I'm back with more Naruto! This time I'm trying to write a longer story with a more intricate plot. Also, I took some liberties in terms of traditional/historical elements as well as with the canon itself. I end this note with a shoutout to authors SplicedChild, Modern Age, ollia and ninja armadillo for being such awesome inspirations.
I'll probably be super slow at updating, but I will update eventually! I hope you enjoy!
The Uchiha Elder was at his wit's end. No matter how they hurried, the pouring November rain soaked through every layer of clothing, and the umbrella this little servant kept agitating over his head did nothing to help. The one leading them proved just as useless, not only by using a candlelit lamp in such weather, but also by tripping over her skirts multiple times.
Already on his first visit to Uzushio did he notice that the standards of the Uzumaki residence were not the same as the Uchiha's. For a clan reputed to be prestigious, everything seemed… less. The outer walls were bare, just painted in this eye sore of a brick red, with garish yellow tiles sitting atop. Paths, alleyways as well as the central road were paved with cobblestone; a crude choice compared to the more refined slate tiles used back in their Konoha compound. The houses themselves did not save the picture. Devoid of any intricacy or features befitting the noble status of the clan, they looked no different than those they had passed by earlier in the village. As for the crest, the very vessel of a clan's pride, it was nowhere to be seen. Not even in their houses! At least they had the decency of wearing it on their backs.
If things had been solely up to him, he would have given up on the Uzumaki entirely as soon as he heard about the tragic news. After all, they no longer had something to offer to the Uchiha, nothing as unique and priceless to seal a true alliance. Yet somehow, the rest of the Elders still dimmed it necessary to have him travel on a ship, cross the sea and its infernal waters to renegotiate with the Land of Whirlpools. Now only meters away from his final destination, he prayed to the heavens above for this whole trip to not end up being a total waste of time.
The servant promptly opened the gate to the main residence and rushed the entire group into the inner court, where two shinobis stood on guarding duty. Her high-pitched yelling rung painfully in the Elder's ears, but at least it got that lazy pair to snap into action and open the door for them. Without warning, he shoved the girl aside and invited himself in.
Once the renowned guests relieved of their cloaks and back into their eminent shape, the two girls kneeled at each side of the paper doors and slid them open in perfect synchronicity. They remained on the ground as the shinobi guards escorted the Uchiha men inside, where the Uzumaki patriarch was waiting for them, a large pot of tea simmering on a stove beside the desk. "Guards, go back to the gate. No one is allowed in from now on." At the wave of his hand the men rushed outside, the paper doors closing on them.
Upon this second meeting, the Elder was reminded of how much time hadn't been kind to Ashina Uzumaki. Behind his finely combed silver hair and neatly tied hakama hid a body damaged a thousand fold by warfare, riddled with scars and mended bones and invisible pain. "Thank you for having us today." The younger Uchiha spoke, his back bending into an elegant bow.
Ashina nodded politely in their direction and got to serving the tea. His hand trembled as he plunged the wooden ladle into the pot to retrieve the perfect amount of liquid, then served it into cups which he quickly handed to his guests. Both Uchihas couldn't resist an early sip of the piping hot Sencha. Ashina contented himself with holding the cup, allowing its warmth to travel his aching fingers.
"Lord Uzumaki, allow us to express our most sincere condolences regarding the passing of your granddaughter."
"Thank you." Ashina replied, his tired eyes staring at his drink.
The first Elder cleared his throat. "It is very honorable of you to still be willing to secure an alliance with us despite being in mourning." He took another sip of tea, eyeing the Uzumaki's lack of reaction. "Now, have you thought about an ideal replacement?"
Such demeanor earned a deep sigh from Ashina. "I did." He replied before bringing to the desk a large scroll from a nearby shelf. The ribbon holding it closed came undone with one single pull, allowing the scroll to spill open for the guests to see.
Inked finely on the thick paper, the names of all the Uzumaki appeared one by one, linked to one another by black lines and adorned with their own unique seal. Highlighted with gold embellishment and delicate hand-painted decorations, the main branch of the clan stood out, and to the delight of the older Uchiha brother looked to be plentiful. He leaned in and took a closer look. "What a fantastic family tree you have, Lord Uzumaki. It seems we have many options to choose from."
