one_long_mission | [open] a way to beat the cold

Itachi stepped between them, throwing his arms out.

"Weren't we... just discussing a peaceful future... a village with clans banded together? No more fighting? No more... bloodshed?" He tried to hold the fighting at bay. His voice was breathy, but stern. He meant every word. "Madara, he was your friend until... you heard his family name! Hashirama, you trusted me... and I'm an Uchiha. Isn't that right?"

"What about our dream?!" The boy cried out.

"Yes..." Itachi echoed. "What about it? You... don't have to fight here... No one has to die!"

Tobirama gave a light huff. "Well then, you most certainly are a one-of-a-kind Uchiha." he adressed the taller. "Surely you are aware of your curse." the youth was not going to be fooled.This is why, Hashirama..." he gazed to his big brother, eyes holding a tinge of sadness. "...they cannot be trusted. How easily he changed sides..."

Madara snarled."I should spill your guts right here, Senju!" the sharingan flared, and yet... yet there was this struggling clansman stating that peace could be achieved, and there was Izuna... "I can't build peace with a Senju!! Not when my three brothers' blood is all over your clan's hands!" he cried out and jumped, taking ahold of a tree branch with a free hand and swinging himself above Itachi in order to strike at the others.

As Tobirama had stated, the curse of hatred had conusmed him. "Stop daydreaming, brother!" he drew his blade, two hands upon its hilt. "It sounds like you miss your brothers terribly. Joining them is something I can arrange."

Itachi saw Izuna fly over his head and immediately rushed into the impending battle.

"No! Stop... both of you, stop..." he wheezed, stumbling as he tried to still stay between them. It didn't matter that blades were drawn. He was determined to stand his ground. Peace was possible. If only he could convince them of what the future held. "Killing each other... will not end a war or... bring anyone back from the grave... It's... it's pointless!!"

Madara saw everything with that sharingan, and it was why he could react.

He was not certain why he reacted this way either... what even pushed him to do this.
He kicked his little brother's blade away, knowing the younger had little chance to stop himself, and then, then.. there was the matter of the Senju...

Tobirama was going to strike down the Uchiha. There was no hesitation as he plunged his blade... but then.. then it pierced something he did not foresee. How had he gotten here so fast?
Madara had shoved Itachi out of the way, blocking the strike that would have pierced through skin, inbetween ribs and reached his heart from the back.
Instead, the blade was there, having gone right through Madara's arm. The boy, sharingan filled with something almost demonic, had gripped the end of the blade with his free hand, effectively stopping the Senju from taking out his sword. All he could do now was leave his weapon if he wanted to run.

No Senju hurts his clan. None of them...

Hashirama was beside himself. He didn't know whether to grab his brother and run or whether to try and help his friend. That sword had gone straight through his arm! The wound itself wasn't fatal, but he'd seen enough of his clan die from infected wounds. He knew the battleground wasn't the only cause of death among shinobi.

"Niisan!"

"Madara!" Itachi spun around, forearms and knees scraped from where he'd slid across the rocks. The fact that he would have died didn't bother him as much as the fact that the boy had just sacrificed himself.

Finally, he had to realize that there were more than enough Uchiha to take care of Madara. And a few moments from now, there was an angry Izuna charging after his younger brother. (Both of them were such hot-heads!)

"Tobi, we gotta go..." he hesitantly stepped back. "Come on, leave your sword, we gotta go..."

Madara had hardly sacrificed himself. Everything looked calculated. He had not even flinched when he took the hint. It was as if he was registering no pain at all.

For Tobirama, it was as if time stopped. This made no sense. No one could do such a thing... and yet here the Uchiha was, standing his ground after stopping his attack, and even more: not letting him run away.
"How about you go and wait for me in hell, Senju?" Madara stared, knowing he had him pinned. He did not even need the fully awakened sharingan or illusions. It was all real, his deed and his pain were real, and the other's disbelief and fear were something magnificent. "You went and got yourself a demon with his sights set on you."

