Fandom [naruto] halfbreed || itliveswithin & arbus

[arbus]

At the sound of the Hatake's sudden laughter -- a rather pleasing sound, admittedly -- Madara's frown deepened to the point were it left a cleft between his eyebrows.

"Did I say a mangy cat? More like a spitting kitten."

Another bubble of indignation burst in his chest, and he positively bristled with it as he snapped: "Who do you call a kitten, you foolish mongrel!" Whirling to face the other once more -- to his vindication, he kept the promise not to peek, even though the idea had been tempting -- he continued noisily: "Just because that idiotic Senju managed to defeat me doesn't mean that I couldn't wipe the floor with you!" He blithely ignored the fact that at this point, he would hardly have the strength left to wipe the floor with any real equipment, let alone meet the only other man in battle that seemed to come so promisingly close to Hashirama's excellency.

A bit miffed, he reached for the sake to indulge more, but the crease between his eyebrows smoothed as he listened to the mutt's explanation for wearing his mask.

"Imagine the Hatake sense of smell magnified tenfold. I can smell everything."

"That must be awful", Madara replied, scrutinizing that masked face for the second time this evening, before he took a look at the tiny, intricate seal at the inside of the black fabric of the mutt's mask -- and perhaps, inconspicuously gazing at the exposed, pale stretch of cheek. A sudden thought came to him, and the grin he gave the other man was positively shit-eating. It really brightened his whole expression.

"You must be getting a bad tan line."

 

[roxybirdie]

"Who do you call a kitten, you foolish mongrel!"

Kakashi glanced at the older Uchiha's unruly raven locks. The wild spikes puffed up, as if spitting and hissing; no doubt reacting to the Clan Head's intense displeasure. He snorted in response. "A mangy, spitting kitten," he corrected. The half-Hatake tilted his head, eyes curving upward. Not a hint of repentance was evident on his expression. "Maa, we never did get to spar," he pointed out. Kakashi lowered his gaze, assessing the ravenette's bloodied and battered frame. Despite the Uchiha's heated exclamation, he was in no condition to fight.

Maa, so stubborn.

That must be awful. The silver-haired ambassador waved his hand flippantly. "Maa, maa, I wouldn't be a competent shinobi if I didn't acclimate," he replied. Kakashi snatched another pebble from the ground and tossed it in the air.

"You must be getting a bad tan line."

He faltered, barely catching the rounded stone. Kakashi flashed the smug-faced Uchiha a glare. "I don't tan," he deadpanned. Suddenly, his charcoal eyes gleamed wickedly. The half-Hatake flicked his wrist, throwing the pebble inside the bubbling stream. Before he released the rock, he coated it with chakra. Once the stone landed in the water, the momentum created a larger than normal splash. A wave of chilling water erupted from the creek, splashing the Uchiha Head. "Now you look like a drowned kitten," Kakashi announced airily.

While the Hatake ambassador didn't have a tan line, he did burn easily. His skin was too delicate (and pale) to tan.

 

[arbus]

Madara stared. From behind strands of wet, heavy hair, his black eyes gleamed at the Hatake. Water was dripping onto the ground. One slow drop after the next. He narrowed his eyes, frame rigid -- it was freezing -- and for a moment, it was the only movement in a perfectly, stone-like figure. He was like a human-turned-statue, and in the silence that followed, one would have been able to hear a pin drop. Uchiha Madara was left utterly, uncharacteristically speechless.

Somewhat detachedly, Madara felt a bang of regret. What a shame that, now that he had finally taken a liking to that impertinent, flea-ridden mongrel of a half-Uchiha, he would have to kill him.

Such.a.shame.

Slowly, so very slowly, he lifted his hand -- also dripping -- and took a final, deep gulp from the sake bottle.

Then, he was gone.

At least from where he had been sitting just the briefest of moments ago, and it was like he had vanished into thin air for moving so quickly, but the next second, he was driving his shoulder against the Hatake, seeking to get him off-balance and pin him down to the pebble-strewn ground with all fours: Hands ironclad around his upper arms, knees planted against both sides of his thighs. Cowering over the other man that way -- his hair falling into the other's masked face and dripping water all over him -- Madara's face, though, did not display malice, but the same version of the broad, unabashed grin that made him look young, daring, as if he believed he could lift the world out of its axis by mere stubbornness alone.

"A bit touchy about that, are you, mutt?", he teased, breath a bit ragged and carrying the distinct smell of inebriation. Before the Hatake could retaliate, he let go of him, falling onto the ground beside him. His face was turned upwards towards the stars and the moon and he barked a heartfelt, loud laugh, suddenly exuberant with joy.

Anger always came most natural to him, but the Uchiha had a propensity to feel intensely, and on the rare occasion Madara was actually, truly joyous, it lit up his entire being, made him bristle with energy and the feeling that he could, if he just dared, move mountains. Without turning his face, panting, wet, and tired, he said: "I cannot wait for that spar, Kakashi."

 

[roxybirdie]

Silence.

Besides the sounds of the gurgling brook and cicadas — and the background chorus of clansmen celebrating — silence washed over the river bank. From the corner of his eye, Kakashi regarded the elder Uchiha. The Clan Head remained frozen, a curtain of unruly ink spilling in front of his face. Water dripped off the Uchiha's drenched form. Despite the, without a shadow of a doubt, chilling onslaught, Madara didn't flinch. The ravenette didn't react at all.

Pure and unadulterated silence.

A part of him wondered if he broke the Uchiha Head. "Maa—" Kakashi didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. All the sudden, the older shinobi moved. In the blink of an eye — faster than he could react — the ravenette vanished and appeared in front of him. His back slammed against the rocky embankment. Kakashi let out — he will deny it to his dying breath — a strangled gasp. Suddenly, a mane of wild damp locks brushed against his face, tickling his nose. Icy droplets sprinkled on his face, evoking a mild flinch. Kamidamn, it was cold. Kakashi blinked slowly, gazing at the grinning Clan Head hovering above him.

The smug bastard had him pinned.

Before Kakashi could retaliate, the ravenette released him and flopped on his back. He opened his mouth, a quick-witted retort on the tip of his tongue, but without warning, the older Uchiha laughed. It wasn't a fleeting chortle nor a indignant snort, but a loud, genuine, exuberant laugh. It brightened the raven-haired man's entire frame. His breath hitched, momentarily caught off guard. Kakashi averted his eyes, staring at the waning moon. He carded fingers through his wild silver locks, wiping off the excess water clinging to his skin. Something unmistakably soft was evident in his charcoal gaze.

"I cannot wait for that spar, Kakashi."

A warm chuckle bubbled inside his chest. "Neither can I, Madara," the aforementioned half-Uchiha murmured.

 

[arbus]

Hi no Kuni - Inuzuka territory - Two weeks later

San was lolling on the extensive rug in front of her mother's abode, legs crossed, one foot bouncing up and down, the toes of the other buried deep in the rough fur of her mother's companion, the overly large and endlessly patient herding dog Yuki, named after the day of his birth during a heavy snowfall many, many years ago. She loved that dog to pieces, but he had grown quiet with age and did not much participate in the younger pups' outings anymore.

She was rolling around a particular nuisance in her head; one she had had to chew on -- and come to terms with -- for a while now. Ever since her mother had decided to rekindle the relationship with their distant relatives, the Hatake clan.

San was not opposed to that; she had always liked cooperating with the men and women of the Hatake alike. They were effective hunters; swift, careful and silent. But now that her mother had suggested she find herself a mate from that clan, to further strengthen their bonds, San's enthusiasm had dwindled quite a bit.

Hatake Noka had made it clear that her son, the lost son that had only recently found home, was something of a catch. Witty, intelligent, more capable than most, she had said and looked like she actually meant it. Hatake Kakashi had risen in the ranks of their clan organically and fast, saw eye to eye with the Hatake clan leader and had managed the not small miracle of allying the Uchiha, even before the cease-fire between them and the Senju of the Forest. That sounded almost too good to be true, and San was smart enough to know that it, indeed, was. She was old for being unattached, still unmarried, had not found a mate with her twenty-three years -- going on twenty-four, mind you -- even though most Inuzuka woman take their first mate at a much more tender age, four, five years prior to hers. The matriarchal clan survived by its unyielding, strong leaders, women that bear children and go on hunts with their cups up against their breasts, clad in fur and mud and the scent of the forest ground. But San, somehow, had slipped through the cracks of that finely attuned system; she was an odd one, they said, and that was why her mother now tried to tie her to the equally -- if not more so -- odd offspring of Hatake Noka.

Because that man -- Kakashi -- was spoiled fruit: He carried the blood of the Uchiha, and therefore was not eligible to father an Inuzuka child. His past was obscure and impossible to find out about, even if her mother had tried her hardest -- and that woman could sniff out a secret from the other side of Fire Country, headwind, San thought with a knowing shudder. He was polite enough, the Hatake, though he had not looked San in the eye even once when he was last here for the treaty negotiations between their clans. He surely had slipped through every carefully crafted "accidental" meeting her mother -- with some hesistant help from herself -- had set up for the two of them.

San did not want a man that did not want her. In fact, she did not want any man at all. Unfortunately, though, to gain standing in her clan, she needed to find a mate. Technically, it was an Inuzuka woman's pride to be surrounded by as many children as possible, but San was the third daughter of her mother. For her, it would do to simply find herself a man; not to procreate with, but at least to roam through the forest side by side with. That, actually, suited Inuzuka San just fine.

So when the ruckus of yet another approaching clan started up in their community‘s midst (they had welcomed the Senju delegates just hours before), her head perked up, and she sniffed the air for the sneeze-inducing scent of lightning chakra.

