Summary: Where the Sage is a meddling old geezer and Madara is a Kurosaki.
Disclaimer: Neither Naruto nor Bleach is mine.
Warnings: Language, shinobi and Madara.
Word Count: 3270
Author's Note: I'm writing this to improve my skills in English language. I don't know if it will be continued. It may or it may not. If you don't like it, don't read it. If you saw some mistakes please point them out to me. If you have some advice, I'm open to any suggestions. It applies to all the future chapters. Thank you.
The first time he became aware that something went wrong with his death (and how could something go wrong with death?) was when he woke up.
He gazed around quickly, cataloguing everything he could use to his advantage, his fight or kill (because there was no flight in his vocabulary, he would win or he would die and that was it) instinct going haywire.
There was an endless darkness around him. He could see his body just fine (and it was his old body, his skin was wrinkled and his hair was white and his bones ached) but everything else was just black.
And then when he was quietly wondering if that was to be his punishment for every deed he has done in his life (plus Edo Tensei deeds and post Edo Tensei deeds), a voice cut through his thoughts.
"It is not so, Uchiha Madara."
He whirled around (well, as much as his old body allowed him to whirl) and would have jumped if he was anyone else. As it was his eyes widened dramatically and his lips parted a little.
Then he frowned.
"You're... Otsutsuki Hagoromo. Rikudo Sennin." He stated flatly, his voice more of a rasp than the smooth baritone he last remembered having. The Sennin was floating in a lotus position six feet away from him, his expression serene, his shakujō in one hand.
The Sage inclined his head, "Indeed." Silence followed that confirmation but Madara was patient. He will wait for the explanation.
He waited for the explanation for all of five seconds.
"What is going on." He demanded briskly.
"You were cheated by the black creature and followed the instructions it left, thinking they were mine. It was not so. I should have known about it abhorrent presence. I should have expected my mother to leave something like that behind. For my lack of vigilance, you have my apologies." Here he slowly lowered his head a little. The Uchiha nodded slowly.
"What am I doing here then." He gestured around them at the dark abyss. "You said that it is not my punishment. Then what is it? A reward?" He mocked, surely not. Surely, for nearly taking over the world and while at it killing a lot of people wasn't something to be praised.
"It is not. I myself brought you here. It is..." Here the Sage hesitated slightly, only for a few seconds but still. "Personal. Yes, that is the correct word. You are the reincarnation of my elder son, Indra. That means that, in a way, you are my child." He fell quiet.
Madara's frown became more pronounced, "Well, what of it?" He asked harshly.
The Sennin sighed and closed his eyes as if in pain. "I may have wronged Indra in some way, when I completely ignored him when it came to carrying on my legacy." He grimaced and continued, shooting Madara a reproachful look when he opened his mouth to interrupt once more. "That's why I want you to have a second chance." Madara felt himself go numb.
A second chance? What does that mean? A thousand possibilities flew through his mind all at once.
The Sage continued, "I will place you in a world without shinobi and the constant bloodshed that has followed them through generations."
Madara actually could feel himself hesitating but in the end he slowly shook his head. "No. I want to see my family. I want to see Izuna." He would have liked one more shot at living a happier life but he wished to see his brother more. A pity, truly, a chance like that and he refuses. But he missed Izuna and the Uchihas were sentimental, no matter the fact that others thought them incapable of even the basic of human emotions (it wasn't all that surprising, what with the typical impassive Uchiha default face nearly everyone in the clan acquired one way or another), so-
The Sage looked at him with surprise and... was that a trace of sheepishness? "Forgive me but it seems you misunderstood me." Madara straightened his back and scowled automatically because he didn't like the sound of this. "For I have already placed you in a this world." Wow, Madara wanted to wring that pale neck so bad.
By some weird coincidence (it was no fucking coincidence, it was the Sage, it had to be), he was named Madara again. Kurosaki Madara.
Madara wished he didn't remember his rebirth. It was a traumatic experience. He still felt rather squeamish about it. And who wouldn't? Being pushed out of a woman's vagina did that to a man. He shuddered at the mere thought.
The mother of this body wasn't that bad, he decided after his eyesight cleared enough to finally see her whole and in detail. The woman was a good parent, if a bit frantic and she worried constantly (the body he inhabited was so obviously her first child) and quite easy on the eyes.
On the other hand, the man... He was a complete moron. Madara always disliked morons. Hashirama was a moron but he had some qualities that made him worth putting up with his idiocy, he was a strong and good leader (although he would rather die than admit it but, well, he died so the point was moot) and one of the only ones to fight him toe to toe.
This man had no such qualities. He was an idiot and a klutz and he wailed dramatically about everything, being mushy and generally unbearable. But Madara could feel something about the man. And sometimes, when the man held himself differently, his stupidly happy face melted into a serious business face and Madara couldn't put his finger on it but it was there, damnit! The feeling. The inner strength. It was there or it used to be, at least. Because Madara could spot fighters from a mile away and this man used to be a fighter. He was well built, a bit too bulky for a ninja who needed to be stealthy and quiet, but still a fighter.
