"Madara, dinner's ready…"
A young girl in a simple dress, her features delicate and pure, set a tray down on the table.
"Oh, thank you."
Madara replied gently, picking up his chopsticks and eating, his gaze drifting now and then to the mirror—to the face on his chest.
The girl joined him, taking up her own bowl and chopsticks. Her name was Ali.
Days earlier, she'd gone fishing with her father and older brother. By sheer chance, they'd pulled Madara from the sea and brought him home.
Under Ali's careful care, Madara had regained consciousness—but his memory was gone.
All he could recall was his name: Madara. Everything else was a blank.
In the days since, Ali had looked after every aspect of his life, trying to help him recover his memories.
That face on his chest was, without a doubt, the key.
"I asked around today," Ali said. "Some twins die in the womb, and the one who passes is absorbed by the survivor. That face on your chest… maybe it's something like that?"
"Is that so?" Madara murmured, brow furrowed in thought.
"Any memories coming back?" Ali asked gently.
He shook his head, lost and a little frustrated.
"If it's not a happy memory, maybe it's better not to force it…" Ali said softly.
"Alright, I'll listen to you." Madara nodded.
"Hehe~" Ali grinned, two sweet dimples appearing on her cheeks.
After dinner, Ali tidied up the dishes.
Lying in bed, Madara asked, "Ali, I'm not like normal people. Aren't you afraid?"
She paused, then answered honestly, "At first, I was a little scared. But… I don't think you're a bad person."
Madara considered her words. "Thank you. Whether I'm good or bad, you're still my savior."
"Tomorrow, I'll go find a doctor outside the village to check your right eye—why is it white?" Ali said.
He wanted to agree, but something about it made him uneasy. "Maybe… let's not."
But Ali insisted, "What if you're sick? We can't risk delaying treatment."
"My right eye sees fine. I don't feel sick at all," Madara protested.
"Only a doctor can say for sure. That's settled—no more arguing~" Ali said with mock sternness, then left with the dishes before he could object.
Helpless, Madara could only accept her good intentions.
The next day, a doctor from outside the village came to examine Madara's right eye. The verdict: nothing wrong, just an unusual, naturally white pupil.
But as the doctor left, he shot Madara a lingering, meaningful look.
—
In the days that followed, Madara helped out with chores at Ali's house and all around the village.
His strength was astonishing. Tasks that left seasoned fishermen exhausted, he handled with ease.
Those who'd once grumbled about his arrival soon told Ali's father and brother they'd found a treasure—this man was a gift from the sea!
That evening, Madara joined Ali at the village festival.
The Land of Water thrived on fishing, and its villages had their own unique culture. Ali's village was no exception.
During the festival, everyone danced the Soran Dance—its moves evolved from the motions of hauling in nets, celebrating the joy of a rich catch.
For some reason, the first time Madara saw the dance, he was utterly captivated!
It was like something inside him had switched on.
Before he knew it, he'd joined the dancers!
At first, the villagers watched him with skepticism, even mockery.
But soon, he became the star of the show!
He added his own flair to the Soran Dance, seamlessly working in high-difficulty moves that left the crowd in awe.
When he finished with a perfect Thomas spin, the cheers were deafening!
"I've never seen such a soulful Soran Dance!"
"Madara, you're amazing!!"
"I thought you were just strong, but your rhythm and coordination are incredible!"
"With you, we could win the dance-off against any village!"
"Yeah, we always lost before because we didn't have a lead dancer!"
"Madara, you have to be our lead dancer this year!!"
Caught in the spotlight, Madara was at a loss.
Ali stepped in to rescue him. "Hey, can't you see you're overwhelming him?"
Before anyone could answer, she grabbed Madara's hand and whisked him away from the festival.
On the way back—
"Thanks for that," Madara said.
"No problem. Who knew you were such a good dancer? Maybe you were a performer before?" Ali teased.
"I have no idea…" Madara admitted.
There was, in fact, a story behind Madara's dancing.
Back in the Warring States era, the Uchiha had a tradition: after every victory, they would dance in celebration.
Madara's dance skills had been honed in those days.
That was why "Do you want to dance too?" had become his signature taunt to defeated foes.
Scratching his long hair, Madara asked, "Um… if we win the dance contest, is there a prize?"
"Don't listen to their hype. Sure, there's a reward, but with so much competition, what are the odds? Besides, the Soran Dance is a team effort—one good dancer isn't enough," Ali replied.
"I… could lead everyone in practice," Madara offered.
"Do you really like dancing that much?" Ali laughed.
Chatting, they reached the riverside.
"Hehe~" Ali let loose, lifting her skirt and wading barefoot through the shallows.
Standing by the water, Madara bent down to pick up a stone.
Suddenly, flashes of memory flickered through his mind.
"Hashi… Hashirama…"
He whispered the name without thinking.
"Ah—!!"
A sudden scream snapped him back. Ali had slipped and fallen into the river! The current swept her away!
Without hesitation, Madara dove in and pulled her to safety.
Soaked and trembling, Ali clung to his neck, his scent filling her senses.
"…"
Madara glanced down—he was standing on the surface of the water. He pondered this, then leapt to shore in a single bound.
Carrying Ali in his arms, he brought her home.
The next day was market day for several villages. Ali's father and brother had left early to prepare and wouldn't be back until the following night.
That night, Madara lay in bed, struggling to recall the meaning behind that name.
Until a soft, warm form slipped under his blanket.
"Ali… you!?"
Her eyes shimmered with longing. "Madara… from the moment you held me, I decided I wanted to be yours…"
Madara panicked. "But I—"
But Ali's burning lips silenced him.
A young woman's passion, once ignited, burns hotter than any flame.
That night, everything happened naturally.
Later, Ali lay nestled in Madara's arms, her voice soft and pleading. "Madara, can you forget the past? I want to be with you, always…"
"Sleep…" Madara murmured.
"If you don't promise, I can't sleep…" she pouted.
"…Alright, I promise."
"Pinky swear?" Ali insisted.
Helpless, Madara linked pinkies with her, promising not to leave her, whether he remembered or not.
"Maybe… this isn't so bad," Madara whispered, closing his eyes and holding her close.
—
"No doubt about it—that's the Byakugan, the Byakugan of Konoha's Hyuga clan!!"
By chance, the doctor who'd examined Madara's eye was actually a former medical ninja, and the organizer of the Land of Water's underground black market!
Greed flashed in his eyes.
"That man's lost his memory. If I could get my hands on that Byakugan… it'd fetch a fortune!"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
The story isn't over...
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