Eleven-year-old Miya could only handle formality for so long and a banquet? It was a big pain in the butt. They were boring and more trouble than worth. There were only so many things that she could do until her patience ran out...or her mother sent her to her room for unladylike behaviour and poor manners.

Was it her fault that she'd rather play outside on the streets in boy clothes than endure getting dressed in a puffy silly grown that made her back itch and cared little about how much air managed to enter inside her lungs?

Apparently, it was.

Miya sighed for what seemed to be the tenth time that evening, stomping her foot against the wooden floor. She stole a glance at her twin sister, purple eyes widening in disbelief. Compared to herself, the redhead sitting on her left was the definition of grace and calmness, back straight, lips curved into a pleasant smile that was too perfect to be real; gaining compliments left and right...
To make it brief, she was everything Miya wasn't: a lady.

Well, that was debatable since there was also noble blood running through her veins but alas she acted more like the war orphans, wild and untamed so the title of lady was merely given out of politeness and respect for her status; no more, no less.

Glancing over to Mito's right, at a boy their age with a bowl haircut and brown eyes who, by all means, was a walking trouble magnet, she was left confused. If there was one thing that her sister hated that was loud and constant and meaningless chatter. Thing that boy, Hashirama, she corrected herself, as if hearing her sensei's voice scolding her for calling the fourth son of Lord Senju "the boy with the bowl haircut and large pants." did plenty of.

Miya liked him, alright. He played with her, didn't care about her status, and didn't hesitate to put up a good fight. The fact that he had a smile that could brighten up an entire room and a laugh so carefree in a time when most people had either killed or were prepared to, was rare so there went another plus. However, she knew her sister and these facts mattered little in her eyes. That she was staying and indulging Hashirama was saying something; after all she had watched many obnoxious boys taste defeat after they tried to woo her.

Nevertheless to say, Mito was not impressed and if Miya knew her sister as well as she thought, then this was nothing but a mask, a facade that she put on for the sake of politics.

The Uzumaki and the Senju were friends and there was no stronger proof than the sound of their fathers' laughter. A genuine companionship. So, naturally, if the adults were on good terms, the children were supposed to be as well and her sister with a strong sense of duty and morals of steel was not going to ruin the bond between the clans.

Right?

That seemed to be something that she would do, not Mito.

Never Mito, perfection reincarnated.

Miya decided with a stubborn scowl before she rose from her seat with a determined glint in her eyes. Before she could have taken even two steps, her sister's voice echoed around, as calm and stern as ever. When she turned her head, she was left dumb-smacked as she always was when Mito did something unhuman.

She had been looking at Hashirama the entire time so how did she see her stand up?

"Where are you going?"

"Outside and I don't have to ask for your permission." she retorted and left the room.

She was sure that she was doing to die of boredom if she spent a minute longer inside there. The banquet was celebrating a new victory for the Senju and Uzumaki against the Uchiha and while she loved to hear what takes place in the battlefield she was young and a girl at that. The adults were not as generous as to share the gory and, in her opinion, the most interesting details with her. As such, she had been seated at the children's table, forced to witness the beginning of Hashirama's and Mito's betrothal.

If she had ever thought ill of arranged marriage before, tonight she felt like hiding sheep dung under the pillow of the person who came up with such a stupid idea.

"Bakas. Bakas everywhere." she mumbled under her breath as she found the exist that lead her to the gardens. The Land of Whirlpools wasn't too green, but she had begged and made a fuss for flowers and fruits to be grown when she was six and now, looking at all the small flower buds and at the strawberries that seemed to shine in the pale light of the moon, Miya had to give herself a pat on the back for being so smart.

She walked towards the tallest tree there was, looking up at it in wonder. The gardener said that this one was the one that grew the quickest. She had often sat under his branches and wondered why but tonight she had a different thought in mind. So, she gathered up her skirts as much as she was able to and extended her arm to grab one of the branches but once she succeeded at that, her skirts fell and when she climbed atop of another branch she almost tripped on the damn material.

"Stupid Ayame-dono." she mumbled under her breath, remembering how the old woman had gushed about her creations and looked at her like she had grown two heads when she asked for shorter dresses to be made.

Never mind. I can make them short on my own. She thought, pulling out a kunai and ripping apart her dress. It was unevenly cut, she knew but it was either that or failure.

And she really wanted to climb the tree.