Of course he meant his little brother.
Nearly a second too late, Tobirama snapped out of it. He let go of his blade and blocked Izuna's strike before finally retreating.

Hashirama weaved his signs on the move, putting a wooden wall between Izuna and his retreating brother. As they left, Hashirama's voice could still be heard - "Not a word to Father! Please... Not a word!"

Itachi was also shouting, though his voice didn't carry nearly as far. "Izuna... let them go! It's over... let them go..."

The wood wall burned with Izuna's rage, but he didn't have much of a choice once they started running. Madara couldn't keep fighting with his arm like that. And this other Uchiha, who he didn't even recognize, didn't look like he could fight at all. Their three against two advantage had turned into a two against one disadvantage if he pursued.

Tobirama argued that there was no way he could come up with an excuse believable enough to have lost his primary weapon. He would be ashamed for the next three decades, to need a sword forged gain...

Meanwhile, back on the other side of the wooden wall, Madara gave a groan, falling to the ground as he tried to work the sword out. "Izuna... stop hacking at that stupid wood and---" he was about to ask to come help him, but... "WOOD!?"

Any flare of pain was forgotten as he crawled closer to the slowly burning wood. "Stop that fire! We need a sample! Did you ever see a wood jutsu!? Father won't believe us!"
Not only would they bring back an enemy's weapon, they would also bring information on their techniques. "The Uchiha can't lose with this!" he turned to Itachi then, finally starting to try and remove the blade once more. "Now that it's you and me, how about you tell me what's even goin on with you? Father doesn't take kindly to deserters..."

There was a good part of Itachi that wished they could simply leave the sword behind - a peace offering from the Uchiha to the Senju. But he knew that wouldn't happen. He wasn't a mednin, but he knew that pulling that blade out could cause just as much damage as the actual attack. And in a world like this...

"Stop... Stop, Madara... Don't... Don't pull it out..." He hastily pulled the bandages from around one of the child's leg, and tried to wrap them around the wound. He was no medic, but he did know basic first aid from his time as an active duty shinobi. "Keep your arm still... Izuna. Stop gathering things to use against them... Help your brother hold this stable... How far... is your settlement? Are there medics there?"

That was the first priority, of course.

"As for... who I am... I'll explain on the way..."

One might wonder if this was not part of the reason Uchiha wore bandages. They could use then to dress wounds on the fly provided they were not too dirty. Thanks to this, most of the blood was kept from escaping further.

The boy was strong... but his limits were showing. This might be the first time he has had that grave of a wound, and the manner in which he stares at it, there are some things he cannot comprehend.
Instead of answering or giving directions, his dark eyes slide over to the oldest among them. "...that 'nother test?" he asks, eyebrows slightly creased.

Of course, Izuna will give the approximation, at least an hour's walk. They could run faster though. They do have Ren-san at the settlement, an apt medic.

Itachi struggled to get up himself, and then tried to help Madara, holding that katana steady. At least it was only a child's blade - lighter, shorter than an adult's full-sized weapon. It would be easier to hold onto.

"Can you make it... an hour... more... like that?" The question left Izuna wondering whether the asker could answer it himself. This strange Uchiha looked like he could break after one punch or maybe a strong gust of wind. And he was talking like he was completely out of breath. It didn't add up.

"We're walking." Izuna muttered, helping his big brother keep his arm steady.

As they started on the path, the boys leading the way, Itachi broke a stick from a nearby tree for additional support. There was silence for a few minutes, and then, Itachi finally answered them.

"I'm... from a shinobi village called Konohagakure... I guess you could say... that it's a lot farther away than I thought it would be... from here..."

"I could make it a day if I had to!" the boy snapped. The only important thing was that his little brother was safe. "This thing hasn't hit anything vital, see? I can still move my fingers down there."

