The office was filled with the smell of incense and matcha leaves.
Madara, Izuna, and Ryouta were seated in a circle, surrounding a low table with a ceramic tea set atop of it; filled with bitter matcha tea that Izuna hated but the other two love.
At the corner of the office, somewhat hidden by the shadows, the cooling body of their clan head was situated, its empty, bloody, eye sockets staring stupidly at the ceiling. The hole on its chest and the cut on its throat continues to spurt blood once in a while, but the three brothers turned a blind eye to it. There were more important matters to attend to, after all.
Madara had summoned his two younger brothers immediately after performing the deed. After dryly telling the two how sad Madara was to inform them of Tajima unfortunate demise, he laid out his plans and placed a scroll in the middle of the table.
It was a hit list.
Izuna suddenly set his tea bowl down with more force than necessary, lips pursed as he stared straight into Madara's visible eye, "Are you sure about this, aniki?"
The eldest hid his smile behind his own tea bowl, approval glinting in his eyes at the wariness in his little brother's tone. A healthy dose of paranoia and doubt, even towards family, was needed for a shinobi to reach the retirement age.
"Hn," Madara grunted, refilling his tea bowl with the calmness that did not match the topic of their discussion.
"... We've only just exterminated the infestation in our backyard, retrieved all of our kidnapped clansmen from those fucking bloodline thieves, and wiped the clan responsible for that incident. Things are moving too fast for me, aniki. I want to ask 'why now?', but I have a feeling that I'll dislike your damn answer."
Izuna groaned, fingers already rubbing circles on his temples, no doubt experiencing a Madara-induced migraine. Poor Izu. Madara sympathetically patted his brother's shoulder, which earned him a glare. He helplessly retrieved his hand and went back to sipping his tea.
"You're getting old if you can't even keep up with this, nii-san. I find Madara-ani's scheming to be particularly inspiring. I am in complete awe, anija," Ryouta praised, a 'kindly' smile playing on his lips. And although his tone and expression were gentle, the sadistic glint in his eyes betrayed his true feelings, "But can I suggest adding a few more names into the hit list?"
"Absolutely not!" Izuna slammed a hand on the tabletop, annoyance and irritation making his untied hair puff out like a cat's, "A venture to fucking purge a quarter of our clan is more than enough to disorganize the regime! Adding anyone else into the already bleak picture will only cause unnecessary chaos!"
Ryouta ignored the outburst to unroll the scroll that was filled with names, Sharingan activated to memorize its contents, "Must you always be so dramatic, Zuzu? I'm just saying that the fighting will never cease if we do not thoroughly do pest control. Our father's generation and the one before his, even now, continues to spread their toxic traditions to our younger clansmen. It's hideous."
"Stopping the cycle of hatred is important, yes. That, I wholly agree with, otouto. However!" Here, Izuna leaned forwards with his chin resting on his interlocked fingers, appearing highly jaded, "There must be better alternatives. Ridding anymore than what aniki has written would give us a shortage of HR. It would not look good in the records."
"Don't be silly, nii-san. History is written by the victors. Why would we ever deliberately put covert operations into the archives?"
"This is more than a covert operation, Ryouta. It's a revolt." Izuna's eyes flickered to the corpse in the room, sneering at the body, "And how are we going to cover that up?"
"I'm sure anija has already thought of that." Ryouta waved away Izuna's concern. And it was true, anyway. Madara wouldn't move his hand if he hadn't covered all his holes, "Anyway, it'll only be a revolt if we say it's a revolt on the papers."
"We should not be falsifying anything. Records are there for a purpose. Mostly for our descendants to not repeat the mistakes of their ancestors-"
"Madara-ani's reign will be viewed as bloody if we document everything, nii-san," Ryouta interrupted with a growl, sulkily chewing on a rice cracker, "Besides, we can't tamper with official documents if there are none in the first place."
Izuna and Ryouta held eye contact, both expressionless. This lasted for quite some time, with Madara only looking on rather than interfering.
He normally would've spoken up by now and told them that he didn't mind being viewed as a tyrant (he had been abandoned by his clan once, a second time wouldn't matter), but he wanted to see their genuine response without him as the mediator.
Izuna would soon become the clan head after Konohagakure was formed, with Ryouta by his side as his right-hand, so Madara needed the reassurance that his brothers could keep the clan and Village safe without him there to hold their hand.
"Fair enough," Izuna retrieved his tea bowl and took a sip, never once removing his eyes from Ryouta's, "We'll compromise, then."
"Thank you, nii-san," Ryouta smiled before turning away from Izuna to peer at Madara, eyes holding a certain softness that he had to look away from, "A fire?"
"Hn. An accident during training - one katon too much. Unfortunately, the flames spread to the archives, burning down this month's written records." Izuna sighed whilst refilling their tea bowls for them.
Madara nodded his thanks and continues to sip on his tea. It seems that he didn't have to worry about them after he leaves to hunt Zetsu down. Ryouta and Izuna might clash at times, but they would no doubt bring the Uchiha to new heights.
