Madara × Spider Thread

Seeing Izuna frozen in place with the pipa in his arms, the color draining from his face in an instant, Madara felt a sharp pain in his chest, as though something had stabbed him hard.

Why?

Why can you introduce every clan in Konoha, even every individual person, so naturally and smoothly, and imitate even Hashirama so perfectly?

But when it comes to "Uchiha Izuna," the person you should know best and be proudest to present, why can't you say a single word? Why is your face filled with panic and evasion?

Is it because you know you're not this world's Uchiha Izuna?

Is that why you can't speak naturally about "yourself"? Because to you, he's a character you don't really know, someone you're separated from by a barrier, after all?

But... I already think of you as my own little brother.

Bitterness churned deep in Madara's eyes. He had treated this suddenly appeared younger brother with all the patience and understanding he could muster, even using his authority as clan head to create a safe "stage" for him.

Why can't you let your guard down? Why do you still look so terrified in front of me, as if you're about to be exposed and abandoned at any moment?

Even if we're from different worlds, aren't we still brothers?

Just as the suffocating, rigid silence threatened to crush Izuna, a gentle voice tinged with a helpless laugh blew through the frozen air like a warm breeze.

"All right, all right, everyone, move along. Get back to whatever you were doing."

Hashirama Senju had appeared at the edge of the crowd at some point, a hearty smile on his face. He waved, speaking as naturally as if he were greeting guests in his own backyard. "You youngsters without missions, the training ground's empty! Friends from the caravan, there's a reception office at the Hokage Building. Shall I take you there for a chat?"

His appearance and words seemed to carry a peculiar soothing power. That, along with his status as a "Hokage candidate," gradually dispersed the crowd, though they were still eager for more.

The young shinobi who had been singled out still wore looks of amusement and delight. As they left, they murmured among themselves about the unusual "performance" they had just seen.

"Uchiha Izuna? I haven't really spent much time around someone that interesting before..."

"Never thought an Uchiha could be so lively."

"His singing was pretty lively too, though he got stuck at the end, haha."

"Hey, Sister Dobin, how does it feel to be praised in public?"

"Shut up!"

Even Mito Uzumaki walked over to Hashirama. She glanced curiously at the rigid Izuna and asked Hashirama in a low voice, "Who's that? I don't think I've seen him before."

Hashirama smiled without answering directly and merely patted Mito on the shoulder. "A very interesting kid. Everything's fine now. Everyone, move along."

His gaze briefly met Madara's, and he shook his head gently, reassurance in his eyes.

Madara closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he had forcibly suppressed the emotions churning within them, restoring his outward calm.

He didn't look at Izuna again. He simply reached out, seized Izuna's icy wrist, and said in a low voice, "We're going home."

His grip was impossible to resist, but his movements weren't rough.

Izuna obediently let him pull him away.

Hashirama took the pipa from his arms and returned it to the old master, who had long since been left staring in astonishment.

Ignoring everyone else, Madara pulled Izuna silently through the dispersing crowd and strode toward the Uchiha Clan Compound.

All the way there, Izuna's hands and feet felt ice-cold, and his heart pounded so wildly in his chest that it nearly shattered his ribs.

I'm done for, I'm done for, I'm done for...

Madara's angry! He must have found out! That look in his eyes... He definitely knows I'm not the real Izuna!

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? Will he kill me? Will he throw me out? System, help! I haven't saved up enough Return Home Points yet!

All sorts of terrifying thoughts raced through his mind, leaving his face pale and the wrist held in Madara's grip trembling slightly.

Madara pulled him into the familiar residence.

Once the door closed, every sound from outside was shut away.

Madara stopped in the entryway, but he didn't immediately let go.

Izuna's heart leaped into his throat. He drew a sharp breath and, during the pause as Madara seemed about to turn and face him, summoned all his strength to speak first, his voice trembling:

"Madara! I'm sorry! I... I'm not..."

—I'm not your brother, Uchiha Izuna!

He planned to confess everything: that he was an impostor, a cosplayer from another world. He only hoped Madara would spare his life for the sake of "this face."

But before he could finish, Madara's low, calm voice interrupted him.

"I know."

Izuna choked on his words and stared wide-eyed at Madara's face as he turned around, unable to believe it.

There was none of the anger or coldness Izuna had expected on Madara's face. Instead, he looked wearily calm.

"I know you're Izuna from another world." Madara looked at him and spoke clearly, word by word. "Your memories, your knowledge, your way of fighting, and the things you wrote down... they're all different from here."

Izuna: "...???"

His mind couldn't quite keep up.

Wait... does Madara mean... he believes the Parallel World story? He really thinks I'm "Uchiha Izuna from another world," not some wandering ghost or an enemy in disguise?!

Looking at Izuna's wide black eyes, filled with shock and bewilderment, Madara felt the sting caused by Izuna's avoidance of himself give way to a stronger surge of heartache.

What exactly did this child go through in that world, to look as though he'd received a gift he didn't deserve when I acknowledged his identity?

Has he... been living in fear of his identity being exposed all this time? Even after coming to a world where he has a "big brother," he still doesn't dare feel truly at ease?

Madara released Izuna's wrist, took a gentle step forward, and opened his arms, softly drawing his still-stunned younger brother into an embrace.

It was a solid, warm embrace, carrying a reassuring presence.

Izuna froze completely, his mind going blank.

...Wait, Madara's hugging me?! Wh-wh-what... what's going on?!