As they walked and the other's provenance was revealed, he frowned. "So you came from... somewhere not the settlement?" he was starting to need to fight against pain, even if the weapon was kept from moving too much. "You better hope Father remembers you, or that you've got a really really convincing story for him. An Uchiha from the outside, with a sharingan? Try and live more than five seconds..." Tajima Uchiha was a ruthless leader... and this one Itachi... hardly seemed strong in anything but the mind. Even a strategist, however, needed to be able to fight.

Itachi questioned whether he should reveal that it was a different time he was from, not merely a different place. It might be too fantastic of a story, even for children.

"It's... very different than this place." he added instead. "It's why I was so interested... in your plans... You see... I come from a village... made up of multiple clans... living, working, fighting together. Your dream, his dream... it's possible. I've lived it."

Madara remained silent for a long while. In the end, there was a light mutter. "..good for em then." His father would never agree to it... There was no way it would work. Besides, Hashirama was a Senju. "If you grew up with peace then, that means no one's been taken away by anyone else before they reached ten years of age." that was why he couldn't understand his hatred towards the Senju.

"That's... not true..." Itachi sighed. Then he stopped himself.

He couldn't reveal the sins of a village that hadn't been founded yet to one of its eventual creators. He couldn't speak of the massacre he was forced to commit, not here.

"There was still war... brutal conflicts between nations... I was four when the last one took place. And I was on the... battlefield... just like any other shinobi..." he explained. "But at least... there... conflicts weren't constant. The village itself was peaceful, and would band together... to fend off an outside threat..."

(Oh, the unspoken irony, that its largest threat was supposedly an Uchiha revolt and that only one person need sully their hands with it. It was in direct opposition to what these boys would eventually work for, wasn't it.)

"But we've lost people... I've lost people... My little brother... he lost... far too many people when he was younger... But he still had friends to help him - an Uzumaki, a civilian-born Haruno... and others that he trained with... A Yamanaka, a Nara, an Akimichi, Hyuugas, an Aburame, an Inuzuka..."

The list of clans that had banded together really did go on and on.

"If you talk about peace with our Father, he's not going to take it well... no matter what proof you have that this worked." he warned. "I can't say how that meeting'll go, either. You might be an Uchiha, but you'll need a really, really good reason to show your face in the settlement."

He bit his lip, pondering. "...I hope the worse won't happen... You know there's still time to go back to wherever you came from. If Father sees it as the best way to protect the clan, he won't hesitate to end your life..."
His own dream was still broken, shattered... but the pieces were all there. He could rebuild it. Sometime...

Itachi put a hand on Madara's shoulder. He understood the concern, but it was more difficult than that.

"I'm afraid it's... not that easy..." He paused, catching his breath as much as forming his thoughts. Even if he could get back to Konoha, he technically couldn't. He was a missing nin. But back to Michi no Sato, the village he'd come to call home? "I... don't know... how to get back. I don't know... how I got here..."

The settlement, it seemed, was the only place he had to go, at least for now.

"Don't know?" Madara paused, blinking back over to him. "You mean stuff like light amnesia?" it wouldn't be surprising that the smallest thing could just set him off, as weak as he appeared.

"Well.... guess we're gonna have to hope Father is feeling generous.. People that can't fight aren't worth much, plus, there--" he suddenly stopped, a sharp hiss escaping him as the blade moved just a little into the wound, air making contact with raw flesh. "..darn it..."

"Careful..." Itachi winced with sympathy. "And no... Not exactly... More like a justu..."

Which was even stranger than amnesia.

"You mean someone teleported you here?!" Izuna scoffed. He never heard of a teleportation justu sending someone so far away that they didn't know where they were. "That's impossible!"

"A lot of what we think... is impossible... Is only impossible until someone makes it happen..." He replied, feeling more out of breath the more they walked. "Much like a ninja village..."

"There's jutsu that can do that." Madara gave a low hum. "Pretty sure Father'd know the specifics, but there's this Namikaze clan no one else can contend with that have somethin like that..."

And yes, yes, he did catch the poke made at his ex-dream, thank you very much...
Soon, the settlement was within sight, and it was about time. Madara may not have stopped walking and not have whined much, but he was decidedly paler than he had been at the river.

