Chapter Text
“There’s a village full of you freaks? Why aren’t you on the battlefield?” Deidara asked, struck by the sight of the quaint town.
Small, single-family homes in the traditional Fire-style lined the streets, separated only by the pink blossoms of the cherry trees. Dark-haired children tugged each other by the hand as they approached their grannies for sweets, before dashing about to play. A beautiful woman was pulling fish from the river and taking them to town. The bright sun had even somehow quelled the oppressive humidity, taming Deidara’s hair for the first time all morning.
It was disgusting.
The smell of cooking fish was enough to somewhat break his consternation, until he saw an old man using fire ninjutsu to distill shōchū.
He grit each set of his teeth.
“Not every Uchiha awakens the Sharingan, though anyone who can, tends to do so quickly. These are rough days we live in, Deidara,” Izuna answered, and then smiled. “Though you have brought good news that it may stop. I have never trusted that the Senju would stick to a peace, but if they did, even with my … absence…”
“Your death, yeah. Sure. If not everyone gets your demon eyes, then why is that guy using his to hammer metal?” Deidara said, staring as a red-eyed smith pounded on a sword.
“How else would he know where the metal’s natural chakra points are? What kind of a chakra blade would he be able to make without that?”
“That’s a chakra blade? Those are rare, yeah.” Granted, Deidara had never cared much for swords. It had never made sense for him to keep his hands occupied for a lesser weapon than his art.
“Perhaps for non-Uchiha.” Izuna shrugged. “And, perhaps, in your time.”
“Technology has advanced, yeah.”
Oddly, the jab earned him a smile and a huffed laugh.
“Put that thing away,” Deidara drew back in disgust. At least the Uchihas of his time had the decency to smirk instead of flashing their shiny teeth everywhere. Weren’t beauty standards in this time black teeth anyway? Deidara had seen paintings to that effect. If he evaluated Izuna’s smooth skin, ink-black hair, high nose, narrow jaw, and small mouth by the ones he’d grown up with in Iwa…hm.
Oddly warm, all of a sudden, Deidara looked away from that face to observe the villagers again. Now, they were gossiping about the foreigner who had made their serious lord smile so openly.
Ugh, gross.
Did they think he couldn’t hear them?
“Izuna-sama,” one woman approached them, hands twisting in her sleeves. She cut a sharp look at Deidara before her face retreated back into a polite blankness. “Who is this outsider?”
“Ah, hello, cousin. I would like to introduce him to you all properly, but he has yet to meet my brother. You undestand.”
“So it’s like that, then,” she said. “It's only been two years since Saori..."
"Do you think this is an appropriate conversation with your clan heir?" Izuna said mildly. He tilted his head to smile at Deidara, and began to walk faster, guiding Deidara past a woman blowing glass with spat fire and red eyes. "Come, let us continue moving."
“You said I’m here to meet your brother, yeah," Deidara prompted. "So take me to him already. It’s hard to tell in this podunk which house is the manor.”
“You’re so direct,” Izuna said, leading him another few turns until they reached a large, pleasing building. Perhaps it was not so difficult to tell after all, Deidara reconsidered privately, taking in the sight of the traditional homebuilding at its artisanal peak.
If pressed, Deidara might have also appreciated the skill required to shape the garden to fit so well with the surrounding nature, but then, art intended to calm did little for him.
“Rustic,” he said instead, and refrained from kicking in the door. It slid open before he could, anyways, and a tall man emerged, followed by a mass of hair.
The man’s hair, thankfully, though he clearly hadn’t cared for it the way Izuna did his own. Skies above, use conditioner. Deidara itched for his hair oil, before remembering it had likely exploded with the rest of everything. And that this was an Uchiha, who thus deserved anything that would make him look worse than his full potential.
“Izuna, what kind of—hello,” the Uchiha said, and nodded his head at them both.
“Hello, brother,” Izuna said, bizarrely choosing to link his arm through Deidara’s.
“Izuna—er, hello. I am Uchiha Madara, the clan head — I apologize, how do you know…that is, what is your…,” the man fumbled with his words, before abruptly, far too loud, demanding: “Why are you here?”
