Was it Lady Fate or Madam Destiny that insisted Madara run left and right into someone of Senju origin? He could only shake his head at the bizarre string of coincidences.
He had only wanted to remove himself from the unexpected blizzard during his run back from a successful mission. This cave he was currently standing inside of had been his first choice; hidden in plain sight and narrow enough to block out the cold weather.
But, unfortunately, it came with unwanted company.
"You alive, kid?" Madara toed the clammy looking nine-year-old boy, who was leaning bonelessly against one part of the wall, a small puddle of blood pooling underneath him.
Whilst his eyes carefully assessed the young shinobi for potential ambushes or trickery, he simultaneously compared the child's measurements with Ryouta's. His second younger brother currently lacked any protective gear, and if this kid wasn't going to make it out of here alive, Madara would rather the boy donate his armor to someone who needed it more.
The only eyesore would be the Senju crests engraved on the neck guard. But Madara was always efficient and handy - ridding them would not be an issue in the long run.
He crouched down to one knee, squinting his eyes suspiciously at the barely breathing and severely Senju. The kid didn't look at all familiar to Madara, which meant that the child must have died long before Konohagakure was founded.
He felt pity and sorrow that someone so young was dying from such terrible injuries (purposeful wounds that inflicted unnecessary pain rather than a swift death), but he wasn't a saint who would attempt to save every single wounded individual he came across, he was a shinobi, a damn good one too.
Even a toddler wielding a kunai was an enemy, what say this lad? Madara could be putting the lives of his kin at risk if he were to heal someone who was clearly from a hostile clan. Cold, indeed, but Madara has always known himself to be cruel and heartless.
The boy's hair, however, pulled at Madara's gut to investigate and not leave the child to his fate.
Didn't Hashirama once say that he has a younger brother with skunk-colored hair?
"Itama, was it?" He pondered out loud, fingers drumming idly against his chin.
The name caused the boy to twitch - and that was enough for Madara to consider his options. A short moment of contemplation later, he decided that he would rather be safe than sorry. If this was indeed Senju Itama... Madara not healing him would have added yet another column to his already long list of regrets.
He didn't want the now-Tobirama and now-Hashirama to know the pain of losing a sibling.
It was a dreadful experience Madara wished to never repeat; an echo of nothing but hopelessness, helplessness, and bitterness in his heart - easily malleable to outside manipulations due to the unyielding hurt and loss he constantly felt. Those ugly emotions of despair had driven him, once a protective guardian who dreamt of building a settlement for the future generation, into the madman seeking an illusionary world without caring about the repercussions or fatality.
Even then-Tobirama had fallen prey to that brand of insanity; loneliness and desperation having driven Edo Tensei into creation.
They were not that different, Tobirama and Madara, both wanting their brothers alive again one way or another. It was only that the former knew when to stop and move on, whilst the latter allowed his grief to consume and drive him into a broken mess of hatred and instability.
If he could prevent a bad ending from happening, why should he not? He had already changed his little brothers' and Kawarama's fate, anyway. Besides, he owed then-Hashirama too much to turn a blind eye.
Acting on the presumption that this was Hashirama's and Tobirama's youngest brother, Madara lifted one glowy green hand and placed it atop the boy's armored chest, doing an initial scan. If he was wrong in his assumption, he could always brush this action of his into his soul's extremely tiny 'good deeds' bin.
When his chakra feedbacked that Itama had internal bleeding due to the many stab wounds on his abdomen and a shite ton of broken bones, Madara had almost declared him a lost cause.
These kinds of injuries were similar to death sentences in this period. Nobody in this era, apart from Hashirama with his innate Renegeration Ability, could survive such wounds - what with their lack of advance iryo jutsu and treatment plans, many of which Tsunade created.
"You're quite the lucky boy, Senju; for I have actually taken the time to study her arsenal," He grumped at the skunk-haired boy, "Being all alone in that underground cave was boring."
