Fandom [naruto] halfbreed || itliveswithin & arbus

[roxybirdie]

"But you must know all about that, right, Kakashi-san?"

The half-Hatake waved his hand dismissively. "Maa, something like that," he replied blithely. A chuckle rumbled inside his chest. The fabric of his mask stretched upward, indicating a smile. Under the stars, it seemed sharper, almost predatory, but it could be a trick of the light; the flames casting a darker mirage. Inwardly, his wolf bristled at the white-haired Senju's audacity. "Inconvenience often produces the greatest fruit. I'm sure you support your brother, nonetheless. Even if you see a chance for your clan to prosper as inconvenient," Kakashi announced. A thoughtful hum exuded from his lips. "Rather bold of you to spit at your brother's authority," he mused.

His eyes narrowed, but before Tobirama could retort, his brother intervened.

You must be excited. I hoped to extend an invitation, to you, your fiancée and your mother, of course— Kakashi opened his mouth, a barbed jab on the tip of his tongue, but fortunately, a commotion spared the Senju Head from his sheer pettiness. The silver-haired shinobi gazed past the bonfire, assessing the crowd surrounding a certain Uchiha and Inuzuka Clan Head. His sensitive hearing picked up bits and pieces, but nothing concrete. Kakashi could amplify his hearing with chakra, but before he could contemplate it, a certain Senju spoke.

"If the Uchiha burns the house we're sitting in down, we must know. Not that this comes as a surprise."

A howl resonated inside his mind. Claws scratched at his chest viciously, something undeniably primal bubbling under the surface. Kakashi swallowed the sudden anger with a signature eye-smile. "That reminds me," he interjected. His smile became razor sharp. "I've heard you're a researcher, Tobirama-san. Have you studied erythrocytes before?" A knowing glint was evident in his charcoal gaze. "It's amazing how versatile it can be." From his peripheral, the half-Hatake spotted a certain Uchiha approaching. "When applied to techniques such as fūinjutsu, it can be positively chaotic on the battlefield." A chuckle escaped his lips. "I guess what's why we as shinobi value the blood coursing through our veins, ne?"

I know was left unsaid.

*​

"I heard one of your daughters is to be married to Hatake Kakashi."

Nōka met the younger Uchiha's gaze unflinchingly. It was true. While she opposed the union now, the older Hatake planted the seed in Inuzuka Mora's proposal. She could of chosen anyone in the main family — her son's cousins are just as capable and worthy — but she nominated Kakashi. She had no reason to deny the proposal; strengthening the ties between the Hatake and Inuzuka would benefit her clan. However, when her troublesome pup rejected the proposal so vehemently, to the point of sabotage, she realized the ramifications of such a union. Nōka let her Hatake pride momentarily blind her and she won't deny it.

"As I'm sure your son will, also."

Her lips twitched, but her nonchalant façade didn't break. Her inner wolf howled triumphantly. While Shinra didn't spare the Uchiha Head a single glance, the she-wolf huffed. It was the closest thing to approval the wolf summon ever granted the temperamental pup. Nōka could feel her partner's vicious satisfaction through their bond. A part of her wanted to applaud the ravenette's dramatic performance.

*​

"Diplomacy,"

Kakashi accepted the bottle of rum. "Maa, if that's your idea of diplomacy, I have a feeling I'll need this," he teased, jiggling the bottle for emphasize. The silver-haired shinobi didn't know what transpired, but he had a feeling it involved a certain bargaining chip and consequent proposal. Instead of taking a swig, Kakashi rose into a standing position. "I don't think everyone's leaving anytime soon." The excited whispers reverberating throughout the community square further cemented his declaration. "That's my cue to take a soak in peace. Jaa." With a lazy flick of his wrist, the half-Hatake slipped away. He ambled through the crowd, heading toward the direction of the onsen.

Instead of handing the bottle to Madara, the rum remained in the ambassador's possession.

 

[arbus]

Judging from the sour face of Senju Tobirama, the mutt had wreaked havoc with someone other than Madara, for a change. Admittedly, that made him a touch gleeful, but the feeling was shot down a moment later by Hashirama. As Kakashi sauntered off he cried:

"Uhh, the onsen, Madara!", springing to life at the opportunity. "After all that delicious barbecue I could use a soak myself!"

"He said in peace", Madara retorted coolly, and stepped around the long-haired Senju. "And I haven't eaten much all night, so if you'd excuse me, I'm starving."

"Wonderful", Hashirama said, and his hand landed unbidden, unwelcome, but not unexpected on Madara's shoulder. From where Tobirama was standing, he thought he could see a vein pop on the Uchiha's forehead. "Let us share a bottle while you're eating, Madara", Hashirama said, voice more intent now, "after all, we have much to discuss. Haven't we?"

Hashirama was a sentimental fool, but he was also astoundingly clever under all his idiocy and goofiness. The moment he dropped the charade, Madara sighed, shrugged the other's hand off, but relented. If Hashirama wanted to have his talk now, fine, they would have it now. The mutt seemed to seek solace in seclusion, anyway, and it was not like Madara would enjoy spending his evening with the sullen Inuzuka.

"Fine", he grunted, "but your brother stays away from me."

"Tsk, please", Tobirama said snidely, "as if I'd want to spent any more time with you than necessary."

Hashirama led Madara away to the bonfire, before they could get at each other's throats.

*
​

There had been no more sign of the mutt, and Madara could not exactly blame him for keeping away from the rambunctious festivities; Inuzuka Mora had been wise to give out only water, but somehow, Madara seemed not to have been the only one with a knack to get hold of some liquor. Hashirama, cheeks aflame, had laughed loudly, patting Madara on the back -- hard -- at his scowl. He had forbidden the Uchiha to let down their guard, and he saw that the Senju did not indulge, either, but some of the Inuzuka did not seem to mind the peculiarity of their gathering; it was infectious, and the night commenced in a good spirit.

"See", Hashirama had said with a happy grin, "that is what we always dreamed about, Madara, isn't it?"

Now, Madara was glad to be away from it all; as he had promised himself, and Kakashi had guessed, he had snuck off to the onsen after all. The noises of yet another festivity drifted towards him (two in two weeks, which must be a record of some sort), but he shed his clothes and the tension of the last few days alike as he sank into the hot, soothing water.

Had he hoped the mutt would join him again once he came back from the onsen? Madara sank deeper into the water, breathing through his nose until bubbles rose to the surface. Surely not. He wondered, still, if it was not him that was the sentimental fool. After all, what he had done for the mutt, he would not have done for anyone else. Then again, he owed Kakashi the debt of his life, and maybe this at least began to repay him.

Madara did not like to owe anything to anyone.

 

[roxybirdie]

With the banquet in full swing, the onsen, like he predicted, was completely empty. Something about indulging on a bottle of rum in one of Hi no Kuni's finest natural hot springs felt nostalgic. It reminded him of the nights following Minato-sensei and Kushina-nee's sacrifice; a calm before the storm. Kakashi was no stranger to drinking alone. He preferred solitude and consequent (albeit bittersweet) peace over exuberance and inevitable mayhem. The silver-haired shinobi would of stayed longer — he certainly enjoyed poking a certain Senju's buttons — but dropping his façade left him significantly drained. A part of him — deep, deep down — had hoped a certain Uchiha would join him. However, Hatake Kakashi was no stranger to denial.

The half-Hatake drained the bottle of rum and basked in the onsen's soothing waters. Once he called it a night and stepped out, Kakashi didn't return to the barbecue. Instead, the ambassador activated his Mangekyō and vanished to the kamui dimension. Since the death of Uchiha Izuna, Kakashi became vigilant; nearly borderline obsessed. He recorded his findings, thoughts, and memories almost daily.

