CJ - Pronouns: They/Them or she/her - ADHD, bear with me, and other issues. Blog is 18+ - Mun is 25+ (b. 1995) Pre-established relationships welcome -
This blog is an entirely what if scenario. In this blog we operate under the assumption and take the masked man at his word when he calls himself Madara Uchiha, underneath that mask is Madara Uchiha, stitched and patched together using the flesh of dead Uchiha. His eyes are no longer his own, having gifted them to Nagato, he supplements it using stolen eyes, including that of one poor unfortunate long lost boy, that granted him quite the lovely ability to access Kamui.
He can still access things like his Susanoo, though he prefers to remain in the shadows and utilize mostly evasive or defensive maneuvers to maintain the allure and mystery. He only says he’s Madara because he knows no one will believe him.
Mutuals Only - My mental health sucks. This is easiest on me so I can kind of mediate who I interact with without having to be a dick.
No Godmodding or metagaming
THIS BLOG WILL CONTAIN ELEMENTS OF BODY HORROR, GORE, EYE HORROR, MANIPULATION, AND OTHER DARK THEMES, IF I DO ANYTHING YOU WOULD LIKE TAGGED JUST SEND ME AN ASK
Any questions just drop an ask, don’t be shy
Shipping chemistry only. If at all Always accepting new threads
🅱️lease share your vision of Tobi to the world.....chin in hands start from the beggining
Much of the Madara Uchiha before his mind was poisoned by hatred is still prevalent here. An idealistic shinobi, he served as the opposite side of the coin to his rivals optimism. Madara believed the world could only be saved through power. Domination to the point that fear would keep those with power in line, and those without safe from war.
However part of this lead to conflict with his best friend and rival, who thought the opposite. That the world should live in unity, and that was how they would find peace.
Madara loved Hashirama deeply, in a way that Hashirama could never reciprocate or know. This further fueled Madara's resentment as his friend continued to resist his ideas. Eventually, the truce they'd harbored together threatened to turn to war and he was exiled from his own clan.
Until he returned with war on his mind, and blades in his hands. Clashing with Hashirama for one final time. But when it ended....
Madara Uchiha is dead.
Or at least, that was what the world knew to be true.
His battle with Hashirama ripped a hole out of the surface of the world. Tore a chunk out of earth, and created whole new landmasses that to this day stand as if they had always been there. But Madara would never accept death.
In a vain attempt to defy fate, Madara used the most forbidden of techniques that the Uchiha clan had kept secret for generations.
Izanagi.
To defy death was not easy, and for the duration of time it had cost him the vision in his left eye. There were other side effects as well, in altering reality at the cost of his vision, he had defied death but not some of the more intense injuries he'd suffered at the hands of Hashirama. It left him hindered.
Having bitten off a chunk of Hashirama's arm in their fight, he began to experiment. Indulging in scientific fancy, and altering the DNA in an attempt to gain access to some of the Senju's own forbidden techniques, as well as potentially Hashirama's ability to access senjutsu. Creating, in essence, a fully formed non-living clone of Hashirama, and fusing his body with some of the cells as well.
In combining their DNA, he found himself evolving. His sharingan in particular developed in a way he could not have predicted, creating the Rinnegan. But, Madara was too weak to utilize the full scope of abilities. Too hindered by age and his fight with Hashirama. Eventually, time and those injuries had made him fully reliant on a connection and constant flow of chakra from the fossilized Ten Tails. Syphoning off little by little just to survive.
But having learned to create non-living beings from his rivals DNA and the flesh of the Ten Tails, he created artificial bodies that he could puppeteer from a distance. Stoking the flames of conflict in the world from the darkness in secret.
But it was not enough. Hatred was a curse, and it poisoned his mind. Tormenting him, feeding him. Remaining leashed to his laboratory was not enough. Merely acting through artificial beings was not enough. As fortune would have it, a young Uchiha of his own lineage died within range of one of his puppets. Only one eye, crushed, dead. Yet still his body was perfect.
Fueled by new ideas, Madara began to replace the failing pieces of himself with the boys youthful and intact ones. After so many years in isolation he was freed from his prison. Free to act now as a living shadow. This little test had proven to him, as well, that he could use other members of his clan to reconstruct himself.
So he did.
After spending so many years fueling conflict in places like Amegakure and Kirigakure from the shadows, time had come to act directly. Immediately he wasted no time in taking control of the powers that held both in their hands. Manipulating Hanzo the Salamander into escalating conflict with the rebellious Akatsuki, and forcing Isobu into a new host in an attempt to hold it ransom from Kirigakure (Unfortunately, the unwilling Jinchuriki opted for self sacrifice. Tragic.)
tl:dr: bisexual man furious over his feelings, mutilates himself into a monster, and ruins everyone else's lives in the process.
No ordinary person knows the Akatsuki leader's name and his explanation sounds plausible enough. There have never been a need for reserve members since she joined; those who joined so far have been very careful with their lives— most merit goes to their outstanding abilities no one have been able to go toe-to-toe with, herself included. But it's always better to plan ahead and expect the unexpected, that she understands perfectly.
But this guy? On first glance he doesn't seem like anything extraordinary or strong, just plain, and very weird. Still, Sasori doesn't lower her guard; if Pain personally recruited him, he ought to possess something very valuable. . . .whatever it may be.
