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Madara wanted to distrust the strange teen that had literally appeared outside his compound. It would have been easy to write off the similar looks as a very good genjutsu and just behead the brat. But the Sharingan can see through all genjutsu, or at least Madara hasn’t meet anyone capable of overpowering his Sharingan, and there was no faking the trauma this kid had clearly survived.
“What’s your name kid?” Madara asks, holstering his gunbai and crouching so he can be eye level with the newcomer.
“Itachi,” the kid mutters and Madara wishes he was wrong about the trauma part.
“You have the Mangekyo, don’t you?” He asks and Itachi just nods mutely. Madara sighs as he stands back up and offers his hand to boy. “Come with me Itachi.”
It’s very telling that Itachi takes his hand without a single moment of hesitation; either this kid was that desperate for kindness or he was that desperate to meet his end. Madara later finds out, much to his displeasure, it’s the latter.
“He’s coming along nicely,” Izuna comments sometime later, leaning against the railing as he and Madara watch Itachi spar with Hikaku. “Can you believe he’s only 13?“
"You say only like we hadn’t already killed dozens by his age,” Madara comments, even if they truly aren’t that much older than Itachi; Izuna was only just 16 and Madara himself was barely 20.
“That’s not the trauma that wakes him at night.”
“I know,” Madara sighs, turning from the training to fully look at Izuna, “what would you have me do with him? He has the Mangekyo Sharingan.”
“Have you given any thoughts to his wild tales?” Izuna asks instead, also shifting to look at his brother, “about the future?”
“I asked him to show me,” Madara admits, ignoring Izuna’s disbelieving look, “he speaks the truth.”
“He wiped out our clan.”
“No, I wiped out our clan,” Madara mutters, something dark crossing his eyes, “there was no way that man who helped him was anyone but me. Why would I do that Otouto? How could I have fallen so far?”
“It couldn’t have been you Aniki, you’d be long dead by that point,” Izuna assures, “it was someone pretending to be you.”
“Izuna-sama is right Madara-sama,” Itachi’s quiet voice drifts over, and both Uchiha turn to see he is standing beside the steps, “I don’t believe he was you; you are too kind.”
“Me, kind?”
“Yes.” Itachi falls silent as Hikaku joins them and leads him into the house to clean up.
“What a strange kid,” Izuna laughs, wandering into the house in search of lunch while Madara returns his gaze to the now empty backyard, he had much to think about.
The next time the Uchiha and the Senju meet in battle Itachi is with them and Madara orders the kid to stay back, not wanting him to get engage either Hashirama or Tobirama. He knows Hikaku will keep an eye on their newest clan member and he needs to focus on keeping Hashirama’s mokuton away from his clanmates. Admittedly Madara loses track of Itachi’s chakra, until it suddenly spikes and an unfamiliar Susanoo wraps around all the Uchiha fighting.
“Dammit Itachi,” Madara grumbles under his breath, abandoning a very confused Hashirama to see what had spooked the younger Uchiha. He finds Itachi beside Izuna, a weary Tobirama not far.
“You can’t kill him!” Itachi is saying, his breath coming in pants, “everyone dies if you do!”
“Itachi,” Madara mutters, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder and looking down into those sorrowful Mangekyo eyes, “it’s war, people die.”
“Your brother can’t,” Itachi mutters, “anyone but Izuna…”
Madara and Izuna share a look before the elder Uchiha signals a retreat, knowing it’s pointless to keep fighting now. Itachi reluctantly releases his Susanoo as Madara picks him up and follows his clanmates, not worried about showing his back to Hashirama.
“You still trust him,” Itachi says quietly as they head back, snuggling a little closer to Madara, “don’t you?”
“I haven’t given up on our dream,” Madara admits, “especially since you’ve shown me it happens.”
“It would be better if you stuck around.”
Madara wants to press for more information, but he can tell how tired Itachi is; it was probably the brat’s first time to manifest his Susanoo.
When Hashirama sends him a ceasefire agreement the next day, Izuna doesn’t have to heart to argue with his brother and for the first time in generations the Uchiha and the Senju agree to stop fighting.
The process to getting both clans to a peace negotiation takes over a year, too many stubborn old shinobi clinging to their bloody past. Settling a peace deal takes even longer and building Konoha takes so long it has Madara feeling like he’s going to die of old age before they’ve realized their dream. And then one day they have an entire village built and Hashirama has been voted in as their first Hokage.
“How do you feel?” Itachi asks, standing beside Madara as they look down on the village.
“You sound apprehensive,” Madara observes, “something from the future?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m happy for Hashirama.”
“You are?”
At the sound of disbelief in Itachi’s voice, Madara turns to face him, once again reminded that Itachi is no longer the traumatized young brat he found, but a young man flourishing in their new village.
“My best friend and I achieved my dream, our brothers are safe, and…” Madara pauses, gently tucking a lose strand of hair behind Itachi’s ear, “you’re here.”
“What does my presence have to do with anything?” Itachi asks, his self-depreciating habits rearing their ugly head.
“You’ve been by my side faithfully, even when every other Uchiha has questioned my sanity at least twice for agreeing to this,” Madara explains, a rare smile gracing his lips as he gently tugs Itachi forward until their foreheads can touch, “as long as you remain by my side I will always know happiness.”
Itachi flushes at the words, even as a smile lights up his face and he brings their lips together in a gentle kiss. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” he murmurs, lips brushing lips as he speaks.
“I will never send you away,” Madara swears, kissing Itachi once more before wrapping an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders so they can finish watching the sunset over the village.