*​

Two Days Later — Early Morning

On the north side of the encampment, within the forest surrounding the Senju and Uchiha huts, a certain halfbreed trained. It was half an hour before dawn, basking the forest in a dim glow. In a lush clearing, on top of a bubbling creek, stood Kakashi. The half-Hatake weaved through a sequence of katas, the chakra on the soles of his bare feet keeping him afloat. Besides his lack of footwear, the silver-haired shinobi removed his yukata. Underneath, he wore a black sleeveless form-fitting shirt — with a mask attached — and black form-fitting pants. The bottom of his pants were bandaged, binding the loose fabric against his ankles. While his eyes are closed, his senses remained on high alert.

The north side of the Inuzuka dwellings contained the largest stream closest to the encampment. Since it was connected to a small clearing, it became the ideal location for morning katas and light training. Kakashi discovered the spot during the earlier stages of the Hatake and Inuzuka alliance. The war veteran leaped and transitioned into his next kata. His katas are an amalgamation of Hatake and ANBU techniques. Fluid and graceful, but at the same time, fast and brutal; akin to a lightning bolt. Practicing his katas on water honed his chakra control and further strengthened the shield masking his fathomless chakra.

Two days passed since the night of the barbecue. The events of the previous day felt like a blur. More negotiations and occasional witty banter. Kakashi learned what transpired between Madara and the Inuzuka Clan Head from his mother. He remembered the rush of fierce vindictiveness. He would never forget the howl of triumph nor the overpowering feeling of acceptance.

Not that the half-Hatake understood the significance of his wolf's approval.

After the night of the banquet, the news regarding the older Uchiha's declaration spread like wildfire. Inuzuka San was nowhere to be seen. A part of him felt almost remorseful — the older woman deserved better than being a pawn to her mother's machinations — but he couldn't deny the vicious satisfaction of facing Inuzuka Mora in the wake of a spectacular beatdown. Kakashi had the gall to look the Clan Head in the eye and smile.

Unfortunately, the stress of the peace summit, combined with his previous dissociation, triggered long forgotten nightmares. The half-Hatake slept during the night of the barbecue, but he barely got a wink the night prior. It prompted him to slip away in the middle of the night and approach his designated training spot.

 

[arbus]

Even though spring had thawed the land, these early morning hours brought frost with it still. The budding shoots lay under the cover of hard, ungiving soil that, in the early hours of the afternoon, would soften under the sun‘s strength, releasing the rich-heavy smell of fertile earth. For now, however, the moon was a fading circle up against the sky, and Madara‘s breath came in pouts of white plumes as he traversed the treetops on swift feet.

He was up sooner than his usual hour, but the hard bed of straw in the permanent semi-darkness of his designated hut held no comfort, and neither did the specters that tended to visit him once it got too quiet, with too much room to think. Despite of what he let on, he found he enjoyed the easy chaos of so many people on too small a space, cadences of life in every last nook and cranny of that small community.

All those dogs, however, he could do without.

It should not have surprised him when he sensed the hum of familiar chakra, and minutes later, the soft whisper of fabric and the harsh pants of breath being released through straining exercise. Kakashi had also found the clearing that, two mornings ago, Madara had chosen as his training space. It was ideal, really, the clearing surrounded by fir trees tall as giants and old as the mountains, with a creek running through it like a lifeline, its water icy-cold on heated, sweaty skin.

Madara halted, a hand finding the rough bark of the tree on which he was standing, and watched Kakashi perform an intricate sequences of katas. For a few moments, he was still, simply relishing the play of firm muscles in the mutt's back, shifting with every movement underneath the tight fabric. Then he crossed his arms, smirked, and shouted: "Up for a real challenge, Kakashi?"

 

[roxybirdie]

All the sudden, his nose tingled. Fire, woodsmoke, sandalwood, and copper — even without his sensitive hearing or honed instincts, Kakashi could detect the older Uchiha by scent alone. The half-Hatake landed on the water, pivoted and leaped, transitioning into a more complicated set of katas. The strenuous exercise tested his sharpened precision and exceptional flexibility.

"Up for a real challenge, Kakashi?"

He paused mid-flight. Before he plummeted in the stream, Kakashi flipped and landed on the river bank. He turned around, facing the tree a certain Uchiha occupied. As he opened his eyes, the silver-haired shinobi grabbed a fistful of his shirt and wiped the sweat dripping down his face. Glimpses of scars — the most prominent being the cauterized burn on his ribs and the criss-cross gash on the center of his sternum — were exposed. Soft pants exuded from his lips, but despite his exertion, a spark ignited inside his charcoal hues. "Maa, we never did get to spar," the ambassador drawled. Kakashi dropped his shirt and slid his left leg back, lowering his center of gravity. "Until first pin?" Without another word, he vanished. The half-Hatake appeared in front of Madara, a well-placed shunshin cutting the distance in half.

"Think you can pin me, Madara?" Kakashi taunted. He spun and swung his right leg, aiming at the Clan Head's sternum. The momentum of his spin increased the power in his vicious kick. As the moon descended, the sun arose in the east. The first signs of dawn basked the clearing in a warm glow. Despite his previous rigorous regimen, a fire ignited inside the ambassador's chest. His wolf stirred, awakened by the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. It howled triumphantly, rising to the challenge. The concept of a worthy opponent made his chakra positively sing.

 

[arbus]

Madara toppled over backwards, black eyes resting on Kakashi easy as can be, and it was a controlled fall that brought him out of harms way before the other's foot connected with his sternum. The frozen forest floor rushing closer, he shifted his weight, twisted his body in a somersault that landed him on his feet, graceful like a cat. From below he looked up at Kakashi, studying his frame as he crossed his arms. "I already pinned you", he claimed, his voice carrying through the still air much like the rumble of thunder.

A fraction of a second and a shift in the very atmosphere was all the warning Kakashi got, because then Madara was before him, close enough for his breath to fan over the other's ear: "Didn't I, Kakashi?" And he spun, then a kick, aimed to knock Kakashi off his feet and off the tree.

The scars on the moon-pale skin were things to be remembered, stored away for later consideration and inquiry.

A warrior was before him, one that had bled more than once, one that had yet to take the killing strike, and Madara's respect for that fact was deep, profound and unshakable. It was evident in the movements of his body, which spoke of grace, an ease few shinobi possessed. He engaged his opponent in close-combat and yet flew around him like air, his movements becoming one with the other's in the silent rhythm of their heartbeats and ragged breathing, body lithe and adapt as he eluded, stalled, and lunged.

Devoid of the derailing properties of aggression, his fighting style was effortless and composed. It was evident how extraordinarily in his element he was; a natural talent, and it showed, as he fell once more on purpose to draw the other in with his bent knee twisted around Kakashi's leg, flat hand already rushing towards the other's shoulder to bring him off-balance entirely.

Madara fought like a man who expected to be hit, to be killed, at any moment, and having decided a long time ago that it was a reasonable prize to pay for the beauty of a dance.

 

[roxybirdie]

"Didn't I, Kakashi?"

Swoosh.

The soft displacement — undetectable to the naked eye — of air was his only warning before the older Uchiha materialized in front of him like a dark specter. The lightest touch, barely a graze, of the ravenette's lips against his ear elicited a shiver. Pure instinct prompted him to block the vicious kick. Instead of cementing himself on the branch with chakra, the silver-haired shinobi plummeted. Before he crashed on the ground, Kakashi flipped and landed on the forest floor gracefully. It was a controlled fall, enabling him to plan his next attack as he distanced himself from the Clan Head's range. "I hardly count that as a win. Think you can do better?" the half-Hatake challenged. Kakashi crouched and lunged, countering the ravenette's strike with his own.

Think you can win? was left unsaid.