But no matter what, Madara couldn't stand idiotic weaklings. He despised them. He was allergic to them. That was the truth. He respected and tolerated Hashirama but he still didn't like him. So it wasn't really a surprise that he didn't tolerate this body's father. He mainly just ignored him and tried to regain some mobility.
On top of that, he could feel some unknown energy in the air and in his body. Of course, there was his chakra (and it was the same amount as when he died the first time, thank god) but there was also something else. He planned to discover what exactly it was and then how exactly does one use it to fight. His plan was to regain his former strength and more on top of that, after all.
He was ready to go on, back then. To meet with his family in heaven or boil in the deepest pits of hell in his personal VIP cauldron full of acid that ate away at his skin and bones or even the combination of the two above because Kami fucking knew his family wasn't full of saints.
He expected those outcomes. He could even say that he felt nervous anticipation and slight apprehension (not fear, never fear, Uchihas did not do fear). He was ready.
What he wasn't ready for was the Rikudo Sennin himself sticking his nose in his life (or was it death, now that he wasn't alive?) and fucking with it. And, what the actual hell, you meddlesome old man? (He stubbornly ignored a voice in his head telling him that he was a hypocrite because he was both an old man and his meddling, even after his death, nearly brought the world to its knees.) He was supposed to finally get a break from the hectic life he led! He was dead, after all, and deserved his rest!
He wanted a little peace, damnit! Not the let's-live-a-nice-life-with-our-dead-loved-ones-inside-our-heads kind of peace which he hoped to achieve through the Mugen Tsukuyomi but the honest to Kami my-old-bones-ache-I-just-want-to-sleep-and-never-wake-up-again kind of peace.
Well, Madara thought, it could always be worse. He gazed at the dancing fool that called himself this body's sperm donor and conceded after a second because no, this sucked Tobirama's sweaty balls.
And as with everything he ever wanted or desired was it really such a surprise that he didn't get what he wished for?
Instead of death he gets, well, life! When he wanted to live, he died and when he wanted to stay dead he lives?! What the flying fuck, Hagoromo?
He stopped this train of thought because it was slowly bordering on brooding, his face scrunching into a frown and the idiot in front of him always bawled when he directed his Uchiha scowl at him.
Not that he cared about the idiot or anything.
"Look at daddy, little man! Aren't I just the funniest daddy on the planet, huh? Madara?" The stupid dance was once again performed by the cretin and gods, Madara felt embarrassed just by being in the man's presence. They were in public place, couldn't he at least pretend to be normal?
He glanced around from his seat in the trolley. They were in a supermarket and this body's mother got distracted by some product and left him with the idiot. Madara closed his eyes, praying for her to return because the dance was turning more ridiculous. Additionally, the man lifted him from his trolley seat and started twirling him around, spinning with him in his dance and generally disregarding the fact that his son ate just half-an-hour ago.
Madara felt himself turning green.
"Son! No! Hold it in! Don't-!" And he threw up. And despite the little tears in his eyes, Madara was vindictively pleased with the result because the man was silent and still and his aim was still excellent, no matter the weapon. Vomit was a projectile weapon, no matter what anyone else says.
He chuckled and even if it sounded more like a childish giggle the evilness and a sense of accomplishment was heard by the male who would have dismissed it if not for the face of his son which was one of utterly no regret, an eyebrow raised as if to say 'what are gonna do?'.
The arrival of the third member of their little trip interrupted their staring match.
"Isshin! I told you not to aggravate him! You know how grumpy he is! And right after he ate! What were you thinking?" And as Madara was lifted from the man's arms and placed in his mother's, he put his chin on her shoulder and as she turned away with a huff, the corners of his lips ticked up and his dark eyes glinted.
And Isshin would swear to his death he saw his son smirk at him.
"But-but Masaki!" He shouted after her. "He did it on purpose!" His only answer was her unimpressed look. "He smirked at me, Masaki!"
"Sure he did." She muttered and quickened her pace. Isshin stood rooted in place and then promptly dropped to his knees and wailed.
Two years after he was pushed out of this woman's vagina, another child met the same fate. Hopefully, he won't remember it. Madara didn't wish those horror memories on innocent people.
"It's your little brother. His name is Kurosaki Ichigo." He wanted to snarl that the only little brother he will ever acknowledge is Izuna but his whole heart wouldn't be in it as he already more or less accepted the fact that he isn't Izuna's brother biologically anymore. And damn, wasn't that a depressing thought.
Though Madara had a hunch, from the first glance he took at the disfigured, pink thing with a tuft of orange hair (the hell?) resting in the woman's arms, that his life was about to be turned on its head. His hunches were rarely wrong.
He didn't want to involve himself with these people. At all. But somehow... Somehow he started to grudgingly accept this family and he mentally added them to the list of his people. His to spend time with and protect.
It was... Nice, he supposed. Nice to simply have someone there. And he had two (three if he counted Isshin, the moron) someones.
Sometimes he truly wanted to thank the old geezer for sending him to this world.
Sometimes he truly wanted to rip out the old geezer's spine and gut him with it.
