• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fandom [naruto] halfbreed || itliveswithin & arbus

As Kakashi sprang up, Madara knew the haunted look in his eyes all too well. He regretted not having seen this coming, the instinct for fight or flight ingrained so deeply from what must have been years of wariness. Reflexes honed from wars and countless mission as a mercenary for his village (Konoha, Konoha). Kakashi's lightning chakra swept over him, almost overwhelmingly strong. The buzz that was usually a comfortable hum against his skin now stinging like kunai. When the onslaught of power petered down into a drizzle and finally subsided, it was like a weight lifted from Madara's chest. Was this what people felt when they encountered him?

For a moment, the arm around his waist was unwelcome. Shame ran poisonous through his veins but he could hardly reject the steadying hand he so obviously needed (that was soothing and warm and what he had asked for in the first place), and he set his face into something grim, closing himself off to the disgrace of this whole situation. He was so weak, and Kakashi was seeing him, seeing it all and there was nothing to be done about it.

Chakra exhaustion. Madara ran the word through his head with something akin to disgust. What had always been a mere concept, too abstract to fathom, now held his body in its iron-clad grip. He did not like it one bit.

"I don’t want to rest at all“, Madara bristled in lieu of Kakashi‘s observation. "Give me something to eat and some water and I‘ll be fine.“

This, the whole idea of chakra exhaustion, was ridiculous. Madara would not give into some urge for rest just because he felt a little tired. "If I had rested every time I was a little overworked, I‘d be running chores now for a different clan head."

Throughout his rant, as defiant and stubborn as it was, he grew paler, and it became increasingly hard to fathom why he was standing at all. Lying down sounded like a mercy, a sweet little indulgence that became harder to argue against by each painstaking throb of forcefully emptied chakra pathways, but he would be damned if he did not try! Even though his body was decidedly sagging against Kakashi's warm, solid frame. Madara huffed, impatient with himself.

"A bath, then. But nobody can see me like this." He knew he sounded testy, but the ramifications of somebody witnessing his state exceeded even his current humiliation. The Hatake were allies, yes, but that did not mean that he wanted them to see him in a moment of utter weakness. It was hard not to let the feeling of having his back against the wall overwhelm him. He found solace in the knowledge that this farce would be over soon enough. How long could it possibly take to recover one's chakra pathways?

"So you know", he murmured, fingers now curling into the fabric of Kakashi's yukata as he finally gave into the other's assistance, "you drool when you sleep." That was a brazen lie, but the taunt made it possible for Madara to lift his head and look Kakashi in the eyes for the first time.
 
Last edited:
"I don’t want to rest at all,"

A part of him wondered if his current predicament was payback for putting the poor Konoha doctors and nurses through hell. Was this how he sounded to the hospital staff? "I know the signs all too well, Madara," Kakashi pointed out. He knew what happened if chakra depletion was left untreated. "You need rest whether you want it or not," he added. Kakashi collapsed more than once when he stubbornly ignored the signs. He knew the same would happen to Madara should the Clan Head continue his tirade. "It'll take more than food and water," he huffed. Kakashi was the least qualified to instruct Madara about proper treatment, but unfortunately, he was all the ravenette had.

Stubborn cat.

"If I had rested every time I was a little overworked, I‘d be running chores now for a different clan head."

Kakashi snorted. "You look like hell," he deadpanned. He wasn't referring to the raven's flawless rendition of a drowned cat either. "A very mangy drowned cat," he thought wryly. "A little overworked doesn't translate to being incapable of standing by yourself," he pointed out. Kakashi almost wanted to apologize to his cute little student for all the chaos she endured attempting to heal him.

Almost.

Honestly, the Clan Head's indignation was becoming endearing. Perhaps, he finally gone mad.

"A bath, then. But nobody can see me like this."

The half-Hatake raised his free hand and rested the back of it against the Clan Head's forehead. He shifted his palm until his knuckles grazed the raven's cheekbones, assessing his temperature. "Maa, maa, I will face a gruesome end should I let you be seen by my clan members. Duly noted," he replied blithely, not in the least perturbed by Madara's waspish tone. Despite the Clan Head's sickly pallor, he didn't contract a fever. A hint of relief penetrated his nonchalant façade. The halfbreed retracted his palm before it lingered. Mud caked his fingers, but he cared little about the dirt.

You drool when you sleep. Kakashi blinked. Dark grey locked onto fathomless black. "You snore like a grizzly bear," he countered. The lie slid off his tongue like honey, smooth and effortless. Without another word, the half-Hatake guided Madara to the door. "I don't smell or hear anyone coming this way. The corridor should be empty at this hour," he announced. Before he opened the shōji door, Kakashi seized the Clan Head's left arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. Once he adjusted his grip on the raven's waist, the war veteran reached for the door.
 
Under the caress of Kakashi's hand against his face, a gesture so intimate and protective it caught Madara's breath, his own hand came up to wrap around the other's wrist. Only for a moment, the touch was brief and weak and his fingers cold, but his gaze was burning with an intensity the offhand tone of Kakashi's comment probably did not warrant.

"I will never hurt you", he said. There was a roughness to his voice. The expression on his face was complicated, unreadable, from the tangle of emotions on display. "Never."

It was impossible to speak of all the unspeakable things in the scroll, in the genjutsu, but they all swam like an undercurrent in the earnestness of Madara's eyes. Ever since that day in kamui, Madara's world, his very identity had been turned upside down. His assumptions about himself, about what kind of man he was, were distorted almost beyond recognition, but if he knew one thing it was this: He would never deliberately hurt Kakashi, and he needed him to know that, as much for the other's sake as his own.

"You snore like a grizzly bear."

"I do not", Madara spat and the moment was broken. He directed his gaze towards the shoji doors, his arm now wrapped around Kakashi's shoulders and his body pressed up against the other's side. Madara had no illusions about how bad he must be smelling, especially to Kakashi's sensitive nose. He was ruining his yukata, too, as they made their way across the corridor, which remained mercifully deserted.

The washroom was small but clean. Once they reached it, Madara felt so drained he needed to rest against the doorframe for a minute, before he could proceed to slip off his sandals and step onto the cold tiles. "I need to ask a favor", he said, "Two, actually." He threw Kakashi a glance. "First, ask your mother to send a messenger to my compound. My people need to be informed about my whereabouts and that the Senju pose no threat to them. No word about Yakumi." This was a message they needed to hear from their clan head, and Madara had yet to think of what to tell them in the first place. No body, no proper burial, but Zetsu would pay for that, too. "Secondly, I left my weapons on the battlefield." Because they had been too heavy for him to carry, and that was perturbing in its very own way. "Please bring them back here. They are" powerful, irreplaceable "important to me."

He withdrew himself from Kakashi's steadying grip. With a last glance that held both gratitude and weariness, he slipped the shoji door shut. Retreating into the privacy of the washroom and out of Kakashi's watchful gaze was a relief, because the shame of his current condition ran so deep it was hard not to let it show.

It was too much of a bother to wash off the worst of the dirt before he slipped into the bath, so when, a quarter of an hour later, he lay in the wooden washtub, the water surrounding him had long turned greyish-brown and soapy. Madara hardly cared, though, as the warmth of it took the ache from his muscles and pulled him under once more, back to the koi pond, where he basked in the summer sunshine with his body lithe and capable and his mind at peace and his brother by his side.

His sleep turned into the kind of deep slumber that takes away hours in what feels like the blink of an eye, and had the water not turned cold and uncomfortable, he would not have stirred as soon as he did. Heaving himself out of the tub cost more effort than he appreciated, but hunger drove him into a fresh set of clothing, a grey yukata that was non-descript enough for him to swallow his pride and wrap it around himself. His hair was a wet, tangly mess, but he could not find the energy to even attempt to tame it, so he wrapped a piece of string around it to tie it high in the back of his head. Without anywhere else to go he stepped out onto the corridor and walked into the direction of Hatake Noka's office, the short nap enough to restore some control over his limbs and steady his movements.
 
"I will never hurt you,"

Four months ago, before the death of Uchiha Izuna — before the sickness almost killed Madara — a poisonous voice would of hissed, you already did. The last remnants of his past — a part of him twisted with so much pain, resentment, and grief — clung onto him like a bloodsucking leech. In the back of his mind, the festering limpet — a lingering trace imbued with anger, spite, and pettiness — instilled everlasting doubt. No matter how hard Kakashi tried, he couldn't shake off the perpetual what if. Madara proved to him, again and again, he wasn't the madman from a future shaped by a manipulative shadow. However, the insidious voice lingered, refusing to be silenced.

Once Kakashi finally — finally — saw past the writhing black flames and looked at the man underneath, all traces of his doubt crumbled. The moment he accepted Madara wasn't his future counterpart, the poisonous whispers vanished. Unfortunately, it wasn't the end of his suffering. Kakashi had enough pain, self-hatred, and guilt to kill an entire army, but it was a start.

Baby steps.

"Never,"

His expression unknowingly softened. "I know," Kakashi murmured and he meant it. He knew the Clan Head would never intentionally harm him. Without another word, the half-Hatake opened the shōji door and guided Madara down the empty hallway. The foul stench radiating from the Clan Head made his sensitive nose burn, but Kakashi would be a terrible Hatake if he didn't learn to compartmentalize strong odors. It was there, but he stubbornly ignored it.

I need to ask a favor. He arched an eyebrow. Two, actually. If Kakashi was surprised, he didn't show it. No word about Yakumi. The painful reminder of the older man's demise left a bitter taste in his mouth. Uchiha Yakumi may of hated him, but his wolf considered the Uchiha pack and it writhed at the loss. Before guilt and self-loathing flooded his veins, he latched onto the second favor. Please bring them back here. Madara didn't seem the type to discard ritualistic weapons of insurmountable power, but at the same time, he never experienced chakra exhaustion. It didn't take him long to connect the dots. "Maa, don't drown while I'm gone," he replied airily.