Within the small clearing, the Uchiha Head and Hatake ambassador resembled blips of navy and silver, the speed too incomprehensible to follow. Kakashi was akin to a current of lightning; fluid and elegant, but at the same time, ruthless and unyielding. His agility and flexibility trumped the Clan Head, but Uchiha Madara was steadfast and powerful. His graceful movements and impeccable timing illustrated his significant experience. Madara, very much like Kakashi, was a seasoned warrior; a man who witnessed war at its ugliest and stained his hands with the blood of thousands.

While Kakashi was a unforgiving tempest, Madara was a overpowering inferno.

The atmosphere grew heavy, tasting distinctively like ozone and woodsmoke; akin to a wildfire inflicted by a bolt of lightning. Not a single elemental technique or the shrieking of a weapon graced the clearing. The lethal dance between the Uchiha and Hatake was pure and unadulterated taijutsu. Similar to his adversary, Kakashi didn't hold back. His fighting style was a combination of precise and merciless. Each movement was controlled, meticulous, and deliberate. He assessed his opponent's style, pinpointed (potential) weaknesses, and adjusted accordingly. Kakashi resembled a predator; a wolf on the Wild Hunt.

A man who fought like it would be his last.

Suddenly, a leg hooked around his knee, locking him in place. A hand aimed at his shoulder, the intention of disrupting his balance evident. Kakashi leaned back and flattened his palms against the frosted earth. With a momentous display of flexibility, the silver-haired shinobi twisted to his left and swung his free leg back until the back of it reached his shoulder. Kakashi bent his knee, adjusted his position, and lashed out. The heel of his bare foot aimed at Madara's jawline. His toned core muscles maintained his lowered position without losing his balance.

Gai would be proud. The war veteran could almost hear his old friend crying tears of joy, a shout of Youth! resonating inside his mind.

 

[arbus]

Kakashi's aptitude to calculate Madara's moves almost as if he foresaw them did not come as a surprise, after all the time he had spent with him. Nevertheless, it posed a not insignificant challenge. When fists met skin he felt the graze of electricity, and it crawled like something cognizant into his bones and the back of his spine where it lingered like the aftertaste of a lightning strike.

Mouthwateringly invigorating, their dance; Madara lost his balance for real as Kakashi once more showcased his astounding flexibility, and he welcomed the fall as something inevitable. The upper part of his back touched the ground. For a moment the hackles in the back of his neck raised with the sense of dawning defeat, but instead of kicking his leg free at the cost of dislocating Kakashi's knee Madara allowed it to happen, because he knew he would be quick enough. As the back of his head touched the dewy grass, a ray of sunshine fell onto his face, warm and promising. The sole of Kakashi's bare foot filled his visual field; his hand snapped up, fingers locking around the foot and twisting it, just so, not enough to do damage but enough to sting. He pushed himself off with his hands and feet, leg finally freed, and his body rolled over thawing earth that smelled so richly of life. It stuck to his clothes, in his hair, on his face.

His shoulder touched water; he was at the edge of the river now. It soaked the fabric of his attire, icy-cold, but he did not even feel a chill as he leapt to his feet in an easy move, and, standing on the water's surface, rubbed the back of his hand against his muddy cheek, spreading the dirt instead of wiping it away, the grin on his face all challenge and teeth.

"Come now, mutt", he taunted like an offer, "to pin me, you have to do better than that." And he flew in Kakashi's direction, meeting him head-on, his feet a chakra-blue-blurr over the soft patches of grass and his chakra a dragon stirred, reaching, seizing the electricity that was Kakashi as if it wanted to own, to devour. Raising his hands above his head, they came down in a final blow to send Kakashi to his knees, but for the slightest of moments, it left his chest exposed.

 

[roxybirdie]

"To pin me, you have to do better than that."

As the bottom of his heel grazed the older Uchiha's jawline, a hand shot out. It gripped his ankle and twisted, eliciting a pained hiss. It wasn't enough to inflict damage, but Kakashi understood the silent warning. The ravenette's touch — be it a fleeting graze or a ruthless punch — felt like hellfire. However, while the significant warmth made the hairs on the back of his neck stand, it didn't burn. On the contrary, it fueled the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It reminded him of the flames dancing along his skin as he utilized the Clan Head's technique; destructive, but at the same time, invigorating. Fire can be devastating and unforgiving, but underneath, it was a symbol of life and renewal.

Uchiha Madara embodied the very foundation of katon release.

The aforementioned halfbreed rose into a standing position. He swung his left leg back and lowered his center of gravity. For a moment, his eyes gleamed an unholy violet. "Shinobi rule #13: Never—" Kakashi lunged, the traces of blue chakra surrounding his feet leaving a eye-catching streak; akin to a lightning strike. The silver-haired shinobi felt the overpowering sensation of dragonfire washing over his skin. His own chakra — as fierce as the storm wolves of Raizan — arose and met the hot flames. It lasted for a few seconds — too fast for lesser shinobi — but Kakashi found the opening he needed. As Madara swung his arms downward, the half-Hatake materialized in front of the Clan Head. He leaned forward until his masked lips grazed the ravenette's ear.

"—leave your frontside open," Kakashi whispered. Without another word, the half-Uchiha slammed his open palm against the older man's solar plexus. The force of his blow would be enough to rip the oxygen from the Clan Head's lungs. Kakashi clamped his hands on Madara's shoulders, swept the raven's legs, and pushed. As the Uchiha Head fell, Kakashi followed through. Once Madara landed on his back, the half-Hatake straddled the ravenette's thighs and hovered above him. His palms shifted, gripping the Uchiha's biceps. Sunlight beamed down on the Hatake ambassador, basking him in a warm glow. It highlighted the crimson swirl tattooed on his left bicep. Kakashi flashed Madara a razor sharp smile, charcoal hues alight with fire.

"I win, mangy cat."

 

[arbus]

The blow that took Madara's breath was precise, efficent and predictable. Nevertheless, he staggered with the force of it, and then he felt the swift succession of moves that threw him off balance entirely. The world shifted bottom up and he hit the ground hard, the air wheezing out of his lungs with force. Madara squinted, coughed, the full-grip of Kakashi's body vice-like, and even through the fabric he felt the electric tingle that corresponded with his own chakra signature in a mixture that was too heady for his own liking.

"Watch it, mutt", he replied, once he got enough oxygen back to speak. His voice had a rasping undertone that did not altogether come from exertion, and he blinked his eyes open to take in Kakashi's masked face with a sharp gaze that held not anger but amusement, and a hint of something else.

"What will you claim as your prize, Kakashi?"

His eyes glinted with an entirely different kind of challenge, and the assertive grin digged dimples into the corners of his mouth. He twisted his right arm out of Kakashi's grip in a swift, forceful motion, seizing a shock of silver hair with his fist and grabbing it, just hard enough to be on the verge of painful as he pulled the other's face down. He made no other attempt to free himself. The tip of his nose almost touched Kakashi's masked cheek, his breath still quickened, and he was close enough to smell the damp cotton of Kakashi's mask. The atmosphere felt saturated, as if every last molecule had absorbed the chakra exuded by the both of them.

Madara's eyes never left Kakashi's, not even as the grip of his hand loosened and his fingers sprawled on the back of his head.

"You won, after all."

 

[roxybirdie]

"What will you claim as your prize, Kakashi?"

Something indiscernible was evident in the Clan Head's sharp gaze. It made the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand. The unfamiliar heat in the fathomless hues was almost palpable; a unmistakable flame threatening to scorch his very soul. A howl of triumph reverberated throughout his mind. All the sudden, a hand clutched the back of his head, fingers carding through his unruly locks. As Madara yanked him forward, Kakashi instinctively flattened his palm on the soil next to the ravenette's head. His nose bumped lightly against the Clan Head's cheek. He involuntarily inhaled, breathing in the raven's overwhelming scent. Kakashi repressed a shudder. At this proximity, the powerful aroma was positively intoxicating.