"Alright, back to the subject at hand. We need a way to avoid internal strife. If our movements are visible, the other clans would take advantage of our infighting," Izuna drawled.
"When have I ever said that this will become a civil war? It's only a coup d'état," Ryouta waved off.
Izuna facepalmed, "Isn't that the same thing?"
"Obviously no."
"Oh ho? Then, please, kindly elaborate what you mean by that," Izuna's tone was as dry as the weather in Suna.
Ryouta sighed, more for dramatics than anything else, "Dara-ani must be shaking his head at your lack of brain cells, nii-san. His lessons have been all for naught. How pitiful it is to be the stupid brother in our family."
Izuna glared dangerously when Madara began chuckling at Ryouta's barbed comments. He always did get a good laugh at Izuna's expense - no matter how mean that sounded. Perhaps Ryouta got his sadistic streak from him, hm?
It was only when the poor victim of Ryouta's bullying elbowed him in the ribs did Madara half-heartedly mumble a deny about the rude remark made at Izuna's intelligence. Both his younger brothers seem to not believe him, so Madara went back to drinking his tea.
Ryouta continued smugly, "It's really simple, nii-san; we'll split up and discreetly remove all these nuisances within a single night." Here, Ryouta waved the scroll in Izuna face, causing the latter to swat Ryouta's hand away in annoyance, "By sunrise, Madara-ani will be clan head and nobody can oppose the decision. Since, you know, the oppositions would be dead by then. Hence, there won't be a war. Only a subtle takeover. The other clans won't know anything if we do crowd control before the crowd loses control."
"There is absolutely nothing subtle about this operation," Izuna went back to rubbing his temples, "This sounds like a fucking headache."
"It sounds like fun." Ryouta went back to sipping his tea, completely content with the idea of murdering en masse.
"No, no. Not fun at all. We're killing our relatives, Ryouta. No matter how shitty they are, they're still our kin," Izuna slapped the back of Ryouta's head, causing the latter to accidentally snort his tea, much to Madara's amusement.
The eldest Uchiha brother finally spoke up after Ryouta's coughing subsided, voice thick with humor, "Better parricide than genocide, right?"
Izuna groaned louder whilst Ryouta chortled.
"Hn. Alright, enough messing around. Go arm yourselves, boys. As soon as I'm done with putting the twins to bed, we'll dispose of the garbage that is clogging our compound with their stench."
All three Uchiha had their Sharingan activated, bloodthirsty grins dripping with malice.
In this life, Madara would not give any leeway for any toxic mentality to seep into the minds of the future generation. Another coup shan't happen in the future, and the Uchiha would remain loyal to Konoha. Even if he had to kill innocents from the family of those traditionalists, he would make it happen.
Children under three would be spared since they were still malleable and resilient enough to drill the 'Will of Fire' into them. But for those older than that... Madara could only compartmentalize, knowing that his punishment came in the form of a red moon and neverending nightmares.
"I'm counting on you, Toboe." Madara pressed a loving kiss to the albino hawk's head, earning a trill in response. The bird of prey gave a playful tug at a lock of Madara's long hair, before, with a beat of his powerful wings, flew into the air in a burst of speed.
Madara waited until his feathery companion's silhouette was long gone before he returned to the compound.
The walk back to his house was filled with wary and fearful gazes, his clansmen all moving to avoid him; as if he was carrying a deadly plague on his body. His relationship with his clan had always been strained due to his abnormal strength, but over the years, they had lightened up considerably (especially the civilians, who had not seen him in action before).
Now, however... The memories of his past life in Konoha were constantly overlapping with the present. He made sure his expression was masked by indifference, not wanting anyone to see how badly their change of attitude affected him.
It has been a long time since he receives such cold treatment from his clan, and his chest throbbed painfully despite how mentally and emotionally prepared he had been for this.
The kind old lady who would previously call out to him and hands him fresh fruit and vegetables now and then was carefully avoiding his eye.
("Madara-sama! Please wait, Madara-sama!" Old lady Miyako smiles pleasantly at him as she approaches with hurried steps, in her hands was a basket full of fruits and vegetables, "Thank you for all your hard work today, Madara-sama. This is a small token of appreciation for all you have done for us."
"Your gratitude is more than enough, Miyako-san." Madara tries to refuse. He knew that these were difficult times since this harvest was not as plentiful as last season's.
"Please, this is the least I could do for you. You are far too thin," She pushes the basket into his hands. He could've dodged, but her arms were trembling at their hefty weight, so he didn't.
"... Thank you." His lips curved into a small smile, not minding how she then began to fuss over his hair like a mother cat grooming her youngling.)
The small boy who frequently toddles after him like a duckling, with his mother looking on with exasperated fondness and apology, was now being pushed behind said mother just as Madara walked by, her expression of fear as she hushed her son made his eyes heat up.
("Da-shama, Da-shama! Wai' fo' Mi-kun!" Kagami's hands were outstretched as he toddled after Madara, his slightly curled hair bouncing with every step he took.
Madara couldn't help but slow to a stop, allowing the three-year-old to grab onto his pants and bunch the fabric into his tiny fists. The boy then gave him a gummy grin, reminding him so much of his little brothers that his lips curved into a small, fond smile all on its own.
