Another SI fic, but this time, inserting myself into Madara Uchiha. Yes, he's a ridiculously hax character, but I have my reasons.

Honestly, I just want to see how a somewhat well adjusted Uchiha genius deals with his clan. Madara has potential to not be a huge, psychopathic asshole—he helped stop war between clans and formed Konohagakure, after all. Uchiha bullshit and the 'Curse of Hatred' always seem to have other plans, though.

Besides, taking someone with modern views of the world, and plopping them into a time and place that's very traditional and conservative is…interesting. A huge mess, even. Which is all the more fun to write.

Prologue: Madara Uchiha

The day Tajima Uchiha's first son was born, was one deep into winter.

The winter solstice has long passed. By the dates of the Modern Calendar the daimyos favored, it is the twenty-fourth of December. Just a week from the New Year to start.

The day is one of the coldest of the year. The chill penetrates even the thickest layers of cured furs, seeping into the very bones of man. Snow—a rare occurrence, in these lands of Fire—blankets all roofs of the Uchiha Clan's compound. Not an inch of land is not covered in the condensed frozen-water, giving a sense of calmness and purity in the dirty soils of blood and war.

It is as silent as death, outside of his bedroom chambers, with the stillness brought by the icy breath of the Shinigami. In deep contrast, the room is filled with shrieking and wails, both from his wife, and the child she has birthed.

The midwife gives an appreciative hum, laying the babe upon her arm, patting its back. The young one coughs, before giving an even louder wail. The babe is then draped in a warm blanket of wolf furs, and quiets instantly.

"It is a boy, Tajima-sama," the old woman says, giving the Clan Head a toothy smile. "A very healthy one, at that. His chakra is strong and wise, even for a newborn."

"Thank the Sage," the man murmurs in relief, bowing his head slightly in reverence to give a quick prayer. When the man finishes, he reaches out, taking Fumiko's dainty, chilled hand in his. "You have done well, my wife."

Quickly, the midwife's assistants rush to robe and clean the new mother, who is shivering from cold and fatigue of childbirth. The Clan Head manages to open his arms in time for the wizened midwife to drop his first son in his grasp.

"What will you name him, Tajima-sama?" the old woman asks, meticulously rifling through her healer's bag for a scroll and inkwell. No doubt, to make the certificate of birth, for the boy.

The dark-haired man pauses, contemplating, staring down at his first child. The fur blanket shifts, showing a small section of the babe's upper chest, blotchy and red.

Along the bottom of the babe's collarbone are a smattering of lunar marks. The rest of his son's body does not seem to have these markings, Tajima muses, shifting the blanket slightly open to take in his child's small form, in full.

The only spots are along the child's collarbone…Spots…

The man's lips curl up slightly. He has just the perfect name for his precious first son.

He rocks the quiet babe in his arms, pivoting carefully to face the snow-haired midwife. An amused smile is still twitching across his lips, with a rare, impish twinkle is in his dark orbs.

"Madara," he states. "His name will be Madara Uchiha."

It is at that point, that a cry comes from the young one, deep within the warm confines of Tajima's arms. It is then, that the Uchiha Clan Head gave a deep, warm laugh.

"Madara Uchiha…What a fine name."

The newborn baby wails in that moment, because he is much more aware than a regular babe. In fact, he used to not be a baby, but a young man, who had died and found himself with a new life.

He wails, because he recognizes the name bestowed upon him.

A name of one of the largest villains in a fictional series, from his old life and world.

Oh, how he despises that man, that character, that name.

But now…Now, that's his name. That's his very existence.

No good could come from this…The entire clan held the Curse of Hatred, insanity ran rampant, and a slow death all but guaranteed.

Why had he been reborn as that man, though…?Any other would have been fine. Any other Uchiha, even.

But, no…No, he was now…

Madara Uchiha.

"Madara Uchiha? A splendid name, for your first heir."

"He is a very strong, healthy babe, Tajima-sama."

"How well-behaved, as well!"

Tajima Uchiha stands proudly in the living room, next to the seat holding his wife and newborn child.

Fumiko has gained color, after the strain of the birth. She is smiling beatifically, passing the babe to the other clucking mothers, letting them coo over the boy.

After a few minutes, however, the babe thrashes and whines, and is transferred to the tender arms of his mother. Once ensconced in the folds of her yukata, the babe instantly pacifies, and his wife coos.