*​

„Aniki --" Tobirama hurried to catch up with his older brother, who’s strides were long and determinedly leading him towards the hut of Inuzuka Mora, chief of the Inuzuka clan. As he was balancing an array of scrolls in one hand, and a letter, ink still drying, in the other, a few books under his left arm and his strained patienced on top of that, he made a disgruntled noise as his brother suddenly halted, made a sharp left turn, and exclaimed, beaming: „Madara!“

Tobirama's feet skidded to a halt, too, and his head snapped around. Of course he had sensed the Uchiha clan head's approach. One could hardly miss that aura of power, and it was not like the Uchiha cared to disguise it. Where Hashirama's chakra was the sun-warmed earth of forests, the Uchiha's was more fierce, reaching like a red-blazing column into the sky. Tobirama always felt them both, could locate them in the map of his head. What interested him more was the Hatake, who's chakra eminated like unruly static, sometimes crashing down like a lightning strike but most often almost invisible.

Why would anyone that powerful care to achieve tight chakra control in the first place, and why disguise himself? It seemed to Tobirama, who had grown up with the God of Shinobi, like an anomaly. With something akin to yearning he thought of the torn cloth in the drawer of his desk back home in the compound. Its fibres held the dried blood of the Hatake, waiting to be studied. But for now, patience. Tobirama watched as his older brother extended both arms as if he was planning to hug the Uchiha, who stood in the front of an entourage of ten of his clansmen, looking utterly unimpressed. Hashirama faltered, swerved and grabbed the Uchiha's hand with both of his own.

Tobirama flinched.

He did not trust the Uchiha. Other than his idealistic brother, Tobirama recognized the temptations of prejudice and hate. Hashirama was no fool and understood the concept of revenge, but Tobirama knew it intimately, on an intrinsically personal level. He had not meant to kill the younger Uchiha -- it lay in the back of his mind like a too-heavy-stone -- but now that it was done, he knew the older one would not forgive, could not forgive the agony Tobirama had caused him. And he doubted that the Uchiha would be able to separate his personal feelings from his duties as a clan head; doubted he would be able to put down the prejudice and conflict in the name of reconciliation, of peace.

*
​

The Inuzuka's territory was a mere blip on the grand planes and hills of Hi no Kuni; it was smaller than even the Aburame's, and theirs was a clan shrouded in the obscurity of the forest. Their primitive huts stood on top of a soft, grassy hill that was surrounded by a forest of large, thousand-year old pine trees. It was beautiful, serene and filled with the annoying barks of what felt like at least a hundred flea-ridden dogs.

Madara freed his hand from Hashirama's dry grip and made a point to stare the other down to get him to reel in his inappropriate excuberance . Hashirama shriveled back as if scolded -- a tendency that had not changed from their childhood -- but recovered quickly. A magnanimous smile spread on his face. "Right on time, Madara."

"I hope to find you well", Madara said stiffly.

"Very", Hashirama replied, features softening. It was a strange moment. They were surrounded by a plethora of dogs and children, the noises of a lively little hamlet surrounding them, but for what amounted to almost a minute, they had only eyes for each other -- both in stunned disbelieve of the bumpy, often jarring path that had finally led them to this moment.

Then, Tobirama stepped next to his brother, and the spell was broken. Madara made a point to not to even graze that white-haired devil with a look, because his mere sight made his blood boil. It tore on the gaping hole that was his grief.

"Come", Hashirama said, not so tone-deaf as he sometimes pretended to be. He gestured towards one of the shabby huts and Madara walked next to him, gratified when the white-haired Senju stayed behind.

"The Hatake?", he asked as they entered. It was dim inside, one big room with a hearth in the middle, clad in furs and big, washed-out carpets.

Hashirama scratched his head.

"Eh ... I guess they're late", he announced, then bowed before the woman that was sitting in the only chair. Despite the stuffy air, there was a brownish fur clad around her broad shoulders. "Inuzuka Mora", he said, smiling, "meet my friend, Uchiha Madara."

 

[roxybirdie]

Hi no Kuni — Hatake Compound — Two Weeks Later (A Few Hours Prior)

"Oi! Brat! I know you can hear me. If you keep this up, we're going to be late!" hollered the Clan Head.

Outside of the main gates, Nōka stood with her partner flanking her left side. The she-wolf glanced at her partner. "You're unusually impatient," she drawled. Unlike her partner, Shinra remained unperturbed by the pup's tardiness. After months of interacting with her partner's descendant, the she-wolf became accustomed (and consequently immune) to the brat's antics.

Nōka scrubbed a hand down her face. "The brat doesn't know the meaning of diplomacy," she grumbled.

"And you're any better?"

She harrumphed. "Better than him," the wolfwoman pointed out. She heaved a sigh. "It was a kamidamn miracle I got Mora to agree," she huffed.

"She doesn't think it will last," the she-wolf deduced.

The Clan Head folded her arms across her chest. "Can you blame her? I'm still trying to wrap my head around it," she admitted. Nōka gazed at the forest beyond the main gates. "I almost didn't believe Kakashi when he told me the final battle ended in ceasefire," she added. The blood feud between the Senju and Uchiha lasted for generations. It felt almost surreal the two legendary clans, arguably the strongest in the Land of Fire, decided to stop fighting. Nōka didn't fault Inuzuka Mora for her skepticism.

"I'm surprised the pup didn't run," Shinra mused.

She snorted. "He suggested it," Nōka reminded. Inuzuka Mora had no interest in Senju or Uchiha affairs. After one week of relentless negotiations, Nōka was on the verge of finding another neutral location out of pure spite. However, Kakashi swooped in and made a surprising proposal; temporary entrance for the duration of the peace negotiations in exchange for himself.

Inuzuka Mora accepted.

"I don't like it," the she-wolf rumbled.

"Our hands are tied," the Clan Head sighed. When the Inuzuka and Hatake first started negotiations — months before the final battle — Inuzuka Mora proposed a union to strengthen their ties. Nōka nominated her eldest. Despite his Uchiha blood, Hatake Kakashi was the embodiment of Hatake pride; a mate worthy for an Inuzuka. Unfortunately, her troublesome pup rejected the proposal and utilized every trick in the book to evade his future betrothed. It was a kamidamn miracle Nōka managed to cement the alliance without a marriage clause.

She didn't understand why her pup rejected the proposal so vehemently — it went against Hatake nature — but she relented.

"Maybe his betrothed will reject him," Shinra suggested.

A huff of amusement escaped her lips. Nōka once agreed to the union. Strengthening the ties between the Inuzuka and Hatake would benefit her clan. However, the Hatake — first and foremost — protected their pack. Her pup sacrificed his wellbeing and happiness and it made her blood seethe. She wanted to rip Inuzuka Mora apart for backing her pup into a corner. Stupid, flea-bitten bitch.

"Maa, I'm not too late, am I?"

The moment her eyes landed on her pup's ensemble, Nōka threw her head back and laughed. "You have a lot of nerve, brat," she snorted.

Kakashi blinked slowly. "You told me to come prepared," he pointed out.

She suppressed another snort. "I told you to get ready," Nōka corrected.

"Maa, isn't that the same thing?"

*​

Present — Inuzuka Territory

"Eh ... I guess they're late,"

All the sudden, the Hatake convoy — consisting of the Clan Head, her partner, and Kakashi — appeared in front of the hut. The swirling dust on the ground indicated a well-timed shunshin. Kakashi raised his hand in lieu of greeting. "Maa, maa—" He brushed past a certain white-haired Senju and stepped inside the hut. "—I hope we're not late," he announced airily. The half-Hatake bowed to the Inuzuka Head and inclined his head respectively to her ninken.

Nōka stepped inside the hut with Shinra flanking her right side. "Mora," she acknowledged. She glanced at the woman's partner. "Yuki." Acknowledging the Clan Head's — or any member of the Inuzuka — partner was a sign of respect.

"Nōka," drawled the Inuzuka Head. Her eyes shifted to the massive wolf summon. "Shinra," she acknowledged. She directed her attention to the Hatake ambassador. Mora gestured toward her third oldest daughter with a sharp-toothed smirk. "You can sit next to San, Kakashi," she announced. Once she assessed the half-Hatake's ensemble, she barked out a laugh. Instead of wearing the muted colors of his clan, the brat donned a yukata featuring navy colors; the mark of the Uchiha. While the fabric lacked a clan insignia, the message was crystal.

A power move directed at her in the heart of her clan's territory.

The pup had guts.

Kakashi glanced at the aforementioned daughter briefly and directed his attention to the Senju Head. "Is something wrong, Hashirama-san?" he inquired, noticing the older man's peculiar expression. He resembled a gaping fish, all traces of decorum momentarily forgotten.

"Y-your—" His eyes were fixated on the half-Hatake's attire.

Outside of the hut, Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose. "Aniki," he hissed underneath his breath.

 

[arbus]

For a moment, the scrolls perched on Tobirama's arm wobbled precariously, and he shifted his weight so it would not slip and send the whole mountain of documents onto the ground with it. He had not seen the Hatake coming.

The technique the silver-haired Hatake had used was stunning. Especially because Tobirama had tossed around a similar idea in his head; speed was his own forte, was what he honed and tried to improve. It was the only thing he had over Hashirama (apart of his superior tastes, of course) and he had started to think about developing a new technique to move even faster. A technique that had not taken much shape beyond a rough theory in his head, just that now, the Hatake seemed to have performed what Tobirama had deemed unthinkable.

A truly curious specimen.

*​

Hashirama looked around with that half-astonished expression on his gullible face that gave him resemblance to an oaf. Beneath, however, lay the subtle beginnings of a frown. Madara doubted the Senju disapproved of the mutt's affiliation per se, but much as himself, he understood how tender a balance they were striking with this ceasefire right now. Every affront would be problematic to convey to the elders, or even justify before themselves. They had both suffered great losses, dealt each other great harm, and even with Hashirama‘s veneer of magnanimity, the Senju was hurting on behalf of every single life that had been extinguished.

"Did you ask him to do this?"

Madara would not deny that after a first glimpse of the mutt in Uchiha colors, he had felt a not insignificant amount of pleasure. Like a dormant creature in the pit of his stomach had stirred and was now purring with pride. That, of course, was because he knew what the Hatake was capable off; had seen glimpses behind the facade of nonchalance, and beneath it lay something powerful. To have this power affiliated with his clan, so blatantly and unapologetically displayed, was triumphant.