You won, after all. Charcoal met obsidian. The dense atmosphere felt electrifying, but it wasn't his lightning chakra saturating the air. It made his wolf prowl, urging him to seize the Clan Head; to claim. A shiver trickled down his spine. His stormy grey hues darkened, a imperceptible heat evident in his half-lidded gaze. "Hatake have a tradition at the end of spars," Kakashi drawled, voice unmistakably gruff. The silver-haired shinobi shifted until his nose brushed against the raven's throat. "We leave a bite." Without warning, Kakashi retracted his palm from Madara's bicep, hooked his finger over the rim of his mask, and yanked it down. He bit the side of the Uchiha's neck, sharp incisors puncturing the ravenette's skin. It was enough to draw blood, but it wouldn't leave a scar.

He pulled his mask up and rose into a sitting position. "The bite is a warning, a reminder to never bare your throat unless you're prepared." For death was left unsaid. His eyes zeroed in on the fresh bite mark marring the raven's throat. Something about leaving his mark on the older man's skin evoked a vicious — something positively dark and primal — sense of satisfaction. His wolf growled, overwhelming acceptance coursing through his veins.

Not that the half-Hatake realized its implications.

As if a spell were broken, Kakashi slipped off Madara. "Maa, I don't think your high collar will cover it," he mused, tone unrepentant.

 

[arbus]

"We leave a bite."

Instead of moving, Madara grew perfectly still, the hot-shallow breath against his throat and then the sting, spreading heat in his system like liquid fire. He gasped, hand gripping for the shirt in the other's back as if to pull him away, but his fingers did not tangle in the too-tight-fabric. The flat of his hand hovered over it, instead, as if undecided if, instead, he should pull the man who pinned him closer.

His instincts wailed like sirens at the intrusion, but it were opposing intentions they signaled his body, and the juxtaposition of want and the need to reassert himself was almost too much. Torn, Madara turned his head away to hide the expression of deep confusion on his face. He could not even manage to get a handle on it by throwing a blanket of anger over it.

Always, always did Kakashi surprise; he never once failed to amaze, and above all else it was an intense bewilderment Madara felt.

In the heat of battle, nothing had seemed more natural than to draw the other in, and his offer in the thick heat between them had been innately reasonable in that moment, something Madara would never be able to put into words. Now, though, with a bruise forming on his neck, the sharp throb sending shivers down his frame, he did not know what to think, what to do.

As Kakashi slipped off him, Madara remained on the forest floor for seconds that he could count by the forceful drum of his heartbeat, resonating through his chest, and stared at the treetops, the play of light and shadow through the thicket of branches.

"Prepared for what?", Madara asked, ignoring the jab about his collar. He had grown pale. He raised a hand to touch the bite and his fingertips came away bloody. Slowly, he sat up, examining the red liquid before brushing it away with his thumb.

 

[roxybirdie]

"Prepared for what?"

The half-Hatake surveyed the lush clearing, assessing the upturned soil, fallen branches, and spiderweb craters on the bark of nearby trees. It was relatively minor compared to the unforgiving nature of elemental techniques, but damaging, nonetheless. To a lesser shinobi, taijutsu may seem inferior to the might of nature or the intricacies of bloodline techniques, but in the hands of a master, it was positively ruthless. "Death," he replied. Kakashi carded fingers through his hair, wiping the perspiration out of his eyes. "Hatake do not bare their throats unless we're prepared to die," he elaborated. He arose and stretched his arms above his head. "Or we found a prospective mate," he added offhandedly. The silver-haired shinobi lowered his arms and rolled his shoulders.

Instead of directing his attention to Madara, he pivoted and crossed the stream. The icy surface felt refreshing on his heated skin, chakra on the bottom of his soles keeping him afloat. Kakashi approached a tree — fortunately, it was spared from the intense spar — with a hollowed base and retrieved his open-toed sandals and yukata hidden in the large opening. He slipped on the sandals and fastened the yukata over his perspired frame. Stashing his belongings for the duration of the training was less troublesome than storing the items in the seal on his left wrist.

As he crossed the creek once more, Kakashi noticed the Clan Head's unusual pallor. His eyebrows knitted together, a flicker of concern evident in his charcoal gaze. He opened his mouth, a inquiry on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. Instead, the ambassador deflected. "Maa, I think the onsen should still be empty at this time," he drawled. The half-Uchiha raised his head, gazing at the sunlight shining through the treetops. "You're starting to smell mangy," he teased. Kakashi approached Madara and offered his hand. "I don't think the peace summit will appreciate the stench of cat," he snarked.

The fabric of his mask stretched upward, eyes glimmering with unbidden amusement.

 

[arbus]

"Hatake do not bare their throats unless we're prepared to die. Or we found a prospective mate."

Madara blinked, somewhat dumbly, and raised his gaze from his bloodsmeared fingers to Kakashi, who was his usual laid-back self again. Watched him retrieve his belongings before he returned. Madara must make for a sight; his back hunched, tiny sticks and leaves poking out of his hair, a streak of mud smudged over the bridge of his nose. There was no self-awareness for his lack of vigilance; but it was so very evident in the openness of his oval face, the heedless trust that was in the essence of this moment.

Placidly, Madara took the offered hand, though his movements remained lithe as he got to his feet. "I'm not dead", he stated, his voice somber, and bent to brush dirt from his knees. The simple fact hung in the air between them. Somewhere far off, a bird chirped and interrupted the perfect quietude. Only when Madara was finished and had straightened did he look Kakashi in the eyes, his expression clouding with the first signs of indignation.

"Says the one stinking like a fucking dog", he spat. It was almost astounding, how in the blink of an eye his frame grew rigid. Gone was the vulnerability, replaced by a deep frown and the undercurrent of bristling anger. "I hope you're right", he informed him haughtily as he started his way through the thicket, leaping to the next branch in stride to continue the way in the trees, "about the onsen. Do me a favor and hurry, mutt, I have no interest in tolerating Hashirama's squawking that early in the day."

He made straight for the hot springs, without sparing his companion so much as a second glance. The throb in his neck was a constant reminder of the surreality of the situation, but Madara decided to ignore it, much like the fact that instead of leaving the spar with the mutt dumbfounded, it had turned out exactly the other way around. That at least helped to stir his temperament, even though it was a shallow thing, just a mask, not made of fabric but of the blur of superficial anger.

 

[roxybirdie]

"I'm not dead,"

A gentle breeze swept past him, ruffling his unruly fringe. "Neither am I." The implications hung in the air, the silence a grim reminder of their impeding mortality. Once the older Uchiha accepted his hand, the half-Hatake hauled Madara to his feet. As smooth charcoal met pure obsidian, Kakashi witnessed the spark of indignation ignite in the Clan Head's gaze. Once it blossomed into righteous anger — a deep contrast to the glimpse of the raven's previous vulnerability — a chuckle rumbled inside his chest. The familiar rigidness in the man's broad frame, and his contemptuous scowl, alleviated the concern bubbling inside his chest.

Says the one stinking like a fucking dog. Kakashi snorted. "Mangy cat," he countered. He gazed at the Clan Head's unruly locks, watching the wild spikes puff up. "Like a spitting kitten," he thought with a huff. Something akin to fondness bubbled inside his core. Shaking his head, the silver-haired ambassador leaped onto a nearby tree, pivoted, and followed his irate sparring partner.

"Do me a favor and hurry, mutt, I have no interest in tolerating Hashirama's squawking that early in the day."

Kakashi wooshed past Madara, a well-placed shunshin sending him far ahead. He whirled around mid-air, facing the Clan Head. A glimmer of mischief was evident in his stormy grey hues. "If you don't hurry up, you'll have to tolerate Hashirama-san's squawking," he challenged. Without another word, the war veteran turned around and continued his accelerated pace. The unspoken catch me if you can hung in the air. Traces of the half-Hatake's electrifying chakra saturated the air, poking and prodding (and teasing) at the Uchiha's dragonfire.