Being hugged felt good, especially for a college student who had never experienced anything like it. It was almost a little too intimate.

The feeling of his body pressed tightly against another person's, without a gap between them, nearly brought him to tears.

From embarrassment.

No wonder some people say hugging is more intimate than kissing! Help! How can it be so warm?!

Izuna buried his head in the crook of Madara's neck, his face red and his expression somewhat dazed.

It feels like being inside a blanket defense mechanism. It's so comforting...

Madara's voice sounded above his head, low and slow, with a solemnity that was almost a promise:

"Izuna, listen."

"I don't care what you went through in that world, and I don't care whether you're willing to tell me."

"Since you've come here and called me 'brother,'"

"then from now on, this is your home, and I'm your big brother."

Madara's arms tightened a little, and his voice grew firmer.

"I'll protect you. I won't let anyone hurt you, and I won't let you feel uneasy or afraid again."

"So..." He paused, his tone softening, a trace of pleading in it. "You don't have to keep acting so carefully, or live in fear of being found out."

"Just be yourself."

Izuna: "...?"

Buried in Madara's arms, he smelled soapberries and a faint trace of gunpowder, while Madara's steady heartbeat sounded beside his ear.

But the embrace he should have been savoring was instantly replaced by a head full of question marks.

Wait... what does Madara mean by that?

What does he mean, "whatever you went through in that world"? What does he mean, "feel uneasy or afraid again"?

Wasn't I playing a happy Izuna who grew up in a honey pot, spoiled rotten by his brother and friends?!

Madara, why do you sound like you've decided I lived a miserable life in my original world, suffered all kinds of hardship, and was left with enormous psychological scars, so I ended up here and need to be carefully looked after?!

I'm not! I didn't! Don't make things up!

Izuna opened his mouth, wanting to argue, wanting to shout to Madara: You've got it wrong, brother! My life was great! I'm just an ordinary, happy college student! I don't have any worries except being broke and having exams!

"Madara, I..."

But Madara didn't give him a chance to "argue."

Madara pressed his head into his chest and held him tightly for quite a while before letting him go.

He raised a hand and ruffled Izuna's hair.

"Go rest." Madara's tone returned to its usual calm, as though the emotionally heavy embrace and promise had never happened. "If your eyes feel uncomfortable, tell me anytime."

With that, he turned and walked toward his own room.

Izuna was left standing alone in the entryway, the warmth of the embrace seemingly still lingering on him, while his head was stuffed with question marks and exclamation marks.

He looked down at his hands, then touched his face.

"All... all right, then."

In the end, those were the only words Izuna could squeeze out, dryly, his heart full of disbelief at the absurdity of it all.

Although the process had been completely different from what he'd expected, the result... seemed... pretty good?

Madara fully believed he was "Izuna from a Parallel World" now, and seemed to have automatically imagined him as a "poor little thing," even promising to protect him...

Does... does this count as a blessing in disguise? Getting it right by accident?

It was just that this image of a "poor little thing who needed protecting" was a bit far from the "sunny, cheerful fighting genius" persona he'd wanted to establish, wasn't it?

Izuna scratched his head, feeling that things were getting more and more surreal.

"Whatever, as long as I can survive." He glanced at his 95% roleplay completion and his Return Home Points, which had risen much more than before.

He gave up thinking and comforted himself: whatever Madara said went. A poor little thing was still better than being killed as an impostor.

He wandered back to his room, flopped onto the tatami, and buried his face in the bedding in the corner.

Today... was really exciting.

Meanwhile, after returning to his room and closing the door, Madara leaned against it and slowly let out a long breath.

He raised his hand and looked at his palm, as though he could still feel Izuna's faint trembling and cold temperature from their embrace.

He clenched his hand tightly and closed his eyes.

Just now, Madara had originally intended to take Izuna to his own room, close the door, and have a proper talk with just the two brothers present.

He wanted to find out what lay behind all those times Izuna had started to speak and stopped, and what exactly he was afraid of.

He needed to know.

As his older brother, he had to know.

But just as he was about to speak and lead Izuna into the inner room...

He heard the nearly breaking tremor in Izuna's voice.

"Madara! I'm sorry! I... I'm not..."

At that moment, it was as if an invisible hand had seized Madara's heart, stopping it in an instant.

He knew that expression all too well. It wasn't someone preparing a lie or an excuse. It was the final despair of someone with nowhere left to turn, about to make one desperate gamble and lay bare all his secrets and wounds.

Just like... just like Izuna back then, when he decided to entrust his eyes to him.

"Big Brother, take my eyes and bring victory to the Uchiha Clan."

No.

Alarm bells rang wildly in Madara's mind.

I can't.

He couldn't listen.

It wasn't that he didn't want to know, but... he couldn't bear it.

He didn't dare hear the truth that came after "I'm not."

He was afraid of hearing Izuna admit with his own mouth, "I'm not your brother," and even more afraid of hearing about the unimaginable losses and pain Izuna might recount from "another world."

He feared it would be a knife, cutting through the warmth Izuna had managed with such difficulty to preserve.

For that, he would rather Izuna keep "acting," rather be deceived himself, rather have him say nothing at all and simply live on, alive and well like this, laughing and making a fuss as he nestled in his world.

He couldn't lose him again.

Once had been enough to cast him into hell.

He had caught this glimmer of light from who knew where, and it could forget about leaving him a second time.

A paranoid stubbornness appeared on Madara's face, hysterical madness flickering in his eyes.

Like a demon from hell that had grasped a spider thread.