He belongs to us, the feeling said.

He belongs to me, the creature in his stomach murmured darkly, and Madara ignored it.

But the mutt seldomly did anything without some ulterior motif. He had already announced his blood affiliation to the Uchiha on the day of that last battle, and there was no need to drive the point home in this manner -- the whole of Fire Country already talked about it, astounded whispers drifting like wind through the leaves.

No. The Hatake had another reason for his display, and Madara and his clan were not its beneficiary, but a mere instrument.

„No“, Madara replied with a scowl. If Izuna were with him, he would have advised him to keep his temper at bay, not to get riled up by miniscule offenses. (If Izuna were with him, he‘d shake his head for sharing a room with the Senju, for even talking to them.) "I did not ask him to do anything. As you'll learn for yourself soon enough, Hatake-san has a perfectly capable mind of his own." (Too much so, sometimes, he thought sourly). "And I don't see the problem in someone wearing a blue cloak. It's not like he's donning the Uchiha fan."

In the silence that followed, Hashirama‘s eyes searched Madara‘s face. He seemed satisfied with the answers he gained, because suddenly he smiled. „Hopefully, one day we are all going to be clad in each other‘s colors“, he announced, voice unwavering even in the face of this inconceivable idea, „and we won‘t even remember which color belongs to what clan.“

With that, the moment of imbalance that had shifted the air in the small room like a disturbance, was over. On Inuzuka Mora‘s invitation, they took their seats around the hearth in an imperfect semi-circle: There were the Senju brothers, Hashirama‘s face open and expectant, Tobirama‘s closed-off and weary; the Inuzuka, with her three daughters and the Hatake — Kakashi next to one of them, followed by Hatake Noka. And then, on his own, Madara, who surveyed them all with crossed arms and sharp eyes.

The atmosphere in the room was thick enough to cut through it with a kunai.

„Well then“, Inuzuka Mora announced, „on behalf of my clan, I welcome you to our home and hearth. As stipulated in our correspondence, we Inuzuka grant you access to our territory for the span of exactly one week ...“

What followed was a long speech about the expectations and limitations of their stay, and if Madara had not been determined to keep his patience, he would have bristled with the indignity of what essentially came down to a preemptive scolding. We stick our neck out for you, for this, the Inuzuka woman implied, so don‘t fuck us over.

*​

Not that there was very much the Inuzuka could do if things went awry, San thought, a tad bitter. Her mother went on with her speech, and everyone listened politely enough, but San suddenly doubted that this whole endevour would ever result in anything but a bloodbath. A week was a long time for animosities to distill, and once the excitement of a never-before-reached ceasefire dwindled, it surely would not take much for both Senju and Uchiha to fall back into old habits. The Uchiha clan head -- a disagreeable fellow, up close, younger than expected but as ill-humoured as Noka had discribed him -- already looked like a cat sitting on hot bricks.

San risked an unobstrusive glance from the side of her eye to Hatake Kakashi, who was sitting next to her. He radiated bodyheat and the welcome smell of fur and beneath, that nose-tickling electricity. Hatake Noka had called him witty, but San would say he was a shrewd one. Much like her mother, she had received the underlying message in his choice of clothing. A reminder of his tainted blood, an affront designed to nudge them into a conclusion: Not a suitable candidate.

San despised that sort of manipulation. She deemed it disingenious and weak. Curling her nose, her shoulders stiffened at the thought of this lanky man playing with her like she was stupid. If he was not interested, he should just tell her to her face.

The conversation seemed to go on and on. After his mother had been done with her greeting, the clans had lost no time to go into the details of what they deemed a summit. They could try to cloak their animosity in formalities and politenesses and pretty terms, but the unease was as palbable in the room as the taste of rotten fruit in the back of one's mouth.

One and a half hours of stuffy over-politness later, her mother finally announced that their clan prepared to hold a feast to the Senju's and Uchiha's honor. It would begin at sundown, and both clan heads and their convoy were recommended to try out the natural onsen, which was one of the best in the whole country. San ignored both her elder sisters' meaningful gazes as she watched one after the other stand and leave. She observed how the Uchiha's eyes found Hatake Kakashi's face, about to get his attention, but before the silver-haired man could slip away from her again, San stood -- towering over the other man by a considerable margin -- and plucked at his sleeve. "Kakashi-kun, a word."

 

[roxybirdie]

Years Ago — Hatake Compound

"Maa, is that your summon?" drawled the White Fang.

The six-year-old genin glanced at his father. "This is my first partner, Pakkun," Kakashi introduced. He raised his arms, presenting the older Hatake a tiny light brown pug. The puppy raised his head, a bored expression evident on his wrinkly face. Despite the seemingly uninterested visage, Sakumo had a feeling the puppy's indifference was hereditary, not intentional. Leave it to Kakashi to find a partner with a natural resting bitch face. "Kōya-sama presented me Pakkun after he was born. It is my responsibility, as his pack leader, to raise him," he announced.

Sakumo hummed. The dog summoning contract, similar to the wolves, required the contractor — the alpha — to raise their partners from puppyhood and forge a pack. The pack leader is responsible for naming the pups, providing for the pups, and training the pups. Kōya, the leader of the dogs, is responsible for handpicking the pups for the contractor. Each pack is tailored specifically to the summoner. Sakumo acquired the dog summoning contract on a mission during his youth. Since he was contracted with the wolves, the White Fang never had a reason to use it.

Until Kakashi was born.

After his son ascended to genin, Sakumo presented him the dog summoning contract. The Hatake possessed (and protected) the wolf summoning contract for generations. It was tradition for the Hatake to partner with the wolves. However, while Sakumo never intended to deprive his only son the traditions of their clan, he knew — since the moment Kakashi graduated from the Academy — the wolf summoning contract wasn't for his pup. While the wolves of Raizan would recognize (and respect) his son's lineage, they wouldn't accept him. Kakashi was too wild, too untamed. The dogs of Jōryokuju, on the other hand, lived for the Wild Hunt. Kōya, the leader of the dogs, was coincidentally the youngest pup of Tōboe, the leader of the wolves.

"You're Kakashi's alpha," the tiny pug rumbled.

He took a seat next to his son. "Maa, I'm Sakumo. It's nice to meet you, Pakkun," he announced.

*​

Present

"We Inuzuka grant you access to our territory for the span of exactly one week..."

Something akin to resentment bubbled inside his chest. How dare they, it hissed. Kakashi surveyed the crowded hut. How dare they not see, it growled. He glanced at the Inuzuka Clan Head. How dare they assume, it snarled. His unceremonious — shoulders slouched and spine curved — seiza concealed the bitterness festering inside his heart. Sharp eyes saw through the tense atmosphere, politeness, and honeyed words. He saw what the Inuzuka could not; hope. How dare they not believe, it roared. From the corner of his eye, the silver-haired shinobi regarded the tall woman.

Inuzuka San, his betrothed.

Despite her impeccable nonchalance, Hatake Nōka is a formidable conciliator with a cunning silver-tongue. She pinpointed weaknesses, exploited them, and crafted solutions. While Kakashi lacked the aptitude for diplomacy, his mother excelled. However, Inuzuka Mora was a unyielding force of nature. Her sheer obstinance rebuffed his mother's relentless negotiations. After a week of fruitless haggling, it dawned on Kakashi what the dogwoman truly desired.

Him.

"Kakashi-kun, a word."

Inuzuka San towered over him, her broad form dwarfing his lanky frame. Kakashi gazed past the taller brunette, locking eyes with a certain Clan Head. Something indiscernible was evident in his charcoal hues. Kakashi directed his attention to the older woman, meeting her eyes for the first time. The dark umber was surprisingly beautiful. It reminded him of the shade of Ūhei's fur. His heart positively clenched at the sudden reminder. However, it paled in comparison to the overwhelming desolation invoked by the Inuzuka's partner. Had the situation been different, Kakashi might of laughed at the sheer absurdity.

A pug.

The ninken partnered with the behemoth woman was a pug and all Kakashi could see was Pakkun.

The war veteran saw glimpses of his beloved ninken in the variety of dog breeds roaming the Inuzuka dwellings. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and widened the fathomless void inside his chest. Meeting Inuzuka San's ninken, on the other hand, ripped the oxygen from his lungs. The overpowering grief it elicited left him breathless, to the point Kakashi deliberately ignored the brunette and avoided her gaze.

Until now.

He tilted his head, eyes curving into a patented (faux) eye-smile. "Maa, maa, lead the way, San-san," the half-Hatake announced.

 

[arbus]

San ignored the formality of the honorific and the somewhat tired pun to her name, sweeping past Hatake Kakashi in the full expectation that he would follow her.

While Uchiha Madara got swept up in quite an unfortunate argument with Senju Hashirama, she and Kakashi made for the nearby tree line.

„Madara, come on!“

„No, thank you.“

„A quick soak, that‘s all.“

„No.“

"I heard the Inuzuka onsen are excellent for curing aching muscles. My chakra pathways are still sore from two weeks ago, yours must be too!"

„Aniki ...“

„We can scrub each other‘s backs and reminisce ...“

There was a loud crash, then an undignified yowl that sounded suspiciously like the Senju clan head, but by that point San and her navy-clad shadow had the community's dwellings long in their backs. The only thing the wind carried to them was Uchiha Madara's baritone, yelling something about rather steam-cooking in an onsen in hell than to scrub Hashirama's warty, hunchbacked behind, eliciting something that sounded much like a protesting whine from the long-haired Senju.

San snorted humourlessy. „So much for the God of Shinobi. They‘re behaving like children!“ Her big, sandal-clad feet were as secure on the tree-branches as any Hatake‘s as she led Kakashi through a thin strip of forest. From time to time, she would topple over in a graceful swoop and use her hands to whirl herself forward on all fours, almost like it was a race, gauging if the Hatake could keep up with her.

