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In the end, Madara got his childish wish.
He had plotted and manoeuvred, had used up any and all favours that were owned to them, had begged and pleaded- For nothing more than getting his thrice-damned peace, written in worthless ink that would wash away with the first spray of blood. From one moment to the next, the hereditary war between Uchiha and Senju was over and done with, if only on paper.
Hashirama and Madara might have done everything in their power to make it as binding as possible, to keep the violence from igniting ever again—to make sure the next generation would know life before they died, as they liked to tell everyone who didn’t make a run for it fast enough—but the betrayal kept Izuna’s blood boiling.
His brother had gone behind his back and somehow pressured their elders into approving this farce while Izuna had been out of the compound—and with him apparently all voice of reason—and Izuna might be too late to smother its treacherous spark before it had a chance to grow into an inferno devouring their clan… but if nothing else, Izuna could make sure his clan head knew the cost for his dream was greater than he could ever have anticipated.
“If your precious friend can keep his bloodthirsty pet in check, then, sure, whatever this is will work,” Izuna said dismissively, with a vague but all-encompassing gesture around the bones of a growing village that would become their clan’s funeral pyre before too long.
“But I know the White Demon like no one else alive, Aniki.” Izuna paused, deliberately baring his throat to show off the faint scar that would have taken his life if the useless Senju hadn’t misjudged the distance between them like a rookie. “So I won’t hold my breath. You deluded yourself if you think your childish dream won’t go up in flames, taking down the clan with it.”
They had fought over the topic more often and for longer than Izuna could remember, so instead of waiting for a response that he already knew the gist of, he turned on his heel and made his way to the door before Madara had a chance to formulate a response that would change nothing.
For all that their arguments were a practised dance, there was one thing Izuna had never dared to say out loud, for, one way or another, it couldn’t be taken back. But if no one else had the guts to do it, then Izuna would do his duty as clan heir and take up the responsibility to remind his delusional clan head of what it meant to be an Uchiha.
“You might have twisted my arm on this for now, but know this: A clan head forsaking the obligation to their clan, their family, is not worth leading us. We are Uchiha, and Uchiha remember. If you are ready to forgive, ready to forget, then Uchiha, you are no longer.”