"What is it, Kagami-chan?" He placed a glove-clad hand on the boy's head, idly wondering if the boy's father was a non-Uchiha as he twirled a lock of curly hair around his finger.
"Upsie! Upsie! Da-shama!" The boy demanded cutely. Before Madara could act upon said demand, far too used to the twins', a woman rushed to them and swooped Kagami into her arms, bowing profusely to Madara.
"I-I'm so sorry, Madara-sama! I looked away for one second and Kagami ended up troubling you again."
Madara waved her apologies away before raising a brow in silent query. She was adept in Uchiha-speak, so without a single word, she handed the toddler to Madara, who settled Kagami on a hip.
"Can I expect him back by dinner, Madara-sama?" Kagami's mother smiled sheepishly as she twirled a lock of hair around her forefinger.
Madara nodded before he jumped onto the rooftops, content when he heard Kagami's gleeful whooping at the rush of wind and adrenaline. By the end of their activity, Kagami's hair was poofier than Madara's, the toddler's gummy grin reaching from ear to ear.)
The young couple who had asked him to 'please name our child, Madara-sama' retreated into their home with a bundle in the woman's arms the second they saw him down the street. They now probably regretted using the name Madara chose for their daughter.
(Madara was taking a walk around the compound with Izuna, talking in whispers to not be overheard by their clansmen. Just as they were about to leave their clan's market place, Madara heard his name being called. They turned to face the caller, blinking when they saw that it was a man with an arm wrapped around the waist of a woman, who was carrying a newborn babe.
Madara recognizes them as everyday passerbys, but their name was completely lost to him. It was Izuna who came to the rescue, ever the social butterfly. They traded greetings and small talk, with Madara remaining silent and nodding once in a while before the couple finally deemed it safe enough to state their purpose.
"It's like this, Madara-sama..." The woman smiled, the corner of her eyes crinkled in a show of happiness, "We were hoping you would name our child and give her your blessing. It would be the utmost honor."
Madara expression was blank. It took him a few moments for him to process their words, but after he did, he swallowed inaudibly.
He knew that it was Uchiha tradition to go to their clan head and/or heir and get their blessing. This practice allowed for the leaders to remember all of their clansmen, as the Sharingan would never allow them to forget any of their kin. It was similar to citizenship if he needed to explain this tradition to outsiders since, in this time period, they lacked cameras.
But because of Tajima's cold personality and Madara's unapproachable aura, the job tended to fall onto Izuna's lap.
This was the first time someone has approached for Madara's blessing. And a naming, as well.
It was a weird feeling. But it was a good sort of weird.
At Izuna's nudge, Madara nodded hesitantly. The couple smiled wider, happy that he accepted their request.)
It didn't matter who, understandably, nobody wanted to associate themselves with a person who could kill his own kin in cold blood. Even if Hashirama were to accept Madara's cruel nature, the Senju Elders would never accept his offer of an alliance if word got out that Madara murdered Tajima to become clan head.
However, Madara has always been someone who looks at the big picture and schemes for the long run, along with designing contingency plans for his contingency plans. He had already made arrangments to steer the rumors into a more acceptable territory (that way, the other clans would not refuse to join Konoha because they fear Madara's brutality).
This was where Hikari came into the picture. The child she was carrying, Izuna would spread the word that he had caught Tajima and Hikari in a compromising situation. The result was Madara's wrath and Hikari's pregnancy.
It would be more bearable of a rumor for a son to kill their father because said father had an affair with the son's wife. It would, no doubt, bring humiliation to both Madara's and Hikari's marriage situation, but it was better than Madara being labeled a power-hungry madman.
Back-stabbers were feared in the world of shinobi. And all for the wrong reasons. They were, after all, ticking time-bombs.
As for the unborn child in Hikari's womb... Madara would not claim it as his. He would accept it as a younger sibling, but nothing else. This would also protect the child from being the main target of oppositions from both inside and outside the clan.
Being known as Madara's sibling was much better than the alternative. No matter what, he would not allow anyone to call it 'the child of that tyrant'.
Madara closes his eyes, physically blocking out the sight of his clansmen's frightened gazes, and inhaled deeply. He compartmentalizes the feelings of hopelessness, despair, loss, grief, and many other negative emotions he was currently experiencing, and slowly, the constricting in his chest grew dull.
He was fine.
He was alright.
He was Uchiha fucking Madara.
And he would not be defeated by such things.
A/N:
Woah. More worldbuilding as soon as I returned (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ). Hoorah. Feel my sarcasm.
Anyway, I hope this wasn't a boring chapter for you guys! I'm really sorry to have gone MIA. It slipped my mind to inform the readers that I would be going to a rural area for my placement (⋟﹏⋞). Meaning; shitty internet, disgusting phone reception, and a shortage of libraries. I had a blast, though. The country air had been good to my smoker lungs.
P.S. I, kinda, wrote a new story during my placement. It's an Obito time travel fic with soulmates added into the equation. You guys interested? The pairing is ObiTobi Hahahahahaa~ (´∀`)