Chapter Text
Father always said demons were evil. The Kingdom hated them. The apparent verdict was that they were ruthless, cruel, well versed in the art of torture; driving the humans they targeted into mental breakdowns and turning them into mad desperation, craving death rather than being subjected to such mercies. Father said that the Kingdom was to be protected from these threats, we were the ones at the frontlines; he took much pride in our clan of mages.
The Uchiha clan was the only in the entire land to have managed to tame the most dangerous kind of magic, fire. The greatest weapon against demonic magic. Common folk would always confuse the nature of demonic magic, controlling the elements of water, air, fire, and earth was not demonic; using them to control life was. Demon magic could control the animals and the plants, making a life serve another for their nefarious reasons was evil.
The Kingdom had been peaceful, or so they say, until allegedly a noblewoman fell in love with a demon prince? Or was she the princess? The history books were always changing in this aspect. She was a human with little magic, and it was said she birthed two sons. One was born a demon, a black beast with claws, a maw with razor-sharp teeth, cold glinting eyes like a murderer. One was born human, with magic so powerful it could easily command all the elements. Both of her sons had completely opposite natures, causing them to anger, to clash, to disrupt the balance. Then the history book went on and on, and the conclusion was she was driven insane by those whom she had loved; her sons fighting to the death with each other.
“Father, why were they fighting each other if they were brothers?” a five-year-old me had once asked my father as he lectured all of us on history and whatnot. I was closest to my little brother Izuna, he was just three years younger, and he would never know our mother. I never wanted to fight Izuna.
“It is said it was due to their conflicting ideals,” my father answered, stroking his non-existent beard, then he added, “the demon wanted to destroy the peace his brother had brought the kingdom.”
It seemed quite definite.
“Fa-Father, more about mama?” Izuna, mumbled and stuttered, he always questioned father about her, he questioned our older brothers sometimes too.
“Izuna,” he sighed, “mother, she, was taken away by those demons,” our sweet mother had died shortly after Izuna was born, father said she had been kidnapped, we were not allowed to mourn over her body as he deemed it too bloody for our young eyes. Sadly, blood is all we would see in the following years as war erupted between the kingdom we served and the beastly creatures that haunted us.
I trained every day of my life. After the war started, I was not allowed to the battlefield until the age of twelve. When I was deemed strong enough to kill. This is how our oldest brother perished shortly after his ceremony of coming of age. How our second oldest brother perished before the said ceremony. How all of them left me and Izuna alone; I vowed to stay strong and protect Izuna.
The first time I killed a demon was in my first battle, and perhaps that was when I started to have mixed feelings in all this hatred. I would never admit that to my father, he is a proud man, and being questioned was not good, especially if that meant questioning a millennia-old concept.
I had walked, mostly stumbled, through the battlefield, as much as I was prepared, I was not ready. Not ready for the viciousness of the very nature of the land attacking me, the knife-like teeth, and claws that the creatures had. As much as we had to study every single aspect of their biology, I had ever seen one before. Not ready for the pungent, iron smell that permeated the air, the acrid smell that raised from the burnt, the soft feel of crunching bone, and ripping flesh.
Most of all not ready to stab a demon, a child like me, in the heart. Seeing the light in his eyes fade, the pulsing blood pool under his body, the anger in his expression, or the frustration in mine.
I didn’t sleep that night.
Or the next.
Yet battle after battle, the numbness increased, I steeled my heart and iced my feelings. Repeating to myself, this is right, they are evil, they want to bring harm to the innocents in the kingdom . A mantra, I soon came to believe. At least Izuna didn’t have to see battle yet.
In between each battle, father would still teach us, perfect your technique, learn their weakness, honour your history. Alright.
Since I started to learn magic, I learnt fire could be very temperamental. Even creating a little flame, could cause immediate combustion of anything. This is why the training grounds were surrounded by rocks and sand. We perfected fire, and leisurely practiced with the other elements. When I started battling, shortly after becoming twelve, I could blow out streams of fire, manifest little fireballs, controlling their heat and explosiveness. Father was proud. I played around with earth magic, creating little coloured gems from simple stones and sand for Izuna to play around with. Father was not impressed.
