Madara Uchiha couldn't remember the last time he'd ever seen his mother smile without looking like she wanted to cry in front of his only sister. She was a frail thing, constantly bedridden and bedraggled by the fretting of her family, but it couldn't be helped.
Contrary to expectation, the Uchiha were the most caring of the Shinobi clans despite their terrible lack of animated expressions. Their love and compassion showed instead in their actions which spoke louder than words any day which was why their perpetual vendetta against the Senju continued well past the point of remembering why they'd first fought to begin with.
You kill family, or a loved one, and the Uchiha would never forgive nor relent, lost in their own curse of hatred.
However, if an anchor existed that could reel in this curse and replace it with bitter melancholy, longing, and helplessness, it would be Ikari.
Differing from expectation and ordinary convention, Ikari wasn't going blind with each use of her Mangekyo Sharingan. The only real deficit observed by the clan medics was debilitating exhaustion and an inability to turn the eyes off. This constant feedback loop deprived her of any real strength.
There are no good things without consequence.
Ikari's eyes were special to the point that even the clan elders couldn't help but marvel at them the first time they saw them in action.
Madara could still recall it vividly himself.
He was only seven and he and his older brothers had just returned from extensive training with their instructor when a regiment of clan shinobi returned from a Senju ambush carrying back their dead.
The scene was tragic, the silent tears that fell from the faces of the surviving Uchiha clansmen were suffused with unadultered fury born of grief. More than a few had activated their Sharingan in this encounter, but despite the blessing of their bloodline, the shock and bitterness of activating it too late left many near the brink of madness.
At the time, Madara couldn't imagine how he would feel if he suddenly lost his siblings one by one until there was no one left. All he knew was that there would be a suffocating emptiness based on what the elders advised.
The emptiness would eat away at the mind and rationality, until all that was left was vengeance. Hence the curse of hatred continued.
This had been precisely the case for the group of returning clansmen, but that was when it happened.
Ikari, his little sister, had somehow snuck out of her room and stumbled in on the horrifying scene. The scent of blood lingered in the air, mixed in with a heavy presence of sorrow.
She was only three years old, but the look of surprise on everyone's faces when Ikari's Mangekyo bled into a star shape was something everyone would remember.
The dead came back to life and Ikari collapsed on the ground, instantly killing a majority of the sudden joy the Uchiha were feeling.
Madara had never seen his father look so stricken with anxiety and worry when he arrived on scene and rushed Ikari to the clan's medical wing. From what he'd heard before, the only other time such a look appeared was when his older brothers nearly died in a raid.
Expression was rare for Uchiha, especially the patriarch.
From then on, the rumours in the clan circulating about the young princess's condition and Mangekyo remained the hottest topic. At the same time, a growing fondness and protectiveness for Ikari out of gratitude began to be fostered in the clan. This was sworn in blood oaths by those who's family members were saved, but also because as the months went on, more and more Uchiha were forgotten from Ikari's memory.
Of a clan of several hundred, a quarter were unable to be remembered by her, and this trend would only grow the longer the clan wars continued. Each death and revival metaphorically cut off an anchor which tied Ikari to her loved ones. Once this anchor was cut, and the memories forgotten, her Mangakyo could no longer raise the dead.
-An Uchiha lived twice.
This was the rumour going around from the other rival clans over the past years.
Madara and his immediate family wouldn't admit it, but they were horrified that one day, Ikari wouldn't have anyone to anchor down and depend on. However, others in the clan harboured thoughts of exploiting this power to gain an edge in the war. The elders from the hawk faction which his own father was a part of were more than willing to put aside emotional obligations if it was for the sake of the clan.
This was what terrified Madara. That one day, Ikari's usefulness would outweigh personal attachment in the eyes of the elders and even his father for the sake of the grudge against their enemies. Ikari would come to fully understand the reality of her situation the older she gets in this clan of shinobi.
This was why he couldn't understand how she could smile while always looking so sick and confined to a bed. She was no stronger than a civilian, and prone to bouts of illness due to the exhaustion of her eyes reducing the vitality of her constitution.
She was five years old now, and Madara was nine, but perhaps because of her Mangekyo, she matured quicker than ordinary children.
"Why do you always look at me like that?" He asked. He was the one in charge of taking care of his sister today while his older brothers trained with his father.
Ikari said nothing for a moment, and just continued to stare at him with a gaze that felt as if she were the elder and he the younger sibling. Moreover, as a shinobi in training, he could tell that there was something else in her gaze; something with a different meaning and complexities.
"Like what?" She feigned confusion.
He could tell because her cheeks took on a rosy hue, and she averted her gaze to the floor. There was no way she could be a Kunoichi with how easy she was to read. He sighed, just about to let the matter go, and then she glanced at him again.
"Like that." He furrowed his brows. "You're doing it again."
Ikari had naturally long and silky black hair that reached down to her waist which was a far cry to his own unruly mess. Her bangs were equally long, and she used them to cover her face when she felt pressured or caught doing something wrong. That or ball herself up into a cocoon using her bed sheets, and tuck her head into her clothing by pulling up her black kimono over her head.
For someone so fragile and sheltered by shinobi standards, she was a relatively cheerful girl who was composed a majority of the time when she wasn't acting weird.
"Sorry," she murmured softly. "J-Just fangirling."
He snorted, long since used to her methods of distraction by diverting attention elsewhere. Still, it didn't mean that he wasn't completely unaffected.
"Where do you hear such incomprehensible words?" His features hardened sharply. If he ever found the snitch in the clan feeding stupid ideas to his younger sister, then they were going to be in for a beating.
"Izuna."
He faltered at the ridiculous response. "As if!" He grimaced.
"Then blame it on our mother." Ikari pouted, her arms crossing as she sat up on her bed. "I can't believe she's never shown her face to me even once."
The woman seated at the corner of the room and knitting a piece of cloth abruptly froze, a chocked breath escaping her as Madara cringed. The ball of yarn in the woman's hands fell to the ground where it rolled to Iakri's bedside. She didn't even register it.
Silence stretched to the point that Ikari tilted her head abashedly as if she'd been wrong to gloat.
"Never forget us, okay?" Madara couldn't help but blurt out uneasily. He'd suddenly become solemn.
Ikari grew serious, but a reassuring smile played on her lips from a feeling of warmth and contentment from the affection she was receiving from him and the family.
"Like I'd forget. Father, you, and our brothers told me how my eyes work, so I'll be careful." She tilted her chin up in childish pride. "It's not as if I've used them before."
Calm down. Control yourself. You don't want to make her uneasy or sad.
Madara balled his hands into fists while the woman seated across the room finally broke out into sobs. Unless someone she could retain memory of told her that she'd already used her eyes, it was impossible for her to even know that she did. Unwilling to burden her with the knowledge that she'd forgotten her own mother and several fellow clansmen, many Uchiha including him kept silent.
They didn't wish to see the smile on her face turn gloomy in an already painful world.
Madara stared deeply into Ikari's eyes, then at her weak body, before recalling her debilitating state whenever those eyes activated. She would be easier to kill than a chicken, and what was worse was that the clan hadn't taught her any ninjutsu in fear of inducing chakra exhaustion and killing her.
Those eyes of hers were as much a curse as they were a gift.