 

[arbus]

Madara's disgruntled yap was carried off by the wind, as well as the curse that flew from his lips. He channeled chakra into his legs and feet, still running blood-hot through his system. Gaining momentum was an exquisitely powerful feeling, but it was exhilarating to fly through the trees like this, his feet barely even touching upon boughs as he made ground. The sun was in his face, blinding him and swallowing his world in a white-hot light. And before, in the shadows of tall trees, a well-placed glance of mischievous grey eyes had been all it took for him to lick blood, to get his heart bumping again with another adrenaline rush.

Madara rushed through the humming current that was Kakashi's chakra signature, and his skin bristled with not yet ignited potential like a barely kindling flame. More, it said, and as he finally overtook him it was at the outermost tree line that surrounded the onsen; a swift tackle brought them tumbling down into the lush green grass, and Madara laughed a loud, clear laugh of ecstasy as he came to his feet and stumbled against the primitive mural that surrounded the steaming water.

"One of these days I want to know your secret", he informed Kakashi, breathing hard, "I have never before seen that technique you use to accelerate."

He shed the muddied, stinking, high-collared attire of his clan, then his sandals and pants before he took a leap into the hot spring water, producing an unnecessarily big splash that left ripples on the water while he dived, and when he came to the surface, hair brushed back out of his face, his eyes searched first for Kakashi's, alight with pleasure. That morning, Uchiha Madara, who some called a monster, because they believed him to not only wield destruction like no other but to enjoy it, was hardly more than a man, and a very young one at that, fully enthralled with life and all its sweet, boundless possibilities.

 

[roxybirdie]

Swoosh.

In retrospect, he could of dodged. The half-Hatake felt the older Uchiha's chakra lick at his skin, the tantalizing heat alight with defiance. He detected the Clan Head's overpowering scent, the aroma of fire and blood melding seamlessly with his thundering ozone. However, Kakashi didn't retaliate. The sudden displacement of air behind him was his only warning before sinewy arms coiled around his chest. The momentum of Madara's frame slamming against his back propelled them forward. The silver-haired shinobi barked out a laugh, landing on the lush grass with a loud thud.

One of these days I want to know your secret. His breath hitched. Suddenly, flashes of his previous dream assaulted his mind. Cruel eyes and a demented grin surfaced, the dark gaze gleaming with unholy madness. It twisted with unmerciful fury, the grin darkening to a withering snarl. The eyes illuminated, the ruby hues penetrating the fathomless void. An amalgamation of circular pinwheels and six-pointed stars decorated the crimson gaze. The faceless specter opened its mouth, revealing sharp teeth. A malevolent hiss reverberated throughout his psyche. "Liar," it whispered.

"I have never before seen that technique you use to accelerate."

Realization dawned on his expression. Overwhelming relief coursed through his veins, banishing the ominous specter. As the Clan Head's rapturous laughter washed over him, Kakashi heaved a sigh. A fleeting chuckle rumbled inside his chest. "Maa, maybe if you win next time, I'll teach you the technique," he mused. Unlike his companion's exuberant vigor, the half-Hatake approached the hot spring at a languid pace. He removed his sandals, peeled off his form-fitting ensemble, and slid leisurely inside the onsen. A large handkerchief was fastened over his face, shielding his features.

Even in one of Hi no Kuni's prized hot springs, Hatake Kakashi wore a mask.

As his eyes instinctively found Madara's, the half-Uchiha flashed the older man a genuine eye-smile. His gaze, while brimming with unadulterated life, was undeniably fond. It softened the hard edges of his lanky frame, revealing the youthful man underneath; a boy on the cusp of adulthood.

*​

Years Ago — Limbo

"Destroy Kaguya's will?" parroted the war veteran.

The Sage of Six Paths grasped the Hatake's hands and flipped them, palms facing upward. "Black Zetsu is a physical manifestation of Kaguya's will. It cannot be killed." Killing suggested the parasite was a living creature. While the black shadow gained sentience, it remained an amortal entity; a manifestation of chakra imbued with the wrathful will of the Mother of Chakra. "It cannot be controlled." The being's deception was impeccable, but underneath its façade, it cannot be swayed. "It must be destroyed," he announced.

"How?" inquired Kakashi.

Hagoromo gazed at his champion. "The Six Paths of Yin and Yang has the power to seal Black Zetsu, but it cannot be distributed to a single mortal," he began. As his palms illuminated, the Hatake's hands glowed in tandem. "To destroy Kaguya's will, your will must be stronger." Once Hagoromo was engulfed in the radiant light of yin and yang chakra, his champion followed. "Your chakra must be stronger." The brilliant violet of yin and the vibrant gold of yang melded seamlessly, producing strands of pure white chakra. The strands slithered down the sage and war veteran's arms, surrounding the adjoined palms. It pulsed once, twice, thrice, and dissipated. After the intense light dimmed, intricate markings adorned Kakashi's forearms and hands. It resembled tribal lines branching from an eclipse symbol imprinted on the bottom side of his palms.

"Rikudō no Nisshoku," Hagoromo intoned. As the sage retracted his hands, the markings on his champion's skin illuminated a bright white and faded.

"The Six Paths of Eclipse," the Hatake muttered.

"The seal will empower your will over Black Zetsu's and drain its chakra. Without Kaguya's will, Black Zetsu will fade," the Sage of Six Paths elaborated.

"Sever the connection, destroy the shadow," Kakashi deduced.

"The seal must be fueled by your blood and willpower to activate, Hatake Kakashi. If your will is not stronger, Black Zetsu will consume you."

*​

Present — Uchiha Compound, Three Weeks Later

Two weeks ago, as the sun set on the horizon, the legendary blood feud between the two strongest clans in Hi no Kuni transformed into the beginnings of a (eventual) powerful alliance. While the frangible ceasefire remained in its earlier stages, it will eventually blossom into a vision of peace and one day, the foundation of Konohagakure. After months of careful meddling, unfortunate setbacks, and budding camaraderie, phase one of Hatake Kakashi's mission came to a close.

Sad to say, phase two didn't start on a high note.

"We need a medic!" cried the guardsman.

In front of the north gates, a crowd surrounded the guardsmen. Hikaku maneuvered through his whispering clansmen until he stood in front of the frantic guardsman. As his eyes landed on a familiar head of unruly silver, he paled. In the arms of his kin, Hatake Kakashi resembled a broken marionette with its strings cut; lifeless and unmoving. Kami-sama, there was so much blood. His muted grey yukata was torn to pieces, the strips of fabric exposing the ripped form-fitting ensemble underneath. The Hatake's signature chest plate was missing, but remnants of metal clinging to the saturated fabric suggested it shattered. The awkward angle of the man's left arm indicated it was broken. Fortunately, it wasn't a compound fracture. His remaining limbs didn't seem broken, but Hikaku wasn't certain.

"Inform Madara-sama immediately!" he barked, directing his order to one of his subordinates. While the additional guardsmen returned to their post, Hikaku escorted the man carrying Kakashi to the clan healers. He assessed the blood sliding over the silver-haired shinobi's eyes. Despite the excessive substance, it didn't look like the older Hatake's eyes were stolen.

"What happened to you, Kakashi-san?" whispered Hikaku.

*​

Uchiha Compound (Five Minutes Prior)

Every breath felt like shards of glass perforated his lungs. The half-Hatake clutched his left side, directly over his broken ribs. He stumbled closer toward the northern gates, willpower alone keeping him conscious and mobile. The blood sliding over his eyes impaired his vision, but his superior nose guided him. Kakashi coughed, the fabric of his mask soaking the blood spewed from his lips. He winced as white hot agony radiated from his chest.

It wasn't as bad as it looked, but fūton techniques are notoriously ruthless.

