Uchiha Family Dramatics
“Excuse me?”
Madara’s brows furrowed as he heard the young Hyuuga shinobi’s words, glancing away from his sightseeing and down towards the top of her head. He could feel Hashirama’s gaze on him but paid it little mind, far more focused with the matter at hand.
He bristled a bit as the woman repeated, perhaps a bit more impatiently than was strictly necessary, “I said, someone is waiting for you out by the main gates. He has submitted to and passed all security checks, but is unaccompanied by any clan or family to register himself under or have vouch for him. He claims that he has no relatives left outside of Konoha’s walls, citing you as his closest living kin and the only person who may be willing to speak for him. As a matter of the fact, he claims to be tied directly to you.”
Madara paused, taking it all in a second time as his mind shot outwards in countless different directions.
His direct kin?
Someone without relatives outside of Konoha?
Someone he may be willing to vouch for?
Surely there had to be some sort of misunderstanding somewhere along the line. For this person to be his direct kin…that would mean…he would need to be related directly to the main line of the clan.
None of his younger brothers had managed to reach the age in which they would have been interested in courting themselves a lover - let alone procreating. Other than Izuna he supposed. Though frankly, his younger brother had never much showed any interest in the opposite sex so much as he had in his own…
Not that he himself had much room to talk.
He supposed it could be one of his father’s sister’s children, though it seemed a bit of a stretch for the other to claim himself direct kin to the Uchiha head household if that were the case. He hardly had a shortage of cousins running around, after all.
His hands drew upwards to shift some of the hair from his face.
He was almost certainly overthinking things.
He was sure that upon making his way down to the gates, it would simply be someone with distant Uchiha blood, hoping to make it into the village and off the road using whatever names were at his disposal.
The thought left a faint pinch in the back of his mind as he turned, making his way down the hill and ignoring the faint sound of Hashirama fast on his heels. “Very well. I will look into it.”
He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know Hashirama was following him downwards and along the steep incline, his thanks to the woman only a brief pause before the brunet was right at his side once more. His soft dark eyes watching him intently, somehow managing to pry the words out of Madara’s throat without so much as opening his mouth. “...You are welcome to come as well, Hashirama.”
Really, how the man managed such a perfect puppy-like appearance at his age…
Madara shook his head, focusing on the road ahead of them even as Hashirama began to whittle on from beside him. “...I’ll admit, I expected some stranglers claiming distant lineage to appear now that the groundwork has been laid, but I thought it would be later.”
And certainly not of the Uchiha clan, Madara heard his invisible nudge.
“Yes, well, I suppose it’s only to be expected. Hiding through the battled but coming to claim the spoils…how bold.” he shook his head, already feeling a bit of ire well in his chest as the idea circled around within him.
Just what sort of coward was sitting at the gates, hands held out and utterly unaware of the shamelessness of it all?
He was half tempted to call to the gate guards and have him sent away on pure principle, if not for the risk it posed to their bloodline.
Madara frowned to himself at the thought, his annoyance doubling in size as he heard Hashirama’s vague hum of agreement from behind.
At the very least, this clansmen of his deserved a scolding for his arrogant entitlement to their hard-won victory and his own personal time.
Yes, if he wanted to waltz his way in through Konoha’s gates and demand to be part of their clan, he would have to accept that much from their leader at the very least. The man was lucky it was he himself that was dealing with such a stunt and not his father or, spirits forbid, grandfather.
The front gates swung open with perhaps more force than was necessary as he pushed through them, the irritation in his gut evaporating as he saw the clansmen in question.
The small, dirty, exhausted looking clanmen who he was sure would hardly reach his chest had he stood.
Kneeling perfectly on the ground, shoulders rigid and head bowed - medium length black hair cut to his shoulder with ebony eyes which refused to look up past Madara or Hashirama’s ankles. A tight frown lingering on his lips as his hands curled tightly against his pants, as though able to sense his elder clansmen’s former agitation even now as it slipped away…
“Ah, the messenger didn’t mention that your visitor was so young, Madara.” Hashirama’s steady voice alleviated some of the tension that had built at least, the brunet moving down to kneel in front of the boy as he spoke. Something Madara was sure the silver-haired demon would have yelled at him for had he been there to see.
Madara’s arms crossed as he watched, a feeling of relief washing over him as Hashirama’s hands moved out and over the shallow scratches which lined the boy’s face. “That he did not.” he agreed mildly, content to allow his friend to handle the child for now.
After all, Uchiha blood or not, with seemingly little to no time spent within the bounds of their clan, he doubted the boy would be effected by the natural weariness most his clansmen had to Hashirama.
No, in fact, it was probably better to leave calming the boy down to Hashirama. Children had always been rather drawn to Hashirama; much more than they had ever been to him. There was just something about the soft, delicate way Hashirama-
The child’s neck all but snapped to the side, eyes clenching shut as Hashirama reached out to touch his face.
His voice rang out like a bell in the silence, slicing through Hashirama’s smile and Madara’s own reserved composure. He spoke clearly and with purpose, unwavering despite the fear that seemed to wrack his being.
“Please refrain from touching me, if you are so willing, Lord Hashirama.”
The child waited for another moment to let out the breath he seemed to be holding, up until he heard Hashirama’s almost awkward stammer of “Oh, my apologies!”.
