Another dream again.
By saying 'again,' it was not that Madara was beginning to tire of dreams; he was tired because it was just a dream. At the slightest noise from the outside world, like the buzzing of mosquitoes or the sound of flowing water, his big toe would twitch, and then his eyes would open, abruptly awakening: he was returning to the rotting reality, with a miserable soul and a ravaged body, with the fresh blood of loved ones soaking beneath his feet, and the silent grave of Uchiha Izuna beneath the silk-cotton tree.
He had lost almost everything: his brothers, family, clan members, friends, reputation, and... dreams.
In the midst of the dream, he held his brother's face, his calloused fingers brushing over the soft skin, feeling the jawline and gliding down the neck of the beloved figure he had cherished his whole life. "If only this were real," he thought. As long as Izuna's figure stood before him like this, it would be enough; he wouldn't ask for anything more. Izuna smiled gently, his hands also softly cradling his brother's face. His thumb touched the corner of his elder brother's eye, and he said softly, "Madara, I want to hear the Black Sugar Cane song. Can you play it for me?"
He heard himself respond immediately without thinking. "Sure." In the end, all Madara had left were songs.
The nomadic life and wars of the past left many things for the Uchiha clan leader, including music. At first, he only thought of learning a few songs so that Izuna could sleep peacefully, but later, out of interest, he spent more and more time playing and singing. Sometimes, by the campfire, Madara would see Uchiha warriors slumped by the base of trees, their eyes vacant as they stared up at the sky, their limbs so weary they seemed unable to lift even a kunai. He would then take out a koto, or a flute, and occasionally a drum, and play a few songs he knew for them. Madara had once jokingly sung to his comrades some absurd and unbelievable songs, which had no real meaning, such as about sparrows and lizards, frogs and ponds, occasionally about the dazzling, beautiful girls they met on the road or a golden bronze vessel in a lord's mansion. He sang with embarrassment, his hands still playing, despite the mocking laughter from his own clan members. Despite his arrogance, Madara also knew exhaustion, and he recognized when his warriors were weary, so he humbled himself to play for his clan members. Thus, although it had little meaning, the music brought them great joy and brightened their spirits, especially during times of war when they were left with only scraps of rice or were facing crises. He felt as if music could redeem him, Izuna, and all their clan members.
"I want to go home!" After Madara put away the instrument and the singing stopped, a six-year-old Uchiha warrior shouted this, unafraid of being beheaded for showing weakness in front of the clan leader. He stared at him as if the child had slapped him directly in the face. The child trembled at Madara's gaze, falling silent and uttering no more words. Everyone called him a warrior, a grown ninja, but he was only six years old. According to clan rules, for undermining the fighting spirit of the entire army, he should have been executed. But then, Madara merely sighed, his sighs filling everyone with melancholy. The young warrior was taken away out of his sight. The people around, in unspoken agreement, bowed their heads in reflection and regret, but they had no intention of giving up the fight. As if waking from a dream woven from the music, they refocused their eyes, preparing for the impending war and the hunger that could overwhelm them at any moment. In that battle, the child was the first to die, leaving behind a sickly mother, who soon followed her son in death.
For Uchiha.
Because that was their only ideal in life.
In his younger days, Madara always lived in a loop. He continuously sang along with the war, leaving behind dreams that would never come true. He bathed in blood on the battlefield, often using blankets to wrap the bodies of clan members. He left the 'weak' who slowed the clan's advance by the roadside, fully knowing they would die. He slaughtered other clans, only to have them seek revenge by stripping the bones of his own clan members. Enemy blood splattered on his hair, the blood of his kin streaked down his cheeks, and his own blood oozed from his chest, flowing until it dried up. It was a never-ending cycle with no clear end in sight. Clan members continued to fight. They kept dying. New Uchiha lives kept being born. And then they fought again, and died.
Often their dream was to return home. To have a simple meal, sleep soundly, and rest their head while watching their loved ones smile.
Yet the vastness of the world left them wondering where home was.
There was no place to return to.
It was the shared sorrow of an entire era.
"Nii-san, the Black Sugar Cane Field is always in our minds..."