"A Hatake with the divine blessing of the Sage of Six Paths. Curiouser and curiouser," the shadow sneered.

No conscientious planning or the will of fate led him to the parasite; it was pure dumb luck. Kakashi crossed the Uchiha border and was on his way to teach Madara his body flicker technique — he did promise the Clan Head if the raven bested him at a spar — when it happened.

"You're an anomaly," it growled. Sulfur eyes locked onto Kakashi. "You do not belong in this timeline."

Kakashi experienced the brunt of Kyūbi, its corrosive chakra brimming with unadulterated hatred, but it paled in comparison to the pure malice he detected. When the Sage of Six Paths bestowed him the power of Rikudō no Nisshoku, the sage granted him the ability to pinpoint Kaguya's will. The moment he sensed the malevolent entity, Kakashi didn't think; he moved.

"You reek of Uchiha. You. Do. Not. Belong," the entity snarled.

Without the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path, the manifested will donned its true form; a humanoid black shadow with beady acid eyes and jagged razor sharp teeth. Kakashi detected the entity on Uchiha soil and while unintentional, it didn't take him long to connect the dots. The silver-haired shinobi knew, around the founding of Konohagakure, Black Zetsu would target Uchiha Madara. However, he never realized it would be so soon.

"You will be erased!" it spat.

The manifested will didn't need the power of the Demonic Statute of the Outer Path or Senju Hashirama's wood release to be devastating. Despite his experience in the Fourth Shinobi World War — and his familiarity with the entity's fighting style — it wasn't enough to trap the shadow. The sheer implications of the amortal being's presence terrified him to his core and the fear ultimately led to his brutal defeat. Kakashi tried — minus his Mangekyō, he released his full arsenal — but it wasn't enough. Since the half-Hatake pursued the shadow on Uchiha soil, the battle undoubtedly alerted his fellow clansmen. However, by the time scouts are dispatched to investigate, the battlefield would be empty.

As the half-Hatake spotted the northern gates, a part of him wondered if his presence (and meddling) involuntarily accelerated the shadow's plans. Hagoromo never mentioned the specific moment when the manifested will first contacted Madara. Kakashi learned bits and pieces of Kaguya's will during the Fourth Shinobi World War, but it wasn't enough to monitor the parasite's movements. Since he, albeit unintentionally, sabotaged the shadow's first move, the war veteran suspected it wouldn't be long until Black Zetsu inevitably triumphed. He knew he couldn't stop it, but...

...he could prepare Madara.

By telling him the truth.

Once Kakashi neared the gates, one of the guardsmen noticed him and gasped. "Hatake-san!"

He mustered a weak grin and raised his hand in lieu of greeting. "Maa, maa, I hope I'm not too late." Without warning, Kakashi fell forward. As he collapsed on the ground, the silver-haired shinobi welcomed the void with open arms. Everything went black.

 

[arbus]

Two weeks prior -- Last Day of the Summit

Hashirama's eyes narrowed. The smooth stones in his back, he leaned with his arms propped up on the wall of the onsen, the soaked cloth on top of his head making him look distinctly idiotic -- at least in Madara's opinion. He pretended to ignore the other's searching gaze, which had zeroed in to the fading puncture mark on his throat. The bruise surrounding it had turned a greenishly-yellow. Just were the incisors had actually penetrated skin and drawn blood it was still a dark purple that gave Madara a jolt every time he rubbed the cups of his fingers over it.

"Madara", Hashirama said slowly, carefully. "I think my brother is right. That really doesn't look like a bug bite."

Usually, Hashirama avoided talking about Tobirama infront of Madara, and for good reasons. The other man stiffened, a veil of suspicion cloaking his expression. It was like watching shutters come down in his friend's eyes, and Hashirama regretted his slip immediately. He knew what it cost Madara to trust him; he did not want to jeopardize the bond that was forming with painstaking slowness between them. Yet, the nagging suspicion that had plagued him for days now did not leave him in peace. He just had to know.

"What do you know about bug bites, Senju?", Madara retorted. He made a point to lean back his head and close his eyes, as if Hashirama's inquiries were of no relevance to him whatsoever. Across the surface of the water, it was hard to make out the other's features through the steam. But Hashirama could swear his friend had suddenly developed a blush.

"Are you warm?"

"The whole point of an onsen is to be warm, idiot."

"I mean, you look like maybe you should get out of the onsen. Soaking too long can cause circulatory problems. I don't want you to pass out once --"

With a juicy squelch, a bathing cloth hit Hashirama square in the face, and he gurgled. "Madara! I saw you use that earlier to --"

"I don't have circulatory problems. And I'm not too warm", Madara huffed.

"But you're blushing!"

"Shut the fuck up, Senju, I'm not!"

"Is it because the bug bite is in truth a mating mark?", Hashirama spluttered, "I know the Inuzuka use it to ... as an engagement ritual. Madara, are you engaged? To an Inuzuka? ... M-Madara, why are you looking at me like that? It’s creepy. H-hey, what are you doing with that rock ..."

The yelp drifted over the roofs of huts, was carried by the wind over the tree tops and into the sky, and it probably was the most satisfyingly devine sound Madara had ever heard in his life.

Unfortunately, his attempts to drown Senju Hashirama in the hot spring remained fruitless, but as they parted ways hours later, at least the long-haired idiot said his goodbyes with a big, throbbing bump growing on his forehead like a horn.

*
​

Uchiha Compound -- Present Day

​

"Grrrrr ... graaaw!!"

Kagami had planted himself firmly on the outermost edge of the engawa, ruffling his feathers as he formed his hands into claws.

"A cat doesn't make such sounds, squirt." A calloused finger poked the small chest lightly. "What are you, a lion?"

"A tiger!", Kagami replied, beaming, and it elicited a huff from the clan head. He was sitting in a light yukata, cross-legged on the warm floorboards of the engawa, bathing in the warm spring sun. Natsuki stood in the doorway, watching her son strudding and boasting before their clan head, who seemed lazy and comfortable. It was such a stark contrast to the man that had been caught in the iron clad of grief not too long ago. It had been hard to look at, hard to even be in the same room with him for how raw and unbridled his pain had been. Ever since the summit, though, Uchicha Madara had changed. Natsuki had been sure a part of her clan head, a precious, tender part, had died with his brother that horrible day; but she had been wrong. It was as if something had cracked open the crust that had withered his heart, and now it was easy to look at him again. Kagami did, trustingly, as Madara said:

"You mean a tiger cup."

"Nooo, like a real tiger! I'm five years old now!", Kagami proclaimed with all the pride of a child that was too eager to slip away of their mother's nest. "I'm almost as old as you!"

Madara raised his eyebrows. "That's not really how this works. And if you want to be a tiger, cup, you have to proof your heart."

"I will!", Kagami said, excitedly, but then his face fell. "How do I do that? Proof my heart, I mean?"

"I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunity", Madara said, his eyes following the boy that was now balancing on the edge of the engawa, arms outstretched to either side of himself as not to tip over and fall into the grass. It was quiet around them, the warm afternoon sun a balm on Madara's frame. He was sore from the new training regime that he had taken up since his return from the summit, a comfortable kind of ache; his skin was slightly tanned already from the long hours outside. He had been busy, these last weeks, had suspended the paperwork for the evenings, resolved not to hole himself up in the stuffy office any more than strictly neccessary.

​

Grief was his perpetual companion, and some moments it pulled him down and made it hard to breathe, but with every day, it became more bearable. Running through the same motions over and over again was somehow soothing, and to work for and beyond the ceasefire -- he was in constant correspondance with Hashirama now -- gave him not only something to do but a purpose. And there was the mutt, of course; the promise of a visit and a new jutsu was enough to kindle Madara's excitment. Even though that flaky mongrel was running late, again. He had been due hours ago and Madara looked forward to hear yet another flimsy excuse, surely far-fetched.

