Chapter 1
The very moment Madara saw that baby, he realized he had screwed up. He had so, so screwed up.
He had seen those facial features before. Somewhere far away, in another world where he was consumed by anger, hatred, and loneliness. When he'd made a big mistake and dragged a child into his plans that had simultaneously ruined everything and given him a second chance.
And yet. Here they were, meeting again. Was Madara really cursed? Was this some kind of joke? In every universe would they find themselves bound together by a strange rattling mixture of what many would call a parental relationship?
“What's wrong with you? Why are you looking at him so lost?”
Madara shifted his gaze to Tobirama. How could he explain all the mess and chaos of his 'afterlife' that he had safely hidden for almost forty years?
Tobirama crossed his arms over his chest and began beating out a rhythm with his fingers. This was not the reaction he had expected to finally going along with Madara after ten years of marriage. Seriously, did he have some kind of syndrome from those parenting books?
“Madara, listen, it's just a baby. Calm down and breathe deeply. You're panicking and you're already starting to choke. Come on, try to breathe with me, okay?”
Madara activated the sharingan and began to follow the muscles in Tobirama's face and chest. His gaze traveled back and forth, in the process pleasing his eyes and trying to think of something to say to reassure his lordly lover.
“No, you don't understand, he's not just an ordinary baby, he's...” started to say Madara, but suddenly broke off at the end and started gasping in panic again. He couldn't admit out loud that this was his full-time protégé for the destruction of the world!
Tobirama rolled his eyes. Uchiha and overdramatization. Honestly.
“Madara, this is a product of your and my DNA that we'll be taking home in a couple days. When you spent the last eight years talking me into shaking up science again and finding a way for two men to have children, you didn't warn me that it wouldn't be a day before you'd be in a stupor and wouldn't know what to do with him. You can't give up on him, he's not some kitten or puppy. Do we understand each other?”
Madara drew in his breath indignantly and was about to launch into a long tirade about how he didn't mean it when suddenly there was a child's cry.
It was a boy, not even a day old, who was in dire need of his parents' attention.
Madara looked at the child with suspicion. Could it have been him? Could he have reincarnated too? Could this be the screaming kid who woke up and didn't find himself in his own body, or worse, with his friends?
That would be a freaking hell. Madara's life wouldn't turn into an endless stream of rants about Kakashi and Rin again, would it? That couldn't happen, could it? Fate wouldn't be so cruel, would it?
Madara felt a poke in the shoulder. He looked at Tobirama, who nodded toward the crib.
“Calm him down. He needs you.” Said Tobirama softly, ignoring the horror on Madara's face. “Don't make that face, you know it doesn't work with me.”
Madara walked over to the crib on unbending legs. For a second he thought the baby was looking at him, but it must have been his imagination. He reached out his shaking hands to the infant and gently lifted him up.
Would all his enemies from his former life see him now. The great and terrible Uchiha Madara is afraid of a damn baby. How ironic.
Madara began to gently rock the baby in his arms. He did it perfectly, so perfectly that he would be the envy of all the moms in childcare classes.
Tobirama mumbled satisfactorily.
“That's it, good job, you're doing it right. Great.”
At any moment in time, those words would have made Madara huff with pride, but not now. His actions were completely useless. It seemed to be exactly the opposite. For some reason, the screaming was getting louder and louder.
And Madara's despair grew more and more. It was the same vocal cords. How is this possible?
Madara was inwardly drenching himself with tears. What are the chances?
Tobirama frowned slightly.
“Strange, you're doing everything right. Maybe there's something wrong with him? Is he not healthy? But when I designed and edited his DNA, there was nothing–”
Madara inwardly screamed in despair. There was something wrong with the child! There was wrong with him just about everything!
Tobirama was a powerful man, an incredible genius who could bend science and the laws of the world several times over. But even he couldn't control what kind of soul a person would be born with!
It was a disaster. Nothing in this world is perfect. And even a seemingly perfect child, created under controlled conditions.
Madara shifted his pleading gaze to Tobirama. He even began to hold out his arms to him along with the child.
“Tobirama, take him, please. Maybe he'll be calmer with you?” Madara tried to speak logically, backing up his words and request with arguments. He knew how to persuade his husband. “You've been with him much longer than I have, he's already used to you. And I am a new person to him. Maybe it's too soon for me to take him in my arms?”
Tobirama looked into Madara's eyes, then at the baby. There's clearly something wrong here. Something he didn't know yet, but something very important.