The sugar cane, burned to ashes
The sugar cane field ablaze
The Uchiha has set it on fire
With their 'love'
When the Sugar Cane Valley is no longer home,
There is nothing left but the burned black cane fields
And eyes red with tears
"I still believe it was home. At least, it once was." Izuna whispered, his soft hand leaving Madara's face as he struggled to sing.
"Izuna!"
Madara gasped, seeing his younger brother fading away again. Like so many times before, like mist, like smoke.
"Can you find us a new Sugar Cane Valley?" Izuna's voice sounded like a bell ringing in his ears. Madara's chest was left with only pain, his eyes frantically following the figure of his younger brother.
"I... I don't know anymore, Izuna. I..."
Izuna smiled very faintly, then completely vanished.
"Izuna! Izuna! Come back! Come back! My brother!" Madara screamed, his hands pounding the ground in desperation. Tears slowly dripped from his eyes, falling into the creases of his hands.
Izuna, please don't leave.
"Why do you leave me alone in this world... again?"
The valley vanished
Where is home
Amidst the shadows.
The little brother
Gave his brother a seashell.
"IZUNA!"
Madara woke up abruptly.
Where is this...?
The smell of antiseptic... so strong.
Was this a hospital?
"Sniff, sniff..."
Was that... crying?
What's wrong with his body...?
It was so uncomfortable... he couldn't move.
"Ouch... it hurts," Madara murmured softly as he tried to move his legs. His limbs felt like logs, stiff and unresponsive, and his arms were covered in tangled tubes and wires. Dizzy, Madara realized that the only part of him he could move was the tips of his fingers.
Faint sobs reached his ears.
A... woman? Was she crying?
"It's my fault, I shouldn't have said that to you. My son, I'm sorry, I... I will do anything... Please, wake up..."
Son?
Madara grew increasingly panicked. Don't tell him he's actually dead and this is... his mother?
No... that's not right. The pain is real. He feels immense pain from head to toe. This is a sign that he still has feeling. He... he's not dead.
"My son..." The woman cried out in a mournful whisper. Is she crying again? As Madara's heavy eyelids struggled to open in an attempt to see the situation, his heart leapt into his throat when he saw a patch of red. He slowly looked up to see: indeed, a young woman in a white kimono was sitting by his hospital bed, and the patch of red was her hair.
Her face, her hair... U-Uzumaki Mito?
Son...
Son... Uzumaki Mito... Her son...
What is she doing here? Why is she calling Madara her son?
What happened?
"Hashirama..." Mito buried her face in her hands, trying to hold back her tears. "May the gods in heaven bless our Shani... to wake up soon..."
Madara, terrified, abruptly woke up and lifted his head to look around the room, but he found only himself and Mito there. Mito was... crying next to his bed. The battlefield demon stared in horror at his fingers as they struggled to move: when had his hand become so small? It was as if... it had shrunk. How strange, why did his body look like that of a five-year-old child?
No... this can't be.
Everything Madara was thinking seemed insane.
Trying to calm himself, the Uchiha clan leader quickly searched through his memories. Hikaku's betrayal. The Nine-Tails. Nakano. Red hair. He remembered capturing that little rat... Senju Shani. But then that brat pulled out a scroll and...
and...
the scroll exploded.
He lost consciousness after that.
"No way..." Madara groaned. "It can't be, right?"
Hearing his voice, Uzumaki Mito jumped out of her chair, stammering: "Sha... Shani...?"
No. No. No. Those words echoed in Madara's mind, as if desperately trying to reject reality.
"Did you... just speak?" Mito's voice rang out, full of doubt.
Damn Uzumaki. No. Don't.
"It can't be... my child..." Madara felt Mito rush to his side, her chakra completely chaotic and burning hot. One of the Uzumaki woman's hands touched his cheek, while the other moved down to his chest to check. If Madara could move, he didn't think he would hesitate to knock her away. How dare she... touch him like that?
But then, Madara felt her tears falling onto his forehead.
"Tobirama... Tobirama..." she cried, her voice growing louder as she called out toward the door. "Tobirama! Shani, Shani has woken up!"
No. No. No. Madara squeezed his eyes shut. He'd rather die right now than open them to see the face of the red-haired woman and accept the truth.
