The Uchiha Princess
At long last and five children later, Uchiha Tajima got the daughter he always wanted. It was a joyous occasion for the one hour before conflict started, before the Senju began another raid and he was reminded what a danger life was for a new, young Uchiha as the bodies of other (new), young Uchiha, still babies themselves, piled up. A precious daughter, a girl, his girl could not be raised amongst such violence. And so, while his sons, and her brothers, remained to fight, Uchiha (Y/N) was sent away to grow up in safety, but far from her people, her family, her home. The Princess of the Uchiha, the clan elders sneered as Tajima let go of his daughter. She will be soft, and weak. But she will be far from all of this, and as soft and weak as she may be, she will be safe.
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Fifteen years later
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For the most part, you liked it on the mountain. Sure, it was far from home, and far from your brother (the only one left now) but the temple was nice. The old ladies were great company, even if they didn’t quite understand your sense of adventure they made for fantastic conversation. You’d learned quite a bit from them over the years, which plants to eat, to poison with, to heal with. How to sew, cook, weave. Not women’s skills, they said. Life skills.
The master of the temple was an old swords maker and retired shinobi by the name of Kaneda. Though a sweet groundskeeper now, his scars told stories of great battles before he dedicated himself to the temple. Per your father’s request, he trained you daily, in addition to the exercise required to complete your chores atop a vicious mountain terrain. And so amongst the skills you picked up from the old ladies, you honed your jutsu and swordsmanship. The Princess of the Uchiha was not so soft and weak after all.
Days were long, but fulfilling like this- between chores, training, and studies, you were never quite bored. But still, the same routine, day after day, year after year, was tedious.
Temple visitors, though far and between, saw a beautiful shrine maiden, with the gift of spirit sight, they would learn, though the gift was truly more of an annoyance to you. Dressed in silks, smelling of rich incense, and brandishing a sword, it is how you looked every day, and it is certainly how you looked today, when Uchiha Madura stepped into view and announced the clan was ready for your return.
“Mads!?” you gawked. He rarely visited, the clan head can hardly take much time off, even to visit his little sister. The last time you saw him was a year ago, at- the memory rushes back to you, a clan head's tears, bandages over eyes, a mutilated body- Izuna’s funeral. But you had no brothers left to lose, (aside from the one who was quite clearly alive and in front of you), so the news could not be terrible.
“The Senju have reached an agreement with us,” his big, booming voice out of place in the usually serene and quiet temple grounds. “There is no longer a reason for you to be up here.”
He ruffles your hair and grins, at only 24 the war and his role as clan head had hardened him into a brutal soldier, but the playful boy with a secret he left at the Naka was still well and alive behind the mask.
“When must I leave by?” you ask. Kaneda-sensei and the temple ladies would not take kindly to your sudden departure after fifteen years of being your family.
“I intend on staying for three days, I can help you pack if you wish. When you decide to come down is your own choice, though it must be before the end of the year.”
For three days and three nights, Madara helped you pack 15 years of your life into boxes. You had no intention of leaving with him, the old ladies wouldn’t stand for that, but in a few more weeks you would be on your way to the newly founded Konohagakure, newly free of war.
On the second day, while packing, you came across an old photo of you and Izuna. Madara’s face hardened, twisting with sorrow.
“Is Tobira-“ you start.
“Don’t,” Madara snarls before you can finish. “Don’t even say his name.”
It was no wonder Madara hated him, the murderer of his final and youngest brother. Protected in the temple, you’d only ever heard of the white-haired and silver-tongued Senju, who killed with vicious efficiency, wasting no movement. Supposedly both the fastest shinobi and greatest sensor there’s ever been, and so different from Hashirama, his older brother and the Senju clan head. And… Hokage. That’s a new word.
You sigh. “Is the peace in the village true?”
He thinks for a moment. “Months of negotiations with the Senju, and surrounding clans like the Inuzuka, Hyuuga, Nara, and others could not so easily be undone. There is real peace. Hashirama and I made sure of it. The village is our dream, our child in a way.”
Our child in a way. You try and hide your smile, but your brother doesn’t miss it.
“I’m not the same person I was when I was barely a teenager,” he scoffs.
“Well, you’re just as unmarried,” you retort.
He blinks. “I’m only 24.”
“Is Hashirama not married with children?” you cock a brow.
He sighs and looks away. “Yes… he is. And it’s Hashirama-sama to you, (Y/N)-chan. He’s your hokage now.”
With all your things mostly packed, Madara leaves, taking with him a few boxes sealed into scrolls for easy carrying. The few days of sibling bickering fueled your excitement about finally moving out of the temple, which had begun to feel suffocating in your teenage years. After a week or two more of packing, saying your goodbyes, and being showered in small, handmade gifts by the temple ladies, you stood at the temple gate, ready to descend the mountain for a reason other than a family member’s funeral.
“(Y/N)-chan,” Kaneda-sensei called out. He smiled softly at you, were those tears in the old master’s eyes? “My final swords, and my greatest work,” he said, handing two heavy blades to you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you through your arms around him.
“Thank you, sensei,” you weep into his arms. He was your father, in a way. Tajima would visit, and he’d bring the boys, but it was always just a visit. He was always just a visitor.
You tied the blades at your waist, marveling at the craftsmanship. Kaneda-sensei truly was a master of his craft. With the last of your things either in a pack on your back or sealed into scrolls, you began your descent down the mountain and toward Konoha.