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(Accidental Teleportation to the Warring Clans Era)
Whatever the thing attacking them might have been, it was not human.
Oh, it may have started out human, but it certainly was not human anymore. Two lifetimes of association with Tobirama had taught Madara more than anyone reasonably needed to know about identifying the presence of a crime against the world’s natural order.
Not that there was anything wrong with being undead, it was simply helpful to know which set of tactics Madara should employ during a fight.
Not that Madara was fighting. Tobirama and Izuna had taken one look at the small army of revenants and immediately thrust Tsuna into Madara’s arms before flinging both Skies onto the throne and activating the shielding. A crackle like static combining with the hiss of escaping steam sounded over the clamor of battle. The defensive walls snapped shut and the world around Madara lurched as someone activated a teleportation seal.
Tsuna whimpered and clung to the front of Madara’s formal robes. Hushing his youngest son gently, Madara plotted suitable revenge on his consort and brother. How dare they force him off the battlefield before the enemy was defeated! How dare they coddle Madara like he was some pampered civilian!
Too much time spent infiltrating those mafia idiots had infected Madara’s Elements with stupid ideas. The escape pod shuddered around them, and Madara huffed in irritation as his ridiculously ornate formal robes swirled up like cresting waves, rippling slowly in the half gravity created to buffer the occupants of the escape pod against inertia.
Agreeing to a Sky Summit with the Triads had been a stupid idea. Madara never should have allowed his Uncle to talk him into it, no matter how many opportunities the meeting supposedly created for their Clan.
Sounds from the outside were muffled inside the pod, but Madara could still tell when they landed. A horrendous bang, a resounding crash like dropping a mountain down on a glassworks warehouse, and the violent spin of the shield walls were all rather telling on their own. Together they allowed no room for doubt.
Madara waited for the walls to fall still, the thin silk hems of his robes fluttering through the air like eddies in a stream. As things within the shields calmed back down, Madara reached out with his senses to gauge the situation outside his protective bubble.
Tobirama and Izuna were outside, but… Madara hissed through his teeth, eyes wide with shock and something too close to terror for comfort.
Hashirama was out there too.
/…/
Tobirama threw the sealed kunai, waiting for the Hiraishin marker to land and trigger, ready to end the rivalry between the Senju and the Uchiha heirs once and for all. Uchiha Izuna was too dangerous to let live. No matter how loudly Hashirama denied the truth, all of the Uchiha were too dangerous to leave alive.
The marked kunai landed, seal flaring, and the air between Tobirama and Izuna exploded.
Head ringing, blinded by the flash and choking on the combination of smoke and gritty dust, Tobirama had to rely entirely on his abilities as a sensor to escape the danger zone.
“Tobirama!” The frantic note in Hashirama’s voice made Tobirama wince even as he leaned into his brother’s strong hold. The battle had come to a standstill, Uchiha and Senju forces pulling back simultaneously. There was a clear line separating the fighters, the wounded being hauled away from danger much like Hashirama was dragging Tobirama back. Just like Madara’s blazing chakra had latched onto Izuna, the Uchiha were all scrambling away from the epicenter of the explosion. “What is that?”
Vision still blurred as leaking tears worked to clear the spots from his eyes, Tobirama squinted at the place where his seal had misfired.
Glittering in the light, a crystal lotus bud five or six times Hashirama’s height threw shimmering rainbow prisms in every direction.
“… Huh.” Tobirama blinked. Then blinked again when the scene did not change. “That didn’t happen during the production tests.”
Since Hashirama was still carrying most of his weight, Tobirama felt it very clearly when his brother whined in distress. “Please tell me it’s not going to explode.”
“If it was going to do that it would have done so when it landed.” Peering at the massive crystal sculpture curiously, Tobirama paused when Hashirama’s grip firmed, halting the subconscious attempt to move closer for a better look. “Anija.”
“No touching the pretty bomb, Tobira.” Raising his voice, Hashirama directed his next words at the rest of the Senju Clan fighters. “Fall back! Leave the Uchiha be and back away from the crystal!”
/…/
Izuna forced back bile as his brother’s swift movements caused a surge of nausea to climb up his throat. The explosion had left him rattled, pulse too loud and vision spinning from taking a chunk of flying debris to the back of his head. Madara’s arm secured around his back was all that kept Izuna on his feet.