Now, he was Senju Shani.
This can't be happening. What kind of cursed world is this, where he could be trapped in the body of a useless five-year-old brat? And not just any child—Hashirama's son. No. No. For Kami's sake. No.
Before Madara could react to anything, a familiar chakra filled the space, and he knew all too well who it belonged to—the person he least wanted to meet in this situation.
That white-haired maggot. The cruel man who took his brother's life. Tobirama. He was looming close to the bed, and the disgusting scent of the Senju made Madara's nose twitch.
"Shani." The murderer's voice, filled with gentleness, whispered in his ear. "Can you hear me?"
The man who had once dominated the battlefield felt a wave of nausea rising in his throat.
If... if he was in Senju Shani's body, then it was very likely that the one inhabiting his body was...
A body swap.
Senju Shani, cowardly, useless, and weak, in the great Uchiha Madara's body.
If he had a handful of poison leaves, he would eat them and die right away rather than think about it any further.
During that time, Uzumaki Mito felt as though she had aged seventy years.
Both her son and daughter had faced danger in a single night, with her son falling into a critical condition. The image of Shani's limp body, slumped in Tobirama's arms with his face covered in blood, drained the life out of her. The child that Mito had carried for nine months and ten days was on the brink of death, and as a mother, all she could do was stand by helplessly, watching the medical ninjas pour chakra into her son's chest, trying to get his heart to beat again. Mito remembered standing there, watching Shani lying on the bed throughout the night, not moving, not stirring—forcing herself to become a statue, her eyes wide open, as if the moment she looked away from her son, he would stop breathing. Ganya and several other medical ninjas tried everything to convince Mito to rest, to stop standing like that, but nothing they said reached the Uzumaki woman. Her legs felt as though they were rooted to the ground, numb, as she stood there lifelessly. Only when she heard her brother Tobirama come to announce that Shani was out of danger did Mito, who had been standing for twelve hours straight, allow herself to move. Finally, she collapsed and passed out for a while.
When Mito woke up, she immediately rushed to her son's room to check on him. Seeing Shani lying on the bed, the Uzumaki woman dazedly thought that if she hadn't been harsh with the boy that day, he wouldn't have run outside, encountered Uchiha Madara, and ended up in this situation.
The boy could lose his life because of the words she spoke in anger.
Shani might not wake up for days. Every moment she saw her son's pale and fragile face, Mito felt as if someone was cutting pieces of flesh from her chest. Day after day, she held a small Buddha statue in her hands, praying, hoping that the heavens would have mercy and protect this poor child. The red-haired woman would accept any price, even her life and soul, if only her son could open his eyes, smile, and call her 'mom' once more.
Perhaps heaven showed mercy, as the medicine she and the Nara had collaborated to create seemed to work, and her son had truly returned.
Mito saw how relieved her brother-in-law was as he checked Shani's consciousness. "Sister-in-law, the boy can hear all of us." Tobirama placed a hand on his sister-in-law's shoulder, and it seemed that both he and she felt the heavy stone pressing on their hearts suddenly drop away.
Death had not taken Mito's son from the living as it had once taken her husband.
Shani had moved, heard them, and mumbled a few words—nothing unusual. He had woken up after passing through the gates of the underworld.
But the boy became... distant. He wouldn't look at her, wouldn't call her 'mom,' and there was a look of resistance in his eyes when she touched him. Mito knew this was her punishment, so she held back her tears and withdrew the hand that had touched her son's cheek. Of course, he was still so angry with her! But then she realized something even worse: Shani flinched and screamed when Tobirama reached out to touch his forehead.
"Don't touch me!" The boy shouted with all his strength into the face of the white-haired man, his eyes glaring with anger and disgust as if he were an enemy.
Mito's hands trembled as she looked up at Tobirama in horror. Her brother-in-law furrowed his brows, as if he, too, was beginning to realize something.
Shani might have been distant from his mother and not close to his newborn sister, but with this particular uncle, he was very close—completely trusting and reliant on him. The boy would never show that kind of attitude towards his uncle.
Could it be that her son... had lost his memory?
"S...Shani..." Mito leaned in close to her son's bed, tightly clutching the edge. "It's your mother. Please, don't be like this. It's my fault, I'm so sorry..."