"Madara-sama, your tea." Natsuki stepped forward, a tray in her hands that she placed next to her clan head's right knee, then bowed. "Yoshitaka-san asked me to tell you that you received word from the daimyo. His letter is on your desk."

Madara did not pull a face, even though he very much wanted to. One of the most important terms of the ceasefire had been the agreement that neither Uchiha nor Senju would form a contract with civilians that would pose their two clans against each other. Whole nations had been founded, and destroyed, with the military might of their mercinary shinobi, and because their clans were the strongest not only in Fire Country but the whole continent, they had been regularly pitted against each other. Now that both clans refused to take any missions that would jeopardize their ceasefire, the balances of power had shifted. The Uchiha were dependend on the earnings of the missions they took, but they were a rich clan and had funds. Since they established a reliable trading route thanks to their alliance to the Hatake, they would not go hungry for a long time. According to the elders' calculations they would have about eleven months, and if they rationed, they could stall their clients for about a year and a half. The Senju could hold out just about as long, and it was agreed that they would sit it out and let the daimyo and all of civilian Hi no Kuni rage while they continued the talks between their clans until both came to a mutually satisfying conclusion.

Politics had all the staleness of dried blood; it was haggling in stuffy rooms with too many old men, felt like a machine too heavy and sluggish to navigate with the ease both Hashirama and Madara desired, but at least they had it on a course now that suited them. Shinobi had been the mercenaries of normal men long enough; it was time to shift the paradigms once and for all.

Sipping his tea, Madara watched the black-haired boy before him, his tousled locks glistening in the sun as he tried to emulate the katas he had seen other clansmen and women perform. If he did not fuck this up, maybe, just maybe, that boy would never know a world in which his brothers and sisters, children and grand-children died by the hands of rivalling clans, and the sheer potential, the weight of that hope was elevating and crushing at the same time.

Their peace was disturbed by the arrival of Yakumi, barging out onto the engawa. He was slightly out of breath, and Madara knew something was wrong by the look on his face. "Madara-sama", he exclaimed, a hand twisting around the door.

"Speak", Madara said, straigthening.

"It's the Hatake ... I mean, Hatake-san. He was approaching the northern gate. He ... is heavily wounded."

"What?"

Yakumi shrank under the sharp gaze of his clan head. He swallowed dryly, but forced himself to continue: "I think he's unconscious now. Hikaku is with him, they brought him to the healers."

Madara was on his feet and through the ceremonial room before he even knew that he was moving; the hum of panic was like a numb prickle crawling slowly up his skull, edging the corners of his vision black. His bare feet thudded over the polished floor and it was all he could do not to run, but he could not help but fall into a light jog nonetheless. Heavily wounded. He was suddenly too aware of his heartbeat against his ribcage -- not again not again a steady refrain in his head -- and when he turned the corner to the guest chambers, he almost ran into Hikaku, who stood positioned with his back to the hallway, looking into the tiny room with grim concern written all over his features.

"What happened?", he heard himself ask, rather curtly, but then his eyes found the lifeless body sprawled on the futon, and all the color drained from his face. Kakashi was a bloodied, battered mess; his yukata was torn to shreds, much as the fabric beneath. Madara's heart clenched at the sight. The Mangekyo spun to life, and as he stepped closer, he assessed Kakashi in every last detail, from the razor-thin cut on his left cheek that had torn the fabric of his mask, to the deep gashes in his side and on his arms and legs, and the clotted mass of brown-drying blood at the back of his head.

"His vitals?", Madara said from behind gnashed teeth, Mangekyo circling in on the pulse point of the other's throat. Quick but strong. That was a relief. The medic kneeling before the futon confirmed this, even though he had the good sense not to look up at his clan head but focus on the injured man before him. He had arrived barely a minute before, and was now assessing the head wound.

"Do we know how this happened?", Madara asked.

"No", Hikaku replied from the door. "The guard found him at the northern gate. He was badly beaten up but walking, but then collapsed before we could ask him any questions."

"Whoever did this", Madara said in a low voice, "find them. Assemble teams to comb through the forest. Leave no stone unturned. I want you to find out who did this, and why."

Hikaku knew better than to object. He inclined his head. "Yes, Madara-sama", and vanished into the shadows of the hallway.

*
​

"His left arm was broken in two places. It was a clean break, we were able to mend it without complications. It will be tender for a few weeks, but then as good as new. The broken ribs are another matter. We will need to apply constant chakra to mend them, and he will remain immobilized for at least a couple of days. A few of the deeper cuts needed stitching, but I doubt more than two will leave scars. The head wound is not as serious as we first thought. We have cleaned and bandaged all the wounds and he is resting now in the guest chamber."

"Any hints about who has done this to him? And how?"

"My bet is wind realase with a good amount of taijutsu. Whoever it was, they were swift and ruthless. Hatake-san is lucky. It could have been a lot worse."

"That had nothing to do with luck", Madara muttered, but his heart was not really in it. He was already thinking of the steps to take next. He itched to catch up with Hikaku's team, to scout the forest for himself, to do something, twist someone's neck until he heard the cervical spine pop and crack.

"It is nothing less than a declaration of war", Yoshitaka announced. He sat at the low table, chin raised, deep-set eyes regarding Madara as if he wanted to say I told you so. "Some other country, perhaps, to send us a message. The Land of Wind, most likely. They are known for their proficiency with wind-style jutsu. Of course, it could also be a ruse. It would be not be beneath the Senju to use the ceasefire to stir up conflict between us and another country, meanwhile finding allegiance with the daimyo. It would suit them, I would say, to bring us in disgrace with Hi no Kuni's ruler."

Amidst a murmur of affirmation of the other elders, Madara rose to his feet, and without another word, left them to stir in their conspiracy theories. Warmongering fools, he thought, and ingored the tiny bit of doubt that had begun to gnaw at him, even so; it was a dark thing inside himself, a rage fueled by the fear of yet another loss, and he thought if anything were to happen to Hatake Kakashi, he would drown in the all-consuming darkness that lurked and whispered in the dead of the night in his brother's voice, and no routine of exercise and healthy habits would be able pull him out of it again.

He slipped into the sick-room, where Kakashi lay under a light blanket. The shoji doors were open. On Madara's behest, they had replaced the mask with a fresh cloth. He had forbidden for anyone but his two best healer to enter the room during the treatment. The shape beneath the mask was delicate, Madara noticed as he took a seat next to the man. The wave of desperate panic that had crashed over him had now subsided, was replaced by rage that made his fingertips feel alight with uncast jutsu. He would tear, and destroy, and it did not matter who had done it, because he would burn them to ashes.

​

 

[roxybirdie]

Years Ago — Fourth Shinobi World War

Truth-Seeking Balls encompass the power of all five basic natures. The malleable black chakra has the power to surpass kekkei genkai and kekkei tōta. If imbued with Yin-Yang release, Truth-Seeking Balls are capable of nullifying any ninjutsu it touches. Should the caster will it, the transformative chakra can reduce anything (or anyone) to dust with a single, merciless touch.

Kakashi understood the fundamentals of the powerful technique. He accepted it the moment the former sensei of Team Seven stepped in front of his most troublesome students and teammate. Cries of alarm washed over him.

"What are you doing, Bakashi?!" exclaimed his former teammate.

"Kakashi-sensei!" cried his only female student. While she remained safe, and out of range, Sakura was forced to watch from the sidelines, helpless. Minato, Gai, and Gaara gazed at the last Hatake, unable to retaliate.

"Kakashi," growled the avenger. Sasuke winced, the steadying hand of Naruto keeping him from collapsing.

"No," whispered the blonde. Naruto was about to intercept, but it was too late.