"Hmmm. Very well. . . .Tobi. I'll believe in you for now. As long you know your place there will be no friction on my part. But I'll still keep an eye on you just in case. . ."
To appear so plain and unassuming? The look and feel of a hapless idiot who surely had no reason to be here. Some were far too smart for their own good, though. Pressed their noses too deep into where they must not belong. Some of that stemmed from the very important question. What was a hapless idiot doing here among those who had killed kage, clashed with the 'god of the shinobi' himself, or claimed to be the Sage of the Six Paths born anew?
Hands on the back of his head, lazily stretching his midsection with an annoyed groan. Unseen eye still lingering on her, and the tension clearly pulled taught at every end. It was an almost indignant huff that leaves him. Nothing, a guy like him had no discernible reason to belong here among ten of the most dangerous fugitives in the shinobi world. But that was a mystery too many found alluring, wasn't it?
"Y'know, I'm not big on people spyin' on me. You gonna try to watch me use the bathroom, too?"
Despite the downpour's strength, Konan remains unbothered; just another day in her blessed country. Not even the cold raindrops on her eyes managed to make her avert her silver gaze away from the monster that haunts her every waking moment.
Her body stiffened defensively on the slightest movement from Madara before settling on a position she judged good enough to react. One can never be too careless in the presence of an enemy, and in Konan's mind, she was surrounded by them.
" You seem so sure of yourself. If you have total power over Nagato, then how come I am still alive? Surely you would find it optimal to get rid of any obstacles between your tool and your objective, wouldn't you? And I am in your way. You know that Nagato is not as powerless as you think. "
A saccharine little chuckle falls gracefully from those unseen stitched together lips. How he treated them all so callously, worthy sacrifices to the new world to come once the old one had been burned. There had been three children of the storm not so long ago, back when her tired eyes held a little more optimism than they did now. Now there were only two and a puppet, zombified and kept standing by the grace of sorrow and misery.
"Yes nothing gets passed you, does it?" Three had become two, because the third had stood in his way. So early on it was a liability, if it had been her standing there then perhaps Yahiko would be standing here asking why he was still alive.
"A god needs an angel, doesn't he? You serve so dutifully it would be a shame to separate a bonded pair like you. After all you've been through it would truly be a shame for him to lose another friend. He may lose that little bit of hope he still clings to." His tone is mocking, as always it was when speaking to the two children of Amegakure. After all, it was only fair wasn't it? They treated him like just as much of a means to an end. The masked man moves to the open window, sitting on the sill with his legs dangling out over the lead piping that coursed through this village like veins.
"Do you think I should be rid of you, Konan? Are you going to be an obstacle between me and what needs to be done?"
"If it happened, then the Leader would announce for all of us. You think there weren't any attempts of imposters in the past, even now? No one outside the Akatsuki knows the exact number of members so they try their luck, they even manage to copy our colors. . . ."
The stinger under her robe twitches. The guy's carefree attitude bothers her immensely; he is either not taking this seriously or is simply unaware of the gravity of the situation. Whatever is the case, she knows better than anyone to never underestimate someone you just met.
". . . .So unless you don't want to end up like them, you better spill everything."
"Well, the exact number does depend on how you count Zetsu, huh? But there's only ten rings." One for each tail of the great beast, one for each finger on the statue they would use to revive it. None of them needed to know that, though. Each one of them were part of this organization for a different ideal. What was the story Nagato had fed most of them? Something about prophets and a united mercenary force?
His hands lift, to lazily catch and link together on the back of his neck. Spinning on heel to face her, head cocking off to the side over his shoulder. It's a stagnant air of this comical face he wore around all of these playful little pawns. Ones ready to strike outsiders if it meant protecting all the heavy costs sunk into this endeavor.
"I think I'll keep all my secrets though. Just little old Tobi. That's me." The danger in the air rises, a sickening pressure of battle on the horizon. Now, it wouldn't be fair if he spent all his time killing those who worked for him, would it?
"I'm allowed to be here though. Mr. Pein says to think of me like... a reserve member. Since there needs to be ten."
Rain pelts the two with an unrelenting mercy. Here in this place it never ceases, like the heavens themselves weep at the suffering wrought by all the other nations here. But still, the elder of the two is unshaken by her resistance. As ever he is. Arms merely cross lazily as his singularly set eye fixates its harsh crimson stare off onto the weeping horizon.
"I don't need to control anyone. I already offer him more than your presence can promise." And the Masked Man's own eyes sitting in Nagato's sockets as though they had always belonged were a signifier of how fleeting power may be in the hands of those borrowing it. Having seen it for herself, she must know how painfully disposable all these little puppets truly were.
"Any light you find that promises you a path out of this dark world is nothing more than the lie of a hope."
There's a stillness to the air. A pregnant pause from the high pitched tones of the masked man as he lingered with his back to the fellow Akatsuki member. Crooked mismatched features twist into an amused grin beneath that brilliant orange spiral. The facade was needed for now, there was plenty more to be done and if word got out that Madara of the Uchiha Clan still lingered in this world then war would break the soft tension of the world's surface far sooner than he had prepared. Despite the continued act in that friendly lilt in his voice, the lucid mannerisms are gone. His stance is iron straight, the Masked Man's arms loose at his sides, with fingers unfurled loosely.
"Sasori, I didn't take you for such a nosy guy, figured you, out of everyone else, would respect someone else's privacy. Just cuz you didn't see it doesn't mean it didn't happen, y'know?"