It did not take too long, however, before she swirled around mid-stride, feet skidding to a sudden halt on a thick branch. They now were out of earshot from the clan or anyone who might be interested enough to listen. She was perfectly calm, not even her breath had quickened, as she stared at the lanky man who was supposed to become her husband.

„I‘m not interested in a mate like you“, she spat, and it was something she had in common with the Uchiha clan head, the propensity to cover her own insecurities with a spout of anger (even if she did not know it). „But if you want our mothers to leave us alone, then I say we get that damn business behind us like adults. We marry and go our separate ways, and be over and done with this nonsense! “ As if that plan was even close to sane; their clan‘s tradition demanded a mating ritual, and if San ended up with a husband that was not around, especially these first few years in which everyone eyed any newly-weds with hawk‘s eyes for the first signs of offspring, she would be worse for wear than if she had stayed alone in the first place.

„You are rude, Kakashi-kun“, she added, and even though she was at least two heads taller than him, suddenly seemed to shrink. Her brazeness was nothing but a mask; in reality, it hurt that not even an odd man like Kakashi deemed himself good enough for her. Hurt her pride, and more importantly, the self-respect she had worked so hard to obtain. "Rude and cowardly. Grow a pair and tell me you don't want to marry me to my face."

 

[roxybirdie]

"So much for the God of Shinobi. They‘re behaving like children!"

Even without his sensitive hearing, the silver-haired halfbreed heard the booming — Senju Hashirama is a loud man — conversation and the consequent undignified yelp. Snippets of — warty hunchbacked behind! — carried over the wind, eliciting a snort. His eyes crinkled, a genuine softness penetrating his lackadaisical façade. "Unruly children with the power to crush mountains," Kakashi mused. The half-Hatake matched the older Inuzuka's speed, resembling a blip of silver and navy in the treetops. The wind caressed his unruly locks, exposing the vertical scar over his left eye.

Deep within the sparse forest surrounding the Inuzuka huts, the unlikeliest betrothed halted. Kakashi lifted his head, gazing at the descending sun. It was only a few hours before dusk. He stood next to the older woman silently. The ambassador was completely still, as if he were a thin scarecrow fluttering in the wind. His eyes remained fixated on the blue, blue sky.

I‘m not interested in a mate like you. Something inside — deep, deep down — howled. It clawed viciously at his chest, teeth bared and demanding retribution. The Hatake, very much like the Inuzuka, are pack-oriented people. Deeming him unworthy as a mate grated on his primal instincts. It felt great offense to the dogwoman's rejection and demanded retaliation.

"Rude and cowardly. Grow a pair and tell me you don't want to marry me to my face."

Truthfully, marriage wasn't a foreign concept. In his original timeline, as the last surviving Hatake, Kakashi experienced his fair share of marriage proposals. The village council expected him to procreate and continue the Hatake legacy. Kakashi opposed. Despite his counterattack, the war veteran didn't hate the concept. On the contrary, a part of him — deep, deep down — desired a family of his own.

However, even if he used himself like a bargaining chip, marrying Inuzuka San felt viscerally wrong. The woman deserved a mate, not a sacrificial lamb.

Kakashi averted his gaze, smooth charcoal meeting fiery umber. "I don't want to marry you," he intoned. His sharp eyes saw through the brunette's brazen façade. "Your mother would never agree to hosting the negotiations unless I offered what she wanted most," he pointed out. His penetrating gaze softened. The silver-haired ambassador heaved a sigh. He raised his head, gazing at the wispy clouds. "You, your mother, and your clan don't believe the Senju and Uchiha can achieve peace, but I do." Flashes of the village he once knew surfaced inside his mind. "I believe in Hashirama-san's vision." The sound of a certain Clan Head's laughter resonated inside his head. "I believe the Uchiha are more than warmongering monsters." He gazed at the woman's ninken from his peripheral.

"I believe you should have the right to choose whether you want a mate or not," Kakashi declared.

 

[arbus]

San was silent while Kakashi spoke, but she was listening intently. Her pup, Hitotsu -- not really a pup anymore, because like her the black pug had just outgrown her teenage years -- sat in the folds of her yukata, staring out into the world with the bright, curious expression of someone used to being quite and watch. She felt her partner's unrest, and sniffed the air that was laden with an undercurrent of electricity like static. It surrounded the silver-haired wolf man wherever he went, and it was like a tingle in her sensitive nose, but not unpleasant.

It was not hard to read San's face. Her emotions were displayed as clear as day, and a frown of anger turned into one of confusion and then her features cleared with a dawning understanding.

"I don't want to marry you."

It had brought forth anger -- and hurt -- and for an instance San was tempted to stop listening at all, to just let this one fact sink into her brain like poison. Her sisters were talking behind her back because of how she looked, behaved; she was tall, impatient, and fierce in pursuing her own style of life. It elicited giggles from her fellow clanswomen, the ones she had grown up with in her mother's den. And now, it had made her mother obviously desperate enough to blackmail the Hatake into finding a more or less suitable marriage candidate. But at least he had the decency to look her in the eyes and tell her about it; she respected that.

"Your mother would never agree to hosting the negotiations unless I offered what she wanted most."

Her fingers curled into a tight fist.

She had not known about that, but now that she was confronted with the truth, she found that it did not surprise her.

Her mother only wanted the best for her. And this was what her mother thought was the best.

"I believe in Hashirama-san's vision. I believe the Uchiha are more than warmongering monsters."

She disagreed with him, wholeheartedly, about the ceasefire and the potential peace. It was a foolish notion; men loved war, it gave them purpose. Who would Uchiha Madara be without war? Both him and the Senju would become nobodies, and neither of these clans had ever learned to live in obscurity. They were all about power, and power did not hide, was not sacrificed for the sake of peace.

Izunuka San was a warrior woman, but she fought if she had to, and killed only those who forced her hand. She knew men like Uchiha Madara. He killed for power, and he would never stop.

All that she kept to herself; she saw that the Hatake was blinded by hope, and she did not have it in herself to be the one to take that hope away from him. Instead, she lowered herself until she was sitting on their shared branch. It was a thick, sturdy one, but it nevertheless creaked under the shift of her weight.

"I believe you should have the right to choose whether you want a mate or not."

"It is the way of our clan", she said, and only after the silence between them had settled and had turned from something heavy into a lack of expectation. San was good with silences like that. She was good in reading another's body language, and in gauging their intentions. "I don't want a mate, but I need one to rise through our ranks. It is expected of me to find one, and I will." She threw him a glance. "Why don't you want to marry me? Do you think I'm ugly? Or are you afraid I will snap you in two like a scrawny twig?"

 

[roxybirdie]

"Or are you afraid I will snap you in two like a scrawny twig?"

A huff of amusement escaped his lips. "Oh I know you can. I would be a fool not to acknowledge the might of a kunoichi," the half-Hatake mused. He leaned against the tree and folded his arms across his chest. The excess navy fabric of his sleeves concealed his forearms. Kakashi tilted his head until the back of his head rested against the rough bark. "Maa, I don't find you ugly. On the contrary, you're quite beautiful," he pointed out. Charcoal eyes assessed the older woman. Her intimidating height, broad frame, and untamed features may be the opposite of conventional beauty, but the silver-haired shinobi saw underneath the underneath. Inuzuka San was a different kind of beauty; fierce, unyielding, and wild. It reminded him of the evergreen forests of Jōryokuju.

"You deserve a mate," Kakashi murmured. He lifted his gaze, watching the wispy clouds float by. The half-Hatake suddenly understood why a certain shadow-wielding clan gazed at the clouds. It felt surprisingly cathartic. "Even if you don't want one, you deserve a mate, not a pawn in your mother's machinations," he elaborated. Kakashi directed his attention to the sun setting on the horizon. "Kaa-san mentioned a ninken chooses the Inuzuka, not the other way around. I carry the blood of the Uchiha in my veins. There is a significant chance any child you bear will not be recognized as pack and therefore rejected by your ninken," he pointed out. His tone was firm, but not unkind. "I'm surprised your mother hasn't considered the political ramifications of such a union. I may be a Hatake, but I have the eyes of an Uchiha." The sharingan was left unsaid.

Kakashi lowered himself on the branch. "It doesn't feel right." He rubbed his sternum for emphasize. "My wolf doesn't accept you," he admitted. It was the simplest way he could describe the predator lurking underneath the surface. While his primal instincts raved at the dogwoman's rejection, it equally opposed the union. Kakashi didn't understand why, but he rarely ignored his instincts.

Even if his instincts said otherwise, Kakashi had the weight of the entire future resting on his shoulders. His mission didn't end with the birth of Konohagakure. Once the village he once knew was finally secured, he could focus on his primary goal; destroy a certain manipulating parasite. Marrying Inuzuka San complicated things and truthfully, he couldn't (and never will be) the mate she deserved.

 

[arbus]

San wanted to object. Wanted to tell him that she did not plan on bearing children, ever. That she, in fact, did not like children all that much to begin with. She could cope with them, sure, but she preferred the uncomplicated company of her ninken, thank you very much.

But she said neither of those things, because if there was one thing she intrinsically understood, it was a wolf‘s instinct. It was raw, and untamed, and it lived inside you, howling at the moon if you let it. It was that feeling in your gut, the hackles that rose, the accelerated heartbeat. It was as primitive as it was effective, and it gave them every advantage over other clans that did not possess it — the Inuzuka and the Hatake both were beings of the woods, of underbrush and forays through foliage in the moonlight.

„My wolf doesn‘t accept you.“

She inclined her head at that. There was nothing to argue about.

„My mother doesn’t expect the gift of grandchildren from me“, she explained nonetheless, but the urgency had left her. „She wants to secure my position and tie us to the Hatake. She is afraid of a rift, wants to unite to make us strong.“

Hitotsu poked out of her hiding place, sniffing the air. A bit of drool fell from her canines. There was the faint, but distinct odor of fresh, spicy meat wafting towards them from the dwellings. The preparations for the feast had reached their final stages.