*​

The shōji door leading to the engawa opened.

"Do I even want to know what happened to my office?" drawled the Clan Head.

"You can finally renovate," Kakashi replied blithely.

Nōka snorted. "You look like you hugged a mud puddle, pup," she countered, eyeing his soiled yukata.

"I slept with a mud puddle."

She barked out a laugh. "Cheeky brat," the wolfwoman huffed. Nōka gazed at the rising sun. "What do you need?" she inquired.

"A message to the Uchiha clan," Kakashi began.

*​

While her oldest pup gallivanted across the forest, Nōka procured a neutral yukata for a certain Uchiha brat and surreptitiously slipped it inside the washroom. She returned to her spot on the engawa and started drafting an official message to the Uchiha. Something happened in the forest during the parasite's attack. Kakashi debriefed her, but she wasn't blind to the deliberate omissions. It grated on her nerves, but the wolfwoman trusted her pup. He never did anything out of the ordinary without a valid reason. Nōka didn't know what happened, but she knew it involved Uchiha Madara.

*​

Returning to Training Ground Seven felt like a fever dream. Stepping on the scorched soil didn't feel real, as if he were a outsider viewing a big screen. The level of dissociation should be jarring, but he felt nothing. Kakashi pinpointed the infamous gunbai and approached it. His movements were methodical, each step deliberate and precise; akin to a marionette bending to the puppet master's will. Instead of sealing the legendary weapon inside a scroll immediately, the war veteran cleaned the non-folding fan and the kama attached on the chain. Once the instrument of ritualistic power was cleansed, Kakashi retrieved a slim scroll hidden in his sleeve and sealed the weapon. He located the gunbai's original scroll, but a night of rainwater and mud soiled it beyond repair.

Instead of stashing it, the half-Hatake reduced it to ash.

Underneath his dazed façade, snippets of the previous battle commenced inside his mind. Of all the flashes, the sight of Kaguya's will possessing Madara took precedence. It played inside his head on repeat, like a broken record damaged beyond repair. Kakashi remembered the overwhelming terror and helplessness with stark clarity. Had the parasite deem Madara obsolete, it could of—

A whine involuntarily rumbled inside his throat. Kakashi breathed in deeply and released a shuddering breath. Without warning, the war veteran vanished.

*​

Outside the stuffy office, a certain halfbreed leaned against the wall adjacent to the entrance. A clean yukata replaced his previous ensemble. His face surprisingly remained bare. As the Clan Head approached the office, charcoal eyes assessed the older man's frame. Witnessing his — even if the yukata was nondescript — clan colors on the ravenette made his wolf positively howl in triumph. "A message has been sent. I didn't mention Yakumi-san," Kakashi began. He brandished a slim scroll and raised it. "Your gunbai as requested. I hope you don't mind me cleaning it. A night in the rain didn't do it justice," he added. The half-Hatake flourished his wrist, gesturing to the empty corridor. "You'll be staying in the quarters next to mine. The rooms are connected, but there's still a semblance of privacy," he pointed out. Kakashi stepped closer to Madara and offered the scroll. "I prepared a meal in your room." He glanced at the Clan Head's tangled locks. Before he could curb the urge, the war veteran swept his fingers across the raven's forehead and tucked his long fringe behind his right ear.

"Maa, I'll find you a comb," Kakashi announced. Fortunately, when he grazed Madara's forehead, the halfbreed didn't feel burning skin. "The rooms are this way." He gestured to the deserted corridor for emphasize.
 
Last edited:
Once again, Kakashi had found him, and his delight about this small but significant convenience flickered in Madara’s chest like a flame ignited. It showed in the fondness of his gaze, even if just for a moment, because he schooled his features into something more guarded. He was not surprised that Kakashi was waiting for him, as if it were a hope, by now an almost-expectation pleasantly confirmed — it was trust forming, growing stronger with every moment Kakashi proofed himself reliable, more, proofed himself to care. What surprised Madara was to see Kakashi’s face continually devoid of a mask and accordingly bare to his greedy, hungry eyes. They did not seem to get enough of the sight of pale cheeks and a mouth which seemed soft and inviting and sometimes touched at the corners with a wry sense of humor that managed to captivate Madara’s attention entirely.

What a forlorn fool he was. The worst part: He started to realize it and still could do nothing about it, this helpless pull that wanted him to cast every excruciating doubt aside and just do what he so desperately longed for.

I should tell Izuna about it, he thought and then frowned because Izuna was dead and even if the dream had been pleasant and more vivid than any genjutsu it was but a dream, nothing more. The urge was strong, regardless, as if his brother was waiting just around the corner and all Madara needed to do was acknowledge it as a truth.

But of course he would never tell Izuna about any of it, even if he were still alive, though Izuna would undoubtedly know by now, in the way younger siblings always somehow did. Brother's intuition, he would undoubtedly say in that annoying smug tone.

And what was he even thinking? He must still be dazed from his nap in the bathtub.

A tad belatedly, he took the offered scroll from Kakashi’s hand, his words washing over Madara and not quite sinking in until he made himself listen with some effort.

"You can be a good ambassador after all“, he said instead of what he really meant, which was Thank you for everything, you are the only one I trust with all of this and you have not let me down. He found it increasingly hard to strike a balance between not letting on anything that went through his head, especially concerning his thoughts about the nature and tactility of Kakashi‘s lips, without overcompensating and reacting as the overly rude bastard everyone made him out to be. "Taking care of your guests. Bathing them. Feeding them." He smirked. "Keeping them warm in the night."

Madara's gaze followed Kakashi's gesture down the long, narrow corridor.

"The rooms are connected, but there's still a semblance of privacy."

"I don't mind the company", he said because he was a hopeless idiot and too boneheaded to learn. He should think of Yakumi instead of dallying on foreign soil and wasting his time with pipe dreams, but yesterday's events had become increasingly hazy in Madara's memory, feeling much more like a dream than the precious hours at the koi pond did. Then, Kakashi's fingers were against his skin, the briefest of contact as he brushed back a strand of Madara's hair. Like that day on the engawa, when he had faced him for the first time after the genjutsu. How easy it had become, seeking each other's proximity like they did, each other's touch as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Madara closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

"A comb would be appreciated", he replied gruffly, because not even he could deny how untamable and wild his hair was. It was a bane of his existence, albeit a banal one. Strangely enough, it was nice to share even those mundane things with Kakashi, even more so as they both knew what lay beyond it, buried in a genjutsu Madara would never forget in his lifetime: darkness and sorrow and shame and guilt. "I hope you prepared enough food for two", he added, "it would be rude to have your guest eat by himself. I assume you know that much."

He brushed past Kakashi, walking as briskly as his aching limbs would allow in the direction the other man indicated.

"How's your brother?", he inquired, because the little boy had looked terrified and that Madara could recall clearly, with all the brightness of concern and a deeply felt empathy of what a close call it had been. Madara had not been able to keep Zetsu at bay, after all, and if Kakashi and Noka had not showed up the moment they did ... "He was very brave." He doubted he would forgive himself if he let anything happen to Kakashi's kin. Without much surprise, he realized that he felt responsibility; to keep them safe, to keep them alive; not because he cared about the Hatake -- Sakumotsu proofed a delightful, charming exception -- but for Kakashi.
 
"You can be a good ambassador after all,"

His lips twitched at the offhanded comment. The left corner of his mouth curved upward into a half-smile. His eyes crinkled, amusement — and something unmistakably fond — evident in his charcoal gaze. "Maa, you flatter me, Madara," Kakashi drawled, a teasing lilt apparent in his tone. His eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief. "I never would of guessed you liked cuddling," he added airily. A smirk adorned his face. "You certainly weren't complaining," he pointed out. Kakashi barely recalled the compromising position in the thick haze of warmth. He remembered something heavy around his shoulders and a solid furnace pressed against his frontside. He faintly registered the intoxicating aroma of fire and woodsmoke, but once he sensed Madara's distress, Kakashi reacted on pure instinct. His urge to protect — to sink his teeth into the threat and rip — overrode all traces of embarrassment or awkwardness.

On the other hand, even if Kakashi didn't react, he wouldn't feel ashamed. Madara was warm.

"It would be rude to have your guest eat by himself. I assume you know that much."

He snorted. "I haven't eaten breakfast," Kakashi said in lieu of, I didn't forget, mangy cat. As the Clan Head brushed past him, the Hatake ambassador followed. He unconsciously maintained a close proximity. Far enough not to crowd, but close enough to intervene should Madara collapse.

How's your brother? All the sudden, he recalled the armful of a wailing pup and his overpowering instinct to protect, protect, protect. "He's shaken," Kakashi admitted. The scent of his brother's tears burned. "He might have nightmares for awhile." His mouth tasted like acid. It was his fault for never curbing Sakumotsu's habit. "Saku's a resilient pup. He'll bounce back." His heart clenched. His fault, his fault, his fault—

"He was very brave."

Despite the oppressive self-loathing flooding his veins, a soft smile painted his lips. "The bravest pup in the pack," Kakashi murmured. As the ravenette and silver-haired halfbreed maneuvered around the corner, Kakashi guided Madara down the empty corridor and stopped in front of the second-to-last room on the right. Unlike a elaborate labyrinth meant to perplex and deter, the layout of the Hatake main estate was simpler. While the establishment was small, hidden passageways compensated for a potential siege. "My room's on the right," he announced, gesturing to the last door on the right side. Kakashi slid the shōji door open, revealing a modest room with a fūton, a nightstand, and a low table. The table was positioned close to a sliding door leading to the engawa. A tray filled with a hearty meal — enough for two starving individuals — and herbal tea was placed on top of the table. Off to the right, another shōji door led to a certain Hatake's quarters.

"This room's yours," Kakashi declared.

