Uchiha.. Madara was hearing that Surname a lot lately.. it almost confused him, he was sure everyone in the clan had died, he saw the bodies himself...what had happened in all that time he had been underground? Madara looked at Shisui and lowered his eyes.
"Uchiha, you say?...I remember this Uchiha I knew..extremely skilled, but... he died in battle..I wasn't able to save him..."
Madara turns his back on the lake and picks up another rock, squeezing it in his hand. The Uchiha's remarks about him and rocks seemed to trigger a thought in his head. If he had been willing to fight with his brother and that father that day, maybe... Madara squeezed the rock harder, his anger growing. He was here and his brother wasn't. Hashirama's face was forever etched across the village that they both created, not his. This world was flawed and needed erasing. Madara opened his back up to see dust and peebles in it. Turning his hand to the side, letting the dust slide out, Madara looked over his shoulder and spoke.
"Rock throwing is only that, it has no other significance...but if you are indeed a Uchiha, where is your pride? Your honor? Your..sharingan?"