Blood splattered across his face as Madara plunged his blade into the kneeling shinobi's neck, causing the arterial blood to gush out and paint him red as he jerked his weapon free. His fully matured Sharingan spun in place as he took in the battleground, his eyes purposefully skimming past the bodies of his fallen clansmen.

They had been returning from border patrol when they were suddenly ambushed by the Kurama clan. Madara had managed to escape their AOE genjutsu trap almost immediately, but a few slow ones had been outright killed in their moment of delay.

The Kurama clan, after all, were masters in genjutsu even without the Sharingan to aid them. Truly a fearsome clan of illusionists.

Now, after a full hour of intense battles, apart from Madara, only one more of his kin remained alive. The Kurama clan didn't pull any punches, having brought two dozens against them seven.

Sensing a disturbance in the air behind him, he spun on his heels, sword raised to block the blade that had almost skewered him like a plump dango. The shinobi snarled, expression filled with an intense hunger for his flesh as he glared at Madara, teeth bared.

Madara impassively scanned the man's form for any holes, his lethargic body moving slower than expected when he moved to dodge and redirect the attacks he was receiving. With the aid of his Sharingan, he avoided a few backstabs, jutsu, and shurikens that had been thrown his way - but it wasn't enough. He was bleeding from the many cuts and stabs littering his little body.

As soon as his eyes captured a blind spot, however, he unhesitatingly dived in. Madara slotted his katana into the man's ribs and kicked the shinobi's midriff to gain distance.

Whilst his opponent was distracted by the pain, stumbling backwards as he tightened his hand over Madara's katana's hilt to prevent further blood loss, Madara's fingers moved rapidly.

"Katon: Great Fireball Technique."

The flames ate the man up - along with the corpses near him - burning him alive as he howled in pure agony, the smell of burnt flesh and grilled meat invading his nostrils. If Madara had not been so used to it, he would've vomited. Some of the other shinobi did. It allowed for the last of his clansman to take advantage of their momentary weakness.

Knowing that the enemy's goal was to study the Sharingan to strengthen their genjutsu formidability, Madara made sure to burn his clansmen's corpse or throw shuriken at their eyes whenever he has a chance to.

Madara grunted when his side was kicked, his small body hurled into the air as he felt some of his ribs creak under the force. As he was airborne, he saw the last of his clansman fall, causing the enemies to roar in victory - thinking they have already won.

As soon as he landed in a roll, he pushed himself to his feet and positioned himself into a defensive stance. He had fought against thousands once upon a time, but now, in the body of a bloody six-year-old, he felt weak and powerless. His chest was heaving heavily for air whilst the wounds scattered around his body throbbed, some of his organs bruised and his bones fractured from the many fits of abuse he took.

He gritted his teeth, glaring poisonously at the ten remaining Kurama men left. They all wisely avoided making eye contact with him (fuck!), but he could tell from their body language and expression that they were confident. Madara did, after all, make a sorry sight right now.

"You guys take care of the brat. I'll take this one back first," One of them cockily said as he pointed at the fresh corpse of Madara's kin.

The only one not badly burnt or mutilated by him. The other Kurama clansmen agreed as they slowly inched closer to Madara from all sides whilst that one bodily picked the dead Uchiha up, carrying the corpse much like one did a sack of potatoes.

Taking a deep breath in, Madara decided that if he were to be taken out, he would only go with an explosion. And if he survived this, he refuses to hold back his trump cards from now on. Some secrets weren't worth the lives of his kin.

"What's wrong, baby Uchiha? Hoping for someone to save you?" A man jeered.

"Why don't you start crying for your papa? That'll be a sight - and maybe, just maybe, we'll spare you," Another mocked.

"Hmm... Didn't Akira say she needed someone to donate their sperm to her daughter? I bet having a half-Uchiha in our clan would bring us many benefits," One other pondered, chatting amongst themselves as they continued to close in on him.

He truly was being underestimated.

"The concept of hope is nothing more than giving up. A word that holds no true meaning," he responded to their taunting, a thin smile playing on his lips as his commas swirled into their evolved form, "I would rather not use this before my chakra pathways mature, but beggars can't be choosers, right?"

Before any of them could react to his words, whatever was left of his chakra flooded out in waves, constructing a humongous blue skeletal figure that wrapped him safely inside its ribs. Knowing that he was on the verge of collapse, he had only summoned the bare bones, and even then, it took a great toll on him, his insides felt as if a few somethings had just burst open.

The chakra construction roared, and if Madara weren't so exhausted, he would have sadistically laughed at how pale the Kurama clansmen had turned, their knees shaking from something never before seen in this time period. Even the one carrying his kin had frozen, pupils dilated to massive proportions.

Not waiting for any of them to recover from their terror, his Susanoo slashed at them with its undulating blades, cutting half their numbers with a single move. That, however, caused them all to return to their senses.

All of them separated and began throwing ninjutsu after ninjutsu, genjutsu after genjutsu, their desperate attempts at bringing him down. And it was working. The ribs of his Susanoo had cracked under pressure due to how brittle his restricted and immature chakra had made them. He was also having a hard time grasping reality from illusions, making it harder for him to dispell them.

The silver lining was that they were all chuunin with C-rank jutsus at best.

With a haggard exhale, Madara wiped his sweaty forehead as he focused on them, tears of blood rolling down his cheeks as his young eyes strained from using such immense power. Back then, he didn't require to activate his Mangekyou Sharingan to use Susanoo, but now, he was forced to.

If only they had waited for him to reach his teen years, at the very least, before ambushing him - he would've crushed them within minutes, if not seconds.

It took longer than he intended, but as soon as the last of his enemies were killed and his clansmen's head smashed like watermelons, Madara collapsed to his knees, Susanoo breaking down as it disappeared.

Every cell in his body felt as if it was tearing itself apart; a horrible sensation that was so painful it made him queasy. His body trembled from the agony, the biting cold, and the blood loss.

Falling face first into the dirt, he closed his eyes and did his best to meditate. He needed to push past all the discomfort and concentrate on refilling his chakra pools. That was the only way for him to use iryō jutsu to heal himself. His only chance of survival.

If he was lucky, nobody would pass by this area. He needed to retrieve all their armor due to the Uchiha's rock-bottom financial status. Tajima was truly a horrible accountant.

Just before he entered a meditative trance, he mentally apologized to Izuna for missing his little brother's birthday.

A/N:

I apologize for suddenly cutting off at chapter 4. I went to take a power nap ╮(╯∀╰)╭... I'll update one chapter every few days or so until I get to the end.