#Madara uchiha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wing-ed-thing · 17 hours

Text

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter VIII

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including graphic violence. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

Notes: For those of you who have been saying "wow! I wonder what's going to happen next!"... me too.

Following the last Senju raid, which had nearly decimated the Uchiha village in its entirety, the reconfiguration of the land shifted. The newly appointed clan head, Madara, led your clan up the mountains to higher ground as the Senju more than doubled their already sizeable territory, spreading across the sprawling forests.

One of many wooded mountains in the range that bisected the Land of Fire, the one that the Uchiha chose to call home was the largest and was appropriately dubbed the “Grandfather Summit,” which boasted three great peaks. The smaller outer two were called the “Guardian Shoulders,” while the peak in the center was simply called the “Crown.”

You supposed that some ancestors long ago had thought the sizeable structure to be anthropomorphic enough to be a golem or perhaps a god. You could see it, although the shape took on little more than what you thought a child could draw. Madara never believed that the Grandfather Summit looked much like a man at all.

“It is a large pile of stone and nothing more,” he would frown and perhaps cross his arms with a tilt of his head. But his unimpressed notion of the Grandfather Summit didn’t stop him from relocating what was left of his friends and family up the mass of rock following the most destructive blow on the Uchiha tribe in recent history.

You couldn’t believe that Madara had been able to set his pride aside for such a move. While all the clans in the Land of Fire bordered on nomadic in some way or another, a clan as large as the Uchiha typically opted to stake its claim in a sizeable plot of fertile land. After all, a clan’s ability to keep their territory was a marker of status in and of itself.

But in the end, Madara moved you away from the patch of forest you had called home for all of your life in pursuit of the Grandfather Summit. You were almost certain the remaining elders were unabashed in sharing their thoughts before they were forced to submit under Madara’s domineering presence. And you knew just as certainly that if the previous clan heads were alive, they would have given him an earful.

“They are buried so deep, the earth fills their mouths too much for chatter,” Madara would surely say.

He hardly followed rigid tradition, even when it mattered, so you weren’t surprised when protests fell on deaf ears. Madara’s changes were apparent, even from the distance you hid yourself. Only strong young men filled the war room, with no wrinkled brow or shaky joint to be seen. Just like Madara, they were all chosen through combat.

Madara took his place in the center of the room, stroking his chin gravely as he studied the map. Izuna stood at his side, both wrists folded and resting on the hilt of his sheathed katana. Four stones sat each corner of the table, holding down the corners and pulling the artisanal paper taut as the band of Uchiha warriors took turns gesturing and poking at the depictions drawn below.

The Uchiha settlement sat between the Crown and the southern shoulder, which offered the most fertile and settleable land. Although despite resting on the lower of the collection of peaks, the southern shoulder still undoubtedly offered the highest ground compared to the land in the surrounding radius. The current positioning of the Uchiha compound was second only to the treacherous northern shoulder and the Crown itself, which reached the clouds in the heavens above.

It was no wonder the Senju were beginning to close in from the north.

At least, it made sense to you. You were no military strategist.

“It would be impossible.” One of Madara’s councilmen scoffed. You saw the flippant wave of a hand through the crack between the windowsill and the closed shutters. “Say the Senju manage the northern Guardian. The chances of their warriors taking on the Crown are slim to none in and of itself. There is too much to lose in an attempt to ambush us from the skies.”

“Nay, save such speculative talk, for we are far past speculation.” Another flippant wave. “The Senju have already sunk their claws deep into the northern shoulder. Farther than we could have ever anticipated. Perhaps your words would be true if we had only heard rumors of their traveling north, but it was only a sennight ago that my brother carried a Senju crest back with him from patrols.”

“An ambush from the highest peak of the Grandfather himself?” A third voice scoffed. A shadow teetered back and forth, swiping across your eyes from where you hid, wavering in the candlelight. “What must Hashirama Senju be thinking? He is certainly out of his own head! He thinks himself a god!”

“He thinks himself nothing.” Madara’s voice was low and raspy, churning in his chest like a beastly growl. His nose scrunched to the side, contrasting the nonchalant bob of his brow and shrug of his shoulder. He rested his elbow on his knee, allowing his forehead to rest in the area between his index finger and thumb. Madara took a deep breath, letting another growl-like rumble resound in his chest. “He thinks himself nothing.”

The light from the candles that lit the room flickered, casting shallow shadows across the warriors gathered. They littered the room silently; all turned toward their clan head with watchful eyes.

No one dared speak but Izuna.

He leaned down, bowing at the waist, to speak directly into his brother’s ear. Madara quirked an attentive brow.

The red pattern of your already ignited sharingan swirled in your irises as you watched from your hiding place. Your breathing slowed to steady streams of hot air, and all of your attention focused on Izuna’s lips.