Learning about demons was excruciating to my brains. Demons had a hierarchy of sorts, the lowest ranks were occupied by those that controlled small animals, and the highest could control the very fabric of nature. There were three major clans, the Aburame with the damn tiny insects, the Inuzuka with their large beasts, and the deadliest, the Senju who could bend nature to their will. There were more small clans, which also fit in those categories, but they were minor disturbances, at least my brain classified them as that and moved on.
Demon biology was confusing and apparently important. A demoness was called a Lady, ok , and they were more vicious than the demons due to their protective nature. Understandable, they rarely went to battle to take care of their children, they killed if their children were endangered. Similarly, similarly? A demon was either a Sire or a Bearer, uh ok , a bearer was much like a lady, I see . They might look submissive or innocent, but do not mistake their nature as they are more difficult to kill, more persistent, and defensive. A sire is very protective of their mate, and the strongest physically of all three, engaging in hand to hand combat can be difficult, use magic instead. Demons can experience a heat when-
Father forbade to read past that section. Hitting the back of my head and telling me to wait for ‘the talk’. Which meant I would be embarrassed in the near future about it.
Demon appearance was complicated. They could blend in with humans, if they had a strong magic control, making it difficult to pick them out. Easier for them to attack the common folk. Some had ears and tails like wolves, with sharpened nails and fangs. Others had fast wings and tough talons like birds. They all had twisting black horns protruding from their heads.
“Does that mean their eyes always show their magic whilst hiding their appearance?” Izuna had asked in one of the lectures shortly after I had arrived from a battle. Right, eyes shone when a spark of magic was used. The Uchiha had red eyes, reflecting the fiery magic. A Senju I had burnt to a crisp had shone green eyes, but another I had dismembered had shone blue. I was getting too used to the dead bodies, they no longer had a lingering impression in my memory.
“No, unfortunately, they hide their appearance by controlling the flow of magic rather than letting it out,” father had answered.
Practicing sword fight was also as important, when defending yourself from slashing claws, it was as important as magic. For my thirteenth birthday, I got my own sword, father said it was due to my accomplishments as a good fighter in the raging war. I named it Blazing Fire. The blade was black as night with flashes of orange, made from fine dragon scales; the hilt was a simple brown but warm to the touch. The sword was made to embody my flames.
The next battle broke me again.
It started as per usual, like little ants to battle, everything was brazen chaos. The smell of smoke still stung my nose, but it no longer affected my eyes. I got used to slashing and burning through the crowd. A demon, black-tailed, white ears, speedy, tried to defend themselves, or their peers. A frenzy of claws trying to block my calculated jabs, desperately trying to parry against me. The clink of claws against metal just egged me on, I had trained my mind into numbness. Forced my face into expressionless, coerced my heart into stone stillness. Nothing seemed to bother me in the battlefield, not true in some of my nightmares. Bathing in blood, and feeling exhilarated by the screams, by the crackling wood, screeches of death; was but the contrary.
Hence, when I heard a pained wail from halfway across the terrain, I was unbothered, until I looked up. The mangled being I had been fighting had fallen, pierced by my blade, charred and parched, by my flames. Its... No, his eyes weren’t angry, they were sad. The wail hadn’t been him, but from a lady pummelling through the fighting masses, eyes fixed on his dead body. Something cracked in my mask, and for a moment, the crazed persona that had been created to love this massacre, disappeared.
Much to say, I ran away from camp the next morning.
Ran away might seem like I wasn’t returning, but the pride father had instilled onto us made that an impossibility, hence with the excuse of meditating, I distanced myself temporarily for the day. The night before was haunted with horrors, things I had done, I was drowning in the metallic smell, with a throat burning, and limbs of lead. Decidedly, I needed a distraction, lest the dark circles around my tired eyes become worse. Sounding like an old man already .
I went to a protected and blocked off a section of a river that flowed close to the camp. Large boulders shielded the little paradise from the view of outsiders, and an ancient weeping willow provided a shelter. It was a perfect haven I had found when I was about eight whilst escaping, uh, exploring. It was far away from camp but close enough so I could go anytime. I sat on the small flat boulder where willow’s curtain of fronds parted, creating something much like a window to the green secret shelter underneath the heavy curtain of leaves. I proceeded to pick and throw rocks into the river, with no purpose other than getting distracted by the splash.