The baby ended up in his arms.
“Okay, but after he calms down and falls asleep, you'll tell me what's wrong.”
Tobirama began to do exactly the same actions as Madara. He gently rocked the baby in his arms, humming a simple lullaby.
Warm daylight was pouring in from the window. The picture was incredibly cozy: a handsome man with snow-white hair and carmine eyes gazing lovingly at the boy, who was still reluctant to calm down and continued to express his displeasure at the world.
Madara, though mentally riding the worst emotional roller coaster, couldn't help but marvel at the scene. He activated the sharingan again and memorized the moment.
There had to be at least one good memory in the next eighteen years where he interacted with this lousy kid.
The expected miracle didn't happen – the baby didn't start to calm down as soon as he got into the arms of the other parent. Instead, it happened gradually. It was unclear whether he was exhausted or whether he really appreciated Tobirama's care and efforts.
Either way, after a while, he finally fell asleep.
Madara mentally counted the time. How many opportunities they had to talk.
Tobirama put the baby back into the bed as gently and quietly as possible. He covered him with a blanket and gestured for Madara to go out the door.
Once they were in the hallway, Tobirama said in a quiet voice:
“It's hard for me to tell whose child this is, yours and mine or yours and Hashirama's? I have a feeling it's the second option. He's yelling as loud as the two of you put together.”
Madara grinned bitterly. Oh, that's not the word. It was Tobirama who hadn't seen him in his teens yet. That's when the question of genetics and heredity would be brought up again.
“You have no idea, dear, how accurately you've guessed the problem.”
Tobirama tensed at hearing the word 'dear'. Whether Madara had noticed this habit of his or not, he only used this address when he was about to start a conversation about bad news.
Tobirama sat down on the padded chair near the door. The corridor was empty, only the sounds of an elevator and nurses running could be heard somewhere at the end. The Senju and Uchiha families, some of the most famous in this new world, rented an entire floor of the hospital. As families whose members were politicians, scientists, military men, actors, teachers, businessmen, and even heroes, they were acutely aware of the need for anonymity and privacy.
Madara, as a successful politician, and Tobirama, as a renowned scientist, especially needed it.
That was why they talked quietly in the hallway. They knew no one would see or hear them. Except maybe the baby at the door.
Speaking of which.
“Tell me. What's wrong with that baby?”
Madara took his eyes aside. He didn't know how to talk about this important issue.
“Madara. Look at me.”
He did so. Black met red. Despair and hope met with acceptance and calm.
Tobirama reached out and lightly ran his fingers over the back of Madara's hand.
“Whatever it is, we'll get through this together. I've been wishing for this too, okay? I like kids and I'm glad I was able to have them in this life. With you.”
That was what broke the ice. Madara wrinkled his face and felt a tear roll down his cheek.
“Tobirama, I'm so sorry–”
Tobirama stared back perplexed. What was going on? Where are the tears coming from?
He jumped up from his chair and began gently brushing the tears off Madara's face. A gentle movement of his thumb caused a new stream of water to flow.
Tobirama felt a slight sense of deja vu. Love and tenderness did not soothe, but instead caused the manifestations of negative emotions to intensify.
At least a point in favor of Madara's genetics.
“What happened? Why are you sorry?”
Madara made sure to take a deep breath and began to say.
“It was all me. My selfishness and the consequences of my mistakes continue to catch up with me even now. Even in this new life, when we've all been given a second chance in a more peaceful time, in a different system, I still manage to screw things up.”
Tobirama felt a pit forming in his stomach. A terrible suspicion began to overpower him.
“I knew you wanted children always. I wanted children myself. I've really been waiting for this moment when you would once again accomplish the impossible and we would be happy, not just the two of us, but the three of us.”
Tobirama hurriedly interrupted Madara. He couldn't listen to this anymore. He needed to know if he was wrong or not.
“Madara, what's wrong with this child?”
Madara looked him in the eyes and finally said out loud what he was afraid to admit even to himself.
“That child is most likely a reincarnation too, just like us.”
And then added, in a barely audible voice:
“Forgive me.”
Tobirama lowered his trembling hands and took a half step back. He shifted his gaze toward the window in the distance.
“That's impossible. So far, we've only encountered reincarnations of people who were closely related to us in a past life and had the same familial relationship we had then.”