„We should head back“, San announced, looking up into the same sky that Kakashi was gazing at. His expression, she thought, seemed somewhat forlorn. She wondered if he knew how much he was giving away at that moment. „Thanks for calling me beautiful“, she said after a moment‘s thought. „It‘s nice to hear that once in a while.“ And it was.

As if to break a spell, or dispell the solemn atmosphere, she raised her big hand and gave Kakashi‘s back a goodnatured, hard rap that had all the strength to knock someone over. Then she jumped to the ground, and looking up, shouted: „Let‘s not tell mother about your wolf‘s decision yet.That way, you can be sure you get that whole week she promised you. I‘m sure you‘ll find a way to wriggle yourself out of the contract after.“ Or I'll find a way to change your mind. Wolfs, after all, were fickle creatures. A beat, „Race you to the barbecue, Kakashi-kun.“ And without any more warning, she took off in a chakra-induced leap.

*​

Madara scowled.

As if it wasn't enough that he had to endure a whole week under the pressure not only of a peace summit that would decide the fate of his clan, all the while being taunted by that white-haired devil, looking haughty and disinterested and as if nothing of this was his concern -- no, he had to fend off Hashirama, as well. That sentimental old fool kept trying to build on ties that had been left to rot on a river bank eleven years ago, with the clash of metal on metal.

"Sentimental old fool", he spat, and Hikaku grimaced. He had heard somewhere that self-talk was one of the first signs of insanity. But Madara did not even spare him a glance as he threw on the dark kimono he wore for ceremonial purposes, the Uchiha fan emblazoned on its back, and Hikaku made sure it stayed that way by melting back into the shadow's of the little hut that was his clan head's abode for the duration of the summit.

From the nine Uchiha his cousin had chosen for his convoy, none was older than himself; perhaps wisely, he had not wanted to deal with the interference of those dusty, warmongering elders. He thought that if Yoshitaka-san had been there to give his opinion on everything, Madara might have started to pull out his own hair.

It was Hikaku's duty on this mission to be Madara's eyes and ears -- though it was not an easy task to perform if the man you were shadowing hated being shadowed. Madara did not need a bodyguard, per se, but even he could not stay vigilant all the time. Even his cousin, at least that much Hikaku knew, needed to sleep once in a while (rumor had it that Madara slept with his eyes open, and he was interested to find out about that -- and win ten riu if he could proof that theory nonsense -- thirty if it was true).

Madara wrapped the obi around himself with steady fingers, even though he did not find much pleasure in the outlook of spending an evening of false niceties in the company of strangers and enemies. The Inuzuka looked at him as if he were about to bite their heads off. Nobody ever looked at stupid Hashirama like that!

It was not yet dark; he had already resolved to sneak off later in the night. Madara was fond of privacy and quietude and onsen, and he would make sure to take a bath when that damn Senju slept soundly.

 

[roxybirdie]

"My mother doesn’t expect the gift of grandchildren from me,"

Something akin to wry amusement bubbled inside his chest. "If only it were that simple," he thought. Even if that were true, the Hatake — very much like the Inuzuka from what his mother implied — undergo a mating ritual. In spite of the Uchiha blood coursing through his veins, Kakashi is the eldest son of Hatake Nōka. As the son of the Clan Head — even if he isn't the official heir — Kakashi will be forced to consummate the union. The thought of his own family — his own pups — sated a deep-seated desire buried in the darkest pit of his soul. On the other hand, something about it felt profoundly wrong.

As if it were incomplete and Kakashi can't find the missing piece.

We should head back. All the sudden, a large palm slammed against his back. Kakashi lurched forward, but instead of plummeting to the ground, the silver-haired shinobi anchored himself on the branch with chakra. If he were a lesser shinobi, Kakashi would of fallen gracelessly to the ground. However, the half-Hatake sensed the dogwoman's movement and reacted accordingly. I'm sure you‘ll find a way to wriggle yourself out of the contract after. Oh he had every intention to. Inuzuka Mora forced his hand, but Kakashi wouldn't take it lying down. Race you to the barbecue, Kakashi-kun. A fleeting chuckle rumbled inside his chest. "Maa, you're on, San-chan," he announced.

Without another word, the Hatake ambassador slipped off the branch, landed on the ground, and lunged.

*​

In the end, a certain silver-haired halfbreed won.

Running with the older woman felt surprisingly exhilarating. It awakened the primal beast lurking underneath the surface; prowling, watching, waiting. His wolf howled triumphantly and welcomed the invigorating rush. His blood may be impure, but at his core, Kakashi was (and always will be) a Hatake. He lived for the Wild Hunt and thrived in the wilderness.

His untamed spirit was why the dogs of Jōryokuju accepted him as pack.

Once the older Inuzuka and younger Hatake returned, Kakashi slipped away. He maneuvered through the encampment, evading rowdy children and dodging energetic ninken. The atmosphere was loud, disorderly, and undisciplined, but a part of him reveled in the chaos. Underneath the myriad of overpowering scents, Kakashi instinctively latched onto a woodsy aroma with a hint of copper. Fire and blood, it purred. On the north side of the encampment are a row of huts designated for the Senju and Uchiha convoys. Since the Hatake and Inuzuka are official allies, Kakashi and his mother resided in a hut closer toward the Clan Head's.

"Sentimental old fool,"

The words carried over the wind, eliciting a snort. His feet led him to the Uchiha hut without another thought. Kakashi leaned against the threshold and folded his arms across his chest. "Maa, if you keep scowling like that, your face will get stuck," he drawled, a glint of amusement evident in his charcoal gaze. He spotted a certain Uchiha in the shadows, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

Best not to make a troublesome job even more cumbersome. Kakashi didn't pity Hikaku.

"I don't think I ever met someone as loud as Hashirama-san," the half-Hatake mused. Not in his current timeline. "He seemed quite adamant about the onsen," he added. The wicked gleam in his eyes made it apparent, despite not witnessing the exchange, Kakashi heard it. "It's quite rejuvenating. When you decide to sneak off—" He knew the Clan Head enough to know better. "—you won't regret it." The silver-haired shinobi tilted his head back, gazing outside the hut. Suddenly, a hearty aroma invaded his nostrils.

"Maa, I believe it's time," Kakashi announced.

 

[arbus]

Hiakaku was no longer surprised about the Hatake‘s boldness; had Madara wished to rip his head off for it, he would have done so a long time ago, but as far as Hikaku knew he had never made any serious attempt. In fact, his clan head seemed to oddly enjoy himself in the face of those minor quips. In the Hatake‘s presence, something in him seemed to ease; Izuna had registered it, back all those months ago, and that peculiar fondness had not gone by the elders unnoticed, either. It did not sit well with them, much like it had not sat well with Izuna. Hikaku suspected at least part of the reason Izuna had hated the Hatake so much had been out of sheer protectiveness, and while Hikaku had not agreed with his cousin's assessment of the Hatake, he could not fault him for that. He missed his best friend, with a devastating ache that still left him numb. There had been a rift between them because of their different views of the Hatake, and Izuna‘s death had come too sudden to repair it, but they had said goodbye, and Izuna had smiled. Like the stubborn mule he had been, smiled in grim challenge as he faced his own demise.

„Take care of my brother for me now that I‘m no longer able to."

Hikaku knew in his bones that Izuna would have come around on the matter of the halfbreed eventually; would have seen that the Hatake meant them no harm, on the contrary, had gone out of his way to safe Uchiha Madara's life, even if the whole of Fire Country would probably have heaved a sigh of relief if he had found his end so quietly.

Hikaku still wondered what had the Hatake moved to do such a thing.

*
​

"Maa, if you keep scowling like that, your face will get stuck."

Madara did not look up immediately; Kakashi's sudden appearances were something he had gotten used to, and he turned his back to him to hide his satisfaction, the deep rumbling of There you are that echoed through him, that was more satisfied than impatient.

"Like that tan line of yours, you mean", Madara retorts, "the one you claim 'does not exist'."

He huffed wryly at the other's assessment of Senju Hashirama. Loud and whiny, Madara thought, and he had forgotten how easy it was between them; the little irritations, two sides of a coin. Brothers in every way but by blood.

"Hashirama makes a fool out of himself", he said, into the short astonished silence that had followed Kakashi's easy guess of Madara's plans. Was he really that obvious? He stepped outside with the Hatake, barking: "Hikaku, make sure the rest of the convoy is ready with the gift", which made Hikaku wince hard. In the fading light, Madara turned to Kakashi, his eyes moving over the other man. He looked different, somehow, more at ease than he had yet seen him, while there was something wild in his eyes, untamed, and his own gaze posed a half-question that was not even fully formed in his own mind as he raised a hand to pick a tiny twig out of the other's unruly hair.

He raised an eyebrow, holding it up between them.

"Been busy, yes?"

The chaos of the Inuzuka was so very welcome to Madara; he felt nowhere closer to Izuna than in the empty, dark halls of the compound at night, but this felt like a reprieve from the guilt nagging at him. The cries and laughter of rollocking children came as natural as anything with a big, lively clan. Blood boiled in young ones and all that energy needed release; so much potential, so much life.

They were staking wood for a bonfire, Madara realized as they entered the square in the community's center. People started gathering in that easy way that spoke of familiarity, goods passed between excepting hands. Huge slaps of meat were being roasted over smaller fires, and some of the Senju were already surrounding one of them, passing pitchers of water back and forth.

"Tell me, why are you wearing the colors of my clan", he said in a low voice. Everybody registered he was there; it brought conversations to a halt, and faces turned towards them half-expectantly, as if they just waited for him to release Susanoo to crush them. "You obviously are here on behalf of the Hatake, after all."

 

[roxybirdie]

"Like that tan line of yours, you mean,"

The half-Hatake twitched. He did not have a tan line, thank you very much. "Maa, you seem almost obsessed with what's underneath, Madara-san," Kakashi drawled, a mischievous gleam evident in his half-lidded gaze. The silver-haired shinobi snorted at the older Uchiha's assessment regarding a certain Senju. "Like you're any better," he thought, recalling the Clan Head's heated retaliation. Suddenly, a hand extended forward, plucking a twig from his unruly mane.