The half-Hatake crossed the guest quarters and approached the sliding door on the right. "I have a comb. Have a seat. Everything on the tray should still be warm." Kakashi opened the door and vanished inside. A few minutes later, the war veteran emerged with a silver comb with thick teeth. He crossed the quaint room and took a seat at the low table. As he placed the comb next to the tray, Kakashi picked up the kettle and poured himself a cup of tea.

"If you're too fatigued, I could tame that wild mane of yours," the war veteran offered innocently. He raised his cup and took a sip.
 
"I never would of guessed you liked cuddling. You certainly weren't complaining."

Madara did not dignify that with an answer. Instead, he gave an incredulous snort midway to indignant, glad he had his back to the cheeky mutt. They turned the corner together, a route Madara was as of yet unfamiliar with, then his eyes landed on the two doors of the adjacent rooms. He entered the small guest chamber without comment, taking in his surroundings. His eyes rested for a moment on the shoji door that let to Kakashi's room, but then he crossed over the clean tatami matts -- his feet were bare because the sandals were a ruined mess, left behind in the washroom -- and opened the sliding door that led out onto the engawa. The fresh breeze carried spring air and a distinct smell of cherry blossoms into the room, strong enough even for Madara to detect, and for a moment he just stood there, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

Oranges and koi ponds. The sun was not yet high enough to reach the engawa, which lay in shadows, and the rays would not be as strong as in the summer, but it was close enough to elicit a strange feeling of deja-vu.

When Kakashi slid the shoji door to his adjacent quarters open, Madara turned his head and watched him. It had become easy to sense the shift in Kakashi's mood. Perhaps it was a subtle change in the way he carried himself, or maybe a shift in his tone, always so deliberately carefree. Madara sighed, then went to sit at the low table. The aroma of breakfast made his mouth water instantly, and by the time Kakashi returned, two omelettes, half a bowl of rice and the miso soup had already vanished.
Madara was just about to take a bite of the slice of tuna sashimi clasped between his chopsticks, when Kakashi placed the silver comb next to the tray and poured himself some tea.

"If you're too fatigued, I could tame that wild mane of yours."

He froze, chopsticks raised midway to his open mouth, and narrowed his eyes.

"Don't say that", he warned, and the blush creeping onto his cheeks was nothing more than some energy restored from the much needed nutrition, "Because I'll take you up on that offer, and you will regret it. Trust me." He slipped the sashimi into his mouth, chewed, and started to smile. "You can't rile me that easily anymore, mutt", he announced cockily, pointing his chopsticks very un-statemanly at the man sitting across from him. "I know your tricks now. You'll have to come up with something better than this."

Quite satisfied with himself and his ability to keep a level head, Madara poured himself some tea. While he drank, his expression grew serious. The index finger of his left hand trailed over the rim of the table, then tapped its surface in a slow rhythm. A little tick, developed during long sessions in the study when he had been lost in thought.

"I could help him", he said slowly, lowering the cup from his lips, "your brother." He raised his eyes to Kakashi's. "My kekkei genkai allows me to erase his nightmares. Help him sleep." He placed the cup onto the table with a soft sound. "I did it for my own brothers, even when we were children. It's a delicate procedure, but I mastered it a long time ago."
 
Last edited:
"Don't say that,"

What a fetching shade of red— Kakashi (barely) suppressed the urge to caress the Clan Head's rosy cheeks. He lowered his cup and picked up his chopsticks. He snapped the wooden sticks apart and snatched a piece of saury off the tray. While Kakashi prepared plain miso for Madara, he topped his with a generous amount of eggplant. The war veteran popped the savory piece of fish inside his mouth.

"I know your tricks now. You'll have to come up with something better than this."

Kakashi blinked owlishly. "Oh?" He swallowed the slice and lowered his chopsticks. "Is that so?" A dark chuckle rumbled inside his chest. Kakashi tilted his head, regarding the Clan Head with half-lidded eyes. A devious aura radiated from the silver-haired halfbreed's lean frame. Kakashi leaned forward until he hovered above the table, face inches from Madara's. His lips curled back, baring his sharp incisors. The impish smirk was undeniably devilish. The war veteran raised his right hand and traced his fingers over the raven's neck, directly above the patch of skin previously baring his mark. "I'll make sure to tame your hair before you sleep, Ma-da-ra," he purred. For a moment, Kakashi resembled a predator cornering his prey.

Without another word, Kakashi retracted his palm and leaned back. He retrieved a spoon and dipped it inside his miso.

I could help him. All the sudden, the atmosphere grew heavy. His charcoal eyes sharpened. Your brother. Kakashi was about to take a bite, but paused. My kekkei genkai allows me to erase his nightmares. Help him sleep. He lowered the spoon and set the miso bowl on the tray. I did it for my own brothers, even when we were children. It's a delicate procedure, but I mastered it a long time ago. "It requires the consent of the Hatake Clan Head," Kakashi began. His voice was soft, barely a whisper. "It's not up to me to decide." Flashes of sobbing resonated inside his mind. His heart constricted painfully. Suddenly, Kakashi felt significantly exposed without his mask. He slipped his hands underneath the table, hiding his trembling fingers.

His fault, his fault, his fault—

Out of nowhere, a insidious shadow possessing a certain Clan Head surfaced. It took every fibre of his being to suppress the wounded sound inside his throat. Kakashi clenched his eye shut, breaking eye contact. He breathed in deeply and exhaled through his nostrils. "I trust you," the half-Hatake confessed. He opened his eyes. A raw vulnerability was evident in his gaze. "I'll talk to kaa-san. The final decision isn't mine, but I trust you." Sakumotsu was a resilient child. He didn't need a genjutsu to bounce back, but Kakashi would do anything to alleviate his little brother's suffering.

Even if it meant convincing his overprotective mother to let a Uchiha near her youngest pup's psyche.
 
"Is that so?"

Madara observed the sudden change in Kakashi's demeanor with a healthy portion of distrust. He narrowed his eyes further at that expression that went from feigned innocence to hardly suppressed glee. Oh no, Madara thought, and then Kakashi was in his face, near enough to blur the details. His breath fanned over Madara's skin, warm, harboring the aroma of green tea. From the periphery of his vision, he saw a set of sharp teeth. The sight elicited a shiver, intensifyed by the touch of fingers against his neck. The puncutre marks had faded into his skin by now, nearly invisible. They still seemed to burn from time to time, though, like right now, with the tips of Kakashi's fingers pressing like a promise against them.

"I'll make sure to tame your hair before you sleep, Ma-da-ra."

Madara averted his eyes. He felt heat creep up from his chest, crawling over his neck into his whole face. His temples throbbed.

"Sure", he murmured, motionless. Beneath the table and out of sight, his hand was balled into a fist. He forced his voice to remain steady, and his gaze was haughty as it landed again on Kakashi. "Suit yourself."

Kakashi busied himself with the soup, which gave Madara a moment to compose himself. He drank another sip of tea and felt it warm in his stomach. He could feel the energy seep back into his system to the amount that the dizziness stopped, and he felt clearer-headed now, but still unbelievably tired. The light clinking of dishes was the only sound in the room for a while, and he knew Kakashi was contemplating his offer. He would not blame him if he rejected it; nobody in their right mind would let an Uchiha tinker with their familiy's mental health like that. But the sharingan as a dojutsu was more than a tool for destruction. In moderation, its prowess was helpful, therapeutic even. Some of their healers even specialized in the field, treating symptoms, and sometimes the roots, of mental ailments.

Madara was surprised when Kakashi acquiesced.

The low whisper made him raise his head, and he caught a glimpse of white hands vanishing beneath the table. His eyes trailed over Kakashi's face. Madara frowned.

You blame yourself, he thought, and knew it was true. He held Kakashi's gaze, which was full of pain, before Kakashi looked away.

I trust you.

Madara sat still, let Kakashi collect himself, emptied his own tea and poured the both of them more. "Your mother was right, you know", he said, looking out into the sunlight, the sweeping grass in the breeze beyond the engawa, "You shoulder an unbelievable burden, but you don't have to do it alone. Not anymore." He wrapped his fingers around the cup. "I understand your need to find someone to direct your anger against", his voice remained light, "even if that person is you." The non-commital tone made it easy for Kakashi to end the conversation, to deflect. Madara knew he was broaching something deeply personal. He would not cross that boundary without Kakashi's permission. Madara turned his head to look at Kakashi again. "It would be healthier if you were angry at me."

He paused.

Izuna had dipped his feet into the koi pond half an hour ago, had smiled and shared laughter with Madara in a too vivid dream, but Madara knew he was dead and gone and that hurt but it also was not Kakashi's fault. He thought of Kakashi's scroll, how neurotically detailed it had been. How stifling it must be, that fear to forget anything. For the first time, Madara started to truly understand the pressure Kakashi must feel, constantly. "It was not your duty to safe my brother. It is not your duty to carry the sins of my future self." He could not suppress a bitter little smile. "Your duty is to stop the parasite." He lowered the cup. "My duty is to assist you in every way I can." My duty is to protect you with my life, and even then I will not pay you back even half of what I owe.
 
"Your mother was right, you know,"

All the sudden, the quaint guest quarters melted away and without warning, Kakashi was perched on a fallen log in front of a roaring campfire. The area surrounding the log was unfocused. Faceless bystanders walked to and fro like insignificant specters. A cacophony of sounds washed over him, but it felt like he were under water. Madara sat in front of him with striking clarity. The calloused palm cradling the back of his head felt exceptionally warm and safe. Obsidian eyes regarded him with unyielding resolve. For a moment, it felt as if the Clan Head were peering inside his soul.

"We will fight together, then,"

His breath hitched. Out of nowhere, the banquet morphed into a stark white platform surrounded by a fathomless black sky. Before the weight of the truth crushed Madara, Kakashi swallowed his turmoil and pieced himself back together. Instead of crumbling under the fear of rejection, the war veteran reached out.

"—you're not alone."