Madara wrinkled his nose slightly. And so the conversation came to the most uncomfortable part. It was clear what Tobirama was implying.
“He's not my biological child. He wasn't then.”
Tobirama asked in an absent tone.
“But? I feel like there's a but.”
“He was my student and protégé. My heir, if I may say so. I saved him once.”
Tobirama finally looked at Madara again.
“That's not the whole story, is it? I've known all the children of the Uchiha clan and there wasn't a single one who was close to you. I would know.”
Madara grinned bitterly. The reminder of who he was and how he acted hurt him. And yet it was the truth.
It was time to open another old wound.
“He and I met when I was no longer living in Konoha. And even when you were already dead.”
Tobirama looked at Madara incomprehensibly. What was he talking about?
“I personally dissected your corpse. You died before I did.”
“Perhaps I could fake my death. I could have faked my death, waited until you died for real, until a suitable child came along and inherited my will and idea. Or I might not have done that. Who knows.”
Tobirama felt his shock being replaced by anger. It was that seething and uncharacteristic anger unlike his cold nature that gave him away as the son of Senju Butsuma.
It was the willingness to scream, to tear and throw.
“You mean you were alive for at least a few more decades? You kept playing your games with the world and dragged an innocent child into it?”
Madara opened his mouth to say something in his defense, but Tobirama interrupted him.
“Don't you dare say anything to me to justify your actions. Who knows what you did to get that child to you. You think I didn't see where you were going with this? You were at that moment a crumbling relic of the past who was angry with me and the world. You lived far enough away that I couldn't feel you, and yet this boy somehow ended up near you and was clearly desperate enough to take in all your ramblings and tirades about hating the world.”
Tobirama paused briefly. He never spoke for so long, except in lectures and conferences.
He felt something crack between them. It was the ice that had bound the vast lake of lies that was now beginning to come out. It was quite clear that he had not heard even one percent of the story.
There was something more here that Madara hadn't told yet, and Tobirama wasn't ready to hear yet.
Tobirama raised his hand and signaled to Madara that he wasn't done.
“Wait, don't say anything, I need to sit and think. In silence.”
And that's how they spent the next ten minutes. Tobirama stared absentmindedly straight ahead, while Madara paced back and forth in the hallway. Both were overcome with the most elaborate thoughts and ideas.
Tobirama was thinking about what to do with this child now, and how to raise him. If Madara is right, isn't he already an adult like them? What was his character, his views on the world, his plans for life? Was he as embittered against the world as Madara was in the early years after reincarnation? If so, is there any way to soften the sharp edges?
The more Tobirama thought about it, the more horrified he became. He saw the situation as hopeless. How can he think of reeducating a man whose name he doesn't even know? He knows nothing about him, and already he wants to change him and rebuild him.
A thought flashed for a second that made Tobirama feel even more sickened. Aren't there quirks that allow you to erase memories?
He tried to push those thoughts away as fast as he could.
Madara had a lot on his mind as well. He was thinking about how to save his marriage with Tobirama after he found out all the pitfalls of this story.
That he would find out everything, Madara had no doubt. He knew the little rug rat well enough to know that he would get back at him in every way possible.
It was time to stock up on sedatives, hair dye, and wrinkle cream. You could even subscribe to products or set up a business. Why not?
Finally a question cut through the silence.
“What's the boy's name?”
It was a simple question, and yet Madara felt an almost physical pain in his throat as he uttered the answer.
“Obito. Uchiha Obito.”
Tobirama sighed. He did his best to make his voice sound as calm as standing water.
“How many percent are you sure it's him?”
Madara laughed for the first time since entering that room. It was a laugh full of all sorts of emotions other than joy.
“I'm one hundred percent sure. Well, maybe ninety-nine? Don't you always say there's no such thing as one hundred percent probability?”
Tobirama didn't appreciate the attempt at a joke. He wasn't at all interested in laughing right now.
“How did you even recognize him? Even we are slightly different in appearance from our versions in our past lives, but you recognized him at first sight.”
Madara pondered the answer. It was something that opened up another rabbit hole that even he was afraid to go down, to understand the true reasons and mysteries of the universe.
“As strange as it may sound, he is similar to exactly the same degree to that version of himself as we are to ours. Too bad we don't have access to transformation jutsu anymore, I'd show you. But I'm sure it's him. Just wait three years and you'll see.”
Tobirama reflected. Three years of waiting and uncertainty. Three years of living in limbo, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It all sounded depressing. Suddenly another thought came to mind that made the perfectly straight posture disappear.