"Not so fast, Lord Uchiha." The Uzumaki said as he brought the tea cup to his lips. "How can you read a name and immediately assume this person is up for the taking?"
His guest stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"Only those with Uzumaki blood are presented in this tree." He let the sip of warm tea linger on his palate. "The spouses of foreign origin are not mentioned here."
The Elder gritted his teeth as he was offered a second drink. As if his time hadn't been wasted enough already. "Well then, could you tell us who among your descendants could be a fine match?" He asked, forcing his face to bear the semblance of a smile.
"Let's see… My second granddaughter is married to a gentleman from the Iron country, then there's Mito, who's betrothed to Hashirama Senju…" The Uchiha rolled his eyes at this mention. "As for my fifth granddaughter, she is married to the youngest son of the Land of Hot Water's daimyo."
A smile grazed the first Uchiha's face. To have allies such as the lands of Iron and Hot Water meant keeping the land of Lightning at bay. Maybe this trade with the Uzumaki could prove fruitful after all. "What about your sixth granddaughter?" He asked, pointing at her name. "Heini. Quite an unusual name."
"Lord Uchiha, Heini is only eleven years old."
The Elder slowly withdrew his hand from the paper. "Older brother, her birth date is right there. Look! She was born in the year of the Snake." The second Uchiha declared. "Lord Uzumaki, pay no mind to this careless mistake."
Ashina reciprocated a courteous smile to the youngest Uchiha's annoyed one before refilling all cups with more piping hot tea. "It's alright. After such a long trip it's perfectly normal to be exhausted…"
"Lord Uzumaki." The older Elder interrupted. "I'm afraid you haven't answered my initial question."
The old man stared at his guest, straightened up on his cushion with all ten fingers fidgeting on his knees. Even the air surrounding them had somehow turned as brittle as the Uchiha's patience. "Lord Uchiha…" Ashina's finger traced along the golden line, descending from ancestor to ancestor, before it forked on one black line and finally reach its destination. "The next lady in line for our alliance is Kuwa, my late niece's daughter."
The first Elder could not believe his ears. Had the world turned upside down for this old geezer to offer a woman from a lesser branch? If these ladies were blessed with good looks one could marry them off to a general or politician, or send them to the monastery as a last resort, but offer them to a clan leader? Surely he was joking.
"She was born on the year of the Dragon." The second Elder noticed. "This is very auspicious. A dragon will definitely strengthen the fire of our clan."
"Twenty-three. Isn't she a bit old?" His older brother noted nonchalantly.
Ashina let out a small laugh. "She's still younger than Madara." He swirled the content of his cup to bring up its fragrance. "Besides… She may not be as young as your typical Uchiha bride, but she has wisdom and reason for herself, qualities that the wife of a future leader should certainly possess to support her husband."
Fingers clenched on the fabric of his clothing, the Uchiha fought to keep control of his cool. These Uzumaki had way too much nerve. "And how does she look like?"
His host brought two fingers over the seal painted on top of Kuwa's name and with his other hand cast the release jutsu. Another smaller scroll appeared, one that both guests snatched and rolled open to reveal the portrait of a stunning young lady: She wore her Uzumaki red hair in a bun with a few locks free to frame the oval of her face. Her dark eyes gazed fierce and bright, shaped like almonds and crowned with defined eyebrows. Her smile on the other hand was gentle and delicate, lifting soft cheeks that called for a tender touch. There was grace in the way she held herself, and a sense of nobility accentuated by the golden jewelry ornamenting her forehead and ears.
The second Elder laid the portrait down. "She is a beauty, there's no doubt about that."
"She can't compare with Lady Inari on that matter." The other commented, a sip of sarcasm slithering on his tongue. "Is she able to at least produce offspring?"
The question took Ashina by surprise. Of course, to bear children would be an essential part in this alliance, as there'd be no better mean to strengthen the ties between the clans, but that was only a part of it all. What awaited Kuwa in this role was far more intricate than just birthing heirs. Besides, she may not be from the main branch of his clan, she was still a blood-born Uzumaki!
