Thank you all for your support on this little side-project. This story will be a slow burn, so things may take time. But I hope to make each chapter have at least have one large and/or important event happen when it comes to his life.
Reply to aibeloved: Madara did lose a lot of himself through the years. It started with him being jealous of Hashirama leading the Leaf Village. Things just seemed to spiral down from there. And, yes-he was one of the biggest villains of the series, so he was one of the situations that helped turn Naruto into a hero.
Learning, Love, and Little Brothers
The reincarnated young man blows caution out the window. He decides to show all his skills whilst he can, so he can advance quicker, be smarter, gain more skills and information.
He does this, because he wants to survive.
This is the Warring States Era. Clans pitted against clans. Senju against Uchiha. Children against adults, against children.
If he can't be strong, he'll die. Just like the rest of the corpses of the child soldiers employed by not just his clan, but of others as well.
He should probably do the world a favor and die while he can, but he is a coward. He doesn't want to waste this second life, or his knowledge.
He wants to protect people. Use his knowledge for good. Create himself to be as far away as the endgame canon visage of Madara Uchiha as possible.
So, he plays the game. Becomes the prodigious mini-adult his clan and father needs. Lets Tajima teach him the skills he'll need to survive, out in this world full of bloodshed.
Tajima Uchiha is proud to announce to all clan members that he crosses paths with, that Madara is already showing signs of being a genius.
Little Madara is usually stone-faced, amongst the attention of others. He is an eerily serious child. He rarely laughs, or plays. Every action is with a purpose. He also often projects a cold fury whenever his name is uttered.
Ever since Tajima had caught the boy walking in his crib, his son has been progressing at an astounding rate. By his first birthday celebration, Madara can walk, run, desecrate on his own, speak in short sentences, eat his food in a semi-proper manner, and has already started to read.
Fumiko worries over her first child. Worries over how the boy is no child, but an adult in miniature. The Clan Head, in complete contrast, is proud of his son for being so prodigious.
It is much easier to deal with the boy, if he is so intelligent. It will be no trouble to teach the boy of the way of the shinobi. Madara will be the strongest, the smartest, and the most well prepared child in the entire Uchiha Clan.
Madara has exceeded all expectations of being his first son, and the next in line for Head of the Uchiha. It is as if the Sage of Six Paths has blessed the Uchiha Clan with the boy, to bring them into a new era of Shinobi.
There is no doubt within Tajima's mind, that Madara will grow to become a strong ninja. Strong enough to beat the Senju, most certainly.
Madara is the hope of the Uchiha Clan, and it is rather plain to see. However, Tajima does not stop releasing his seed within his wife, in order to have more heirs.
He wants to have more sons, just in case. In case Madara falls in a battle of glory, becoming a hero and martyr, in order to slay their enemies, and elevate the Uchiha to their proper status as being the strongest shinobi in the lands. For the off chance that Madara needs a brother to help him lead the Clan.
After all, Tajima himself was the second son of the Clan Head of the last generation. His elder brother had died in a grand battle against the Senju, centuries ago. As his brothers died in battle, it was he who took the helm as a leader, and the next Uchiha Clan Head.
And he had learned. Listened and learned, and rose up to became their next leader.
Madara will no doubt do the same.
The young man listens and learns. He has learned to read—and what as glorious thing it is, to read. So much of the world opens, with this ability. So much information, so many skills.
He's always been a fan of reading. In this world, it'll probably be one of his comforts.
The reincarnated soul listens and understands what the adults say around him, what they speak of him. How his father is already considering on teaching him the way of the shinobi.
You know, despite him barely being a year old.
But, well…He asked for this. By showing how intelligent he really is. He wanted to gain the skills to be stronger.
…He hopes he won't regret this decision.
Tajima does not regret his decision of gaining another son. Fumiko becomes pregnant, not long after Madara's birthday celebration. Eight months later, during Autumn, their second son is born. He is named Byakuya.