Perhaps neither Tobirama nor Madara were never, in any world, destined to have children.
Madara took a few steps and stood directly in front of Tobirama. He hated seeing him so broken and desperate. They may have lost the battle, but not the war.
Madara slowly placed his hands on Tobirama's shoulders, giving him a chance to shake them off. When there was no response, he began to talk.
“Tobirama, listen to me. Perhaps the situation seems quite hopeless to you right now, and you feel like this already crazy family is going to fall apart from too much craziness and weirdness. You feel like we won't find common ground and we won't get along. But I assure you that things can be fixed.”
Tobirama looked Madara in the eyes and spoke in a voice devoid of emotion.
“And what can we fix?”
Madara frowned. He would regret this, but on the other hand, he would regret it even more if he didn't. All rambunctious kids need something to calm them down. A favorite toy, a piece of candy, or–
“We need to find two people who can make our life with him more tolerable. Something tells me that if he's here, so are they. If we all keep our names after reincarnation, I think it should be easy.”
Tobirama hummed thoughtfully in response. Something told him it wouldn't be. As Murphy's Law stated: if something can go wrong, it will go wrong.
Tobirama covered his eyes and tilted his head toward Madara's right hand. They stood like that for a while until Tobirama remembered something.
“Our brothers will be coming here soon. You go meet them and tell them to be very quiet and not to wake the child. It will be harder to calm him down the second time.”
Madara nodded. He had no objection to this plan of action.
“I suggest we keep his name. Let him be Uchiha Obito. If we gave him another, he would simply change it or never use it.”
“What if he doesn't remember anything? Like Hashirama, Izuna, Kawarama, and Itama? After all, there's a good chance that nothing will happen and our fears were in vain.”
Madara grinned widely. That would be too good to be true.
“I'm sure he'll remember everything. What's more, I think he got here on purpose, unlike us.”
Tobirama rose from his chair and made his way over to Madara. He heard the quiet sound of notifications on his phone. It sounded like guests were on their way or had already arrived.
“Two last questions. Just keep your answers short, we'll discuss the details later at home.”
“Okay.”
Tobirama took a deep breath and asked the first question.
“What kind of quirk could he have? Besides the basic sharingan.”
Madara thought for a couple seconds before answering in a weary voice. He knew Tobirama would be angry at what he heard, but better sooner than later. Besides, his anger would eventually cool down.
“There are two options, really. The first. He had a mangekyo sharingan, but this is where the complications begin. He gave one of his eyes to a friend and I don't know what his abilities are or if he got his eye back. But the eye he had made him impenetrable, gave him access to a separate dimension of his own and teleportation.”
“Isn't that too much power for one eye? And for an Uchiha to give his eyes to someone willingly? His friend is also an Uchiha?”
Madara chuckled softly.
“No, he's not Uchiha. There was a complicated situation there and I'll explain it more later. But I'm not finished. The second option is a mokuton.”
Tobirama tensed.
“Is he Senju?”
“Not to my knowledge, no. But I gave him Hashirama's cells and they took root too well. So that's an option too. I'd still bet on the former.”
Tobirama felt his anger return. What a terrible day, it had been a long time since his mood had bounced around like this.
“And how far have your games with Hashirama's DNA gone?”
Madara thought back to his chest and one small detail. He swallowed nervously. No way, there was no way he was going to say that out loud to himself.
“Let's talk about it later.”
Tobirama took another deep and calming breath. That's right, time.
“Alright. One last question and I'm outta here. What are the names of these two people?”
Madara didn't even have to strain his memory to recall what he had heard hundreds and hundreds of times. He would obviously hear it at least a thousand more times.
“Nohara Rin and Hatake Kakashi. I'll give you a description later.”
Tobirama blinked in surprise. Hatake and Uchiha? Again? How ironic.
The thought of kissing Madara crossed his mind for a second, but he dismissed it. After so much talk and new truths, it was as if there was no desire to interact so closely at all. At least, not yet.
He limited himself to a quick squeeze of the shoulder and headed for the door in silence. A disgruntled and sleeping Obito was waiting for him.
Madara looked sadly and lost at Tobirama's back, turned around and headed towards the elevator. He too had received messages that family members were in place and eager to see their favorite nephew.
Welcome to the new world, Uchiha Obito. Your dreams of heroes and their recognition have become a reality.