“It is worth considering that the Senju…” A curtain of hair fell over the side of his face, obscuring your view. He continued to whisper as you tried to track the movements of his mouth from behind strands of hair.

A chill came over you. Goosebumps began to pop up across your skin. A shiver worked its way down your body in a wave, starting from your shoulders and ending at your thighs. It was only then that you met Madara’s eye.

He peered directly at you, straight through the tiny slit between where the window and the shudders were supposed to meet. Your breath hitched in your throat, everything around you slowing as you felt the hairs on your arms rise.

And with the slightest breeze, you were whisked away like smoke in the cool summer air.

***

The meeting didn’t adjourn until late into the night, and it was only when the candles were snuffed out that the soldiers began to head home. The moon shone brightly overhead, appearing more prominent in the sky than it had during any of the previous seasons. Even without lanterns, the entire Uchiha compound remained well-lit. Madara and his forces trickled out of the meeting building’s doors, exchanging formal nods with each other as they set off onto the moonlit paths.

Madara paused before the wooden steps, eyes focused on the trees that swayed gently in the evening breeze. Izuna stood on the porch behind him, silently following his brother’s gaze from the trees back to Madara.

He lingered on the Uchiha clan head for a moment before making his way down the steps. Izuna approached him with certainty, placing a firm hand on Madara’s shoulder. Only through touch did Madara snap out of his trance, blinking a few times as he tried to conceal his acute surprise. Izuna returned his hand to his other in their usual resting place at the hilt of his katana, offering his brother a knowing nod.

Madara wordlessly understood, making his way down the dark path toward home.

Izuna loitered in the middle of the dirt road. His shoulders relaxed under his robes, and his hands never once left their slack position across his weapon as he watched Madara disappear farther and farther into the distance.

Only when Madara disappeared over the small dirt hill in the distance did Izuna set his sights on the trees. He peered at the spot where Madara had been fixated on, slowly pivoting himself in the earth to face the patch of dark forest.

“Reveal yourself,” he commanded. His gentle voice carried a great sternness.

He stood patiently in the open, ever so sure of himself and not in need to prove it.

You respected a man’s ability to manage his seriousness devoid of aggression. That was likely why you obeyed him, moving out of the shadows to step into the moonlit patch of road not too far of a distance in front of him.

If it were up to you, Izuna would be clan head.

Not that you had any power to make those decisions in the first place.

Izuna eyed you with mild incredulousness. You expected no less from him.

“I told you to reveal yourself,” he repeated, voice ever-neutral. You sighed softly, bowing your head as the double before Izuna melted into the atmosphere. Your true body emerged from behind a nearby tree a distance away. Izuna continued to eye you wordlessly.

“I deemed it worth an attempt,” you said, clearing your throat. Izuna didn’t humor you.

“You forget yourself.”

Quiet overtook the night once again. You dared to venture farther from your hiding spot, stepping through the grass toward the ever-still Izuna. Your limbs protested, your instincts locking your joints like those of a wooden doll. You stopped at the edge of the path, protected by the shallow shadows of the trees and feet still planted in the line of the forest.

You could see the tension build in his neck. Having already been lost in thought with the Senju affairs, you were sure your woman’s trick hadn’t been the most well-thought-out plan in the face of Izuna’s clear vexation. Quite a few Uchiha women were known to unlock their ocular abilities, but unlike their male counterparts who were expected to partake in battle, the Uchiha women’s sharingan techniques were almost entirely passive.

Most of them centered on making illusions, for an image of a beautiful, vulnerable woman alone in the woods may distract enemy warriors long enough for a mother to escape with her children. The mother often taught these techniques to the young in her home for similar survival reasons.

You waited for Izuna to speak again. It was best to wait, as unlike Madara’s explosive, violent fits of predictable rage, Izuna kept his rage artfully, dangerously restrained. Like storm clouds slowly rolling in to cover the sky above, you knew that Izuna’s thunder could crack at any moment.

“I will have no more of your nonsense, and neither will Madara,” Izuna harshly proclaimed. He slowly turned away from you, hands never moving from where they sat on the hilt of his swords. The skin of his nose crinkled a bit as if he were holding back a bitter snarl. “You know not what you involve yourself with. A woman knows nothing of the matters of men, nor should she be as involved as my brother has allowed you to be. If I were clan head, an apprentice would have replaced you as apothecary long ago.”

You stared at him as he tried to fight off the bitter look that threatened to contort his face. The redness of your sharingan had long extinguished, but you hardly needed the enhancement to study the man before you.

“There is none more knowledgeable at the present. Makihara was… Makihara was far too liberal in his ideologies. And with the war effort, we cannot afford a lesser medicine maker.” His stoic exterior faltered for a moment with a dip of his lip. Izuna gazed somewhere in the distance, lost in an anger caused by something greater than you. “But above all, Madara wishes not to take more from you than has already been stripped of you by the Senju.”