As his wife and the servants care for his second child, Tajima is out teaching young Madara meditation, stretching techniques, basic katas, and history of the Head Family.
It does not matter if Madara has not even turned two years old, and his stubby, pudgy limbs are awkward and incapable of doing the katas properly. The toddler is very patient, and a good student. The boy soaks up information like a sponge.
When not training, reading, or in lessons, Madara is with his mother. The woman has turned tired and a bit on the frail side, from having two children one year after the other, and often stays within the home.
Madara's care, despite his youth, shows his respect for the woman who birthed him. The toddler caters to petite Fumiko, and entertains his younger brother. The wet nurse and servants coo over the First Son being so caring, so thoughtful.
When he can spare a wayward thought, Tajima hopes that the boy is not going soft. There is a fine line between being respectfully helpful, and emotional frailty. The boy may very well catch his wife's soft maternal instincts—and what then? The boy will not be as strong a warrior, if he is so caring.
Without strength, you can die, in this world of bloodshed.
Tajima takes his mounting frustration off on his wife, making rough love to her. He is getting paranoid over his sons, over their youth and softness, and wants to have more.
One could never be too careful. Especially not when the Senju are decimating large numbers of Uchiha, and the Clan can barely keep up.
His children will be fine shinobi—the finest of the lands—if he can help it.
Just because he's learning the skills of a shinobi—learning and preparing himself to kill in the future—doesn't mean that the reincarnated young man throws away his previous humanity or morality.
He was always rather soft, in his past life. He was not a fighter, didn't like conflict, abhorred pain in both himself and others.
He cared.
Caring was dangerous, but just something ingrained into his very soul. He couldn't help himself, when he entered his mother's bedchambers, doting and watching over her and his little brother, Byakuya.
He was going to do things his own way, create his own path. And no one could stop him.
Fumiko Uchiha could not stop smiling.
Despite her strength slowing ebbing, after each subsequent child she has birthed…Despite being too frail to do much else, but stay within her bedchambers or the nursery, to look over her little ones…
She is happy. For her husband has given her permission to care for her children, has allowed her to stay within the home when she is too tired to leave.
The young woman feels that she is truly blessed. She was betrothed and married to a man who was not much older than her, who became the Head of the Uchiha Clan. Her first son is strong, yet caring. She has a precious second son, and a third child is on the way.
All things told, Fumiko has been lucky.
And that is the reason she keeps smiling.
"You are such a good older brother, my boy," she coos to her eldest son, who sits next to her on the elongated seating of the small couch. The toddler has his baby brother carefully held in his arms, tickling Byakuya to make him giggle, an amused grin in place.
Madara is very forthcoming with his smiles, when with her or little Byakuya. His eyes crinkle, alighted with a deep love and tenderness that Fumiko is glad to see within the dark depths.
The young boy is usually so polite and blank-faced to others—like an adult in miniature—that it worries her. However, when in private and with his family, he allows his true emotions to bloom.
The petite woman finds it beautiful. She has hope that her eldest will not be like the rest of the clan: that he will have compassion and love, and yet still hold strong.
"Thank you, Kaa-chan," Madara says, turning his face to her, so he can give her a smile. Others may find the title to be disrespectful, but Fumiko knows that her son only uses 'kaa-chan' when in private with her. When he can show his affection clearly and without restraint.
Besides... She would honestly take 'kaa-chan' over 'okaa-sama' from her eldest, any day. The day he stops calling her the more familiar term in private…Will be the day she knows she has lost her little boy's kind nature.
And she never wants Madara to lose his kind nature.
It may very well be the only thing any of her children may inherit from her.
Fumiko unconsciously lets her hand linger over the small bump of her stomach. She rubs it slightly, a fond twitch on her lips.
"Ma-kun…" she starts, and instantly, her eldest looks over to her.
"Yes, Kaa-chan?" the two-year-old asks, flashing her a toothy grin.
The petite woman cannot help but give a small chuckle. Madara has never liked his name, always making a fuss and grimacing whenever it is used. He has asked her one day, to give him a nickname—something different "that was not Madara".