"He will be a fine son," one of the elders notes, causing Tajima and his wife to beam proudly. When it comes to the wise—if somewhat crotchety—elders of the Uchiha Clan, such a statement is of the highest caliber.

Yes…Madara is a fine son. He rarely makes a fuss, and seems to attach to both Tajima and his wife like a little leech. He has a strong grip for a mere babe, as well.

His wife is over the moon with the child. Madara is their first, after all.

Despite tradition, the soft woman is very insistent on caring for the babe after the first few weeks, instead of allowing the servants to do all the work. It makes a few of the older mothers cluck in disapproval. "What is the use of being the Clan Head's wife, if you do not use your power and servants to rear your heirs?" they titter behind their hands, in low voices.

Tajima feels a similar way, for that is how he was taught, and he himself raised. However, he does not voice it. Not aloud to any of his clan members, nor to his precious flower of a wife.

"I simply want to be a good mother, my dear husband," she tells him in private, head ducked low and demurely, as is her place. "I would very much like to be the one to proudly say, 'Yes, this is my first son, and I was the one to have raised him, this fine heir and warrior'."

Tajima merely hums, after a few moments of silence, during which the woman fusses over the babe. "I suppose I may allow this, wife. It is a woman's job to bear and raise children."

He does not voice that proper, noble women do not sully themselves, by lowering themselves to do said child rearing…Then again, if one wants a job done right, one must accomplish it themselves.

Let the woman raise the babe. She will be more of worth, if she does something worthwhile. Merely allowing her to laze about and constantly have tea would be…A waste.

He tells himself this, even though he himself knows he is giving his permission, because he is very fond of his kind wife. It is a weakness, born from the euphoria of being a new father.

He will ignore it. For now.

"Oh, my dear husband…!" Fumiko exclaims happily, hand daintily covering her mouth. She bows lowly. "Thank you very much!"

Tajima merely gives a flick of his wrist. "Do not speak of this, wife."

He watches the petite woman bustle about in a flurry, picking up the babe of near three months, bringing the child to her chest.

Instantly, the babe snuggles into the folds of her fine clothing, clinging to the woman and gurgling. A wide, toothless smile is upon the young one's face, as the woman coos to him.

"My precious Madara…Your mother is here for you, my dear first son," she murmurs, voice full of love and adoration.

For a moment, Tajima feels the distinct need to near them, and hold the babe. However, the moment is fleeting, and he forces the feeling down into the pit of his stomach.

"I love you, my sweet little one," his wife chimes, bouncing the boy within her grasp, causing the babe to let out a small noise of happiness. She turns, so that Tajima is within the babe's line of sight. "And your father does as well."

The babe innocently stares up at the tall, imposing man. Then, the young one stretches out his tiny arms to his father, in a motion to be held.

Tajima will not admit it, but he all but melts, and acquiesces quite easily to the request.

The Head of the Uchiha Clan walks forwards, gently taking his firstborn son within his grasp, gently bouncing the boy in his arms. Madara gives out a melodious giggle, and Tajima allows his face to fall into a small smile, full of fondness.

This feeling he feels…The feeling deep within his chest, the feeling that causes butterflies to flutter in his stomach…

He cannot fully fathom why, but Tajima perceives it to be something similar to 'love'.

The young man doesn't fully know why—or how— it has taken so damn quickly to accustom to his new circumstances.

He used to be a young man, going to college. Now, he is a baby.

A baby who is a main antagonist in a fictional universe of ninjas.

Madara Uchiha…

But he doesn't feel like Madara Uchiha. The young man isn't even sure what that would even feel like, but he digresses.

He just doesn't feel…Natural. Or even particularly evil. Not even mildly psychopathic.

All he knows is the warmth and love of the darling woman who is his mother, Fumiko Uchiha. And the fondness behind raised ice walls, from the man who is his father, Tajima Uchiha.

Thrust in such a shocking situation, the young man clings to the mother of this new life—literally.

He thinks that, perhaps, such is natural for most babies. To cling to their mothers, to their warmth and familiarity.

He doesn't really care. About that, or about losing some of his dignity—even if he was an adult in mind, and this was just really damn embarrassing overall.

He only cares about his new body's parents, and their love. Their safety. Their comfort.

The reincarnated young man doesn't like being separated from either Tajima or Fumiko for very long. He is a very calm, quiet baby, overall. Doesn't make a fuss, unless he is very very hungry, or very very soiled.