Izuna snorted, though his face remained placid. Smug, even, though Deidara could think of no reason why he should be. Rather than let Izuna set the pace here, Deidara said, “That one brought me after I beat him in a spar, yeah.”
“And he’s given me a gift of information , brother,” Izuna tilted his head so that his chin rested on Deidara’s head, as he put that odd emphasis on the words. Deidara had lost any sense of personal space about two years into traveling with Sasori, but weren’t people in the past more concerned with propriety?!
Izuna certainly wasn’t, judging by the arm coiling about his waist. Deidara bit it with one of his hands until Izuna unwound himself with a wince.
“Has he truly? And you’ve brought him back to the clan… Brother, why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? What joyous news!”
“He’s telling you now, isn’t he?” Deidara shrugged off the rest of Izuna. “We just met, like, this morning, hm.”
“So sudden!” Madara said, more strained this time, and turned on his heel to go back inside.
“Ah, forgive him. My brother can be excitable,” Izuna whispered to him.
“I’ll take your word for it, hm. You know, your brother never actually invited us inside. Did your teachers not cover etiquette with him, or did your clan only have the budget for one?”
They clearly had gotten some instruction for Izuna. Everything about him was politic. He walked with the noble bearing Deidara recognized from the many, many men who had failed to imitate it. And even now, Deidara’s bluntness had not diminished the easy smile on his face.
“Ah, my brother is… Madara. Come, let’s go in together. I can carry you over the threshold if you are still feeling unwell.”
“What? No, if anything I’ll carry you! I’ll show you who is recovering…” Deidara grumbled.
“That’s not very traditional,” Izuna said bizarrely, smiling at him again with glowing red eyes. Deidara didn’t bother to look away. No genjutsu could possibly be weirder than the current situation. “But then, you’re not a traditional guy, are you?”
“You’re finally starting to speak sense again,” Deidara said, relieved, and marched into the house.
“Oh, there you are. The tea will be ready soon, and we can discuss the practicals of … all this.”
Deidara nodded, sitting down across from Madara. He scrutinized the infamous man’s face. There was something about how he spoke that reminded him of someone…
“That’s an intense look there, Deidara. Do you wish to explain why you stare at me so in my own home? Or how you came to land in my brother’s path today?”
“Why should I tell you, hm?” Deidara leaned back. Posturing, he could do. Fighting…not without at least a night to recover his reserves.
“Ah,” Madara paused, “Because I’m the Uchiha clan head, and Izuna’s brother?”
“You don’t sound so sure, yeah.”
“I’m unsure about your disrespect! I have no idea who you are, or why Izuna has brought you home like one of his rescues.”
“Brother, calm yourself,” Izuna interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. Madara breathed out, and drank his tea. “I came across him in the woods, fresh from a calamitous battle but uninjured. And then, he saved my life, expecting nothing in return.”
“I told you how you’d die,” Deidara corrected.
“The gift of information was a threat ?” Madara said, voice raising again. At Izuna’s look, he took another long sip of tea.
“No, he told me how I would die. He saved my life , and then proved through a spar that he certainly had no need to lie to me.” Izuna’s recounting had taken on a strange gravity. Deidara finally tasted the tea as he watched him in profile. Sencha.
Unbidden, he recalled some otherwise-forgotten mission to the Land of Tea, where one merchant had referred to gyokuro as a recent invention. His brow twitched at the realization he had no idea how recent the discovery was. Would he have to shade the damn plants himself to get a decent cup?!
“You had time to meet his parents before me?” Madara had continued questioning Izuna while Deidara was otherwise occupied in his thoughts.
The non-sequitor rolled off Izuna’s broad shoulders in a shrug, and Deidara looked away from the sight. “He has none, so it wouldn’t be necessary.”
“So you say.”
“Never met them, honestly,” Deidara said. Where he came from had nothing to do with who he was. He was singularly himself, damn the ancestors—!
“Tell me, Deidara, how do you feel about the Senju?” Madara turned the full conflagration of his attention on him, cutting him from his train of thought.