Kakashi blinked and his surroundings shattered. What felt like minutes were only seconds. Once he returned to the small guest room, the half-Hatake latched onto the last remnants of the Clan Head's conversation.

It would be healthier if you were angry at me. The mere suggestion made his wolf absolutely rebel. "No," he rasped. Once upon a time, Kakashi directed his anger, bitterness, and resentment at Madara. He let the seeds of doubt — the insidious voice in the back of his head — take root inside his heart and manipulate him. However, the war veteran looked past the black flames of Amaterasu and saw the worthy man underneath. "I will never use you like that." A common scapegoat meant to harbor all the wrongdoings of a manipulative parasite. His stomach roiled at the thought.

"It was not your duty to safe my brother. It is not your duty to carry the sins of my future self."

His mouth tasted like ash. The bitter smile creeping on the Clan Head's face intensified the foul taste. His expression tightened.

"My duty is to assist you in every way I can."

Something inside him snapped. He slammed his hands on the table, jostling the tray violently. "It's more than that!" Kakashi roared. Even if he raised his voice, the righteous anger wasn't directed at Madara. "Your duty is more than that," he elaborated. His expression constricted. "More than a common meat shield." As if the Clan Head's life was expandable; a sacrifice for the greater good. "More than an obligation." Kakashi was no stranger to life debts. Even if he transcended time and space, the half-Hatake felt its crushing weight. He was grateful for Madara's assistance, and his presence, but the Clan Head was more than a plot device meant to usher a better future. "You're more than that." If only Madara knew the truth. "You don't owe me anything." If only the ravenette knew how much he meant to him. "Your company is enough." If only Madara knew what Kakashi would do — how much blood he would spill — to protect him. "Your input is enough." If only he knew how the world would burn should he be harmed. "You're enough. I don't need a soldier by my side awaiting my next command." If only Madara knew how unconditionally and irrevocably in lo—

Without his mask, the raw emotions warred on his face. "All I need is you," Kakashi whispered. He blinked back the onslaught of tears.

Kakashi remembered the profound declaration in the Inuzuka community square. He knew he didn't have to shoulder the burden alone. The war veteran didn't want to bare its tremendous weight alone, but after shouldering it for years, he didn't know how to reach out for help. It was disgustingly easy making a promise and when push came to shove, Kakashi broke it.

Old habits die hard.
 
Kakashi's hand came down on that table, rattling the dishes, and Madara's head snapped up, startled. He had expected Kakashi to evade him, that he would elude the topic with a taunt and mockery. What he witnessed instead, though, was anger, unbridled and open. Kakashi did not even attempt to hide it, and for a good few moments Madara found himself more astonished than anything else. Kakashi was meeting him head-on, and that was fine, was good, because it was kamidamn healthy to vent -- and didn't Madara know that -- but the words flying from his mouth made no sense. It took Madara a moment to connect them, that the anger must stem from the way he had offered assistance, from the implication behind his words ...

"Your duty is more than that. More than a common meat shield."

Madara winced, if from the blatant choice of words or the expression on Kakashi's face, he could not say. Likely it was a combination of both, and the outrage displayed so clearly on Kakashi's features made his heart race and ache, but Kakashi had it wrong.

"You don't owe me anything."

Maybe Madara's anger was propelled by his risen heart rate, and it was short-lived and violent and entirely self-directed.

"I owe you everything!", he spat, even through Kakashi's words that were kind and reassuring and that bore something in them that Madara could not quite grasp, but it was profound and close to Kakashi's heart and that somehow made everything worse. He was on his feet and did not know how he got there.

"You're enough. I don't need a soldier by my side awaiting my next command."

The rawness of Kakashi's feelings was displayed so unmistakably clear on his beautiful face. It was more than words could convey. It did something to Madara's insides, made them contract and twist. It did something to his throat, which felt tight all of a sudden. He swayed, and only managed one step before he sank onto his right knee, preventing himself from toppling over by resting his hand on the table. But his eyes never left Kakashi.

"There is something rotten inside me", he said, even though he did not mean to, but the words tumbled out of his mouth on their own volition, "and in your future it festered and grew and made me the instigator of all your pain." His hand came up, a calloused palm cupping Kakashi's cheek. "It's all there, it's all in your scroll. The lengths I went to, and I made your life hell." Now Madara's eyes swam with tears. Speaking those words aloud tore and ripped at him, but all of it was true. "I can never give you back what I took from you. And it does not matter that I did not do it yet, because without your presence I would become that same monster, over and over again. I owe you the life of your friends, I owe you", the boy, the cave, the madness, "Obito's life." The girl. Kakashi had not written much about her, but she had died too, and Madara wondered what his future self had felt when all of that happened. "I owe you Rin's life. I owe you the life of all that were killed in that war." And he had memorized them all, NarutoSakuraSasukeMinatoKushinaObitoRin even Hashirama, who had been driven to betrayal, to a blade in Madara's back because Madara was rotten inside.

His hand lowered, his head bowed, and for a moment he sat still. Then, he brought up the back of his hand to rub away the tears, and he lifted his face, because he owed Kakashi this, too.

You're not him, Kakashi had said and Madara understood, in a way, but then again it did not matter.

"I want to apologize for all the hurt I cause you", he said, calmer now, "but every time I try, the words fall short. I --"

Madara's breath came ragged. A muscle in his neck twitched uncontrollably. His lips were a thin white line, pressed together and bloodless. A few hours earlier, he had dropped to his knees and bowed to his brother in a dream, and now he already was on his knees, and his back rounded as he pressed his palms onto a tatami matt instead of grass.

"My duty towards you does not stem from obligation", he added quietly and because Kakashi's words rang in his head. All I need is you. "I am yours." He hesitated. How much more could be bear to say, how much could Kakashi endure listening to? "It's not a decision. Not rational. It's ..." In my bones. He trailed off though, loosing his courage.
 
"I owe you everything!"

Without warning, Madara shot up. His heart lurched when the Clan Head tipped precariously to his right. Before Kakashi could intervene, the stubborn ravenette sank on his right knee and stabilized himself. Relief coursed through his veins. The mangy cat was going to be the death of him. Once was enough, thank you very much. He opened his mouth, a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue—

There is something rotten inside me. The words died in his throat. And in your future it festered and grew and made me the instigator of all your pain. Kakashi barely registered the soothing palm cupping the side of his face. I owe you the life of your friends, I owe you. Suddenly, all the oxygen ripped from his lungs, leaving him momentarily breathless. Obito's life. Flashes of a dark-haired boy with a sunshine grin surfaced. Out of nowhere, it distorted into a bitter man hellbent on seeing the world burn. I owe you Rin's life. I owe you the life of all that were killed in that war. A brown-haired girl with warm eyes appeared. All the sudden, the warmth vanished and his hand perforated her chest. A strangled whine elicited from his throat. For a moment, all Kakashi could do was stare.

"I want to apologize for all the hurt I cause you,"

A frown marred his lips. It wasn't Madara's fault— once the aforementioned man bowed, his frown deepened into a scowl. "Y-You don't have to," he rasped. Kakashi winced at the hoarse tone. "You're not him, Ma—" The Clan Head cut him off,

"I am yours."

Kakashi stiffened. The older man rambled on, but a white noise drowned the words.

"I am yours."

The declaration resonated inside his mind.

"I am yours."

A howl reverberated throughout his head. Intense approval flooded his veins.

"Don't you think he's worth the risk?"

Kakashi moved. He leaped across the low table until he crouched in front of the bowing Uchiha. He seized the Clan Head's shoulders and forced him into a sitting position. Before Madara could react, Kakashi cradled his face. His grip, while firm, was significantly gentle. His thumbs brushed over the raven's cheekbones. For a moment, it felt as if time slowed down. "You are mine and I am yours," he corrected. Without warning, he leaned forward and slotted his lips over Madara's. It wasn't magical or breathtaking. Nothing inane like fireworks igniting. Tears clung to his moonlight skin and his fingers trembled. However, it felt natural and undoubtedly right. Madara tasted like roasting spices over a campfire; unquestionably warm and overwhelmingly intoxicating. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, carding his fingers through the Clan Head's unruly mane.

A few minutes later, Kakashi broke the kiss. "I'm rotten inside," he whispered. He rested his forehead against Madara's. "I'm suppose to save the future, but I'd rather see the world burn." Charcoal locked onto obsidian. "I'm no hero, I'm poison." The unshed tears he tried so hard to repress spilled over and trickled down his face. "I want to give the people I loved the future they deserve, but I hate Konoha and everything it stood for. The village took everything from me." A shuddering breath exuded from his lips. "It killed my clan. It drove my father to suicide. The comrades I should of trusted with my life saw me as a bloodthirsty monster. At one point, I wanted to die, Madara." Sometimes, when it became too much, he wished he stayed dead.

"It broke me," Kakashi murmured. Konohagakure lost his allegiance the night he discovered his father's corpse. "I can't be the hero they deserve." He loved the people he once considered pack, not the village. He fought for Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Obito, Rin, Minato, Kushina— they became his true home. "I'd rather see Konohagakure burn than live inside it again," he confessed.

He believed in what Madara and Hashirama envisioned — and making the impossible, possible — but he experienced the ramifications of a broken system. Konoha was broken and the Will of Fire led to his death. Kakashi accepted the tremendous mission for his home, not Konohagakure. If history repeated itself, all his endeavors would be obsolete. Heroes protected the innocent. Heroes like Hashirama advocated for peace. However, Hatake Kakashi was a shinobi, not a hero. He would rather paint the streets red and destroy an entire village if it ensured a better future for the people — his pack — he once (and always will) loved.

Kakashi was rotten to the core.
 
"You are mine and I am yours."