“Get back!” Madara bellowed, pushing his Clan away from the Senju front line with sheer volume and spite. “Get away from that thing! The first idiot to bait the Senju answers to me! Now, back! Up!”
From the open space between the two Clans, the gigantic crystal flower bud shifted. Ringing clear and sweet as they unfurled, the petals fell open. Chiming bells and plucked shamisen strings, notes completely random without falling into discordance. Once the petals were at full extension, the glowing orb contained within the center rose up, expanding to fill the space defined by the open petals. A massive bubble made of flickering flames, containing a figure draped in elaborate robes and ornaments rich enough to make the Daimyo envy.
Once the orb was fully grown, the flames finally grew thin enough to be virtually transparent. The man looked between the Senju forces and the Uchiha with deliberate calm.
“Well now.” The voice was clear despite the distance, a familiar rasp doing nothing to mute the man’s voice. “This is unexpected.”
“What the fuck?” Izuna gaped, as the arm Madara was bracing him with went tense in shock and affront.
“What the fuck?!” Madara shrieked over the shocked murmurs of his Clan as his painstakingly coifed doppelgänger examined the battleground with a bemused expression. “What are you trying to pull, Senju?”
“Aniki, I think I hit my head harder than I thought.” Izuna mumbled piteously. “I’m seeing two of you.”
/…/
“Madara?” Sputtering in shock at the sight concealed within the crystal flower, Hashirama shook his head and took a few steps closer despite his previous orders. “Tobirama, why did you make a clone of Madara and dress him up?”
“I didn’t.” Tobirama insisted, following after his brother warily. The Uchiha would probably start moving again soon, and Hashirama was careless enough in his fascination to make a tempting target for a sneak attack. “The seal I triggered was for teleportation. I have no idea how this happened instead.”
“Huh… Really?” Coming to a stop a prudent distance from the blazing crystal petals, Hashirama tilted his head to one side. “So… he’s real?”
Tobirama frowned, thrown off his battlefield focus by the question. If this odd occurrence meant that another Madara had been teleported into the middle of their battle, that begged to question where did this Madara come from?
“Hello!” Without waiting for his brother to provide an answer, Hashirama waved energetically, beaming when the floating man in the bubble turned to face him. “Hi there! Are you real or a clone?”
Dark eyes blinked slowly, looking Hashirama up and down with visible dismay. “That is an odd question coming from a man with a demonic curse on his soul.”
Hashirama froze, face rapidly paling. “… What?”
Cursing his brother’s childish fear of ghosts and superstitions, Tobirama pulled Hashirama behind him with a scowl. “What do you mean by that?”
“Senju!” The other Madara (Tobirama swiftly suppressed the label of their Madara) stomped up. Tobirama counted the Senju lucky that the Uchiha’s gunbai was slung over his back rather than being in hand. Izuna was concealing his weakness admirably, but there was an unsteadiness to his gait that the hand Madara kept on his little brother’s elbow could not fully mask. Tobirama took note of that for when the fight resumed. “What is this nonsense? I will not be made a mockery of!”
“Oh! But! Madara!” Hashirama whined at his enemy, too casual and too friendly just like he always was when he addressed the Uchiha that had once been his friend. “It was an accident! We're trying to figure out if he’s a bushin, but…”
“Oh.” The floating Madara tilted his head, kanzashi chiming as long hair flowed in the glowing currents contained within the sphere of light. “You’re actually still alive. That’s impressive.”
The Uchiha Madara on the ground bristled. “What is that supposed to mean, imposter?”
“Well, it’s a paired curse, isn’t it?” Silk rippled as the man wrapped in flames shrugged carelessly. “You survived this long without going insane or succumbing to the curse yourself. Like I said, it’s impressive.”
“What? Madara’s cursed too?” Lower lip wibbling, Hashirama flung himself at Madara with a wail. “No~oo! Madara, we have to break the curse!”
“Hashirama!” The Uchiha leader hissed like an offended cat as he was hauled into a bear hug. Izuna reeled back as he lost his brother’s support, a ponytailed Uchiha with a string of charms on his sleeve darting forward to prop Izuna up before he fell. Madara’s face flushed bright red as he tried to flail his way free without making an action that would look like an attack. “Let me go, you overgrown Mossrock!”
Tobirama grit his teeth, offended to the very marrow on behalf of his slain kin by Hashirama’s shameless display of favoritism towards their enemy. If it had not been obvious before that his brother did not take his fights with Uchiha Madara seriously it was impossible to ignore the truth now. Only the feeling of Touka’s mist and steel chakra settling into place behind him allowed Tobirama to push back his resentment enough to think clearly.