Ever since she has used 'Ma-kun' for him, he has been…happier.
"Ma-kun," she reiterates. "If you could have another sibling…Would you want a little brother, or a little sister?"
The woman does not know why she is asking this of her eldest. Perhaps to fulfill a simple curiosity of hers. Perhaps to gain his opinion.
Madara hums in contemplation, gently rocking Byakuya in his arms, before answering.
"An imouto," he states confidently. Fumiko pauses, blinking wide-eyed at the genius boy.
"And why…Would you like a little sister?" the mother asks, curiosity and shock vying for being the main emotion she is feeling.
"Kaa-chan's nice and pretty…So imouto will be nice and pretty, too," the boy says in a low voice, leaning towards her, as if divulging a grand secret.
His eyes are wide and twinkling, and the frail woman feels warmth flood her body, from the utter sincerity and conviction her eldest shows.
Does he…Truly think that highly of her?
How…odd. One would think Madara would be closer to his father…Isn't that typical of boys, especially first-born sons?
The mother feels the telltale pinpricks of tears behind her eyes, as she gives her eldest child a watery smile.
"You are too kind, my wonderful son," she tells the boy, voice thick with emotion. She brings her two children into an embrace, careful with little Byakuya being held between them.
Madara snuggles his face into her embrace, giving a happy sigh. "I love you, Kaa-chan."
"And I love you as well. I love you so, so much," the woman chokes out, tears slowly spilling down her cheeks, as she gives a relieved smile. "I am so lucky to have such wonderful sons…"
"No, I'm lucky," the toddler insists, pulling back slightly to stare up at her face. His pouts morphs into a sad smile, as he brings his pudgy hands up to her wet cheek. With soft, deliberate movements, her eldest wipes away her tears.
"Please don't cry," he says, slightly lifting up his baby brother. "Otouto could cry."
Fumiko coos, gently taking Byakuya from Madara's arms. "Of course. And we don't want that, now, do we?"
Her eldest firmly shakes his head, before he suddenly turns to stare at the door. The little one gracefully hops off the couch. "I have to go, Kaa-chan. Sorry."
The woman does not have time to answer, for one of Madara's many tutors takes that moment to open the door to the nursery. "Forgive me for any interruptions, Honorable Wife. However, it is time for the Honorable Son's lessons in tracking."
"It is quite alright," the wife says serenely, before leaning over to give a peck upon the toddler's brow. "Good luck, my son."
"Thank you," Madara says politely, shooting her a small smile, full of affection and crinkled eyes.
When he leaves the room, Fumiko lets out a slight sigh.
Yes, she is very fortunate indeed, for having such a wonderful son as her eldest. She doesn't have to be concerned at all, when it comes to him.
The young man starts to feel concerned.
Fumiko Uchiha has rarely left the house. The petite woman is still recovering from having Byakuya.
And yet…She is pregnant again.
It's worrying.
Fumiko, to him, is ridiculously young to have so many children. If he's done the calculations correctly…Tajima was 22 when Not-Madara was reborn. Fumiko was 17.
Yes, it's seemingly a tradition for men to have a wife that is younger than them, for this time and place. But a young woman who was barely a teenager, to get pregnant and 16 and giving birth at 17, with a husband who's four years older than them…?
For a woman to have a child literally every year, one after the other…To just shunt the females off as baby-makers…?
It's wrong.
The young man tries to not show his negativity to the mother of this life. He doesn't want to make her feel worse.
So, he worries. He worries, and he visits, and he hovers. The majority of his free time goes to being with his mother and little brother, to look over them.
Being with them…Well, it makes him feel…better. Calmer.
Free.
The only people he can really show the full extent of his adoration is his baby brother, and his kind mother.
He is part of a clan that prides themselves in strength and coldness and blank faces. He can't show true happiness or empathy to other clan members—not when they expect him to be the perfect little genius prodigy, first son of Tajima Uchiha, heir of the Uchiha Clan.