There was an uproar once they reached the edge of the settlement, and neither of the three were allowed to pass, multiple angry sharingan all set on Itachi. Madara knew he just might as well keep silent until his father came, and murmured to Itachi that he should do the same.

Once the Head of the clan arrived, the rest scattered with a wordless wave of his hand. His eyes fell upon his sons first, sharingan almost pulsating with anger, demanding to know the reason for this intruder. He knew this had to be an Uchiha. His son would never show anyone else the settlement, but many Uchiha that came from outside were traitors.

Madara did do his best to explain about the river and the brief scuffle, looking about three shades paler. He made no mention about why he was at the stream, however, but this was not anything inquired about. The boy made sure to explain about the sudden appearance of this other clanmate and bring up the similarities to a Namikaze-used jutsu before his father sent him to Ren-san, their medic, although from what Madara could see, his father was not convinced and may ask Izuna for a second version later.

This left him alone with Itachi.
The man looked quite unconcerned about the other's current health, reaching out to grab his collar and pull him so he would stare into his eyes. His tone was cold, colder than a winter night without fire. He did not know his name. He did not care. "How long have you been outside the settlement's boundaries?" to Itachi's credit, however, he could sense that the other's hands were not completely clean.

Izuna followed after his brother, having added at least a few odds and ends about managing to snatch a sword from a pathetic Senju along with samples of a new wood jutsu. Itachi watched them go, until his entire field of vision was taken up by a pair of angry sharingan.

It was not difficult for Tajima to seize him. He was weak for an Uchiha, too sick, too thin. He clearly didn't belong here, or anywhere else. But despite the sudden coughs, there was a strange sort of resolve in Itachi that was almost impossible to place.

Until his eyes shifted.
Revealing the mangekyo sharingan.

"... My... entire life..." he answered with as much strength as he could muster. He hadn't unleashed any specific jutsu yet. But he was prepared to. "I was born in a village... a shinobi village... far, far away... This is my first... time at your settlement."

He paused, steadying his already thready chakra.

"Believe me... I mean you... no harm..."

What was this?
What ever was this feeling welling within him?

Tajima was unable to place it, because he had never felt it before. Fear was something unknown to this day, and to feel it crawl under his skin and shift and jumble his mind was a state he had never been into.
Regardless, he was the leader. His law was absolute, and the clan's safety and continued existence was his duty.

Now, this man here may be weak and appear amazingly pathetic on one end, but on the other?
"What... is..." he was unable to even finish his sentence, gazing into the other's eyes. Fingers slowly released their grip on the cloth. He wanted to look away, but could not.

Itachi was at quite the advantage here, because history had yet to be written.

Itachi's first thoughts were self-preservation, but when Tajima stuttered, he finally realized the full extent of what he'd just done.

The clan history was clear. Madara was the first to awaken the mangekyo sharingan. But the Madara he just met was still a child. That hadn't happened yet - which meant no one had seen eyes like his. Ever.

He nearly collapsed when Tajima let go of his collar, but managed to stay on his feet.

"May I please... stay here... until I can find my way?"

Itachi was easily granted the right to stay within the settlement. He even had a small house all to himself. It had once belonged to someone, but the one that had lived within had never been back, war taking lives without care.

Orders were quickly given that no one approach him, and should they be approached themselves, to give him whatever he asked for... not that Itachi knew.

A few hours later, most likely after regaining his wits, Tajima came in without even knocking, sharingan still ablaze, demanding to know how he had gotten those eyes.

Those demands fell on a man who'd apparently taken to a pallet on the ground as soon as he had a roof over his head. His breathing was harsh, ragged. There was blood splattered on his lips. He was not well, not well in the slightest.

He heard the words. They played back and forth in his mind.

The answer - of course - was that he killed his closest friend and suffered tremendous loss. But that wasn't something he wished to share. This was a time when power was everything. Revealing that kind of information could lead to much bloodshed, much tragedy.

"... L..later..." he muttered weakly. "Maybe... later..."

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