Madara watched as his friend turned to him with a distinct pout - seeming to try and fail at fighting back the urge to sulk over the rejection. “Perhaps you would rather speak with Madara…?”
He half expected the boy to back out when he heard that suggestion, the child’s neck turning back into place before craning upwards to look upon Madara. The older Uchiha did his best to look less imposing, dropping his arms from their crossed position and instead laying one on his side as he looked downward. “Yes, I believe I am due an explanation, based on what the gate guards have conveyed.”
Madara’s eyes narrowed in thought, the familiar angles of the young Uchiha’s face meaning little in terms of their relation. It was clear he was of Uchiha blood, but claiming relation to the main house was…a bold take, certainly. Perhaps a mistake made out of sheer lack of knowledge in how these things worked, given his age. He waved his free hand, motioning for the boy to continue as he ordered loosely, “So introduce yourself then, and explain to me why exactly it is I should vouch for you.”
He would, ever so reluctantly, given the circumstances. But regardless.
An extra layer of paleness seemed to spread over the boy as he seemed to steady himself, the eyes which had lingered loosely around Madara’s face finally locking with his own as he began.
“I am Itachi Uchiha, son of Izuna Uchiha and Kohana Hinode.” the words were spoken with crystal clear pronunciation, dark eyes turning to red as if reaching out in desperation towards Madara - as if adding a silent plea for the elder Uchiha to believe him. The boy’s lips seemed to quiver a bit as he spoke, pressing into a thin line and all but ignoring Hashirama’s expression of sudden comprehension to instead focus on him. “I am ten years old, and have been-”
“Ten?” Hashirama’s jaw just about dislocated from his skull, the man looking Itachi up and down with something between disbelief and worry. “Izuna would have been fifteen at best around the time you were born, so I imagine your mother was as well! For a child of your stature-”
Itachi turned sharply over to the brunet, a bit of the sadness leaking from his eyes and being replaced instead with insult as his hands balled further into the too-big-for-him shirt he wore. “I can not help it if I am larger than most kids my age, Lord Hashirama. Mother says- said- I just… some kids get taller faster than others.”
Madara froze at the sight of the boy’s head lowering again, suppressed tears pricking in the corners of his eyes as he spoke. The world seemed to stop and move entirely too fast at the same time as he listened to the child’s story, the ache that had yet to - and probably would never - dull in his chest swelling to six times its usual size. The part of him that wanted to be logical, to protect his brother’s good name, wanted to lash out at the very idea - yet the other half stopped him, urging him to fall to his knees then and there. To look into the child’s eyes and promise him all would be well. To see him through the eyes which had doubtlessly looked upon this boy many times already.
“...But yes, mother and father had me young, I suppose. I don’t know what the standard would be, exactly, but she said…mother said she liked that she had us early, so we got to see father before he was married to someone of a more worthy bloodline than her.” the child’s eyes were now filled further with tears, his composure slipping away.
“Father told my brother and I to stay with mother, to never leave the bounds of the forest gates, to never be spotted by the other children coming to train or the adults who came looking for dinner, but I just-” tears began to spill despite the little one's best efforts, dark bangs sticking slightly to his face as he made the move to actively shift away from Hashirama and towards Madara; hands planted firmly in the dirt below as he bowed to the elder. Utterly unaware of the way Madara’s heart had lept upwards and into his throat, a thousand questions ripping through him. “Father wanted us to hide from the wars, but wasn’t able to hide himself. Mother went out looking for him…but didn’t make it past the first town on her own. I tried making it to the Uchiha clan territories with my brother, but he just…it was too far, and there were too many of them.”
Itachi’s voice cracked right alongside Madara’s resolve, the taller Uchiha kneeling down to wrap an arm around the younger’s back and pull him in for a hug. Something in his heart shattered as he listened to the boy continue hurriedly through a sob, as if worried he would take his kindness back if he lingered too long. “I’m sorry uncle, I’m sorry. I’ll- I can- father and mother taught me how to fight, even if I’ve hardly had any real practice. I can learn. I can be a good shinobi for the clan, I just need a chance. Please, father- father said to look for you if we ever found ourselves without him or mother to turn to. I’ll be- I’ll make it worth keeping me around, just-”
Madara pulled the boy in closer, fully sitting on the ground as the child began to weep - unable to handle hearing another word leave his lips. No, he was sure the tears that had pricked in his own eyes would surely spill if he did.
Itachi Uchiha. A little boy, no older than he or Hashirama had been back during their meetings near the lake. At the very age when his own trust in the possibility of an uncruel world had crumbled, replaced with the cold realism of his father. A trust he was still struggling to grasp ahold of, trust he was sure only remained due to Hashirama’s backing…
Trust he could feel swaying in the young life that clung to him, head burrowed in his shoulder as Madara held him in place. Trying with all his might to understand what could have possibly been going through his brother’s mind.
How could he have not told him? Even on his deathbed…eyes pried from his own skull and pressed into Madara’s hands. How could he have kept such a secret…why had he…
To keep the boy safe from the war, he had said?
…Oh, how he wished he was able to say he would have. How he wished he as an elder brother could have assured Izuna of it, unmarred by the weight that came with being the clan head. If only it were so simple. If only…
“You aren’t going anywhere, Itachi.” he would forever deny the slight crack in his voice as he spoke, looking downwards and at the child who so resembled the brother he hadn’t been able to see for many months now. “Your father was right. You did well coming to me. You did so, very, well.”