. Yours is… is a white Carnation representative of pure love and luck.." It entrapped him, the fear he so felt in revealing himself, despite his own ashurity that he could no longer hide wilfully; the agony of knowing would empressure him into death, he was sure. Scared, blue eyes looked upward, meeting the widened black irises of Jiraiya: his hands shaking, his mouth muttering incomprehensible nothings.

"How do you?..." The former Uzumaki found himself smiling, a careful simper, wary by the manner he must take.

A deep breath, "you have his eyes, and height… Hair too… But, I see well, you act nothing like.. like... Mada.." Tears came once more. "You… Jiraiya, you act as I, humour, as my own, and persona…" Tears again came forward, but the smallest of smiles remained.

"Thats… Impossible!" The apprehension transferred from one Uchiha to another as Jiraiya slowly backed himself away from the crying Omega before him. Naru, pult his fingers to his chin in a deepened thought, considering possible facts that only one whom knew Jiraiya before Madara's betrayal would know. Eyes glinting as an understanding bore down upon him.

"As you well know; Hashirama was not Tsunade's Grandfather, he stands as her Mother, just as he also stood as your Godmother. Jiraiya, please, I know the difficulty you face, but I am indeed Uchiha Naru-" He breathed deeply once more, no preparation could have him ready for such a moment.

"-Okaa-san…" Tears came once more, yet, these poured from the eyes of an alpha Uchiha. Naru grinned wide, hesitantly he opened his arms wide for his son: who fell, weakened, into his embrace. Great sobs took them both. Naruto buried his face into the wettened hair of his child, as his son did much the same with his mother's orange clad chest, large arms overtaking the slight torso of the parent he hadn't truly seen since death.


Simplistic, remained the wording Madara chose for the ceremony he so wished not, it stayed a quite public affair for the understanding of the clan and those whom needed witness. However, the patriarch could cast a glance over the attendance of his family and see merely stoicism and blackened black wardrobes, hands only containing two blossoms: a striped yellow Carnation meaning clearly; refusal and disdain for the entire wedding. While also carrying a Heliotrope in representation of devotion and faithful belief. The touch it made upon his heart, had him bowing before his people as the wedding so ended, despite the clear disdain they were displaying for his new wife.

In rising from his bow, his eyes naturally came to rest upon Jiraiya who stood next to his Godmother at the front most position, and the strong head warrior of the Uchiha found himself nearly made to cry before his clan by the fierce glare he was met with by small eyes that usually reflected their mother's joy and kindness. Piercing through any happiness he had been dealt by faithful flowers he had been granted by his family. A consuming loathing of self-detestment came upon Madara; a frown forged on his lips, as his eyes hardened into a stoic stare cast unto no one. With shame impeding his mind, he chose to say nothing to his son knowing well of his own betrayal unto his child. Madara wished avidly to be a regular, most average, Uchiha, one who followed along to orders as opposed to casting them, one who was not ruled over by the pressuring grasp of diplomatic strain; underneath such a life, it remained highly plausible that his hanayome would be alive.

As common, all gathered went to speak to each other, though it was his own ceremony, he decided instead to talk only to Hashirama. He did take notice that his wife seemed to be acquainted with Mito, they appeared to be talking to one another with large grins and a laughter he could well recognize from how Naru used to speak with the long past Kou. Their giggles rang across the field, Madara did also take notice of the several members of his clan casting suspicious glances in their direction.