“You know, you could try skipping them instead of chucking them,” jumping almost out of my skin, and getting ready to fight, too bad I didn’t bring Blazing Fire along for additional damage. I turned to the voice.
Oh.
The owner of the voice was a boy, much like me. With a horrendous bowl haircut.
He stared at me expectantly, he didn’t seem threatening, but I didn’t really lower my guard. Maybe I could befriend him, get some information, whether friend or foe, it was good to keep them close. I opened my mouth, try to be nice , but only one thing was on my mind at that moment.
“Your haircut is horrible,” way to go Madara, I berated myself, you are the best at this. Strangely, the boy across the stream seemed to laugh, then seconds later he had produced a little dark cloud over his head that seemed to threaten its caster with rain. Wasn’t he just laughing? Why is he so suddenly depressed? Obviously, I had no filter when in my haven.
“You, what is wrong with you? Weren’t you just laughing? What is this cloud?” Then as if I had called him over, he skipped over the gentle watery ebb and flows, smile plastered on his idiotic face. Landing softly, on the bank on my side, in front of my boulder.
“Who called you over?” I tried to sound snarky, but I was also interested in knowing more of the seemingly bipolar boy. Closer to me I could see, he was just as tall as me, skin slightly tanned, brown hair and golden-brown eyes. Then his sense of style was also weird. A light brown shirt and dirty brown pants, he looked like one of the farmer boys in the prairies of the kingdom. Father always said a mage must present themselves in a regal fashion since we were trusted and praised by the royal family. I had my navy-blue robe on, and black pants, I looked simple and far from the usual image of power a mage in their battle armor looks like, so if this boy was from our kingdom he wouldn’t recognize me as an Uchiha, that is for the best I guess . Only for battle did I ever use the light, tight black battle armor and black leather vambraces.
“You did,” he said, smiling again, that smile is too bright for my mood. Which was getting better because of it, but I did not want to accept that.
“What no?” And then the cloud manifested itself again, that seemed like such a mood I am calling it cloud. Cloud: maximum expression of depression, apparently .
“Why does that thing keep on appearing over your head?” It dissipated, yet again. He grinned.
“It just appears when I get sad, can’t really control it,” Water, or air magic-user? Maybe. Then he added, “Why are you here chucking rocks?”
“None of your business.” Cloud . “Damn, your mood swings are too much, ok, ok, I am just lost in thought.” Grin. I cannot with this boy .
“You seem like you are my age. Fourteen?” He inquired curiously, whilst collecting pebbles to chuck into the river with me, I had returned to sitting on my boulder, flicking my remaining ones into the river.
“I- yes.” I was basically fourteen. Almost.
“We can be friends,” he said as he brought over his pebbles and started skipping them.
“No,” I said, as I started using magic to transform mine into colourful gems, much like how I did when Izuna was younger. He seemed mesmerized by the changing colours, so no cloud.
“Oh, oh,” he seemed happy, as he ran to scoop a ball of... water, throwing it over to me! Instinctively, I caught it. Once I did it had already turned to ice, being cold and slowly melting from the heat of my palm. I put it amongst the pile of pebbles.
“Good water magic,” more like a mumble to myself, but he seemed to take pride in it.
“I come to practice here sometimes, do you come to practice here often?”
“No, I come to take my mind off the war,” I tried to not give much information, some is ok.
“Oh, you are forced to participate in it too?” He seemed a little bit sad about it. He chucked the pebbles from the pile he collected, no longer skipping them.
“You could say,” it was... nice, to have someone to talk to, about the simple things, not the battle strategies.
“Do you want to meet here? I could use someone to talk to, and practice, maybe,” he turned to me, I looked at him, not really turning to give him attention.
“Sure, if I have time,” friendly, be friendly. He gave me a bright toothy smile, and then I felt the corners of my mouth curl upwards, just slightly. Damn, his smile can be a bit contagious .
Still, with that beam of sunshine and laughter, he declared, “My name is Hashirama!”