If there was any initial hesitation in Madara's reaction it stemmed from surprise, a shock rushing through his system like fire. In the next moment, he surged into the kiss with so much force their teeth clashed. This was what he wanted, what he had not allowed himself to have. He had been on the cusp of kissing those lips for weeks now, had secretly fantasized about it, and now that he was finally, finally doing it, it was more overwhelming than he would have imagined. His hands came up to cradle Kakashi's face, caressing it before his fingers tangled in his hair to pull him even closer. It was all passion and overwhelming want, and Madara claimed Kakashi's mouth in the way he did everything in his life: determined and demanding and if there were any traces of doubt in him they all fell away at least in this sweet, heady moment. It was Kakashi who eased the kiss back and eventually pulled away, and Madara had to suppress an involuntary sound of protest that wanted to erupt from his throat. But he lowerd his head, too, until their foreheads rested against each other.

Kakashi's words fell into the heat of their tangled breaths. As Madara wrapped his spinning head around them, something in his chest clenched painfully. There was wetness on the other's face, against Madara's thumbs that were now caressing Kakashi's soft cheeks. I'm rotten inside. I'm poison.

"You're hurting", Madara uttered in protest, even as Kakashi's next words hit him right in the gut, like a full-blown punch: "but I hate Konoha and everything it stood for. The village took everything from me. It killed my clan. It drove my father to suicide. The comrades I should of trusted with my life saw me as a bloodthirsty monster." There was a faint ringing in his ears, of panic, perhaps, and the sound of the name: Konohagakure, still so fresh and unsettling in his mind.

But he forced himself to focus, to think past the worried surprise those word elicited in him.

I'd rather see Konohagakure burn than live inside it again.

It broke me.

At one point, I wanted to die, Madara.

"Kakashi. Look at me."

He slipped his finger under Kakashi's chin and lifted his tearstricken face. His heart ached at the sight of it, and was that not a blatant warning sign, for him to stop now before it got even worse. Before walking away would become impossible.

The Uchiha had always felt things deeply. It was were their scorn stemmed from, their rage, and the hatred they felt, because what was hate if not love perverted, twisted and torn and bent out of shape. It was dangerous for any Uchiha to love. It made them vulnerable to the hate -- Madara understood that now, understood it since Izuna.

He had read about the Curse of Hatred for the first time in Kakashi's scroll, but the concept had not surprised him one bit. He had lived on its brink ever since his last brother had ceased to exist.

"There are no heros in this world", Madara said, his eyes trailing softly over the other's features, "but there are good men. Decent men." He trailed the streak of tears on Kakashi's cheek and wiped them away. "Men with integrity, loyality. Men who will do everything to protect their own, even if it means their demise. What more can you ask of a shinobi?", Madara inquired, frowning. "You are all those things, Kakashi, but you are also just human." His hand trailed over Kakashi's chest to feel his heart beating. "You cannot blame yourself for what you feel. Your actions are what matter, and all I see is a shinobi who acts selflessly even in the face of impossible hardship and sorrow.“
 
"Kakashi. Look at me."

Suddenly, warm fingers dipped below his jawline and lifted his head. Dark grey locked onto fathomless black. The raw anguish in his charcoal eyes was overpowering. It felt like white hot daggers perforating his chest. The jagged blades ripped and dug and tore until he was reduced to nothing. Kakashi wanted to close his eyes and hide. He was tired of running, but he didn't stop. He ran away for three years before the Uchiha forced his hand. He ran away after Uchiha Izuna died on the battlefield. He ran away once he realized he fell in love with his closest friend. When push came to shove, Kakashi turned around with his tail tucked between his legs like a coward.

On the other hand, Kakashi couldn't look away. Something about Madara's earnest gaze rooted him in his spot.

There are no heroes in this world. His breath hitched. The soothing caress over his cheekbones evoked a shiver. But there are good men. Decent men. Kakashi opened his mouth, but not a single sound escaped his lips. What more can you ask of a shinobi? A part of him wanted to protest — to deny the Clan Head's profound implications — but the words died in his throat. You are all those things, Kakashi, but you are also just human. He attempted to speak, but a piteous whine elicited from his throat. Your actions are what matter, and all I see is a shinobi who acts selflessly even in the face of impossible hardship and sorrow. Shivers trickled down his spine. "Nakamagoroshi no Kakashi is what they called me," he whispered. His grip on the older man's untamed locks tightened. "Friend-Killer; the bane of teamwork." Kakashi released a shuddering breath. "The first person to ever look at me outside of Team Seven was a devilish brat with hair as wild as mine." A wet chuckle rumbled inside his chest. He lowered his right hand and draped it over the calloused palm resting over his heart.

"Uchiha Shisui," Kakashi elaborated. He raised the hand over his chest and laced their fingers together. "Funny how another Uchiha is the first to look underneath the underneath," he mused. He lowered his free hand and cupped the side of Madara's face. "You may think you're rotten. You may think the darkness inside of you may one day consume you, but do you know what I see?" The war veteran lifted the adjoined palms and kissed the Clan Head's fingertips. "I see Uchiha Madara. Not the fearsome Clan Head. Not the warmongering demon. Not the cold-hearted Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan." The unimaginable pain his eyes softened into something tender. "I see the man underneath the flames. I see you." He leaned forward and pecked the raven's lips.

"I see the most honorable and loyal man in Hi no Kuni. You're worthy, Madara." Worthy of loyalty; worthy of integrity; worthy of everything the Clan Head described.
 
"Nakamagoroshi no Kakashi is what they called me."

Because of Rin, Madara concluded. The girl that died under Kakashi's hand. A plan orchestrated by Madara's future self, a painful, undeniable fact. Everything he had told Kakashi had been the truth; he owed him everything, and this was just the tip of the iceberg.

Uchiha Shisui.

Madara hummed. He knew the name from the scroll, as he knew everything about Kakashi's life from his handwritten account. Kakashi's fingers were calloused and cool against the back of Madara's hand. The steady thrum that was his heartbeat was soothing. "You have a type", he replied with a smile that was lighter than he actually felt. Perhaps Kakashi was rubbing off on him.

For a moment, he allowed himself to nestle his cheek against the palm that had come up to touch. His eyes rested on Kakashi as he listened to him, and those words sank heavy into Madara's consciousness, spread like a sought-after balm on an open wound.

As Kakashi's lips hit Madara's in that light, chaste peck, Madara wanted to do nothing more than to wrap his fingers around Kakashi's chin once more and draw him in, because he was neither interested in light nor chaste and Kakashi needed to know it; Madara wanted to prod Kakashi's delicious mouth open with his tongue in a slow, prolonged kiss that was anything but, though he restrained himself. He couldn't. It would be wrong on many levels, wrong because a chalk-white version of him had rammed a festering black pole into Kakashi's torso and disintegrated his every fibre.

"I see the most honorable and loyal man in Hi no Kuni. You're worthy, Madara."

Those words meant too much to Madara to feel comfortable with (they meant everything), and it showed in the way his features changed into a superficial neutrality. As if the limit of what he could bear on emotional vulnerability was reached — he felt overwhelmed by it all, Kakashi‘s words, the kiss, this declaration that made Madara wonder how it could even be — he felt his shutters come down. He was drained, now, and suddenly, dangerously, yearned for that dream and that koi pond and the tranquility of it all.

I see you, Kakashi had said.

The simple words rumbled like thunder through him. They touched something inside himself he had not known was there, a deep, aching want to be accepted. To be loved. To be seen for who he was.

But who, exactly, was he?

He knew it was dangerous to believe Kakashi’s words, because Kakashi looked at him in that way that made Madara want to kiss him again, and keep doing it, and no person looking like that could form a fair judgement.

In a rare, but all-encompassing moment of self-awareness, Madara understood that he just might be in Kakashi’s blind spot.

"I --" But he did not know how to respond, so he shut his mouth again. Mirroring Kakashi's motion, he brought the other's fingertips to his mouth and kissed them. He looked into Kakashi's eyes for a moment, to tell him he appreciated the words, that they had registered. He had not the heart to confess that he did not believe them for a moment, even if he (rather desperately) wanted to.

"The food is getting cold", he said, with his voice reigned into a semblance of steadiness. He let go of Kakashi's hand and withdrew from his touch, carefully getting to his feet. He was feeling the strain of exhaustion more distinctly again. "You should eat, nobody can live on tea alone." Kakashi's inclination to eat too little had not escaped Madara's attention. He moved back to his seat, lowering himself slowly onto the floor. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

He reached for the chopsticks, but his appetite had vanished. His motions were mechanical but necessary to restore decorum, to restore a more solid boundary between himself and Hatake Kakashi. It cost him a not insignificant amount of self-restraint, but Madara knew once he allowed himself to give up on it altogether, he would tumble head-over-heels, and one more thing he owed Kakashi was a clear head.
 
"You have a type,"

A fleeting laugh escaped his lips. "We Hatake have always been drawn to fire," Kakashi pointed out. He recalled the vivid dream with his old man. As his eyes locked onto Madara's, realization dawned on his expression. Madara was his fire. His wolf claimed the Clan Head long before he recognized it. While he acknowledged it long before he realized his attraction, the sudden revelation left him momentarily breathless. Madara was his fire. He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. Madara was his fire. Kakashi felt an overwhelming urge to kiss the older man senseless, but he refrained.

"The food is getting cold,"

Kakashi blinked at the sudden comment. "Hm?" Without warning, Madara pulled away. He instinctively opened his mouth to protest, but the Clan Head's neutral expression caught him off guard. He attempted to look Madara in the eye, but the older raven brushed past him and took a seat at the low table. For a moment, Kakashi didn't move. "I—" The words died in his throat. He glanced at his right hand. The war veteran could still feel the warmth of soft lips kissing his calloused fingertips.

Madara shut him out.

His fire pushed him away.

"Don't you think he's worth the risk?"