Been busy, yes? Kakashi blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The unforeseen gesture felt bizarre. Never has the Clan Head touch him — even if it was a fleeting graze — so naturally. It reminded him of the night on the river bank two weeks ago. While it felt peculiar, it wasn't unpleasant. "Maa—" Kakashi tilted his head, eyes curving into a signature eye-smile. "—something like that," he replied airily.

"Tell me, why are you wearing the colors of my clan,"

Instead of responding, the Hatake ambassador surveyed the community square. The sudden hush over the riotous crowd didn't escape his radar. The fabric of his mask stretched downward, indicating a frown. "Maa, maa, if you continue to stare like a row of headless chickens, all the ninken will steal your food," he drawled. He flourished his wrist, gesturing to the eager canines eyeing the slabs of meat. A few stubborn bystanders — mainly Inuzuka — continued to stare, but a spike of oppressive thunder — not quite killing intent, but a firm reminder — prompted them to focus on their meals.

You obviously are here on behalf of the Hatake, after all. He hummed. "Inuzuka Mora never wanted to host the peace summit on her land," Kakashi began. The half-Hatake guided the Clan Head toward a smaller fire away from the Senju, but close to the bonfire. "Kaa-san tried convincing her otherwise, but Inuzuka are notoriously obstinate." He snatched a few slabs of meat from offered hands and prepped them for roasting. "She wouldn't agree until I gave her what she wanted most." Once the meat was prepped, Kakashi roasted the strips over the fire. "A union between the Hatake and Inuzuka—" The silver-haired shinobi flashed the older Uchiha a smile. "—with me as her chosen." It wasn't a nice smile; more like a predatory grin preparing for the final blow.

"I naturally object to being blackmailed. Consider my sudden Uchiha pride—" He gestured to his yukata. "—payback." The war veteran gazed past the bonfire, spotting the Senju. "I must admit, Hashirama-san's reaction was amusing," he added. Not a hint of remorse was evident in his lackadaisical tone. Kakashi presented the Uchiha Head a skewer of properly seasoned and nicely roasted meat. "Meat kebab?" he inquired, as if he didn't admit his sacrifice in exchange for peace.

 

[arbus]

Time and again, Madara realized how satisfying it was to catch his ever-elusive companion off guard, to create little fissures in the smooth veneer that he presented. Kakashi, he had come to suspect, wore a mask both literally and metaphorically, and yes, Madara was honest enough with himself to admit that he wanted to see what was underneath. And that he had enough of an obsessive streak to probably merit the silver-haired man's comment.

It mostly served him well, that propensity for obsession; it was inherent like bone marrow, ungiving like steel, and part of his attention was now -- and had been for a while -- on the half-Hatake, the half-Uchiha. There was no denying that.

"You cook", he commented dryly, settling on one of the logs. Kakashi had chosen not only the spot wisely -- out of earshot of the Senju, close enough to the bonfire, as if he knew Madara would enjoy watching the flames and feel their heat on his skin once it was lit -- but also his words, and the spike in his chakra had been like electricity against Madara's skin. It raised the hairs on his arms and seemed to crawl underneath. A half-Uchiha, indeed, Madara thought in the face of this repeated loyalty. He smirked, for a moment caught up in his thoughts and only half listening to what the other was saying. Those faces had been hilarious, and --

"What?!"

Madara's head snapped up, staring at Kakashi, the skewer of meat between them. He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, with you as their chosen?"

The explanation for the other's attire -- which had been, it turned out, a well-placed affront against Inuzuka Mora and accordingly tremendous -- slipped away as a suddenly irrelevant morsel. In any other circumstance, it would have been amusing, but the Inuzuka woman's audaciousness ...

"That woman", he growled, tone dangerously low. Two realizations suddenly fought within him for the upper hand: One, that he was angry -- the audacity! -- the other, that he could not let his anger get the better of him, not now, not with all their idealistic aspirations suddenly only an arm's length away, so close and yet so fragile that any wrong move could snap the razor-thin balance of the ceasefire in two.

He let breath out of his nose, an almost-huff, and his shoulders settled into false ease. He took the skewer from the other's hand, grazing his fingers in the process.

"You are half-Uchiha", Madara said, calmer now. His eyes were dark and intent as they rested on Kakashi's face. "Did your mother know about this?" There were a myriad of possible scenario's going through Madara's head, almost at once. Not few of them contained a fire jutsu to light up the Inuzuka's greedy, power-hungry asses. That trade must have tasted like opportunity for the Inuzuka woman, getting her claws into the kekkei genkai of his clan.

Hashirama chose this moment to saunter onto the clearing; he was wearing a formal attire much like Madara and a huge, thankful smile as he was approached by some Inuzuka children, obviously excited to talk to the Senju clan head. Madara snarled. "We could have met in the fucking woods for this. There was no need to sell you out."

 

[roxybirdie]

"You cook,"

A huff of amusement escaped his lips. "I can bake too," Kakashi quipped. Cooking was a skill any competent shinobi should master, but for him, it became a necessity. At the age of six, Kakashi was forced to prepare his own meals. Since he didn't want to survive on frozen dinners or ration bars, the half-Hatake learned how to cook. Ironically, one of Maito Gai's ridiculous challenges taught him how to bake. Once the second skewer was roasted to perfection, Kakashi sat down next to the Clan Head. He leaned back, snatching a pitcher of water from a passing Inuzuka and pilfered two cups from the Inuzuka's tray. The man looked like he was about to protest, but halted once he realized who sat next to the Hatake ambassador.

As the Inuzuka scurried away, Kakashi filled the cups with water. "Three, two, one—" his mental countdown was cut off by a loud shout.

What do you mean, with you as their chosen? Instead of responding, Kakashi offered the irate Uchiha a cup. It didn't take the Clan Head long to connect the dots. The ravenette looked like he wanted to roast the Inuzuka Clan Head alive, but instead, clung onto a semblance of ease. Kakashi saw through his calm façade, sensing the raging inferno bubbling underneath the surface. The war veteran respected the Uchiha Head's endeavor. It didn't escape him that everyone — sans Hashirama, his mother, and her partner — expected Uchiha Madara to let his anger destroy the frangible ceasefire between the two strongest clans in Hi no Kuni.

"Did your mother know about this?"

The soft graze of the older shinobi's fingers felt surprisingly pleasant, but he ignored it. "Kaa-san knew, but only because I made the proposal," he replied. He picked up his skewer and hooked a finger over the rim of his mask. "She opposed, but her hands are tied." Kakashi lowered his mask and with a combination of hand movements, skewer placement, and a low-grade genjutsu, the half-Hatake took a bite without exposing his face.

We could have met in the fucking woods for this. There was no need to sell you out. Something akin to fondness bubbled inside his chest. It made his wolf stir, a semblance of approval rumbling inside his mind. "Maa, I have no intention of baring my throat and taking it lying down," Kakashi declared. Once he took another bite, the half-Hatake pulled up his mask. "The Inuzuka land is neutral ground. It would be unwise to wait for something else." He gazed past the bonfire, spotting a certain Senju Head. "Longer the wait, the higher chance of doubt revoking the ceasefire," he pointed out.

All the sudden, the hairs on the back of his neck stood. Kakashi didn't need to look to know a certain white-haired Senju was watching him. "I believe our clan can prosper from this, Madara-san," he murmured. He also believed in Hashirama's vision, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He wasn't afraid of invoking the ravenette's ire, but best not to give the Inuzuka another reason to be wary of the Uchiha Head.

 

[arbus]

Madara could have likely seen through the genjutsu Kakashi employed to keep his masked face hidden while eating -- he was the wielder of the Eternal Mangekyo, after all -- but he did not even think to try. Or care, for that matter, because the creature inside him wanted the other to show his face on his own volition, not some stolen glance from the periphery of his vision.

And anyway, he was too preoccupied with the revelation of (Kakashi's pending marriage contract) the Inuzuka's bold claim to power, to the Uchiha's bloodline. Too preoccupied, also, with curbing his anger. Instead of spitting curses or running off to cool down, he settled for another deep breath and accepted the water the silver-haired man was offering to him. He had felt ravenous ever since his battle with Hashirama, as if his reserves had been so utterly spent that he could not get enough to eat, so he took a bite from the skewer Kakashi had prepared for him -- deliciously seasoned and grilled to the point

"Maa, I have no intention of baring my throat and taking it lying down."

and almost choked.

There was the distinct picture of Kakashi actually baring his throat (and taking it lying down) -- by some unworthy Inuzuka mongrel, no less. He coughed, forced down the grilled piece of meat that threatened to lock in his throat (death by kebab, how crudely dishonorable) and took a large sip of water to wash it all down. "Like hell you will", Madara huffed his agreement, in an attempt to gloss over the whole undignified ordeal.

"Longer the wait, the higher chance of doubt revoking the ceasefire."

It was strangely touching, the way Kakashi tried his utmost to uphold the ceasefire. Just that his means where so utterly, fucking stupid it was hard to find words. Of course Madara understood that the Hatake, as a clan, had a vested interested in the peace negotiations. As allies to the Uchiha, they would likely suffer if anything went wrong and another conflict broke out; Hashirama would likely not go after them, but they would get caught in the crossfire, nonetheless.

Our clan, Kakashi had said. Madara-san, he had called him. In private, like a promise. Like manipulation. Madara wondered, not for the first time that day, how obvious his own whims where to the other man, and a morsel of distrust settled in his gut like a black-hot burning coal. He had been so pleased with the other's willingness to align himself with the Uchiha, he now realized, that he had never posed the question of why Kakashi was doing it in the first place.

(Thinking of that night two weeks ago, the exhilarating rush of adrenaline overriding everything, everything.) (Had he been careless?)

