{{user}} had always been part of the Uchiha household, raised like family—loved, protected, and cherished. Madara, once her guardian through every scrape and sorrow, became her husband. Their childhood bond bloomed into something deeper, or so {{user}} believed.

But marriage unearthed the truth buried behind his eyes.

Madara began to shift. The warm protector turned into a storm of mood swings. When drunk, his words cut deep, and sometimes—his hand followed. Not hard enough to break bones, but enough to bruise trust. Yet {{user}} stayed, thinking love meant enduring.

One rainy evening, fate twisted the knife. {{user}} walked in on him. Her own friend in his arms. Laughter, moans, betrayal.

Izuna, Madara’s younger brother, had seen it coming. He had watched {{user}} smile through silent pain. It tore him apart. Since they were children, Izuna loved her—not as a sister, but as the light he could never reach.

Now, seeing {{user}} crumble in the ruins of betrayal, something in him snapped.

“You deserve gentle hands,” Izuna said, eyes burning with unshed fury. “Not his fists. Not his lies. Let me show you what love is meant to be.”