“Oh, yeah. Those guys are still around,” Deidara remembered. The clan was Leaf scum, from what Deidara remembered, though he’d once covered rent for a whole three months after he’d robbed one of their kunoichi blind in a mahjong game...
“Isn’t he wonderful, brother? He just says things like that, all the time” Izuna sighed dreamily.
“Indeed…," Madara said, uncertainly. "I admit, I have hoped for an end to this war for a long time. At the same time, I can recognize you are a strong warrior, and if you protect our backs, the clan will grow accustomed to you more quickly. More pressingly, I do not know if you are worthy until I se you in action for myself. So…Will you fight for us against our old enemies?”
“What,” Deidara said flatly.
“The Senju, that is,” Madara continued inelegantly. “I can hardly give my blessing without knowing you are not a danger at our backs as we face the danger at our fronts.”
Deidara was always a danger, but now, more pressingly, he was quickly exhausting his knowledge of this time period. “Aren’t your families supposed to build a village together or something?”
This revelation stalled both of the Uchiha, as Deidara half-heartedly attempted to scrape any other memories about this history together. It hadn’t seemed important at the time, and, if he were perfectly honest, it still didn’t seem that important. In the worst case, he could just blow everyone up at the next battle, and there would be no Konoha at all.
Heh.
It reminded him of that little ethics question that the instructors in Iwa asked in the second year. “If you could go back in time, would you kill the baby Yellow Flash?” Any student that said no, or objected to the baby-killing of a future monster, would have their file marked for potential seditious thoughts.
Deidara wasn’t bound by such ridiculous scruples, but he’d still left in the end. Not the most accurate of tests, as it turned out.
He came out of his musings to see Madara embracing Izuna tearfully, cups forgotten, and raised a pale brow.
“Izuna, you told him of my childhood dream?” Madara gasped. “I have not dared to hope for it in years…brother, has this wish of mine…become one of yours, too?”
“If the Senju can keep to a peace, I suppose,” Izuna said, dodging the question, though Madara squeezed him all the tighter. Deidara wondered at how long siblings typically hugged each other, before he remembered that he didn’t care. “I feel more comfortable about fighting them off from within, if necessary, with Deidara’s skill.”
More conversationally, he added, “Did you know he can fly?”
“How would he have known? It’s hardly a common skill, yeah,” Deidara said, though appreciated the praise he had more than earned, hm. He had seen people born with wings who couldn’t take to the air with his ease, and look what he could figure out!
“Truly? How remarkable a talent you’ve caught. With your support…yes, this might be enough, to not have our peace be a surrender.” A pause, as Madara released Izuna. “I do trust your judgment, brother, often more than my own. I will send a message to the Senju — but first, let’s celebrate your prize!”
“What prize? Oi, Izuna, if you won something, you better give me at least half for putting up with this shit.”
“It’s not… monetary. Just a celebration of me bringing someone into the home.” A pause, before Izuna began that odd coo-ing tone again, not unlike an old woman speaking to a fat cat, “Of course, you can have half of everything, should things continue well.”
Ugh. This latest Uchiha-ness must have been irritating even his instincts now, if Deidara’s face was feeling this hot. Perhaps he was allergic.
“You do this with every guest? I better be treated properly, yeah, not like some common visitor,” Deidara pointed at Izuna, tapping his chest for emphasis. The thought this contact inspired was swiftly fed to a mental brain-mouth, spat out, and exploded.
Who cares about chest firmness? Who cares about the surprising feel of musculature after half a decade napping on a puppet? Deidara doesn’t! He doesn’t at all, yeah! ! !
“Visitors are not common here,” Izuna said, his face the perfect picture of the honorable noble. “But I swear to you I will.”
“Skies, just bring out the wine if you’re making vows,” Deidara rolled his eyes and took the chance to stop looking at Izuna’s face. “Now, show me where I’m sleeping.”
“Of course,” Izuna bowed, and led him to a large bedroom. It appeared unused, though some childish toy kunai rested atop a dresser.
Behind them, a shadow thickened. Deidara had already collapsed in the bed and began to snore by the time yellow eyes had blinked open and narrowed to a glare.
“Interesting,” the Ancient Thing said, and slunk back into the shadows to wait.