As much as it hurt to do so, Ashina swallowed his pride. An unprecedented alliance was at stake here and as a leader, it was up to him not to mess up the opportunity. "She is in perfect health, if that's what you're asking." He replied flatly. "Like my own grandchildren, Kuwa has been taught by the best professors in Uzushio. She has studied history, literature and traditional feminine crafts in addition to the proper etiquette, and has a natural talent for painting and calligraphy. This family tree is an example of her work."
The second Elder couldn't help but smirk. Ashina had thought his move thoroughly. "A fine example of filial piety and dedication to the clan. Inspiring, isn't it brother?"
"It's just ink on paper." He huffed. "What else can she bring to our clan, besides poems and embroideries?"
The Uzumaki leaned in, his gaze locking with his guest's. "Ink and embroideries might seem useless to you, but the hand behind those is of a woman gifted with patience and attention, who has cultivated her unique qualities throughout the years and hardships."Another round of tea was served under perplexed eyes. "Think about Madara. Loyal and brave, yet so stubborn and reckless. " He turned to the younger Uchiha. "Wouldn't you like him to have a caring, diligent wife by his side? Someone gentle to appease his unpredictable temper, who could keep him grounded and focused?"
The pair looked at each other. Ashina had a point and they both knew it. How many times in the past did Madara lash out at them for minor things, or refuse to follow their advice? The argument slowly sank in. That Kuwa could indeed be used to soften up the edges and, hopefully, remind their leader of his responsibilities towards the clan. "Is she obedient?" The older Uchiha asked.
"She is."
The second Elder chimed in. "Is she ready to submit to our rules and traditions?"
"She is fully aware of what this marriage entails."
"Are you sure she is our only option?"
A hint of exasperation tainted Ashina's features. "If I didn't trust Kuwa, I wouldn't have chosen her to fulfill an alliance where so much is at stake for both our clans and countries." He sighed. "Lord Uchiha, I have answered all your questions and this is my offer. What is your answer?"
The Lord toyed with his cup as his thoughts raged. This trade wasn't equal. Definitely not as precious and valuable as the renowned Inari Uzumaki. But the Senju were soon to unite with the Uzumaki as well, and come to think of it, the Uchiha couldn't possibly not have what the Senju possess. The pros and cons waged a headache-inducing war in his head, until the faint whisper of his brother reached his ear.
Word after word, the smile of the Elder grew wider and eventually let out a hearty laugh. His burden of a brother actually proved useful. Very useful.
"Someone bring paper, ink and a pen! There's a marriage contract to be written!"
A battle between respectful composure and emotional distress raged deep within her. Every breath hurt and rattled in her chest, choking her with the strength of a man every time she had to say her name. Mito held on tighter to the incense sticks, inhaling their soothing sent. She couldn't let her inner turmoil disturb the silence surrounding her. Only the whispered words of her prayer should reach the heavens, where Inari now resided.
The ceremonial candles had been burning for four days already in the Uzumaki mausoleum. Four days since the clan's sacred grounds had welcomed her and the grief of the entire clan. The masterly crafted coffin stood in the heart of the building on its pedestal, white silken drapes framing it on each side. Etched in the wood for eternity to remember, the name of the regretted princess read a reality hearts could not bear.
In front of her younger sister, Mito was a mere shadow of herself. Gone were the fine silk kimonos and golden hair pins, the rouge and the ribbons, the smiles and the sparkle in her eyes. Here she stood in a simple, white linen robe with her long crimson hair loose on her back, her knees resting on a cushion while her naked feet had to endure the cold and rough surface of the stone. Deep dark circles had formed under her eyes after nights of reciting sutras, growing darker with her ever paling skin. It didn't matter at all. She had to keep going. She had to keep praying so that Inari's soul would find peace in the afterlife.