Izuna drew his attention from the ground to the moonlit sky overhead. A full moon peaked from behind the thin clouds, illuminating the road in a silver sheen. He pivoted a foot as he regarded you, the cracks in his exterior beginning to sink back into his cold exterior.

“Then, it is not in your control,” The gentle evening breeze carried your level voice. It was soft and undaunted, like an Uchiha woman should be. “Nor is it in mine.”

“Why do you stay?” he asked in an even tone. “I ask myself why you forget yourself so, and why has fate encouraged you?” Izuna gazed up once again at the sky.

You stood in the darkness, shrouded by the forest.

Izuna stood elevated in the light, blanketed by the glow of the night.

“An Uchiha, yes,” he continued coldly as if the words he recited were nothing less than factual. “But you boast no living blood. You, a woman— you have no interest in the value of tradition. Instead, you busy yourself with matters that do not concern you.” Izuna’s gaze sharpened but didn’t narrow. “Your heart is easily swayed. Your flesh is soft and bleeds when it is struck. You consider not what is done on your behalf; I implore you to consider it.”

Izuna’s sword drew from his hip in a flash, and the tip of his katana drove into the ground. The polished metal sunk a few inches before stopping.

He finally breathed. He hadn’t realized that he had begun to heave or that his sword had been pulled from its sheath. Izuna stared at the hilt for a moment; hand still gripped around the woven handle.

“I advise you to retreat from this place,” he muttered, heaving another deep breath as he removed his weapon and slid it back into its usual place by his hip. Izuna turned once more, squaring his shoulders back as if the mere act of speaking to you angered him to the core. His robes snapped with the motion, flowing in the air as he stormed off, ever-militant. “Our world as we know it thrives on deception, and you are no different. Retreat before your illusion fades like the fog before a flame.”

He stalked off down the path, leaving you where you stood in the darkness. Your form remained shaken but undaunted.

***

The Uchiha’s most formidable forces were venturing off to defend the northern shoulder. It was the talk of the village from as early as daybreak, and the entire compound bustled with life as everyone made preparations.

The journey that the warriors were to be making was most perilous. Due to the incline, there was no better way to reach the northern shoulder than to pass around the Crown summit. If Madara were to lead them upward, the warrior party would encounter a few narrow routes that led directly north. If only a few warriors were leaving, the journey might have only taken about a day or so, but with a battalion the size that Madara selected, you anticipated that it would take them a few days to reach the northern shoulder.

Women carried back firewood and prepared provisions. Children ran across the village, delivering messages and small amounts of raw materials. Metal on metal sounded from the forge. The ovens churned the scent of bread products into the air. And just shy of the center of town sat your apothecary.

You propped the door with a large rock and tied the shudders open that morning. Warm natural light trickled into the main chamber, where you stood, slaving over a mortar and pestle at the counter.

The apothecary didn’t appear too dissimilar to your old workspace. Made of mostly wood, it stood on giant tree trunk supports. Five wooden stairs led up to the entrance, and a small patio housed a few pots of herbs.

Large cabinets lined the walls, reaching about hip height with sturdy shelving just above to house a tall arrangement of medicinal goods. A half counter bisected the room, separating the entrance lined with goods from the back of the building, which flared out a short distance on either side. Heavier jars and handling tools were stored in this section farther into the apothecary, leaving room on the extended countertops for you to use as a workspace.

In the very back stood a winding wooden staircase. At the top sat a loft with a small library, and at the bottom was a door out the back into the small plot of land you called your medicinal garden.

Madara’s warpath kept your counters as messy as ever. To your left, you kept trays of various herbs and mixtures laid out, ready for the adolescent soldiers to pack into bags to put into field kits.

“You should be able to administer the wound ointment.” You frowned, stopping your work to hold up the two halves of your concoction. “First, you are to place the powder—”

“I am aware of the ways in which to administer medicine,” Madara groaned, letting his head tilt back. He rolled it from shoulder to shoulder, gazing off toward the ceiling as if that would make you stop talking. “I have not the time to learn your convoluted experiment. Where are the items I requested from you? Izuna should have notified you.”

Madara leaned over your counter, and you met his gaze. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought he was bored, but the mischievous glint in his eyes was unmistakable. With you behind the counter and Madara imposing himself onto your workspace, it was almost as if you were sixteen again.