After putting maybe-Itama into a supine position, Madara started a small fire before sitting in seiza by the boy's side. With pinched eyebrows, he used ninja wires to half-heartedly bunch up his mane into a messy bun, freeing his face from the bird's nest he called his hair.
Subsequently, he relieved the boy of all possession except his clothes and placed two glowing blue hands on the boy's heavily injured abdomen. Madara did not bother with anesthesia and went straight into surgery with the help of Chakra Scapels.
The procedure took hours, and thankfully, the snowstorm kept people away. There was no need for Madara to waste time or energy by halting his treatment in order to take care of uninvited guests.
Sitting on the back of his heels, Madara wiped the perspiration on his forehead. Manipulating his large chakra pool with such precision has always given Madara a headache. It drained him mentally more than physically, the memories of healing Obito playing like a broken record within his mind's eye. His tongue tasted oddly like ash at the reminder.
Knowing that the boy was now out of danger, Madara shrugged off the haori he was wearing over his mission-yukata and wrapped the boy into a burrito, not wanting his hard work to be wasted if maybe-Itama died due to hypothermia.
Madara then made himself as comfortable as he could get on his side of the wall, huddled into a ball, and waited impatiently for the blizzard to wane. He must have gone into a meditative trance, as his limbs were stiff and his neck aching when he moved into another position.
Madara yawned as he stretched his muscles, groaning blissfully when his spine popped at all the right places.
"W-where...?" A childish voice suddenly croaked, maybe-Itama's head peeking out from the clothes-burrito, skin pale and clammy.
"The borders of Hi no Kuni. Near Ame no Kuni," He grunted, rubbing a heavy-lidded eye. The cold has always made him lethargic. However, that was no excuse to drop his guard. A kunai in his sleeve was ready to be used at a moment's notice.
Maybe-Itama sluggishly sat up, Madara's haori flopping down his lap. In a daze, his eyes passed Madara's form unseeingly as he stretched, only to snap out of his drowsy state not a second later. His chocolate brown eyes were filled with awe as he dazedly patted his healed abdomen.
"I... I'm healed? How? Did you... Did you heal me?" The Senju asked, sounding overwhelmed as his fingers traced over the expanse of healthy skin on his stomach. The younger shinobi then shifted slightly, glancing about and grimacing when he saw the terrible weather.
The Uchiha heir shrugged nonchalantly, "I did."
"Why?"
The Senju's eyes were wary, fingers twitching rather noticeable over his shuriken pouch. Madara wasn't worried - seeing that all of the boy's weapons and armor were inside his storage seal tattoo.
"I'd rather not share a cave with a dead body for an undetermined amount of time," Rather than telling the boy that Madara was friends with his maybe-older brother Tobirama, Madara casually drawled in a bored manner.
"You could have just thrown me out. I wasn't in any condition to fight back either way," Maybe-Itama pointed out rather stupidly, in Madara's opinion. He could not help but roll his eyes at the younger shinobi. Senjus and their honesty.
"I'll be sure to do that the next time I see you painting the ground red."
"I would rather you not," All of a sudden, the two-toned Senju slumped, expression changing into something softer and less guarded, "I appreciate your kindness, mister. Truly. Not many would do something like this. I'm- My name is Itama. If... If we ever meet again, I swear I'll repay this debt back to you. Please tell me your name!"
Madara turned away, uncomfortable with the grateful stare he was receiving. It seems Hashirama was not the only one in his family to have such weird mood swings.
"... You may call me Dara, little one," He paused for a split second before bulldozing shamelessly, eager to change the topic, "And I'm taking your armor as compensation for my humanitarian aid."
A/N: Thank you all for such wonderful comments (and to those that wished me a happy bday; thank you so much!). Don't worry, kiddies, there will be Tobi's POV in the future (including timeskips etc). Please tell me your thoughts （*´▽`*)!
Phew! I rushed to edit and post this immediately after I have recovered from my hangover. The camping trip was awesome! A few days out and about with nature, without the internet and social media to distract you, truly does wonders to your mental state. I've never been this relaxed in YEARS |*￣ー￣|