After her clothing allowed her to move more easily, Miya resumed her climbing until she reached one of the tallest branches and settled there. The wind was blowing softly tonight and standing up so high made her heart burst with happiness and pride because up there, nothing seemed impossible and she felt like the tallest and strongest of them all. Sparing a glance in the palace's direction, she watched the people inside. Chattering, dancing, eating, and drinking until their butts felt sore. She wondered how could people change so quickly. Deadly and composed in battle while cheerful and without a care in the world the rest of the time.

She admired them. From the medics that helped on the battlefield to the legendary shinobi whose names will be praised in songs years from now. And it was because she admired them that she wanted to do something more than look pretty and respect politics. She wanted to have glory and she wanted to feel that rush of adrenaline that Miya was sure that only almost dying could give her.

In other words, she would throw her 'lady' title into the trash if that meant she could become a shinobi.

"Let Mito become Lady Senju and bear children. I want to fight!" she declared passionately out loud, seemingly to nobody.

"Tch and how do you plan to do that in a dress? You'd die in the first few minutes since stepping foot in there."

Miya shrieked so loudly that you'd think the sound came from a cat. Had she possessed a smaller sense of balance, her butt would have been on the ground now. How did I not sense him?! Did I let my guard down? No... I have it up all the time...

The redhead looked down to find the source of the voice and found a boy, black haired and with equally black eyes staring back at her. However, his good looks didn't make it right for him to insult her skills.

"Baka. Of course I wouldn't do the fighting in skirts! What do you take me for? I'd be wearing shinobi clothes." she answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And don't sneak up on people like that! I could have killed you or something datteryu."

The boy scoffed at the prospect, wondering whether he was supposed to laugh or to show her who would be capable of killing who. Really, the girl looked too fragile and incapable to harm even a fly. The talk about battlefield and shinobi was merely wishful thinking. However, something about her did caught his interest otherwise he would have never bothered to come out from the shadows.

Her hair. Or rather, its rare colour.

Madara supposes that he should have expected to find something of that sort near the Uzumaki territory but that didn't leave him any less...what? Astonished? Impressed? No, he told himself firmly. Uchiha don't do open mouths and wide eyes, especially not because of...hair. Upon inspecting the clothes she was wearing, he reached another conclusion.

Not any Uzumaki, but of noble blood.

"Hey! Are you deaf? I said something to you!"

Madara felt the need to roll his eyes, wondering why Kami was so cruel. He had found the weak twin, not the prodigy he sought out in order to put a strain in any future bond the Senju wanted to create with a powerful clan such as the Uzumaki.

"You climbed the wrong way."

Huh? She blinked, confused at his statement, and forgetting her irritation for the time being.

"What do you mean? I'm up here, ain't I teme?" the redhead asked, using her hand to gesture around.

Miya watched him smirk and faster than she thought it possible, the boy climbed the tree, going as far as to stand just a branch above her own. If it was just the speed, she could have taken that with an appreciative nod. There were faster shinobi than that; her tou-chan was one, for example. But the way he climbed, using his feet, running up the tree...just like Mito.

She was not impressed. She was pissed off. The scowl on her face was there as proof. Everyone my age has mastered this but I never did. Why?!

He looked down at the young lady, no older than he was. Her reaction pleased him for a moment until he spotted something that he often saw in his brother when a jutsu wasn't performed perfectly. Frustration. She wants to be better but she doesn't know how.

The girl clenched her fists and he strongly believed that there will be tears. It was no secret, girls, women cry. His father told him as much. Men didn't.

"That's why we go to war and they stay behind, son."

Madara remembers himself, just five years old, curious, and naive asking:

"And what if one day a woman cries just the day she is born and never again after?"

His lord father had looked at him then, straight in the eye and smiled. It was small and quick and by the time he had blinked it was gone, as it had never been there but even if his mind didn't manage to imprint the smile permanently, the words he had spoken next stayed with him.

"When that day comes, women will fight besides us, Madara. They will borrow from our strength and we from their wisdom. Kami-sama knows most men are fools, too small to fill their armours. But not us, son. We are Uchiha, the blood of the dragon. We are bigger than the steel we wear."

Instead of doing what he expected her to do, the girl did the opposite and more. She turned to face him with the biggest idiotic grin that he had ever seen crease the face of...well, anyone, if he didn't count the dobe. And then she pointed a finger in his direction, declaring for all of the Land of Whirlpools to hear:

"Climbing that way is for lazy people! I chose the hard way that would make my muscles strong!"