“… Chichi?” The piping tones of a child’s voice pulled Tobirama’s attention away from his elder brother’s display a foolish naïveté. A small boy with wildly ruffled hair popped his head above the defensive fold of the strange version of Madara’s arms, the layers of embroidered silk from the other Madara’s wide sleeves obscuring the rest of the child’s body. Wide amber-brown eyes looked around the currently inactive battlefield and the boy squeaked an alarm. “Chichi! Where are we?”
“I couldn’t say, Tsu-kun.” The floating man pulled the little boy closer in a protective gesture, glaring suspiciously at the watching shinobi. “Your stupid Tou-san sent us away from the attack to protect you, but I think we might have gone off course a little.”
Tobirama heard Touka scoff about understatement from her place at his shoulder, and he had to agree. The alternate Madara was more than a little lost if he was really from another… timeline or world or reality. Which option it was in truth, Tobirama would need to do more research to find out. The familiar itch of curiosity was oddly comforting.
/…/
The perfect recall of an active Sharingan was both a curse and a blessing at times like these. Madara could recognize the battlefield of his past life where Izuna had been killed by Tobirama at a glance, so often had he walked it in his nightmares. The Madara of this time was young, and his Izuna was even younger still. If it were not for Madara and Tsuna’s unprecedented detour, there would be no chance of seeing this Izuna grow any older than he was.
Just for that, just for this opportunity to see what could have been take place, Madara decided to forgive his Elements for panicking and packing him off to safety like some sheltered, pampered civilian princess.
Being in this place at this time… Madara could only assume that his escape pod had been waylaid somehow by the younger Tobirama’s use of the Hiraishin against Izuna. Fate had been diverted at the very last possible moment. The people here had no idea how very close they had come to dooming themselves. Tobirama had no idea how close he had come to destroying his brother’s cherished dream of peace. This Madara had no idea how close he had come to falling into Zetsu’s trap and losing his mind.
The worst of it was the way he could see the imprint of Indra and Asura’s chakra laid over the younger Madara and Hashirama’s souls. Madara could see the insidious control of an alien Will directing their actions and influencing their thoughts.
It was sickening. It was horrifying. It was a terrible reminder of a past best left entirely forgotten.
Madara had left this life and its bloody battlefields full of dead children behind him long ago. To be thrust back into it, even as an outsider, had him swallowing back tears and screams.
Torn between the elation that this version of Izuna would now be able to survive even a little bit longer, and the soul deep revulsion that arose in response to the sense of Indra’s invading chakra, Madara made up his mind to stay inside his bubble.
Tobirama would be so proud of Madara for actively taking steps to keep himself safe.
/…/
Now that the world had stopped shaking and his Chichi-ue had said they were okay, Tsuna felt brave enough to lift his head the rest of the way above his father’s sheltering arms to get a better look at the people outside the shields. It took a few minutes to process what he was seeing. Amber eyes were wide with shock as Tsuna looked at the younger versions of his father and uncle as they stood on death grounds in the aftermath of battle.
“-Hiiiiiieeee!” Tsuna shrieked in panic and hid behind his father’s sleeves again. Scary! It was too scary out there!
There was blood everywhere and so much pain and the man who looked like Chichi-ue had the Bad Ice on his soul like Tsuna did after That Man touched his head.
Tsuna was never leaving the bubble!
“Hush, Tsu-kun.” Chichi-ue’s hand pet his hair as Tsuna shivered and pulled the edge of his father’s coat around to block as much of him from sight as possible. “It will be all right, little one. Chichi’s here with you.”
“Chichi…” Whining and shaking his head, Tsuna did his best to disappear. “It’s bad out there, Chichi! Wanna go home!”
“So do I, Tsu-kun.” Chichi-ue sighed and his voice was grumpy like when Tou-san broke the roof of his lab. “We just need to wait for your Tou-san to find us. I’m not leaving the bubble until he does.”
“Oh.” Tsuna gave that statement the consideration it was due. Peeking through gaps in the fabric of his father’s Court-formal sleeves and catching sight of a man who looked like Tou-san but felt all wrong. Feeling more than a little grumpy himself, Tsuna tucked in a bit closer to his father and did his best to ignore the creepy feeling the copycats outside gave him. “Good.”
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