As the days following Inari's departure went by Mito had taken upon herself to fulfill the funeral rites to the point of chasing away anyone who dared to come too close. From the flowers to the ornaments and crest banners, from the incense to every single bite of food on the altar, she had arranged everything herself, much to the dismay of Ashina and the religious authorities. Of course she could come to recite sutras and lit the incense but a lady of her rank, and especially a future bride, should never deal with these ominous things. Still in the end, nobody voiced their discontentment. Her devotion and love touched too many to be worth a blame.
The heavy doors of the mausoleum cracked open just enough for the servant to walk in. She removed her shoes and drenched cloak before walking discreetly to meet her mistress, a meal basket in hand. The servant settled behind her and leaned in closer. "My lady, you haven't eaten at all today. Please, at least have some of this chicken soup." She spoke quietly.
Never interrupting her prayer, Mito eyed her personal maid and just like the previous attempt, she waved her off. The woman begged her, but quickly admitted defeat soon after. Following a respectful bow to both mistresses, she went on her way, sighing deeply as she closed the door.
Satsu would take no for an answer in front of her, but Mito was certain the maid would be back in an hour with another of her favorite dishes. After years of knowing each other, Satsu knew how to bypass her mistress' commands if it meant protecting her, this in such soft and subtle ways that Mito could never get angry at her. As much as the attention warmed her heart, the cold weight of unbridled guilt crushed the feeling as soon as it bloomed.
She was returning from the aviary when she heard it. The low and dreadful tolling resounded as she jumped the last steps of the stairs in girlish glee after sending a secret, non protocol-abiding note to her beloved Hashirama. That heart fluttering with love ceased to beat the moment the guards fell to their knees and bowed to the ground. Voices rose all around her, reverberating within the walls of the compound. Lady Inari had passed away.
Mito's voice cracked with ever rising sorrow, the stain of her own selfishness eating at her every holy word. She should have been there for her, beside her for her final moments.
A loud bang on the door caused her to jump. She glanced over her shoulder to see the door of the mausoleum fling open to the sound of Satsu's tearful pleas. Ashina forced his way in, throwing his coat at the servant's face. As if her chest wasn't feeling tight already, the intrusion of her grandparent brought in a wave of panic. Through the thuds of her beating heart she breathed in for another salve of prayers, one that still failed to cover the sound of closing in footsteps. "Mito…" The presence behind her called softly. "I've spoken with the Uchiha and they approved of Kuwa. She'll be accompanying you."
The shadow of a smile grazed her face when she bent forward to offer the incense on the altar. Of course she was happy for Kuwa. She now had a chance to elevate herself, a chance for a better status than in her own birth clan, and she would be cherished by her husband. So cherished.
Ashina placed caring hands on both her shoulders. "My child, you can't keep yourself locked away. I'm touched by what you do for Inari, we all are, but this has gone for too long." He insisted on those last words as he shook her slowly. "You can't hide from your responsibilities forever."
She shook away from his hold, brutally enough to almost lose her balance. Ashina himself backed up. It was the first time she disrespected him so blatantly, even more so in front of servants. Still dumbfounded, he watched her settle back onto her knees and straighten up for what he assumed was the beginning of another round of mumbling. That silly girl. A few more days like this one and she'd befriend the stones and the stars instead of her fiancé.
"Would you rather marry Hashirama Senju or starve yourself with prayers and smoke?" The Elder's question stung deep enough to stop Mito dead in her tracks. All poise suddenly forsaken she turned to face him, her eyes already glistening. "Don't you bring Hashirama into this." She spoke through clenched teeth.
Soon after, the mask of her graceful features began to crack under the growing pressure of anger and pain, and now that her beloved Hashirama had been thrown into the mix her heart was tearing in two. Even though this marriage started as purely arranged, she had grown deeply fond of this extravagant, joyful man and at this stage her feelings for the Senju were a secret to no one. The gods had to be on her side since she would marry for love. Inari was promised to the same happiness, yet the same gods had called her back to them, never to return. Without her sister with her to share this blessed moment, how could it be happy any longer? Unable to continue praying in auspicious conditions, Mito got up and went to replenish the altar with offerings she had brought earlier.
Ashina's patience ran dry. He walked to her, grabbed her by the arm and forced her to face the coffin, even going as far as to point a finger at it. "Do you think this is what Inari would want for you? To spend all day on your knees, chilling to the bone while lamenting on her fate? Do you, child?"