Deep down, Kakashi sensed something amiss; something drove Madara away. Unfortunately, the sudden rejection hurt. It drowned all his self-awareness and rationality. It took every fibre of his being to suppress the agonizing whine bubbling in his throat. Kakashi released a shuddering breath and did what he did best; compartmentalize. He shoved all the pain, confusion, and despair in a box and locked it tight. Once the white hot daggers in his chest dulled to a tolerable ache, the younger Hatake stood. He maneuvered around the table and returned to his original spot.

A mournful howl resonated inside his head.

"You should eat, nobody can live on tea alone."

Kakashi picked up his spoon and dipped it inside his miso soup. "Maa, maa, tea is more nutritious than ration bars," he drawled. While his face was bare, all traces of his tenderness and fondness vanished. A nonchalant façade encompassed his face like a porcelain layer. His face may be visible, but it looked as if he wore his signature mask. "You should finish your meal. Sustenance and rest will restore your chakra," he pointed out. Kakashi took a bite of his miso soup. Once he took another, the half-Hatake methodically consumed the rest of his breakfast. He barely registered the coldness.

"You are all those things, Kakashi, but you are also just human."

Something bittersweet manifested inside his chest.

"You're worthy, Madara."

"You're not," a voice hissed. It penetrated his frangible defenses and latched on like a bloodsucking leech. "You're not worthy of him," it crooned.

"Don't you think he's worth the risk?"

Scum like him don't deserve a fire. Madara may believe he was noble and selfless, but he was wrong.

The moment he finished, Kakashi lowered his chopsticks. "You need rest. I have the futon prepared for you," he announced.
 
All too easy to sense the subtle change in the atmosphere, the change in Kakashi as he also withdrew. Madara should feel relief but in truth all he felt was a helpless, immediate regret. Kakashi, so open and vulnerable a minute ago, was now his nonchalant, closed-off self. The sudden difference was jarring.

If he were older, more experienced in these kinds of situations, he would probably know to reach out, not to sever the connection he so desperately wanted. But he was twenty-one-years old, and all the battles, all the responsibility in the world did not teach him how to handle the fine, fragile moments of human connection. He was attuned to read killing intent in a person's eyes, knew how to stir a conversation in his study from open warmongering and hatred into something more productive, but he was unable to understand the profundity of his current mistake.

While Kakashi mechanically ate his miso soup, Madara sat in the heavy silence and nursed his tea, ignoring the other's advise. His stomach was a tight knot, he would not be able to get down a single bite. His eyes drifted towards the engawa, which was cloaked in the bright rays of sun by now. He listened to the light clinking of chopsticks against earthenware and settled into his exhaustion, allowing it to wash away the permanent stream of thoughts circling through his head like a cat chasing its tail.

"You need rest. I have the futon prepared for you."

Kakashi lost no time dispersing the situation, and for that, Madara was grateful.

"Yes. Thank you." He came to his feet and realized he was steadying himself against an involuntary onslaught of dizziness just so Kakashi would not notice how weak he had gotten again. This, a deception, much like Kakashi's cool veneer. "For the meal and the company, too." It was a courteous dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless. He had no idea where he went wrong, but he sensed something akin to profound disappointment in Kakashi, and Madara had never been the type to build bridges on his own volition. He just never really knew how.
 
"Yes. Thank you."

It felt as if what transpired didn't happen; as if the kiss was an intense fever dream. On the other hand, underneath the remnants of his cold meal, Kakashi could still taste warm spices roasted over a campfire. He remembered the softness of Madara's lips and the Clan Head's passionate touch. It felt real, but for a single, heart-wrenching moment, the war veteran wondered if he was dreaming.

Perhaps, he was experiencing a nightmare.

"You're not worthy," a voice hissed.

"For the meal and the company, too."

His eyes curved upward. His signature eye-smile felt wrong, especially without his mask, but he picked up his metaphorical fiddle and played the fool, nonetheless. "The brunt of it should pass in a day or so," Kakashi replied. The first days — maybe even a week — of chakra depletion are the worse. However, the suffering was temporary. Rest and sustenance replenished the chakra pathways. Without another word, the half-Hatake rose into a standing position. "I did promise you a semblance of privacy." He pivoted and crossed the quaint room. He approached the shōji door on the right wall, slid it open, and slipped inside. As he closed the door behind him, Kakashi didn't spare Madara another glance.

A silver comb remained innocuously on the low table, a promise long forgotten in the aftermath.

Hatake Kakashi may physically resemble a nineteen year old, but underneath his youthful visage, he was a thirty-four year old seasoned veteran. However, despite his profound experience, the intricacies of human connections are his greatest weakness. While he wasn't entirely incompetent, standing in front of a memorial stone for hours — regardless of the weather — was a testament of his frailty.
 
For half an hour after Kakashi left, Madara sat cross-legged on the sunny engawa, basking in the warmth with a cup of tea between his hands. His mind was superfluously empty from the tiredness, a small mercy. He did not want to think about the kiss, nor what it meant. Neither did he want to think about the ramifications of his rejection, because it would make his chest tight with a dull, familiar ache. Right now, he was numb to all those things, though, and it was easy to blank them out until he would be able to contemplate them another day.

When he sank onto the futon, stretching his aching muscles deliciously under the light blanket, he was out in mere seconds. A drag like a genjutsu seemed to pull him under, but it surely was nothing more than the profound tiredness of this affliction called chakra exhaustion. Madara did not envy other shinobi who experienced this more regularly.


*
​
The Same Dream

"If this is not a dream", Madara said, "how come I still am ravenous when I wake up?" He held a glistening ripe apple on the palm of his hand, red and immaculate, and regarded it with the same scientific interest he had been regarding the whole world around him. He had come to suspect that this dreamscape was a form of genjutsu by now, because no dream could be as vivid and colorful and real as the one he kept experiencing. Moreover, he was returning to this world like it was a living, breathing organism sovereign from his subconsciousness. As an Uchiha, Madara was familiar with the property of dreams and how they differed from induced hallucinations. The sharingan's properties were such that they could re-invite someone into a dream space if its wielder was proficient enough. But Madara knew also when he was awake, and that he had been twelve or so hours ago.

He had learned to distinguish reality from even the most masterfully performed genjutsu, but somehow, the place at the koi pond made him question this knowledge. Everything here appeared so real it was hard to keep in mind that it was, in fact, not.

"You're not committed to this world yet, aniki", Izuna said with a light shrug. "But once you are, you'll see that sustenance can be gained from other sources."

"What do you mean by that?"

But Izuna only smiled and kept quiet, a new habit he displayed whenever Madara tried to get to the bottom of things.

"You know, aniki, I think we should talk about your friend, the Hatake."

Madara turned his head away. They were sitting at the koi pond, which Izuna called their meeting place. Above them hung the moon, grand and full and perfectly round. It bathed the garden into an ethereal light.

"You don't approve of him", Madara said. He was not inclined towards discussing this with his brother. It was getting harder to think of Izuna as dead, and maybe that should be a glaring warning sign.

"That's not it", Izuna replied. His gaze was earnest and Madara could detect no malevolence in the darkness of his eyes. They were still intact, still how he remembered them before he had twisted them out of his brother's skull, hours before he had died. "I know now what you see in him, and I think I could come to like him, but ..."

"But?"

"But I don't trust him."

Madara made a gruff sound. He rolled the apple between his hands.

"Aniki, I know you don't want to hear this. But there are warning signs. He says he hates the village. He says he wants to see the world burn. What if ..."

"Stop talking, Izuna."

" ... what if you have as much a blind spot for him as he has for you?", Izuna finished, face twisted into what Madara could easily read as worry. "What if he is deceiving you, and instead of Zetsu being the malevolent entity, it's him?"


*
​
Madara woke to find himself sitting upright on the futon, panting heavily. He was drenched in sweat. The blanket lay rumpled at his feet and he was clutching at his head. He understood that he had woken himself up, stirred his mind out of the thralls of the dream by sheer willpower. The shoji doors to the outside stood open. The tatami matts were flooded with moonlight. The wind rustled lightly in the leaves, it was a soothing noise. Madara knew he had slept all throughout the day and way into the night.

He got up slowly, silently, to go wash his face in the washroom and drink some water.

To anyone seeing him he must look like a specter, moving noiselessly throughout the hallway of the Hatake main house. Perhaps he was still in the grip of the dream, because he did not remember getting back into bed, but he had the distinct realization that his urge to get back to his brother was not good, not constructive, and that if it had not been for the dreamscape, he would have left the Hatake compound and made for his own clan hours ago. But like this, he did not even feel the urge.

*
​
Madara had spent most of the past twenty-four hours in a deep slumber. His occasional bouts of being awake had been brief and forced, and even now, on the dawn of a new day, he had trouble shaking the claws of sleepiness that clung to him so insistently. Were this the symptoms of chakra depletion drawing on him, or something else?

But regardless of his perpetual tiredness, his body felt better, more under his control than it had since the fight with Zetsu. He got dressed -- a kind soul had stacked his freshly laundered clothes in the washroom he was frequenting, and Madara was sure that his prolonged stay could not have gone unnoticed in the compound -- and even managed to somewhat get his hair under control. It was still relatively early, and by now he knew Kakashi would most likely be out somewhere in the woods for his training, so he approached the other's room not through their connecting doors but the engawa, where he sat down to wait.

He had offered Kakashi his services, after all, and no matter how awkward it had been between them, he was intent to keep that promise. Moreover, he wanted to inquire after Sakumotsu's nightmares, and if Noka thought it permissible for an Uchiha to lift them from her pup.
 
Charcoal eyes locked onto the small mirror hung on the wall opposite of the shōji door leading inside a certain Uchiha's temporary quarters. Arms slid inside the wide sleeves and deft fingers secured the sash around his waist. As he adjusted his collar, Kakashi examined the dark fabric obscuring his face. Once upon a time, when he was confined in the Uchiha healing quarters, Kakashi longed for his signature mask. The embroidered handkerchiefs were a feasible substitute, but he preferred his customized sleeveless shirts over the flimsy fabric. Now—

A neutral expression flashed inside his mind.