In the Uchiha Clan, children are quickly taught to hide their emotions, to work to perfection, to become the pinnacle of shinobi. Not-Madara doesn't need training to show impassiveness and a blank mask, and so no one tries to forcefully stamp out emotion from an already prodigious, cold child.
Which leaves him room to show his true feelings, to his mother and brother.
They haven't taken his inner softness and emotional stability from him yet, and so he can show joy, love, fondness, happiness—all those positive emotions, to the people he holds dear.
But…Just because others haven't tried to squash his emotions yet, doesn't mean they won't. There will come a time, where his Clan will believe he should never bear fondness in his eyes, or a smile on his lips.
He hopes…He hopes that won't come any time soon.
He hopes that his father, Tajima, will allow him a little more time to show love to his family.
There may not be much time left, for his mother. For his brothers. For even the man himself.
…The reincarnated soul hopes that his father realizes that death may well fall upon their family, in the near future.
"Otou-sama…Okaa-sama will be having another baby, yes?" Madara asks, breaking the sublime silence of the morning.
Tajima and his first son are going through basic katas in the Head Family private training ground, hidden away in the backyard of their home. It is six hundred hours in the morning, and the two have been training since dawn broke across the horizon, shining its soft light upon the world.
"Correct," the man confirms, winding down from the third kata. He gives a searching look to the toddler—nay, the boy is nearing three. He will not be a toddler for much longer, but a boy. "You are very perceptive, Madara."
The boy's face, as always, instantly scrunches up in disgust at his given name. Tajima watches as the boy must fight to return his face into blankness.
"Thank you, Otou-sama," was the boy's reply. "However, I have…A concern."
"Is it a concern, of you being replaced?" the father asks, watching his son's face carefully. That would be the logical concern and feelings, for a young child, when their territory is encroached.
"No, Otou-sama," Madara says respectfully, his brows furrowing. "It is…Over Okaa-sama. The constant stress of childbirth is not good for her health. She is very frail."
"Women are frail, son. That should be no cause of concern," the man snorts, flippantly flicking his wrist.
What a waste of time. Is his first son truly getting that…emotional?
Perhaps frailty is a contagious sickness. He must bar Madara from seeing his mother, in case it interferes more with the boy's skills and training. If the problem is not nipped at the bud, it could grow into a detrimental problem.
The Clan Head starts up into the next kata, full of fluid motions, knowing his son will follow and drop the nonsense trail of thought. However, when he looks over to Madara, the boy is not going through the motions.
Rather, Madara has his feet planted stubbornly on the ground, arms crossed, glaring acidly at his father.
"She is your wife," the boy hisses. "And she could very well die in childbirth…! How could you say that it should not be a cause of concern?!"
Tajima shifts from his prior stance, to loom over his first son. Rage is rushing through his veins, icy cold and as hot as fire, all at once.
"How dare you speak to me in that way…! I raised you better than this—than going against my word, and worrying over inconsequential things, like a weakling," he hisses. "Such is not the way of the Uchiha—not the way of any heir of mine!"
He thought he taught the boy better-taught Madara to be strong, not to…
The boy lifts his chin stubbornly, standing his ground, even though fine tremors are going through his small body. "If I cannot care over the health of my own mother, then why should I care over the health of any other clan member? The health of our shinobi? My own brothers?"
"Should a Clan Head not worry over such things…? Worry over the slaughter of their people, of the Clan, to the hands of others?"
The clearing is silent. Only the chirp of birdcall in the distance is heard, amongst the tense atmosphere.
Next, there is a loud 'crack!', as Tajima slaps his son without hesitation.
Madara is sent flying four feet away from the force of the blow, hitting the ground hard. The boy skids, the points of contact glowing a light blue, as he tries to lower the damage with chakra control.
With a quivering in his legs, the young one stumbles to his feet. His arms and legs have long, bloody scrapes, from the impromptu attack.
Madara glares up at his father. His eyes are full of loathing, but also betrayal. Hurt.