"-least try to be friendly and make friends with other kids!" His mother tried to hug him but he easily sidestepped the embrace, scowling thunderously. She sighed, gave a little smile and stood up. And then she walked away.
It was four years since he was dumped here by the meddling fool and he would have taken great pleasure in strangling him with his own intestines.
Madara was gritting his teeth and glaring a hole in the back of Masaki's head for taking him here. To this hell. What did he even do in his past life to deserve that? Oh, wait, never-fucking-mind. He would rather boil in hell than be forced to spend time in the presence of these screaming monsters.
The little spawns of Satan reminded him of the Senju children and it was enough to send a shiver down his spine.
His... Guardian (he refused to call her mother right now because he trusted her and she betrayed him) thought it was a good idea for him to attend something similar to the Academy. Only it wasn't the Academy because there were no shinobi around. And in his humble opinion it wasn't a school because frankly, this place had nothing to offer him in the this department. He already read every book he could reach in the house and his chakra control has gotten better so he could get books from the higher shelves as well.
This new world was interesting, he was fascinated by nearly everything. The science was in a whole different level here, the same to nearly everything. There were multiple languages, cultures and religions. It was amazing.
This world was something else.
That idiot Hashirama would have liked it.
Madara scowled, where has that ridiculous thought come from? He shook his head, focusing on his surroundings once again.
Kindergarten was the worst place imaginable. The children were loud and clumsy. They cried when they tripped and they needed to be constantly watched in case they accidentally stuck a crayon up their noses or ate dirt. They were carefree and ignorant. They clearly didn't know war. Or anything, really.
And Masaki left him here for the next few hours.
He. Was not. Pleased. At. All.
... Though Hashirama would have really liked it.
He was labelled as genius early on because of course he was. He wasn't going to sit and study something as simple as writing , counting and basically repeating everything he already knew. It would be unbearable and demeaning.
His mother (he was back to calling her that, she made some mean inarizushi) was delighted. Her husband wailed about having a little prodigal son and then promptly tripped down the stairs.
His mother agreed to bumping him up a few grades and soon he was sitting in class with children four years older. He was still unimpressed with the material and thought about requesting another test to put him in more advanced class but his mother was worried that he would lose his friends and didn't want him to join even older kids.
He called bullshit.
He didn't have friends either way. He made himself clear at the very beginning of his stay in this class about what would be tolerated and what would not. He wasn't too pleased when the eight year olds tried to treat him like a baby or belittle him.
So he shoved them up in academics. And when they thought they could push him around and demand his lunch (it was inarizushi) he showed them that it was a bad, bad idea.
They thought they could steal lunch from Uchiha Madara, enough said. And even though he was an adult inside, Madara was never known to be merciful. But that was the old him. And killing wasn't really tolerated in here. So he did the next best thing. He beat them black and blue.
The teacher never knew who put them into hospital and the four victims were too scared of the consequences to babble. Madara knew they won't tattle. It was soon assumed that it was the job of the local Karakura thugs.
Nobody looked at the four year old twice.
He started training once he could move his body. It was only stretches at the beginning but he slowly started on his katas, the Uchiha clan katas and the ones he himself created.
He also started training with his chakra and was absolutely delighted because he could activate his Sharingan. And then he tried the Mangekyo but it didn't end well. He managed it but the strain on his little body was too big so he slept for two whole days. His mother thought it was the flu.
So he started slowly, baby steps. But of course, in Madara's perception, that meant normal ninja chakra-influenced leaps.
He was lucky that this body was so similar in built to his past one from when he was a child, not too tall or too short. The limbs were all sleek, but not fully formed, muscles and not bulky or delicate with baby fat.
His face was different than the one of Uchiha Madara though. It had the aristocratic features alright (the high cheekbones and eyebrows) but it was still different. His face was a little longer, chin more pointy. His nose was still a little button that his mother liked to call cute but he will grow into his looks more in a few more years.
Thankfully, his eyes were still as sharp as ever and the colour of charcoal grey, nearly black. His hair was black too, like it was in his past life.
Madara sighed from where he was lying on his bed and tucked arms under his head. His bed was a comfortable one, with white sheets and tucked under the window.
He looked around his room. It was painted a dark blue color and the furniture was made of dark wood. There were books neatly stacked on the desk and in one big bookcase which addressed many different things, from biology to astronomy and even the art of origami. Everything that caught his interest was there.
There were also many notebooks hidden around the room and tucked in between the books which contained some illegible doodles and numbers. But the ones with Uchiha blood would recognize and lift the Genjutsu placed on them. And only Madara himself would be able to read it anyway, as all of the notes were written in a code he came up with.
The notes contained everything he remembered and copied with his eyes (it was a lot, especially with the Sharingan fully functioning and himself being a genius). That information would come in handy if he ever forgot anything (doubtful) or needed to simply relax and remind himself that no, he was not mad and no, he has not thought the shinobi world up.
He slowly closed his eyes and drifted off into a light (because shinobi habits die hard and enemy could take advantage of his inattention and gut him) slumber.