"You'll never be worthy," it cackled.

—it served as a physical barrier and agonizing reminder. Once he finished donning his mask, Kakashi pivoted and exited his room.

*​

"What?"

Kakashi met his mother's withering glare directly. "I checked on Saku before I came here. He barely slept," he pointed out.

"And your solution is a genjutsu?" Nōka drawled, voice deceptively calm. "Instigated from a Uchiha, no less?"

A frown marred his lips. "Madara would never hurt Saku—"

"If it requires the sharingan, why can't you do it instead?"

"I never used my sharingan like that." Kakashi folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not about to test it on Saku," he huffed.

"Sakumotsu is a resilient pup. He'll bounce back," Nōka began. It was her turn to fold her arms. "You can't protect his innocence forever, Kakashi," she pointed out.

He bristled. "I'm aware of that," Kakashi bit out.

"Are you? Do you have any idea how insane the idea sounds?" the wolfwoman countered.

His eyes narrowed. "The sharingan is more than an instrument of war," the younger Hatake growled.

"We can't fix our problems with a genjutsu, Kakashi. The easy way isn't always the right way," Nōka replied.

"Is this about the genjutsu or Madara?" Kakashi challenged. His charcoal eyes gleamed an unholy violet. "I know I can't shield Sakumotsu forever. Our clan is fortunate to avoid conflict and bloodshed, but it won't last. It never does. At one point, whether he's prepared or not, Sakumotsu will be forced to fight. I know that," he declared. The air crackled with electricity. "I'm not asking you to rely on a genjutsu to fix all our problems, kaa-san. I'm asking you to trust my judgement," he elaborated.

"Considering he rejected you, I don't think your judgement is sound," Nōka countered. She stiffened, realizing her mistake.

His fringe swept over his eyes. "This isn't about me," the war veteran murmured.

"Kakashi, I—"

"I know Saku will bounce back. I know a genjutsu is unorthodox. I know we don't need it, but I know you hate watching him suffer," he pointed out. His voice was soft, barely a whisper. "I trust him, kaa-san. Think about it." Without another word, Kakashi rose into a standing position, pivoted, and slipped inside the estate.

She heaved a sigh and scrubbed a hand down her face. "Out of all the fire in Hi no Kuni, he had to go after the fucking sun," Nōka grumbled.

"I don't like him, but the Uchiha brat would never intentionally harm Sakumotsu," Shinra drawled.

The wolfwoman draped a palm over her partner's head. "I know."

*​

Fingers lightly brushed the raven locks. "No fever," Kakashi murmured. He gazed at the slumbering face. It was a testament to Madara's condition when his light graze didn't awaken the Clan Head. "Almost nightfall," he mumbled. The war veteran averted his gaze. The sliding door leading to the engawa remained open, revealing the last beams of sunlight streaming inside the guest quarters. After his conversation with his mother, Kakashi focused his attention on Sakumotsu. His baby brother latched onto him like a wolf-monkey and the older Hatake welcomed the distraction. Once the sun descended, and his brother tucked in, Kakashi found himself inside Madara's room. Despite the — it hurt, it hurt, it hurt — painful ache inside his chest, watching over the Clan Head — a desolate howl reverberated throughout his psyche — soothed his wolf.

The silver-haired halfbreed retracted his palm. "Maa, you'll freeze like that," he muttered. Without another word, Kakashi adjusted the light blanket until it covered Madara's shoulders. He eyed the older raven, but his ministrations didn't awaken the Clan Head. The ravenette didn't even stir.

*​

Dark grey eyes snapped open. Kakashi rose into a sitting position. Moonlight streamed inside his room, basking his futon in a dim glow. He glanced at the shōji door leading to the Clan Head's guest quarters. Something awakened him— all the sudden, Kakashi heard shuffling inside the adjoined room. Out of nowhere, the war veteran recalled sulfuric eyes and jagged sharp teeth. Had he stopped for a moment, Kakashi would have recalled the seals — seals capable of detecting the insidious parasite — plastered throughout the compound's perimeter. However, overwhelming terror gripped his heart and propelled him forward. He opened the sliding door and rushed inside the room. "Madara—" The words died in his throat.

Madara was gone.

Cold eyes regarding him with a neutral expression surfaced inside his head. "No," whispered the Hatake. He frantically surveyed the quaint room, but the Clan Head was nowhere to be seen. Demented laughter resonated inside his mind. "No, no, no—" Kakashi rushed to the engawa, but Madara wasn't lounging on the porch. Flashes of a malevolent parasite consuming Madara surfaced. "No, no, no," he growled. He whirled around and sprinted outside the guest quarters. He ran down the dimly-lit corridor and maneuvered around the corner. Kakashi was about to shunshin to cut the distance in half when—

"Madara," the Hatake whispered.

Relief coursed through his veins. The aforementioned man didn't acknowledge him, but Kakashi didn't care. Madara was here and he was safe. It looked like the Clan Head was dead on his feet. Truthfully, the war veteran was surprised the older man was standing. Without a word, Kakashi approached the half-asleep raven and guided him back to his room. Once Madara was secured underneath the light blanket, the half-Hatake returned to his personal quarters.

*​

"Yes. Thank you."

"There are no heroes in this world."

"The food is getting cold."

"Considering he rejected you, I don't think your judgement is sound."

"You are mine and I am yours."

His eyes fluttered open. The taste of roasted spices was hot on his tongue. "Maa, I must of overslept," Kakashi drawled. He rose into a sitting position and stretched. He rubbed the back of his neck, ignoring the sting of sore muscles. The water inside the tub was ice cold, but he barely registered the chilling temperature. Kakashi slipped outside the tub and snatched a towel from a nearby rack. As he dried himself off, the Hatake tried his best to forget the delectable taste in his mouth. Once he donned his ensemble, Kakashi adjusted the mask over his face and exited the washroom.

Sunlight seeped inside the empty hallway. Instead of the washroom close to his sleeping quarters — the same bathing facility a certain Uchiha frequented — he utilized the bathroom close to the estate's personal training grounds. After the midnight scare, Kakashi periodically watched over Madara throughout the day. At night, instead of sleeping inside his quarters, the war veteran lounged on the engawa outside the Clan Head's room, keeping watch. His routine continued for the next twenty-four hours. The older Uchiha awakened briefly for short periods of time, but Kakashi ensured Madara never saw him.

It was early morning. Unable to sleep, Kakashi slipped outside his room before the sun and frequented his mother's favorite training ground. He preferred the solitude of the forest, but the Hatake wasn't comfortable leaving the compound. Madara was vulnerable and regardless of what transpired, his instincts screamed to protect, protect, protect. After a grueling training session, Kakashi fell asleep in the tub.

*​

"Maa, maa, I hope I didn't keep you waiting," a lazy voice drawled.

The shōji door leading to the engawa opened, revealing a certain Hatake. Charcoal eyes swept over the Clan Head's frontside. "Kaa-san consented," he announced. Kakashi stepped outside and closed the sliding door behind him. Without another word, he took a seat on the engawa. Every inch of his frame was languid and unassuming, a stark contrast to his previous open fondness. It looked as if he didn't acknowledge the incident; as if nothing happened.

For a moment, it felt like Kakashi was interacting with Madara for the first time; long before he considered the older man a friend. "I see you're doing better," he began. The war veteran gazed at the rising sun. "Your prolonged visit raised questions, but I remedied the situation." He slipped his hands inside his wide sleeves. As he opened his mouth once more, Kakashi didn't beat around the bush. "Have you considered what to do about Yakumi-san?" he inquired.
 
Last edited:
"Maa, maa, I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

Under normal circumstances, Madara would counter the lazy comment with a taunt about Kakashi's perpetual tardiness. But these were not normal circumstances and he kept his mouth shut. He was moderately surprised that Hatake Noka had given her consent for him to apply a genjutsu on her precious son, but in the face of Kakashi's own detached attitude towards him, he made sure not to show it.

I see you're doing better. „I feel better“, Madara replied. It was not a lie, but in the dreamscape he was walking about within his body’s full capacity, and he knew he had not reached that yet by a long shot. In stark contrast he felt weakened, muscles watery, and sluggish from the lack of constant outpour of chakra flooding his veins and informing his every move. "And I appreciate your discretion." They were back to their old formalities; back to respectful cordiality, and what once had felt like a victory after open animosity and the disgruntled respect that followed, was now a sort of loss. A defeat.

"Have you considered what to do about Yakumi-san?"

The honest answer was no. What Madara had thought about while he had been sitting in the fresh air, waiting for Kakashi, was how his behavior towards Kakashi would influence their relationship. He had pondered if he had any reason to apologize and how he should manage that. How to find the words for this deep-seated fear fueled by a jarring sense of misplaced identity? If Madara could not trust himself, could not guarantee not to become a chalk monster, how could he trust himself with Kakashi? His oath to protect him meant everything because it was the only tangible barrier between himself and the madness displayed in Kakashi's genjutsu. If he protected Kakashi, if he felt that deep remorse and shame for deeds he had not yet done, it meant that Madara was still human, was still sane. Was still the kind of man he strived to be. The kind Kakashi saw in him.

But Kakashi seemed unperturbed by the things that hung between them. Madara realized he was wearing his mask again, both literally and metaphorically, and ignored the sting its implications brought. It was as much a silent message as Kakashi's languid movements and his drawling, carefree tone. If he rejected Kakashi the other day, Kakashi was rejecting him now. That was what Madara wanted, after all. It was fair enough. It still hurt, but he would rather cut his tongue off than to ever admit that to anyone.

Maybe he is punishing me because his seduction was unsuccessful, he thought briefly, and was shocked about the ugliness of that assumption. Izuna‘s words rang in his head. What if he is the one deceiving you? Madara planted the back of his head against the wooden pillar he was leaning on, in an attempt to banish the thought. It connected with a dull thud.