“Some things never change,” you sighed. You turned to grab a small bowl from an eye-level shelf and placed it down on the counter with a huff. Madara caught your eye again, but despite the glimmer of curiosity that continued to swim in his dark irises, you knew better than to test him like you would have just a few years prior. “I insist that we try the deep-wound treatment first. The fibrous characteristics of the vallestinia, in combination with some moisture and the accelerant-type factors of the lamortens grand, can quite plainly sew tissue together with chakra in a matter of moments—”

“Unnecessary.” Madara placed his entire hand into the bowl, scooping up a palmful of pills. He let them slip through his fingers, falling back into the pile as he considered them. “The Senju will not allow us any time to spare to make use of lengthy healing processes.”

“But you wanted me to create these,” you posed, holding your tongue from making more than an implied criticism.

The last of the pills fell back into the bowl. Madara stared at the small compilation.

“I do not doubt that Hashirama Senju will be present on the northern shoulder,” Madara drawled, pausing between phrases. “The surrounding clans grow weary of battle, and I must admit that I have grown… tired of the state of affairs.”

“You?” you hummed an amused laugh behind tight lips. “The grand Madara fatigued of battle?”

“Fatigued from the act of burial,” he swiftly corrected. The corners of his lips twitched upward for only a moment. “Fatigued from my home being disturbed.” His words drifted off into a growl, a soft, bored rumbling in his chest. Madara often let his voice stall in his throat, the noises turning over as they churned into a low rumble.

“This is why I implore you to bring my latest ointment. There are but a few of them—”

“The Senju do not climb upon the Grandfather Summit to entertain prisoners. Should a warrior of the Uchiha sustain a fatal blow, he should take it upon himself to give his life in a suicide attack. It should be an honor for the final act of a soldier to be making his enemy pay.” He rose to his full height from his leaning position, glancing from the trays of herbs to the pile of pills on the counter. “Are these all you have crafted?”

“There are several more jars in storage. The herbs consist of a standard selection for minor wounds… for the journey home, of course.”

“Very good.” Madara nodded, not sparing you a second glance as he exited.

You wouldn’t see him again until the battalion departed. After a few short days of preparation, the gathering of some of Uchiha’s best warriors and other volunteers left before daybreak. You watched them go from the porch of your apothecary. Madara led them out of the compound, donning his infamous red battle armor and gunbai. Izuna followed close next to his brother. He didn’t look back at you either.

There was much fanfare, but it was soon over, and the Uchiha compound was left in peaceful stillness.

You busied yourself with foraging in the woods near the compound, enjoying the time you were left undisturbed. The doors and windows to your apothecary remained open so you could enjoy the cool summer air. Despite the sun, which shone brightly overhead, the temperature remained comfortable.

Something about the stillness didn’t feel right.

***

The Uchiha never made it to the northern shoulder.

The Senju made their approach toward the Crown, and both clans clashed on the rocky terrain that plateaued between the two summits as you tended to your garden at home. Madara and Hashirama engaged in combat, as they had for years, clearing out a massive section of the battlefield for their duel. The blistering heat from the sun beat down on the unforgiving field, leaving little but hot stone and wilted grass.

Not a far distance away, Tobirama’s sword clashed with Izuna’s. Their weapons crossed, shaking with the sheer force of their strikes as the two came face to face. Izuna flashed his sharingan, the deadly crimson pattern swirling to life in the heat of battle. Tobirama quickly closed his eyes, and Izuna used the opportunity to strike.

Tobirama tumbled back, slamming his back against a nearby boulder. A strangled noise tore from his throat at the impact. He wasted little time readying his hand signs, completing his jutsu before his eyes reopened in time to counter Izuna’s great fireball jutsu.

Steam filled the battlefield.

Not one to underestimate his life-long rival, Izuna held the reds of his irises at the ready, scanning the rock for signs of movement. Kunai flew toward him from the front. He hummed to himself, unamused at the feeble attempt.

And for a moment, he considered himself blessed to have been blessed with the sharingan eye.

“Flying Raijin Slice!”

At home, one of your flower pots fell from the railing on the apothecary patio. The sound of shattering clay startled a flock of crows, which flew overhead from a gathering of nearby trees. You stood just at the top of the wooden steps, staring down at the pile of shards, dirt, and upheaved roots.

You could feel it.

Something was terribly wrong.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: The last chapter, this one, and perhaps part of the next are a bit Uchiha-centric in order to set up for what I have planned. You know, I didn't even intend for Madara to have this much of an impact on the story nor did I even consider writing any Izuna, but here we are... I knew I had to kill him before I posted this.

Sorry for keeping everyone waiting. It's been really cool seeing the Foul Creature notifications roll in all the time. Especially when it's someone starting from Chapter 1. Always feel free to chat; I know my posts are few and far between.

@gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

#Tobirama x reader #Madara x reader #izuna x reader #naruto x reader #naruto reader insert #naruto #naruto fanfic #naruto fanfiction #izuna uchiha #madara uchiha #hashirama senju #tobirama senju #x reader #x you #reader insert #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #x naruto #fic: foul creature

22 notes · View notes