Shani's legs struggled as he glared at her, weakly uttering a single word: "Go away."
It felt like a thousand knives were stabbing into her heart, the sorrow was overwhelming. Mito distanced herself from her son, painfully saying, "Alright, I'll go get you a fresh towel. And a meal to help you recover, okay?"
Shani stared blankly at the ceiling. Over the past few minutes, he had resolutely ignored Tobirama and Mito's presence. "I don't need anything from either of you."
Her white-haired brother-in-law gently sat down beside his nephew. "Shani, you need a meal to regain your strength. Otherwise, one day that body of yours won't hold up, and even medicine won't save you. I'll have to go through the trouble of picking out a six-panel coffin that fits you."
Mito almost threw the towel she was washing at Tobirama, but Kami must have held her back at the last moment. Instead, she casually sent a powerful wave of chakra across the room, intentionally brushing past the back of her brother-in-law's neck with intense force before lightly darting out the window.
Tobirama's pupils trembled slightly, as if sensing Mito's chakra. He shrugged and gave a wry smile to his sister-in-law. His innate hypersensitivity often got him into trouble, especially when dealing with Senju Hashirama, the God of Shinobi, who possessed an enormous and extraordinary chakra that could easily snuff out the life of others. But he knew Mito didn't mean to threaten him; she was just a bit irritated.
Shani frowned. "No kid would be scared by that."
"No, dear, that wasn't a threat at all; I was just telling the truth," the white-haired man said with an unusual tenderness in his voice, causing Mito to sigh. "Though I don't know why you're behaving this way towards your family, I can tell you haven't forgotten who we are." Tobirama gently took the bowl of porridge from his sister-in-law's hands, scooping up a spoonful towards his nephew's mouth with practiced ease, as if he'd done this a hundred times before. "Now, eat. Don't rush to your death like that. If you recognize us, then you should know that we are your family. This red hair is inherited from the lady standing before you. No matter how much you hate, reject, or resist it, you can't change that fact. And another fact that even a temporarily amnesiac Senju Shani cannot deny: your mother and uncle would never harm you."
Her son tilted his head, looking at Tobirama, then sat up and swatted away the spoon that his uncle was trying to feed him with. The Senju clan leader narrowed his eyes as Shani snatched the bowl of porridge from his hands and forcefully threw it against the wall.
The bowl was flung high into the air, crashing hard onto the floor and shattering into pieces.
Shani's eyes were clouded with mist, and when he looked at Tobirama, there was nothing but murderous intent—completely unlike his usual self. Mito had once thought it was just a child's rebellion, but the more she observed, the more she felt something was off.
That look, it wasn't the look of a child. It was like a demon... It was as if her son had a deep blood feud with Tobirama.
But wasn't Shani most fond of this man? The uncle who had always loved, pampered, and cared for him in every little way... even closer than his own mother.
"Throwing bowls and utensils like that... it's very noisy. The patients in the neighboring rooms will be dragged out of their already difficult sleep. It's a mess. Someone will have to take the trouble to clean up the spilled porridge and pick up the broken pieces, and that someone is most likely me. And such waste, it's shameful, especially now when the farmers are facing crop failures. Shani is causing trouble for a lot of people. That's very naughty. But what can I do? You're my responsibility. However many bowls of porridge you throw, I'll make you eat them all." Tobirama smiled, his eyes cold. "Sister-in-law, the next bowl."
Tobirama has always disliked variables.
The recent disruptions to order made him uneasy. Everything that his elder brother had painstakingly built was gradually falling apart, despite how fragile it had already been. In such a short time, the Uchiha and Senju were once again ready to insult and strike each other as if they weren't from the same village. As if the peace treaties and Konoha meant nothing to them. Tobirama was all too familiar with the Uchiha's dark, chaotic ways, but even his own Senju were no better. Sometimes, he just wished both sides would shut up, keep their tongues in check, and stop all the noise.
"Tobirama-sama, are you really going to let this go? Shani-sama is the heir of the Senju. A child who was well-fed, slept soundly, and was perfectly healthy suddenly ends up unconscious in the river with Uchiha Madara. The scene looked as if a fierce battle had taken place, and the young master barely survived."