Mito immediately pushed his arm away, removing herself from his side in the process. The wisest and kindest soul of this clan had just tarnished the memory of her sister. As she held his gaze her whole body shook. "If not me, then who will? Who in this clan cares if she has found peace?" Her hand went to her heaving chest, pointing at herself repeatedly. "Tell me, grandfather, who truly cares but me?!" She shouted through the tears.
"Uzumaki Mito!" His voice thundered. "That is enough! Satsu! And you there, take her to her room!"
"No! NO! INARI!" Mito cried out in vain as two sets of arms dragged her away. She called for her sister, begged her until she could no longer speak. Under Ashina's severe yet pained stare, the Uzumaki princess disappeared behind the mausoleum's doors in a chant of sobs and gasping wails. Turning to face the coffin, lips sealed in the hope of silencing his own sadness, Ashina prayed the ancestors to keep a watchful eye on the two sisters.
The moment he set foot in the entry hall of his manor, Madara let out a content sigh. There was no denying: being back to the comfort and quiet was bliss. It may have taken a day or two more than what was originally planned, but in the end it was all worth it. The safety of the village had been restored, and he fully intended on relishing these peaceful times while they lasted.
Quenching a rebellion was no new business for the Lord of the Uchiha. Whether they broke out in the northern plains of the Land of Fire, or in the hideouts at the border or even within Konoha itself, they'd be a task for him and his clan. A mere glance of the Sharingan was enough for most to get back in line. As for those barking the loudest, they were bound to kneel in surrender. All in all an effective solution, which carried minimal damage. This way of solving problems never particularly bothered him, yet for a reason that completely flew past him, Hashirama still oozed guilt every time he'd sent him out to bring order back. He knew his best friend was the diplomatic, word savvy one, but this was all about Konoha. To have the village thrive in peace couldn't rest only on speeches and reprimands. Sometimes, more concrete persuasion was the key.
Ah well. There would always be something for Hashirama to feel blue about.
As Madara got rid of his muddy shoes, the armorer and his young apprentice appeared by his side. One grabbed the Gunbai out of his hand while the other started undoing the heavy pieces of armor, not without a bit of difficulty. They slowly came off one by one, relieving his exhausted body from this now hardly bearable weight. A weight that the poor little apprentice now had to carry with one hand. The armorer finished his task by removing the torso piece, truly setting the Uchiha Lord free. After a nice set of stretching his sore muscles, he turned to the both of them. "Get to work immediately. I don't want blood corroding it."
"Of course, my Lord." The man nodded before the duo pressed their way out.
His first steps into the living room, though much lighter still proved slow and difficult. As he could see for himself, the servants had followed his instructions up to the very detail and made sure his home was in pristine condition to welcome his guests. He would have to reward accordingly, that was a given. And… also pray that his silly little brother would stick to his own bedroom to work on his sealing techniques.
"My Lord." He turned around and was met with his personal servant. "Welcome home. Lord Hokage has arrived to the main gate and would like a word with you."
Madara's face lit up. "I'll meet him in my study. Bring along some snacks and tea." The servant acquiesced and took his leave. The Uchiha lost no time and headed for the study, running his hands through his matted hair and dusting his sleeves to at least look presentable. As much as he appreciated impeccable timing, an occasion to take a warm bath would've been just as welcomed.
Minutes later, the servant returned with Hashirama in tow, who had traded his Hokage robes for the traditional Senju pleated hakama. "Ah, Hashirama, glad to see you came to personally welcome me back." Madara laughed, putting aside the notes of his past assignment. "Leave us, Genjiro."
His servant bowed and exited the room while Madara took it upon himself to pour the tea and serve two small plates of sweet bean paste biscuits. "You'll be happy to hear the situation in the north is back to normal. We should see a decrease of floods in the following days." He declared through a mouthful of food before bringing a warm cup to his friend. His gesture was met with a refusing hand and an unusual lack of chatter.