Tajima is unyielding, like stone, as he stares down at his first child. His face is stern, all other emotion gone.
This boy…He does not know of bloodshed or war, yet. He is naïve, no matter how prodigious his intellect and skills are.
He doesn't understand the looming and all-too-real dangers of the Senju, of the war. He does not understand the pressure of being Clan Head, of having to always be one step ahead, of having to make sacrifices in order to ensure the greater good of the Clan.
Madara, despite his genius, does not understand the way of the world, like his father. And so, Tajima must put him in place. Must show that he is not just a father, but a warrior and the Head of the entire Clan, as well.
Tajima Uchiha must show his son the reality of things, even if it is much sooner than he had initially wanted.
"I am barring you from seeing your mother. I should have never allowed so in the first place. Her influence is making you soft, and it is interfering with your training," the Clan Head states coldly. He watches with grim satisfaction, as his son's face morphs into one of pure disbelief, intermingled with horror.
"I will double your training, so you will not get the idea to disobey me, and slip in to see her in your free time," the man goes on. "I will make you strong, Madara. There is no room for kindness, in a shinobi. Not when the clans are at war, and will never cease."
Madara sneers, baring his teeth up at the man, but does not speak. A burning fire of rebellion and stubbornness is within his dark eyes, however. They speak a message, loud and clear for Tajima to see. It is this: You are wrong. And I will never follow your beliefs.
The boy stomps off, fuming, to the opposite side of the training field. There, he stops, and starts doing sets of punches at the training posts.
Madara is being petulant, ignoring his father, doing a task that is not present in this part of the training routine. However, he is no doubt letting out his frustrations in a safer way with beating the tree stumps, instead of keeping up a fight with his father.
Tajima nods, appraising the aggressiveness and power of his son's punches. Feeling pleased at the blood being shed upon the wood, mounting with every dozen blows.
When the man leaves the training grounds, in order to let Madara work his frustrations out, he does not catch the bitter tears that pour down the boy's face.
It would have weakened Tajima's initial firm resolve, if he had. To see such a pitiful, heart-wrenching sight.
But alas—he did not.
The young man had decided to broach the subject over the mother of this second life, to Tajima Uchiha.
The rates of death by childbirth were very high in his previous life, full of modern technologies and conveniences. In a universe that did not have such things, a place where women are just bags of flesh that pop out more children, well…The rates would be much higher.
He'd never lost a parent, before. And in his past life, he was very close with his own mother. The thought of Fumiko, the woman who brought him into this new lif,e actually dying was…Terrifying.
But Tajima just decided to brush off his valid worries, and the young man wouldn't—couldn't—put up with that.
When one marries, they should love and cherish their spouse. Protect them.
Even though he can logically understand why Tajima doesn't care about his wife dying when birthing another child, because of this age and the beliefs men hold… it doesn't make it right.
"She is your wife," he hisses. "And she could very well die in childbirth…! How could you say that it should not be a cause of concern?!"
"How dare you speak to me in that way…! I raised you better than this—than going against my word, and worrying over inconsequential things, like a weakling. Such is not the way of the Uchiha—not the way of any heir of mine!"
And there it is. The reminder that he is an Uchiha, he is the heir, he is Madara Uchiha and shouldn't care.
Well, fuck that.
The young-man-in-a-boy's-body trembles, because he is furious, but also rather terrified of Tajima Uchiha. Right now, he just wants to either sit down and bawl his fucking eyes out, or scream until he is hoarse.
But he doesn't do either. Rather, he lifts his chin, stares defiantly into the eyes of this body's father, and stands up for what he believes in.
"If I cannot care over the health of my own mother, then why should I care over the health of any other clan member? The health of our shinobi? My own brothers?"
Because his brothers will die, if the conflict with the Senju does not stop. And the Uchiha Clan will all but die out, with Sasuke Uchiha in three or four generations being the Last Uchiha.
"Should a Clan Head not worry over such things…? Worry over the slaughter of their people, of the Clan, to the hands of others?" he goes on.