He does pitch a hissy fit, though, whenever he is parted from either parent for too long. Isn't that big of a fan of all those family members that hover over him and coo annoyingly, either. But taking him away from the woman that's his second mother is the greater evil.

The young man is actually somewhat glad that Fumiko actually, well, mothers him. God knows she had enough servants around that would do the job for her, being the Clan Head's wife. But despite all her softness and pacifism, she holds firm that she wants to take care of him.

It's something the reincarnated soul is very grateful for. A very caring mother is something he had in his previous life, and even when being thrown into this utter fuckup of a new life…at least that stays the same.

Yes, the breastfeeding is rather mortifying, but he isn't sure that formula has even been invented yet, so…It will have to do. Can't have himself starve to death, just because he was picky.

Fumiko is a wonderful woman, notwithstanding.

And each time he is within Fumiko's arms…Each time Tajima watches him, or picks him up…

Well, the reincarnated soul tentatively feels happy. Loved.

Maybe…Maybe, with the love and support of his parents…Maybe this life would not be such an utter catastrophe.

The hope is incredibly fragile, but…No one would blame him if he tries, right…?

He can feel happy and loved enough to smile, to laugh, to hug and feel warm with his parents.

But then…This won't last long. He knows this.

The young man had to prepare himself. Learn Japanese, relearn how to speak, how to stand up and walk and read and write.

He has already started making advancements, but it won't be enough. He needs to be diligent, during the short times he is awake.

He needs to prepare himself for what's to come…

Even if he loathes to remember, loathes to even think it…

He needs to be ready for what comes ahead. Because he's Madara Uchiha.

"Madara Uchiha!"

The babe of six months jolts, tumbling down onto his bottom. He had previously been toddling casually around in his crib, showing an ease that Tajima had not known the boy possessed.

"My dear son—did you just walk?" the man exclaims, rushing forwards to pick the babe up, within his armored arms. He ignores the fact that he had returned fresh from a mission, covered in dirt, grime, sweat, and blood.

The babe stares up at his father, stock-still, as if paralyzed. Slowly—as if wary—the babe nods his head.

The babe gives his father a second shock in two minutes, when he opens his mouth and speaks proper words, instead of nonsensical babbles.

"Hai, Otou-sama," Madara says, enunciating the syllables slowly.

Tajima almost drops his first son then and there, from pure shock.

The man's mouth hangs open, like a fish. He tries to speak, but his mouth is suddenly very dry.

"Madara, did you just—did you just speak?" Tajima finally asks after a few seconds, voice strained, in utter disbelief.

The young one cocks his head to the side, an oddly contemplative look on his chubby little face, a face of cherubic softness that all babes seem to possess.

"Hai, Otou-sama," the babe re-iterates. Once more, it is properly enunciated, but there is an undercurrent of some shrouded emotion that the father cannot properly decipher. It was akin to… a combination of resignation, anger, and self-loathing.

The man does not dwell on it further. Such complicated emotions should not be present within a young babe. Thusly, he must be seeing things. Projecting the maturity of his own men, within his young boy.

Tajima beams down softly at his son, excitement and fondness thrumming through his battered veins.

His son's first words were of full and utter respect for him. Father. Already showing deference, already showing the status of his position.

It is the best gift Tajima has received, after coming from a mission. Not even slaying the Senju and gaining an award from the daimyo could compare.

"We must inform the clan of these developments, Madara. I am sure your mother will be very much overjoyed," he says, turning to leave the nursery, his son firmly within his grip. "I am very…pleased."

The young-man-turned-baby is not very happy.

He had been careful, before. Careful in honing his motor functions, in turning babbles into words, in learning the language that would now be his mother tongue.

He had taken it slow. Only did anything impressive, when no one was around to see or hear him. Mostly, he took to wobbling around his crib with his stupid noodle legs, when even the servants and Fumiko would be too busy to come and see him, in the dead of the night.

And then he slipped up. Walked along the crib, at a time when his father decided to drop by and visit. Tajima Uchiha was a busy man, and honestly, he hadn't expected the man to visit much at all.

But Tajima saw what he could now do.

And really, there was now no hope in hiding. So he thought, 'fuck it', and decided to say his first words as well.

Madara Uchiha, from his knowledge, had been known to be a genius, apparent from even a young age. So it was just something that was going to happen, anyways.

…The young man honestly hopes that this is the only coincidence, the only similar stretch that Fate will make him walk.