Tags: Time-travel, AU, Canon Divergence, Madara-centric, Descriptions of Violence, Child Soldiers, Mentions of Child Neglect, Warring States Period, MadaTobi, Brotherly Fluff, Slash, Mentions of Dictatorship/Tyranny, Lots of Death.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, obviously.

Madara gazed dully into the lifeless eyes of his reflection, his face completely devoid of any expression.

The only outward sign that could cue someone of his emotional distress was the way his fingers' brutal grip tightened dangerously on the sink's edge, the ominous cracking audibly growing in volume. He forcefully maneuvered his stiff joints into releasing their grip in favor of forming the tiger hand seal.

"Release."

His iris, the morbid color of blood with three black commas, distractedly traced his reflection's soft, cherubic cheeks and lack of wrinkles on his skin. It was the face of an innocent five-year-old with eyes far too old, too worn, too jaded. His pasty complexion didn't help, making him look sickly, ill, and on the verge of death.

"Release."

They soon morphed and swirled into the familiar and unique pattern of his Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan, his sclera being the color of fresh snow more disturbing than the actual fact that a child of five winters has awakened the evolved form of his clan's famed dojutsu.

Madara could feel his feeble chakra reserves plummet to dangerous levels, this body too young to actually activate the Sharingan, much less the Mangekyou. However, he has always been a stubborn man - but always in the wrong and fallacious sense.

"Release."

We're both going to die. Right now, we can drink together. As war buddies.

War buddies, huh? Aa... I guess... that's fine... by...

"RELEASE!"

A pudgy fist full of frustration (denial) and anger (sorrow) went flying, breaking the mirror and tearing his skin in the process. A hiccough slipped passed his lips as involuntary tears rolled down his face. The pain originated more from his sternum than his fist, and Madara could not help but grasp his chest, cloth bunching up as he held them in a white-knuckle grip.

"R-Release... re... lea-"

He dropped to his knees as his chakra flickered incongruously until only a small flame remained, just enough to survive, yet not anywhere near enough to do anything else. His body had forcefully cut off his routes of supply as an act of self-preservation, too deeply engraved in his soul to voluntarily control the fight.

His airway spasmed in his uncontrollable rage at being denied a peaceful demise, and despite the air still trapped inside his lungs, he continued to inhale; as if he has lost all abilities to properly exhale. His forehead planted itself onto the ground with undignified stiffness as he continued to gasp for air, beads of cold sweat rolling down his nape and saliva dribbling down his chin.

Clawing uselessly at his chest, Madara fell sideways, his eyes jerking desperately all over the place in search for some kind of respite. He gave up a few seconds after, feeling that it was pointless. The dead should remain as such - and the world, he thought bitterly, would be much safer without him.

Mind made up, his body went limp and his jaws locked tightly in place. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable, apathetic to how his lungs burned with the need to circulate oxygenated air into his system. Madara slipped away, welcoming the darkness with a small yet blissful smile playing on his lips.

Maybe now he could have that drink with Hashirama...

He woke up to his long-dead clan's medics fretting over him.

A/N: MadaTobi has entirely taken over my Garden of Plots. The plot-bunnies are all obsessed with that ship! I can't stop! ＼(´◓Д◔`)／ Just hope I didn't make their characters too OOC.

I couldn't concentrate on my other fics with my plot-bunnies breeding MadaTobi non-stop. I had to let it go... LET IT GOOOO~ CAN'T HOLD IT BACK ANYMOOOAAARRR~ *。 ﾟ* ヾ( ゝз・)ノ

Please tell me your thoughts (●o'∪`o)ノ

P.S. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it got too long so I broke it into chapters (－‸ლ)...