"Identity", he began, throwing the skewer into the nearby flames with a flick of his wrist. "Is such an elusive concept. For me, it was always the fan on the broad of my father's back. It was what I needed to become. I wonder ..." He paused. His sharp eyes settled on the upper part of Kakashi's face, what was visible of it. He took in the scar, running across one eye, the paleness of skin, the silver shock of hair above it. "... what it means for a shinobi like yourself, Kakashi." There was a new, different kind of calm in him now; it was introspection, it was dangerous, in a way, and he did not know that yet, would maybe never know it, but that display was the first inkling of a man no longer lead by the fleetingness of his own feelings.

"You say you are ours", Madara turned towards the other man now, leaning in, "you must know how that pleases me. Do you ever wonder why that is, Kakashi?"

 

[roxybirdie]

"Like hell you will,"

The fabric of his mask stretched upward, indicating a smile. "Maa, your faith in me is astounding," the half-Hatake replied airily. The knowing glint in his eyes indicated the older man's choking didn't go unnoticed. Kakashi hooked a finger over the rim of his mask. "I am nothing if not determined." Utilizing his earlier technique, the silver-haired ambassador consumed the rest of his meat kebab. He washed it down with a cup of water, pulled up his mask, and tossed the wooden skewer in the fire pit. Kakashi placed the empty ceramic cup on the ground, next to the pitcher.

What it means for a shinobi like yourself, Kakashi. The aforementioned halfbreed grew silent. He gazed at the wavering flames of the small fire pit. For a moment, the half-Hatake resembled a statue. The flames basked his face in a warm light, but his expression was indiscernible. His half-lidded gaze seemed almost dead; the dark grey hues completely devoid of emotion.

"Do you ever wonder why that is, Kakashi?"

"Pride," murmured the half-Uchiha. Without warning, he extended his right arm forward, directly in the flames. Instead of scorching his skin, the fire danced around his palm. The war veteran retracted his hand and a fireball hovered above his palm. He wiggled his fingers, watching the flames slither up and down his arm like snakes. It was the same technique the raven-haired Clan Head presented him months ago. "Blood is thicker than water; than oil; than the very essence of life. It all boils down to pride," he elaborated. Kakashi averted his gaze, charcoal locking onto obsidian. For what seemed like the first time — it certainly wasn't — all traces of his nonchalance was gone. His detached gaze was immense, as if he bore the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

"I am a Hatake with the eyes of the Uchiha." Eyes he never asked for. "I am a wolf, but dragonfire courses through my veins." Blood he never asked for. "I was born from nothing and I made a name for myself." A mission he never asked for. "What identity means to me, Madara—" His eyes were razor sharp. "—boils down to what I'm fighting for." He curled his right hand into a fist, extinguishing the dancing flames. The silver-haired shinobi raised his left hand and pointed at his eyes. The charcoal hues illuminated a brilliant crimson, the three tomoe spinning languidly.

"I consider the Uchiha pack. That is why all of you are mine." Even if it started with an ulterior motive, the Uchiha are his to protect.

 

[arbus]

"Pride."

Yes, it was true. Madara inclined his head to indicate as such, that he did not dismiss the notion. Pride was certainly part of it; he had been raised on pride. Pride meant to stand strong against certain annihilation, it meant to own your powers even when they seemed limitless, to act as one when there was no hope, to look death in the face like his younger brother had done, and smile.

Pride meant not to falter even when the world decided to discriminate against you for your fathomless power, it meant to look out for your own kin.

But it was not what it all boiled down to; not even for a man like Uchiha Madara, and it never would be.

"Survival", Madara replied, and his eyes never left the motionless figure next to him. "It all comes down to survival, Kakashi. You bear our clan's kekkei genkai, you are blessed with a strength few other men possess even without it, and it means you are able to protect. That is why I want you to be of my blood, of my clan." He said it all matter-of-factly; in that dry, knowledgable tone forged from sweat and blood. "Survival is all that matters in our world. It starts, just fresh out of your mother's womb, with your first cry. You survive for yourself. Later you might learn to survive for your kin, and if the world has not torn you to pieces by then, maybe you will survive for the kin of your friends, too, but that is a luxury the Uchiha have not been granted, not for decades. Maybe hundreds of years."

Darkness had fallen; in the wilderness of the woods, the sky had turned a black canvas saturated with stars, so beautiful a sight it seemed, for once, easy to believe in something bigger than oneself.

"And yet --"

Madara clicked his tongue, impatient with himself. They were framed by the crackling, unsteady light of the fire; a fire that ran also in Kakashi's veins. His proficiency with the jutsu, Madara's jutsu, displayed only that one time many months ago before the other's eyes, was yet another astounding little snippet in the puzzle that was Hatake Kakashi.

"And yet I don't want to survive just for myself, or my people, or even the whole of Fire Country. I want to survive for the ideas nobody else but Hashirama dares to believe in. I want our grandchildren not only to survive but to live a life filled with the wildest ideas, and not only believe them to come true, but make them true, one after another."

His cheeks had grown ruddy. It was hard to tell if that was from the passion behind his words or the heat of the fire. If anyone looked over to them in that moment, they would see two figures sitting close to each other, intimately involved in a conversation that seemed to block out the rest of the world.

"What identity means to me, Madara, boils down to what I'm fighting for."

Madara met Kakashi's red-black gaze, and his own sharingan spun to life, and there was the village, right in front of them, filled with laughing children chasing dogs, and people sauntering the streets, a wall to protect, sunshine and warmth and an Uchiha fan emblazoned next to the Hatake emblem, next to the Senju's crest, next even to the Inuzuka's.

A moment later, the illusion created by the Eternal Mangekyo vanished, and there was Madara, tears brimming in his black eyes as he looked at Kakashi.

"Do you think this is crazy", he asked, with youth in his voice, so much thinly veiled vulnerability, "or do you think this is worth fighting for, Hatake Kakashi?"

 

[roxybirdie]

"Survival,"

Suddenly, images surfaced inside his mind. A boy with a sunshine grin; a girl with rose petal locks; a boy with fathomless eyes; a boy as pale as snow; a man with a long-dead technique resurrected. The faces morphed and a boy with a mischievous grin cried tears of blood, his eyes missing; a boy with a impossible burden and the blood of his clansmen forever stained on his hands. It transformed once more and a girl with kind eyes smiled sadly, a hole punched through her chest; a man with sunshine hair and the power to change the village; a woman with an infectious grin and hair as red as blood; and finally, a boy with so much hatred, he gave up his identity to create a perfect world. All the faces, the people he once swore to protect, gave him the courage to not only accept the mission...

...but to survive.

That is why I want you to be of my blood, of my clan. Something bittersweet bubbled inside his chest. It stripped away his façade and left him irrefutably raw. He claimed the Uchiha as his own — as pack — but he couldn't deny the irony of his revelation. If only he knew, a dark voice hissed. A part of him wanted to laugh. If only he knew the truth, it sneered. He wanted to rant and rave and cry. The unfairness of his predicament was enough to make him choke. If he knew, you would be nothing, it growled. Kakashi struggled to breath, the bitter reminder of his mission (and consequent deception) ripping the oxygen from his lungs.

"L i a r."

His breath hitched. The sudden onslaught of guilt and self-hatred prompted him to deactivate his sharingan. As if a spell were broken, air rushed into his chest. Kakashi breathed in deeply, greedily replenishing the oxygen in his lungs. He heard bits and pieces of the Clan Head's passionate speech — even spotted the ruddiness on the older man's cheeks — but it felt like he were under water. In the end, it was the ravenette's eyes — and his last question — that dragged him back to the surface. "I think," he began. Kakashi swallowed thickly and ignored the sudden sting in his eyes.

"Liar. Liar. Liar."

A fleeting — a sound so undeniably fragile — chuckle escaped his lips. "I know it's something worth fighting for." Kakashi averted his gaze, watching a group of Inuzuka ignite the bonfire. "Even if the idea is crazy, I'm willing to fight for it." The silver-haired shinobi will never stop fighting — for the future of everyone he once knew and the people in front of him — until his last dying breath. "Will you, Uchiha Madara?" Pure charcoal met fathomless obsidian. "Will you fight for what the world deems impossible?" A future where the Senju and Uchiha are allies, not mortal enemies; a world where a certain Senju's wildest dreams came true; a vision of a village tucked against a mountainside and surrounded by leaves.

A future ending the Warring States Period and giving birth to a new era.

Without his lackadaisical façade, Kakashi looked undoubtedly and irrevocably tired. Despite his youthful visage, his aged eyes revealed the seasoned shinobi underneath; a man who witnessed war at its ugliest and stained his hands with the blood of thousands. The slouch of his posture, while seemingly relaxed, betrayed the unbearable weight resting on his weary shoulders. Every inch of his lanky frame screamed fatigue, but a spark of defiance was evident in his charcoal gaze; a steely resolve to fight.

To survive.

 

[arbus]

Madara's hand was big and warm as it gripped the nape of Kakashi's neck, calloused fingers exerting a gentle pressure.

"Yes", he said simply. His voice did not waver, not hesitate, and if there was a bitter streak around his mouth it could be just the play of light and shadows from the fire, there and gone in a flicker. The fingers on Kakashi's skin were almost a caress, were meant to ground, to calm. Madara knew to read the tell-tale signs of grief, its bone-rattling remnants crawling up Kakashi's clammy, pale skin. Underneath the mask, it turned out, was something twisted, a man bend out of shape by his own private losses. It eased something in Madara, paradoxically, soothed the seed of distrust to see the other man so torn -- between clans, and bloodlines, from bloodshed and war.

"Nothing is impossible, after all", he said, retrieving his hand. He turned, took up the pitcher and poured water into Kakashi's cup, placing it on the earth before his feet like an offering. "We will fight together, then", he concluded, looking down at the hunched figure. There was still something searching in his eyes, they were still assessing the silver-haired stranger that had become first an ally and now a friend. Kakashi looked worn down, weary like a warrior after a long, long battle.

Then Madara's mouth turned upwards, and his smile was a gentle thing, even if it lasted only for a moment.