Stop it.

But he had not once thought about Yakumi, and for a tiny moment his brain had even struggled to remember, to grasp that name and connect it to anything relevant. When the pieces fell into place and the memory of the fight came back more clearly, it was deeply disconcerting that he forgot in the first place. He had not spared even a single thought on Yakumi, nor the rest if his clan.

A small voice inside him, accompanied by the soft trickle of water, the crunchy noise of an apple devoured, suggested that it did not matter much. That Yakumi, too, was well and alive somewhere beyond the koi pond, and once Madara understood, he could keep everyone safe at that mysterious place.

He frowned at the thought. What naive nonsense. It was the kind of thing he thought in the dream, and its aftermath must still linger. He did not quite feel like himself this morning.

"I haven’t“, he admitted, dragging himself out of his own head with some effort. He was not looking at Kakashi's detached frame. "They cannot learn about Zetsu, of course, but I owe them the truth about Yakumi-kun's death." He crossed his arms before his chest. "I could blame another clan, but that harbors its own dangers. I am not interested in accusing someone and stir my people to war. Some of them still lust after the battlefield. They think me naive for holding the peace treaty as long as I did, and worry that we will run out of supplies if we don't take any assignments soon. It is nonsense, we have enough food to last us comfortably for half a year thanks to your clan's help with the trading route. But if I claim a foreign clan has killed Yakumi, they will take it as proof that peace is nothing but the impossible, naive dream of a young, inexperienced clan head."

He huffed.

"Of course, if it were another country's clan that had attacked, I could argue that a coalition between the Uchiha and the Senju would be advantageous for our protection." But would it be? In the end, the Uchiha had been subjected to the same kind of discrimination Madara had always so despised. It had lead to the downfall of their clan. It was all in Kakashi's scroll, and that fact, paired with Kakashi's words (I hate Konoha, he had said) had planted a new seed of doubt in Madara's mind. Perhaps the village really was nothing but a dream, a happy concept that could never work in reality.
 
"Of course, if it were another country's clan that had attacked..."

Silence washed over the engawa. Instead of responding, Kakashi tilted his head upward, basking in the sun's warm rays. A light morning breeze swept past him, ruffling his long fringe. Suddenly, fire and sandalwood (with a hint of copper) washed over him. The intoxicating scent, once warm and comforting, left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Perhaps, we don't have to exclude the parasite," he drawled. Kakashi shifted until his feet dangled from the porch. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. "The official proclamation Ginjiro gave to our clan is foreign shinobi hired by a civilian clan. We intercepted the shinobi and dispatched the threat. Yakumi-san could have been with us during the confrontation and fell protecting his esteemed Clan Head and maintaining the treaty." Kakashi directed his attention to Madara. "The Hatsuharu clan despise shinobi. However, they loath our authority over the harbor and island even more. To the point hiring foreign shinobi to eliminate our authority is entirely feasible," he pointed out. He unintentionally eyed the stray hairs framing the older man's face. Once upon a time, Kakashi would have reached out. Instead, he averted his gaze.

"We have enough evidence to punish them should the need rise." Per the treaty's agreements. "Ginjiro didn't identify the foreign shinobi, but I have." Kakashi raised his head and gazed at the morning sky. "I been on my own for three years before I was captured." A hint of fondness penetrated his lackadaisical tone. "It wouldn't be suspicious if I recognized a foreign shinobi clan's insignia." Kakashi picked up a stick on the ground and carved a circle in the dirt. The pointed star-like flower pattern within the circle emanated the clan's noble status. "The Ōtsutsuki clan, one of the most ancient clans in the Five Great Nations. Rumored to have existed long before the introduction of ninjutsu. The Ōtsutsuki were once a mighty noble clan, but now are dwindled to a small gathering. The clan is led by a ruthless leader shrouded in mystery." Kakashi tapped the circle. "Ōtsutsuki Zetsu." His stomach positively roiled at the thought. The filthy parasite wasn't a person. It cannot be killed. It— he swallowed the bile in his throat and continued, "Zetsu managed to escape, but we dispatched his comrades and your Susanoo reduced them to ash."

He carved another symbol in the dirt. "The Ōtsutsuki currently reside in Tsuchi no Kuni," Kakashi announced. The kanji for the Land of Earth was imprinted on the ground next to the elaborate circle. "The Rabbit Goddess descended from the clan. So did the Sage of Six Paths." Many clans descended from the Ōtsutsuki, including the Uchiha and Senju. "The parasite will be positively furious when it finds out," he announced. Smearing Kaguya's name may hopefully summon the demented entity from the shadows. "Next time, we'll be prepared. I'm currently revising the seals in the forest. Once the seal is complete, the parasite won't be able to infiltrate my clan's territory." Kakashi dropped the stick. "I won't leave the Uchiha unprotected. The same seals can be plastered in the clan forest," he added.

Revising the protection seals wasn't his main project. Kakashi intended to invent a seal capable of rendering the parasite's malleable physiology obsolete. Combined with a stronger trapping seal, Kaguya's will won't be able to escape or possess Madara. "Never again," he thought darkly. Out of nowhere, flashes of the insidious shadow encompassing the Clan Head surfaced. "Never again," he vowed.
 
" ... and fell protecting his esteemed Clan Head and maintaining the treaty."

What a joke, Madara thought with an unusual amount of self-loathing. Protecting the clan head who barely remembered Yakumi had died in the first place. It was a dishonor to lie about a clansman‘s death, but that special irony lay rancid on Madara's tongue and acidic like shame in his stomach. But he kept silent, swallowed the bitterness of it all and continued listening to Kakashi.

"We have enough evidence to punish them should the need rise."

"That might become necessary“, he replied. His clan would demand revenge, especially against a bunch of presumptuous civilians. He could not deny them the satisfaction of justice -- even a false one -- after everything he was denying them already. Madara was neither deaf nor blind to the dissatisfaction the ceasefire caused amongst certain members of his clan, and he had had an inkling that Yakumi had been part of those late night gatherings in Karamura's house that he pretended not to know about. He could hardly forbid them to differ with his opinion, after all, though he heartily wished he could.

"It wouldn't be suspicious if I recognized a foreign shinobi clan's insignia."

Madara traced the intricate lines drawn in the dirt to Kakashi’s feet with his eyes. For the first time this morning, he felt a spark of interest kindle inside him. His attention had been divided, most of it still directed towards the dream and the koi pond and its silent pull, but now he was not merely listening to Kakashi’s words, not merely functioning in his capacity as clan head, but truly intrigued.

“The people of Hi no Kuni know of that clan“, he said, "though only through tales and rumors.“ Madara himself had read about the myth-enshrouded Otsutsuki clan only because he had a penchant for spending long nights in the library, where his research about weaponry or shinobi history drove him into the depths of century old scrolls and parchments, with an interest that bordered on obsession. That was true especially since his newly ignited interest in a special Uchiha artifact. Ever since kamui, he was working studiously on deciphering the words engraved on its grey surface. "Though I heard rumors claim that they are supposed to be located on an island somewhere east of Uzu no Kuni. It's all the same.“ Because it meant that it was a feasible cover story, one that would not be too hard to buy into. The lands beyond Hi no Kuni were uncharted territory for most Uchiha. Madara himself had only crossed the borders twice, and both times he had not ventured far. When war raged on one's home soil, one did not leave for fear of annexation or destruction or, rather ironically, both.

"Zetsu managed to escape, but we dispatched his comrades and your Susanoo reduced them to ash."

My Susanoo, or rather the lack thereof, almost turned you to ash. The thought came quick and unbidden and Madara felt a chill running down his spine. So far, he had done nothing for Kakashi than to put him in danger. The thought of what might have happened if Kakashi had not reacted fast enough --

"The Rabbit Goddess", he repeated under his breath, almost inaudible. It sparked something in him again, a ping clear as a bell in the furthest part of his consciousness, and in his mind's eye he saw Izuna smile brightly at him. Approvingly.

Madara frowned and shook the strange vision.

"It is a good plan“, he announced. He was grateful for Kakashi's promised protection from Zetsu around Uchiha territory, but unsure how to show it. Kakashi once more proofed himself a cunning tactician. A liar, a voice inside him mumbled, and a good one. Never stray too far from the truth. That is what makes all the difference, isn't it? Nuances.

"I --" His hand had come up, its palm pressing against his forehead. Afraid to telegraph his momentary confusion, he quickly brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, masking the thoughtless gesture. "I made a decision about the summit", he continued, smoothing over his small blunder. That was a lie of his own -- he had not thought about it so much as discussed it with his dead brother in a lingering, impossible dream. "The Uchiha will attend. Have the Hatake decided yet?"

He was getting to his feet. It was time to pay little Sakumotsu a visit. They could talk while they were moving. Madara did not ever want to give that same awkward, horrible, heavy silence that had lingered between them the other day a chance to settle again. And he felt unsettled by his own thoughts, which made him fidgety, unable to sit still even a moment longer.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)

Similar threads

Jett Set
Fandom Olympus Odyssey: A PJO AU RP (Jett Set x Lumpkinz11)
Replies
15
Views
179
Jett Set
Jett Set
Catro the Writer
Fantasy Kingdom Hearts: A Family of Nobodies
sliceoflife
Replies
0
Views
25
Catro the Writer
Catro the Writer
Jett Set
Fandom Pokémon: Legendary Links (Jett Set x NoFaceHeadSpace)
Replies
4
Views
103
NoFaceHeadSpace
NoFaceHeadSpace
Lumpkinz11
Fandom Rocky Horror 1x1 RP w/ AlmostImmortal
Replies
12
Views
64
Lumpkinz11
Lumpkinz11
KilljoyConstruct
Fandom Look Alive, Sunshine [Killjoys: California 1x1 with Inquieta]
danger days oc and cc oc and oc
Replies
2
Views
51
Inquieta
Inquieta
Back
Top