When one day, Uchiha madara has a dream. A dream of a woman who's embrace is where he found his eternal peace
Word gets loose and now parents of every clan are showing off their daughters for marriage proposals
Okkotsu y/n, the youngest of eight si...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
...༻❁🝮❁༺...
"What a brave man you are," the source of that melodic voice spoke tenderly, as fingers ran affectionately through his hair, adding warmth to the quiet moment.
Madara remained limp in her embrace—not because he was physically unable, but rather because he found solace in this stillness. It was a rare moment of peace in a life filled with conflict and ambition. She leaned closer, her voice soft and melodic, as she queried, "Don't you worry about changing this world for peace?"
Nestled against the woman's soft, pillow-like chest, he felt a profound sense of comfort that he rarely allowed himself to feel. In that intimate space, he couldn't help but close his eyes to enhance his enjoyment of it.
"As what you want takes many shapes and forms," she continued with a gentle hum, "you may discover it in the companionship of a friend, the passion of a lover, the bond of family, or perhaps even in a cherished hobby. But what matters most is..."
He listened with rapt attention, his mind drifting through the wisps of their conversation, the safety of her presence wrapping around him like a cocoon. "You eventually find it within yourself. No one is more important to you than... you. Your body is the seed from which your opportunities in life grow," she explained, her voice steady and soothing.
"Your mind is what allows you to experience," she said softly, and she tapped his forehead gently before continuing.
"And your heart is what allows you to feel." At this, he opened his eyes, meeting her gaze.
"Your heart is what enables you to find peace within yourself and happiness within others," she concluded, her words lingering in the air like fragrant incense.
"Your heart is the poet to your poem," she added, and he felt her warmth radiate, igniting a flicker of something deep within him.
Sitting up, Madara surveyed his surroundings, drawing in the dim light cast by the flickering candle on his bedside table. His lips pressed into a thin line as he acknowledged the contrast of shadows filling his dark room. Despite the muted ambiance, he felt a strange calm.
Madara Uchiha was a man of simple tastes, someone who took no stock in extravagance. As he gazed around, it was clear he preferred utility over decor—just as long as things didn't call too much attention to themselves.
Of course, to an average person, the pallor of the room might scream 'depressing,' but who could expect anything different from Madara Uchiha? With a heavy sigh, he watched as the candle's flame waned to nothing, and darkness enveloped him once more.
Lying back down, he found his eyes drawn to the ceiling, where silence reigned; it was an echo of his thoughts, a void where dreams and aspirations collided into an indistinct longing. "A dream..." he eventually muttered to himself, surrendering to the tranquility that washed over him once more as his eyelids drooped shut.
...🝮༻✽༺🝮...
Three hours rolled by, the clock inching forward to 3:42 AM, alive in the Okkotsu brothel—an environment that buzzed with complexity and charm.
"We must get rid of these lady parts! They're too big for men to even want you!" an agitated woman fretted, frantically wrapping a thick, figurative fabric around your chest as a means of concealment.
"You're telling me this as if I can do anything about it, Okaa-san," you replied, an eyebrow arched, sarcasm dripping from your words. "What is it you want me to do? Chop them off?"
Your mother immediately shook her head, resolute in her approach. "Of course not, that would leave scars. Maybe there's a fine lord out there that likes... bigger women." You leaned lazily against the wall, resting your cheek in your palm.
"And what if there isn't?" you pressed, a note of defiance creeping into your tone.
She paused, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment before continuing her task with a renewed sense of urgency. "Then you'll take your own life and we'll donate your body to the doctors," she said with a huff, the crack of humor barely hiding her underlying worry.
A chill clawed its way down your spine at that stark response. "Hold on, I'll be back," she declared, jumping to her feet and hurrying out of the room.
Shifting your attention to the window nearest you, you stared into the dark abyss outside. The world beyond seemed indifferent to your struggles, the whispers of passing souls ignorant of the weight of societal expectations. The public saw you as a curse upon the Okkotsu name, a name that had always been synonymous with beauty and grace. Yet here you remained, a stark contradiction within those very walls.
You drummed your fingers contemplatively against your cheek, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. To the average observer, your face and figure clashed violently with their narrow standards of beauty. You had larger breasts and curves, a stark contrast compared to the petite frames idolized by those around you.
As a child, your parents had believed it was merely a matter of age—an innocent excess of baby fat that could easily be sculpted away through exercise. You'd been made to run laps around the brothel, dance until you were breathless, and fast after every meal, convinced that physical activity would somehow align you with the societal mold. But as the years unfurled, it became clear: you were just built differently.
You were, in fact, significantly stronger than most; those childhood exercises only amplified an innate physical prowess you had been born with. In your teenage years, one particularly memorable arm-wrestling contest yielded a staggering reward of over seven thousand ryō, a victory secured over a surprisingly formidable sumo wrestler.
But despite that strength, you were perpetually marked as an outlier, falling short of the beauty that society idolized. Men craved delicate, dainty women, all sparkly wide eyes and charming smiles. There was something deeply unsettling about this relentless pursuit of innocence, a tendency to mold women into caricatures of youth.
As time wore on, you found a strange comfort in tuning out the incessant noise of societal demands. You were repeatedly told that you didn't meet the beauty standard, a message you had received since you were old enough to understand it. Any other girl might have crumpled under the weight of that constant scrutiny, but not you; you had learned to adapt, to endure—to reclaim your narrative.
You were deemed ugly, and frankly, you accepted that. It was simply part of who you were, a candid truth that you wore like armor.
[AN] hiii, I just wanted to let you guys know, this story isn't gonna be following Naruto's proper timeline, some characters will be born earlier than they were supposed to and blah blah blah. Hope you enjoy ♥️