"Tobirama-sama, are you planning to wait until our young master dies like Hashirama-sama before holding Uchiha Madara accountable? After all, didn't Hashirama-sama also... from Uchiha Madara's..."
"Silence." The Senju man spoke coldly, pressing his fingers to his temples. He was trying to write out a plan to repair the destroyed banks of the Nakano River. As for Elder Hideshi in front of him, a man praised in the shinobi world with the nickname "New Leaf," Tobirama had no qualms about cutting him off. He always used his status as a friend of Senju Butsuma to oppress his brothers in the past. With his talent and dedication, the 'New Leaf' of the Senju clan had the right to be proud, but sometimes he needed to know his limits.
Tobirama just needed to stay focused.
"Don't use that tone with me, Tobirama. How dare you tell me, the New Leaf, to be quiet?" The elder glared at him. "The Uchiha do not want peace! Where is the peace when Madara is free to bully a five-year-old child who can't even tie a chicken? We need to--"
The young clan leader raised his head, his indifferent red eyes fixed on the elder. "Then, in all seriousness, I, Tobirama, formally ask you to shut your mouth, Hideshi-sama."
Couldn't he see how busy Tobirama was? Tobirama even had to eat and sleep in the hospital, working while keeping watch over the two key figures of the Senju and Uchiha. He tapped the tip of his pen against the table, looking at the perfectly planned repair cost estimates he had drawn up.
"You consider that to be more polite?" Hideshi glared. "I can see that you don't care about our Senju at all. You're letting the Uchiha walk all over us. One day, the clan will be destroyed because of you."
"You've said this same thing to my father and my brother," Tobirama sneered. "Anyone who sits in the clan leader's seat, except for the great New Leaf, is predicted by you to bring about the clan's destruction."
"You—" Hideshi was so furious he nearly saw stars, looking as if he wanted to lunge across the desk and strangle the young clan leader.
"Come on, great New Leaf, stop making a fuss. Do you want some dango? I'll buy you some later," Tobirama said without even looking at him, as he continued to flip through the new files.
"You don't respect this old man at all, Tobirama-sama." Hideshi shook his head sadly.
"Not at all, I respect you the most."
How... troublesome. At least in the old days, Hashirama was so much better. If Tobirama told him to be quiet and not bother him, his brother would immediately comply, just looking a bit dejected.
One evening, when Tobirama went to the Uchiha hospital wing to check on Madara's medication, he suddenly came across Hikaku, who was surrounded by a group of Uchiha, all making inflammatory remarks about the Senju. The young Uchiha deputy looked utterly exhausted. He hadn't even tied his hair into its usual ponytail, his eyes were ringed with dark circles, and his chakra was chaotic.
If the Senju's argument was, "How could a five-year-old child possibly lay a finger on the God of War? It's absurd; Madara was clearly bullying the young master," then the Uchiha were equally adamant in their reasoning: "That five-year-old once burned down Madara-sama's office, a reckless troublemaker with no fear. Who knows what tricks he might have used on our clan leader?"
The two sides argued fiercely, and even though the Hokage Sarutobi Sasuke stepped in to mediate, the dissatisfaction continued to simmer beneath the surface.
"Shut up." Hikaku roared, his Sharingan flaring red instantly. His chakra surged in heated waves, and his expression was terrifying.
And so the clan members fell silent, as if even with gold, they wouldn't dare provoke the deputy at this moment.
"Hikaku-sama really resembles Izuna-sama back then..." As the furious deputy broke through the crowd and stormed down the hospital corridor, the Senju man overheard two Uchiha clan members saying this to each other.
That's right, Izuna. Uchiha Izuna, when he was alive, was someone capable of leading the Uchiha, handling countless matters on behalf of his elder brother Madara. He was intelligent, determined, decisive, yet also gentle enough. He was a true talent. If he were still alive, would things have been easier? It's a pity he ended up killing him, but there's no 'what if' on the battlefield.
Tobirama suddenly thought that there were a few things he needed to do.
The Border Defense Squad and Akimichi Ikigai.
In such a short time, many things had changed.
"He doesn't deserve to use my medicine."