Madara sipped on the beverage, letting its sweet flavors brew in his mouth as he put the cup down. Still no sound from Hashirama. Just that blank stare aiming at the ground. "Don't give me that dejected look. Soon you'll marry the woman you love! Isn't that something to be delighted about?" His arm wrapped around Hashirama's shoulders and held him with all the strength of good old camaraderie, a strength in feeling that his friend simply failed to return. Much to Madara's confusion, Hashirama broke free of the embrace and went to the desk, then withdrew a piece of paper from his side pocket before laying it down on the wooden surface. The glance he returned at that moment erased all traces of joy from the Lord's face.
Putting his drink aside Madara joined his friend. "Hash… Is everything alright?" He asked as he gave him a few pats on the back. Hashirama just nodded in the direction of the folded letter. "It arrived in my office a few days ago, while you were away." The dark, broken tone of his voice rung with every syllable. "Just… read it." He mouthed as he turned away, audibly repressing a sob. The Uchiha took a few seconds to study his friend. He had seen this reaction before, decades ago when they were still children playing at the river. Whatever this thing was, it was nothing good.
Madara took place in his chair. As far as he knew, that brat Tobirama was still very much alive and well when he returned to the village earlier today. Furthermore, the Senju compound bore no signs of mourning, neither did any particular place in the village. Everything just looked as it usually did, except for his brother in arms. Another depressive state taken too far, he thought to himself. Until he saw who the true recipient of this letter was.
His name stood bold against the white of the paper, handwritten with such delicate arabesques that only a feminine hand could master. A hand he recognized immediately as the one of Mito Uzumaki. As quickly as the heartbeat in his chest, Madara unfolded the letter and began reading. At first the words flowed neatly one after the other, the result of a fluid and controlled gesture, yet as he went on the lines began to lose in consistency. The ink smudges grew more frequent. All those small mistakes were unlike of a lady as well taught as Mito. Then, she spoke of Inari.
The Lord leaned over his desk, his attention thoroughly captured.
"I know how much my sister meant to you and, my dear friend, I'll never be able to thank you enough for all the joy you brought her, and the strength your words gave her during the toughest times."
… Meant?
"After two months of a most brave fight against her illness, Inari's struggle came to an end. She passed away in her sleep last night."
Madara's body froze down to the very breath in his lungs.
"She passed away..."
The letter slipped from his fingers, landing without a sound in front of him as his eyes remained riveted in place.
Inari is… gone?
"Madara…" Hashirama's voice broke further with every tear. "I am so, so sorry." His hand went to rest on his friend's shoulder and squeezed it gently.
A knock captured his attention and the door opened wide to reveal the man from earlier, playing nervously with his fingers. "Lord Madara, the council orders you to report to them immediately regarding the pacifying of the-" Out of nowhere Madara sprung on his feet, the pattern of his Sharingan swirling in his eyes. "GET OUT!" He roared at the young servant, who fled the room as if to save his precious life.
The Uchiha remained like this for a few seconds, his hands closed into fistfuls of burning chakra and the blood in his veins coursing at the speed of imminent slaughter. A heavy silence fell around him and soon spread to the entire manor, leaving his ears to only perceive the pulsations of his broken heart. One by one his limb went numb, and if it was not for Hashirama catching him on time, he would have fallen knees first to the ground. With infinite precaution, the Hokage brought Madara back onto his chair, allowing him to recover.
Facing the letter his gaze relentlessly fell from word to word, until the hope for a mistake made way for the bitter truth to finally sip into him. He would never get to see Inari in the flesh, now or ever again. Madara brought a hand to his forehead as a wave of pounding heat spread into his brain. Nausea soon followed, most foul and burning despite an empty stomach. Then came the cold shivers, crawling in waves on his skin. His ears captured Hashirama calling his name, his muscles twitched when his friend held him in a tight embrace, his lips managed a faint smile at the comforting speech, but his heart remained hollow. The fire in his soul, the very strength of an Uchiha, had choked under the nothingness that now engulfed him completely.
Grieving and mourning were supposed to be something dignified and stoic in every noble clan and especially for the ruthless Uchiha, but this was too much to bear. Out of words and out of will, Madara cried.