"Now cheer the fuck up, mutt, chug that water and maybe I'll find us something stronger to drink. But first", he inclined his head toward a circle of people -- Inuzuka Mora, sitting with her three daughters and Kakashi's mother, overlooking the festivities -- "I have some official business to attend to."

 

[roxybirdie]

All the sudden, a large calloused palm gripped the back of his neck. Kakashi stiffened, instinctively waiting for the inevitable. However, his hackles didn't raise. His wolf didn't even stir. His eyes widened a bit, a flicker of surprise evident in his charcoal gaze. The Hatake, while tactile creatures, are naturally aggressive toward outsiders. In layman's terms, his neck cannot be touched. As a shinobi, it further strengthened the instinct. On the other hand, the gentle pressure caressing the nape of his neck felt surprisingly soothing. It grounded him, dragging him further away from the pestering pit of despair.

"We will fight together, then,"

The fabric of his mask twitched, curving upward. Something peculiar bubbled inside his chest. Kakashi can't quite describe it, but he recognized a semblance of it; hope. Unwavering determination forged by fire and blood. The silver-haired shinobi detected something softer (almost fond) lurking underneath the surface, but it remained indiscernible. His eyes crinkled, a genuine tenderness evident in his dark grey hues. He gazed at the older Uchiha, a man once considered his sworn enemy and now a close friend. "Maa—" The Clan Head beat him to it.

Now cheer the fuck up, mutt, chug that water and maybe I'll find us something stronger to drink. A fleeting laugh escaped his lips. Slowly, the half-Hatake pieced his façade back together. He picked up his cup and hooked a finger over the rim of his mask. "Maa, maa, don't let her rile you up too much," he teased. He pulled down his mask and sipped his drink, a combination of hand gestures and cup placement concealing his face. Once he downed half his cup, the Hatake ambassador pulled up his mask. From his peripheral, Kakashi spotted a certain Senju Clan Head, and his white-haired brother, approaching his log.

Hashirama looked like he was about to greet Madara, but the raven-haired man slipped away. He deflated a bit, but directed his attention to Kakashi. "I hope you're enjoying the festivities, Hatake-san. Have you tried the onsen? It's quite rejuvenating," he announced.

"Maa, Inuzuka barbecues are quite lively," the half-Hatake replied airily. He lowered his cup on the ground. "You seemed adamant on trying it. A shame Madara-san didn't agree," he added. A flicker of amusement was evident in his charcoal hues.

The Clan Head twitched, detecting the knowing glint in the Hatake's gaze. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Madara can be a little stubborn," Hashirama replied.

He suppressed a snort. "A lot stubborn," Kakashi thought. The silver-haired shinobi glanced at the Clan Head's younger brother. His wolf stirred, sensing the white-haired Senju. "You seem distracted, Tobirama-san," he drawled, tone deceptively calm. He tilted his head, eyes curving upward. "I hope the festivities aren't too overwhelming." I know you're watching was left unsaid.

 

[arbus]

Two brothers could hardly look any more different than the Senju did. And it was not only their outward appearance, either. Where the Uchiha siblings not only shared the wild black hair, face shape and stature, but a temperament as well, the Senju differed not just in their appearances but in the energy they exuded. While Hashirama‘s attention was generally good-natured, easy and often desirable, Tobirama’s scrutiny was knife-sharp, his words trenchant and the mind behind the eery red eyes, albeit young, outstandingly capable.

„Not at all, Kakashi-san“, he replied now. His face was set in a perpetual, slight frown of concentration, an expression many people mistook for disapproval (especially next to the radiancy of his older brother‘s smile). „Overwhelming in what sense, Kakashi-san?“, he inquired. „In that we Senju break bread with our former mortal enemies? I would not call that overwhelming, rather one of the many inconvenient necessities of diplomacy.“ He gave a sharp smile. „But you must know all about that, right, Kakashi-san?“

„Tobirama“, Hashirama said in a long-suffering tone. He threw the Hatake an apologetic look. „What my brother means to say is congratulations to your engagement with Inuzuka-san! Her mother told us all about it.“ He beamed. „You must be excited. I hoped to extend an invitation, to you, your fiancée and your mother, of course --"

At the other side of the bonfire, a crowd of people -- Senju, Inuzuka and Uchiha alike -- had gathered in a cluster. Harsh whispers drifted over to them, excited and surprised.

Tobirama’s head perked up. „What is going on over there?“, he started, but then his eyes fell on the fan-emblazoned back of the Uchiha clan head, and he rolled his eyes hard. „Oh no, what is the Uchiha up to now?“

„Hm?“ Distracted, Hashirama followed his brother’s gaze. The small crowd before the Inuzuka clan head obstructed their view, but unmistakably in their midst stood Madara, and if the smug expression on his face was anything to go by, this meant trouble.

„Oh no“, Hashirama groaned.

„That idiot will ruin everything.“

„Maybe it’s better if we don’t... eh ... hear it“, Hashirama said doubtfully, obviously torn, „what we don‘t know can’t interfere with the treaty. Right?"

„Don’t be an idiot, aniki“, Tobirama admonished, tone sharp. „If the Uchiha burns the house we're sitting in down, we must know. Not that this comes as a surprise."

They looked on as the clan head disengaged from the conversation, which had obviously come to an end. When he turned, the crowd scattered to let him through, and Inuzuka Mora became visible, her face pale and grim. Next to her, San looked horror-struck.

"There we go", Tobirama said with a sneer.

"Here", Madara said as he reached them, his voice practically drenched with complecancy, as he pressed a bottle of a rich, amber liquid into Kakashi's hands.

"What have you done?", Tobirama spat, as Hashirama -- with a look of almost comical concern -- asked at the same time: "What is going on, Madara?"

Madara did not deem the white-haired Senju with so much as a glance. His eyes grazed Hashirama, but then lingered on Kakashi.

"It's called diplomacy", he said haughtily, "look it up."

"Madara", Hashirama said. There were traces of a warning in his voice and a crease on his forehead. He knew Madara would not risk the ceasefire -- no matter what his brother thought, he had never been that reckless -- but he also knew when Uchiha Madara was up to something.

*
​

Five minutes earlier

Madara stood before Inuzuka Mora, surrounded by her immediate family and the Hatake clan head, and bowed his head. Not so much as a sign of respect -- thought it was protocol and the elders had insisted that he heeded it (hence the gift) -- but for the opporutity to let his eyes find, and assess, the three daughters.

"Madara-sama", Inuzuka Mora greeted, but she did not even stir. That alone was an affront, but Madara decided to ignore it as he gestured Hikaku forward. His cousin held a package in his arms, and he bowed before both the Inuzuka and the Hatake clan head before he turned back the cloth to reveal the gleaming blade of a katana, handle made from ebony, polished and exquisite.

„As a token of our gratitude“, Madara said, „for your hospitality.“ Inuzuka Mora barely glanced at it, unimpressed. Really, the insolence of that woman was enough to make anyone‘s blood boil ...

„Thank you, Madara-sama“, she said, and looked about ready to dismiss him (dismiss him, that haughty woman, and behind him was a soft murmur of disapproval from the Uchiha convoy). „That‘s not all“, Madara said.

Hikaku looked uncomfortable, but a gaze from his clan head was all the prompt he needed to produce yet another present, this one much smaller. Instead of bestowing it onto the Inuzuka clan head, though, he bowed before the three daughters.

"A gift to the bride", Madara explained at the questioning glance of Mora, "I heard one of your daughters is to be married to Hatake Kakashi." His gaze flickered to the Hatake clan head. Despite Kakashi's words, he doubted the wolf woman did not have a hand in this.

"That is correct", Inuzuka Mora said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "San, my youngest daughter, is Hatake Kakashi-san's betrothed."

"Excellent news", Madara replied, a smile spreading on his features.Hikaku handed the gift to San, who took it after a short hesitation. Courtesy forbid her not to accept it. It was an actual fan, delicately crafted, and almost too small in her big hands. She stared at it disbelievingly.

"What is it to you?", Mora asked with a frown.

"The Hatake, as all of us must know by now, is of my blood", Madara informed her, "and while, of course, it is the Hatake's free decision to align themselves with the Inuzuka" -- nothing but politeness in his voice, "it is Uchiha law to welcome every new spouse chosen by one of ours. We will be honored to host the marriage ceremony", his eyes rested now on the youngest daughter, easily distinguishable from the others by the expression of dawning shock on her face, "and welcome you, Inuzuka San, in our midst as ours, with all the privileges that bestows the spouse of an Uchiha."

Madara ignored the murmur that went through the crowd behind him. He felt Hikaku's eyes in his back and just hoped his cousin would keep the sly grin off his face.

"But -- mother!" San's head snapped around in horror, staring at her mother beseechingly. "If anything, I am to become Hatake!"

"Surely you know", Madara intervened before Mora could get out a word, "what great honor I allot your youngest daughter, Inuzuka-san." The smile on his face had grown cool, a warning. The consternation on the dog woman's face was deeply satisfying. She knew that she could hardly refute this kind of offer, the Uchiha opening their ranks to welcome one of her daughters. The Hatake's halfbreed status was a mere technicality in the face of Madara's full acceptance of him in their clan and Kakashi's own proof of allegiance two weeks ago. (A flimsy premise, Madara thought, but no one in their right mind would dare contradict him on it. At least not openly, not officially. Bloodlines ran deep, so did their laws, and every last clan in Fire Country knew that.)

"Uchiha law demands of any new spouse to live in our compound for four-hundred days", he continued, "to ... acclimate. Of course the goal is to relocate to Uchiha territory permanently. There are some caveats; for example, our law forbids hunting in the woods of Fire Country. Also, we are not particularly fond of dogs. But I assure you, we will treat your daughter like our own blood." He inclined his head towards Hatake Noka. "As I'm sure your son will, also."

*​

"Diplomacy", Madara reiterated smugly, ignoring the excited whispers that had spread around them like wildfire. San had left her mother's side and was nowhere to be seen, while Inuzuka Mora looked as if she was about to gnaw the flesh off of some poor sod's bones that was idiotic enough to come under her eyes.