"Sister-in-law." Tobirama called out wearily, hoping his voice would be enough to make her realize that her anger was clouding her judgment.
Mito crossed her arms, her gaze stern. "It's all because of Uchiha Madara. We shouldn't have given him the medicine; let him die."
"We don't have any evidence right now; everything is still under investigation..." he said firmly. "At the moment, Shani isn't saying anything, and Madara hasn't woken up yet..."
"Is an investigation even necessary? How could a five-year-old child, who can't even control chakra properly, do anything to the great Uchiha Madara? And don't ignore the handprint on my son's neck... Shani was strangled by someone." She stated grimly. "Are you planning to overlook this? Right now, you're disregarding your nephew's safety and protecting Uchiha Madara for some scheme, aren't you?"
"Protecting Uchiha Madara?" Tobirama frowned. "Aren't you and my brother the ones who have always been protecting him? Don't forget, my brother has always gotten angry with me because of Uchiha Madara. Haven't I always been criticized for 'being wary of the Uchiha and Madara'? Now, I'm just trying to be objective to maintain peace. We'll wait for those two to regain their senses and tell us what happened, then we'll draw conclusions based on the investigation results. And until there's evidence, no one is guilty, and everyone deserves the same treatment."
"In the past, I protected Uchiha Madara because Hashirama believed in him. I've always felt that our family owed him for Uchiha Izuna's life." Mito's gaze softened. "But now, I think you may be right, to some extent. Uchiha Madara is... chaotic. And I am a mother, Tobirama, so for now... I can't be objective."
Suddenly, the atmosphere between them became much lighter. Another weight pressing on their chests was lifted.
"I understand," he whispered.
"Thank you," she buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry for losing my temper."
"Mito, you have every right to be angry. There's nothing unreasonable about it," he gently patted his sister-in-law's shoulder.
"But I still won't change my mind." Mito's gaze, sharp as a knife peeking through her fingers, sent a shiver down Tobirama's spine. "I won't forgive Madara if he touches my child again. If that happens, even if peace crumbles, I'll act."
Tobirama gazed thoughtfully out the window. Mito had always been this resolute. She won't back down if anyone threatens her family.
Just like Madara with Izuna.
And like countless others when it comes to their loved ones.
Where is the peace if we live each day with a knife at each other's throats?
Peace occurs when both sides can restrain their emotions to avoid meaningless bloody conflicts and adhere to the rules. That has been Senju Tobirama's belief since he was a child. But is that enough? He thought his older brother, though naive, occasionally had some very valid ideals; they were just too perfect and flawless, almost impossible to achieve.
Restraining emotions and adhering to agreements would only be like living with grudging tolerance; it's merely forced. A small stone could easily stir the calm waters. If we want lasting peace, there's only one way: making both sides accept and understand each other.
But before we can reach the higher steps of 'acceptance and understanding,' we still have to go through Tobirama's basic step.
Perhaps the nature of humanity is such that even that basic step is difficult to achieve. Living with grudging tolerance, unable to control our anger, feeling stifled by adhering to agreements, seeking freedom when confined by rules, and then craving order when free to avoid chaos—these contradictions give rise to the so-called 'freedom within boundaries.' You can never satisfy everyone, because that's the world, that's human nature—whenever something is born, its opposition will immediately emerge.
If Hashirama had lived a little longer, perhaps he would have found a way to at least maintain the fragile peace.
Or perhaps the 'gift from heaven,' the one who understood Hashirama best, Uchiha Madara, also knew the answer.
One day, Uchiha Madara, the battlefield demon burdened with dreams that could never come true, opened his eyes, waking up after a long sleep, his life saved thanks to the relentless efforts of the medical ninja.
But that was not the true Uchiha Madara.
"Where... am I?"
Senju Shani weakly stirred in the white hospital blanket.
"Lord Madara!" A strange face appeared before him. "You've woken up?"
What?
"Who... who are you?" Shani panted, panicking as he tried to sit up, but the other person pressed him down. "What did you just call me?"
The fan-shaped clan symbol, half red and half white, on this person's clothing filled the Senju boy with fear.
"Madara... Lord Madara?"
The man looked at him skeptically. "It's me, Hikaku?"