The young man knows he is going against his father, which is something that a young child should not do, at this time. He knows he is implying and blaming and all but shitting on Tajima Uchiha's way of life, leadership, and pride.
But he knows that his mother could very well die, if he does not at least make an effort to change her fate, to save her.
The clearing is dead silent for a few moments, before Tajima slaps him in the face.
The young man is sent flying, hitting the ground hard and skidding along the hard-packed earth.
It hurts—oh God it hurts—but he still tries to pump chakra in his limbs on the points of contact, trying to use his control through the blinding pain. It's the only thing he can think of doing, in order to make sure his skin doesn't peal off and leave him with bags of meat for limbs.
The attack was not unexpected—he had expected a slap, or some other form of physical punishment—but the strength and damage it causes is what he didn't consider.
And so, it makes perfect sense that his face is bruising, and long, bloody scrapes are up and down his legs and arms.
But damn…Damn did it hurt. Both physically and emotionally.
He's never been so violently hit before, by a parental figure.
His legs feel like jell-o, but he forces himself on his feet. Forces down the tears that build up and itch behind his eyes. He glares up at his father, loathing and hurt and too large a mix of emotions for him to shield them from Tajima's piercing gaze.
The man looks like he is built from stone. 'This is the Head of the Uchiha Clan,' the not-Madara thinks to himself.
It is…Intimidating.
"I am barring you from seeing your mother. I should have never allowed so in the first place. Her influence is making you soft, and it is interfering with your training."
Not-Madara feels his heart leap and constrict in equal measures.
Is he…Is he serious? The man is ordering his son from seeing his own damn mother…?
"I will double your training, so you will not get the idea to disobey me, and slip in to see her in your free time. I will make you strong, Madara. There is no room for kindness, in a shinobi. Not when the clans are at war, and will never cease."
The young man sneers, baring his teeth. He cannot speak—he's barely keeping himself from quailing in front of the man, and doesn't think he'll be able to actually string together words without his voice cracking. Or him breaking down fully, altogether.
More training…More violence…More hell.
And the only reprieve he had had, before, was being able to see his mother and little brother.
And now…Now, Tajima was fucking taking that away from him.
This fool doesn't know the meaning of life, of living, of love and family. Not really.
Tajima is too blinded and entrenched in his old ways. He can't see peace… and really, doesn't deserve to be living to see it in his lifetime.
'You are wrong,' the reincarnated soul thinks. 'And I will never follow your beliefs. Because, believe it or not, peace will come. I will be the one to make sure of it.'
Kindness should not be punished. Hashirama Senju will be the kindest one of all, despite the circumstances of the Warring States Era, despite the ingrained hatred and death.
And he…He will bring peace, along with that man.
Not-Madara stomps off to the completely opposite side of the training field, as far from Tajima Uchiha as he can possibly get. He stops, doing a set of punches at the training posts, in order to help vent the rage that is coursing through his veins like a blazing inferno.
One, two, three…One dozen, two dozen, three dozen.
He slams his fists, painting the wooden targets a rusty red, with the blood from his very hands. He punches and punches, the burn of pain fueling his anger.
He can feel Tajima Uchiha leave the training grounds—finally—after a few sets of punches.
Without the man's chakra signature and presence nearby, the fuel of his rage, his anger slowly diminishes. His eyes start to sting, his hands throb much too painfully for his liking, and his heart aches immensely.
He can't stem the tears. Everything hurts.
He's been betrayed by the damn man who helped bring him into this world, who named him—no matter how completely loathsome said name was. A man who trained him, taught him, shed sweat and blood with him.
A man who…he'd thought loved him.
The tears are bitter. His strength falters. Eventually, he can't keep punching the damn target, and sobs big, heaving sobs, adding tears into the blood and sweat that have been absorbed into the wood.
The young man's legs collapse under him, and he crumples to the ground, grasping onto the hard-packed earth with bloody fingers, burying his face into a shoulder to muffle the sobs and screams that peal from his throat.