Madara barely stifled the chuckle that threatened to escape his mouth. She was entertaining, to say the least. "What muscles?" he required coolly.

"Ahhh, STOP MOCKING ME!"

"Stop giving me reasons then."

"UGHH, THAT IS. I will climb this tree with chatra and then you will have to admit that I'm strong."

"You can't even pronounce chakra correctly." The Uchiha heir replied, putting emphasis on the former word.

Miya clicked her tongue as if that was one insignificant detail. "Theory gets stomped on the battlefield. So, it doesn't matter if I spell it correctly or not. As long as I can use it."

He didn't believe that. Mind and body. One was useless without the other but he agreed with the fact that learning what to do in a fight and actually doing it are two very different things. "Prove it then. You are all bark and no bite, Lady Uzumaki."

The redhead hmphed before she reached the ground. She pressed her palms together, concentrating on the chakra at the bottom of her feet. I suck at chakra control but...I can't blow it off now! I have to keep my word. Once she figured that it was enough, Miya took off running towards the tree. Somewhere in the middle, her flow disrupted and she was forced to land back on the ground. "Don't say a word! I'm not giving up yet." she told him, before trying again and again and again.

Madara heard about the great stamina and life force Uzumaki possessed thus he was sure that just about everyone else would have been done by now. And yet she is still trying. It was admirable and foolish at the same time.

In the beginning. Now, it was just pitiful. Watching her fall and rise each time more bruised than the last. Even he wasn't that cruel to allow this to continue. "You have a tremendous amount of chakra, moron that's why a simple exercise like this is hard for you. Stop before you faint."

Miya, however didn't want to hear it. Most children learned it by seven and she was eleven and not getting anywhere. She had to succeed. "Shut-up! And leave if you got tired. I'm not going anywhere until I reach the top!" she declared but before she could have made an attempt to run for the tree, Madara jumped down, seizing her wrist.

"The only place you'd be going to is the medical tent if you don't quit. It's useless to try something if you are not doing it properly."

She was breathing heavily and she knew that she had long ago gone past her limit but if she wanted to become a shinobi one day, she had to be better than her sister. Better than any other girl. "Teach me then. What am I doing wrong?" she asked, putting aside her pride. Besides, her uncle always used to say that there is no shame in learning from others. Only wisdom.

Maybe raw strength isn't always the answer. She thought as she looked at the dark-haired boy, waiting for his answer.

Madara had one plan and one goal. To kidnap the Uzumaki prodigy. While he didn't meet her, he met her sister who could be just as useful. It'd be so easy to abduct her. She wouldn't have stood a chance against him at her best. At her worst? One strike to the vulnerable point in her neck and she'd be limp in his arms.

He chose to ignore that voice.

"You use too much or too little. The key is to find a balance. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and focus. Imagine the chakra flow in your system, now make sure an even amount goes at the bottom of your feet. "

Miya listened, half entranced by the way he spoke and half determined to shove his hand off her own but when he let go, she did as he told her. And the joy she felt when she finally did it couldn't be described with words. "THANK YOU...UH, WHAT WAS YOUR NAME?"

He fought the urge to smirk but he indulged her with a proud nod. "When you master water walking, I will tell you." Kami-sama knew why he said what he did, but the words had already been voiced and he was an Uchiha; he always kept his promises.

"If you tell me how it's done, I will master it in no time!"

"Alone. I won't be here to teach you."

It didn't take her long to realize what he meant. We are still at war. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she looked around her garden. It was so easy to forget what happens outside these walls when she was surrounded by beauty. No bloodshed and no corpses had graced her eyesight. But his? Certainly had.

She wondered whose side he was on.

"When you come back then."

Neither of them said it, but it could be very well heard in the silence. Somewhere in her sentence, replacing the optimistic "when"...was an if.

Suddenly the door that lead to the garden opened and Miya turned around to find her family. When she looked back in order to present the mysterious boy that helped her achieve tree walking, he was nowhere to be found. Her mother scolded her about how dirty and bruised she got and how ruined her clothes were. Mito gave her a disappointed, stern look while her father laughed and ruffled her hair for mastering what had been until then her biggest struggle.

Something told her that she shouldn't tell anybody of the one who helped her and so she didn't.

It's my secret to keep.