It felt like minutes passed, but it was only seconds. Once Kakashi materialized in front of the fallen trio, he was impaled. The festering black pole penetrated the center of his sternum and ripped through his backside. White hot agony radiated from his chest, ripping the oxygen from his lungs. He lurched forward, the momentum of the blow misbalancing his equilibrium.

"KAKASHI!"

"KAKASHI-SENSEI!"

He wheezed, the taste of copper bitter on his tongue. Kakashi raised his head and tilted it, flashing his former students and comrades a patented eye-smile. The man in front of him delivered a condescending monologue, but it felt like he was under water. It took him a moment to realize his senses are waning. The molten lava coursing through his veins morphed into frigid ice. Suddenly, the white hot daggers piercing his sternum dulled into cold needles. Without the agonizing pain clouding his mind, Kakashi inhaled the overpowering stench of decay.

He was turning into ash.

His vision was darkening. It was becoming increasingly difficult to lift his head and Kakashi didn't have enough strength to keep it raised. Before the last of his strength dissipated, the last Hatake gazed at the cackling madman clutching the Truth-Seeking Pole. Once he succumbed to the void for the final time, the eyes of Uchiha Madara are the last thing he ever saw before everything went black.

*​

Present — The World of Dreams

"You reek of Uchiha. You. Do. Not. Belong!"

Kakashi lunged at the darkness, lips curled into a snarl. Sulfur eyes penetrated the void, but no matter how hard he tried, the shadow eluded him. He whipped his head back and shifted, his movements frenetic and impulsive; a deep contrast to his controlled precision. Kakashi spotted movement from his peripheral and pivoted, prepared to sink his teeth into the manipulative parasite. However, the moment his eyes landed on a certain ravenette, the half-Hatake halted. He stumbled back, as if struck.

"You did this," hissed the teen. Uchiha Izuna lifted his head, revealing his visage. Tears of blood slid down his face, eye sockets empty. "This is all your fault," he snarled. His expression twisted into a withering sneer. "You did this to me!"

"You. Do. Not. Belong!"

"No," the war veteran croaked. Kakashi shook his head and stepped back. "I-I—"

"Liar!"

Kakashi flinched. "I didn't—!" he wheezed. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. "I didn't mean to forget, I—"

"You don't belong here," another voice murmured. A boy around the raven's age emerged from the shadows. The two adolescents are nearly identical, down to their contemptuous scowls. His dark gaze illuminated a brilliant crimson. The three tomoes morphed into six-pointed stars with a pinwheel in the center. "You never belonged here. You should be dead."

Without warning, images appeared, as if he were looking at a big screen. Kakashi witnessed his final moments until the Truth-Seeking Pole reduced him to ash.

"It should of been you," snarled Izuna. Suddenly, his empty sockets glowed a sulfuric yellow. "An eye for an eye!"

He watched as the parasite consumed the younger Uchiha. It was like Obito all over again. Kakashi opened his mouth, a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, but before he could react, Izuna materialized in front of him. He stiffened, but something kept him in place. He lowered his gaze, assessing the pitch black pole penetrating his chest. Lips brushed against his ear from behind.

"You will be erased," Sasuke hissed. He twisted the pole deeper into the older Hatake's chest.

Izuna reached for the silver-haired shinobi's eyes. "You have something that belongs to me," he growled, the gravelly undertone undeniably Zetsu.

"NO!"

The illusion shattered. Once the Uchiha and parasite vanished, Kakashi collapsed. He curled in on himself, a wretched sob escaping his lips. "I-I can't," he cried. The war veteran tightened into a ball. "I can't do it, I can't, I—" His words dissolved into tears. Kakashi cupped his hands over his ears, fingers digging painfully into his scalp. "I should be dead," he whispered brokenly.

"Running away again, Bakashi?" a voice announced.

His breath hitched. Slowly, Kakashi uncurled and lifted his head. His former teammate stood in front of him, the boy's youthful visage a deep contrast to his future counterpart. "O-Obito?" he rasped.

"Well? Are you?" Obito countered.

His expression contorted with pain. "It's too much," Kakashi whispered.

He snorted derisively. "So that's it? You're giving up?" The former genin grabbed a fistful of his teammate's shirt and yanked. "You're running away like a coward?" When Kakashi didn't answer, Obito shook him. "Answer me!"

"I can't," the Hatake cried.

"Those who abandon the mission are scum," Obito began. He glared at the last Hatake. "But?"

Silence washed over the void. "Those who abandon their friends are worse than scum," Kakashi answered.

He relinquished his grip. "Are you going to abandon everyone since you're scared?" Obito challenged.

A spark of indignation ignited inside his chest. "Obito," the Hatake growled.

"Well? Are you?"

Suddenly, a large calloused palm draped on his shoulder. Kakashi looked over his shoulder, spotting a familiar head of sunshine blonde. Namikaze Minato flanked his former student's left side, gazing at him with kind eyes. He smiled encouragingly. All the sudden, an arm wrapped around his neck and Uzumaki Kushina flanked his right side. Her exuberant grin was as bright as her red locks. Behind Obito, his only female teammate appeared. Her warm brown eyes regarded him with unmistakable faith.

"You can do it, Kakashi-kun," Rin announced.

"You aren't alone, dattebane!" Kushina pointed out.

He patted his student's shoulder. "It's time to wake up, Kakashi," Minato murmured.

*​

The World of the Living — Two Days Later

The Hatake ambassador remained relatively unconscious for forty-eight hours. Shortly after the clan healers stabilized him, Kakashi contracted a fever. While it wasn't severe, the war veteran awakened in erratic fits of hysteria, eyes glazed over and absolutely feral. If he spoke — and he did — it was completely incoherent; more like a sequence of growls than actual words. The healers eventually sedated him, but the soothing aroma of fire and woodsmoke prevented the feral wolf from lashing out and going for the kill. After twenty-four hours, the fever broke.

It was late morning when the half-Hatake finally awakened. A tiny hand clutching his left palm was the first thing he noticed. While the light weight on his abdomen jostled the wound on his stomach, the bandages protected it. Kakashi opened his eyes and bit back a hiss, the sudden intrusion of sunlight extremely unpleasant. Once his eyes adjusted, the silver-haired halfbreed peered at the small gremlin curled next to him. The boy's head rested on his abdomen, right hand grasping his left palm. Uchiha Kagami was certainly a surprise. He raised his free hand and draped it over the slumbering pup's curly locks. Kakashi ruffled the boy's hair, a hint of fondness evident in his half-lidded gaze. His movements roused the younger Uchiha.

Large obsidian eyes locked onto the older Hatake. He gasped, realization dawning on his expression. "Kaka-nii!" Almost immediately, his eyes filled with tears. Kagami hiccuped and lunged at the taller man, wrapping his tiny arms around the war veteran's neck.

He winced at the sudden impact, but didn't stop the quivering pup. "Maa, why are you crying, pup?" Kakashi croaked. He coiled his right arm around the younger Uchiha, cupping the back of the boy's head.

"Y-you wouldn't w-wake up an-an-an—" The five-year-old sobbed, burying his face against the crook of the older man's neck.

A part of him hoped Kagami didn't see him at his worse. He could only imagine the trauma. Heaving a sigh, Kakashi patted the pup's back with his left palm. The familiar ache in his appendage indicated newly-mended bones. "Maa, no need for tears—" Suddenly, the shōji door opened, cutting him off. A feminine gasp prompted him to lift his gaze. Natsuki stood in front of the threshold.

"Kagami!" The mother rushed forward, plucking her wayward child from the Hatake's grip. "You have to be careful with Hatake-san, Kagami," she scolded. Natsuki faced the ambassador and bowed. "I'm so sorry, Hatake-san. Kagami should be at his morning lessons by now." Her son flinched, but she ignored it. Natsuki opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated. Instead, she bowed once more. "I'll fetch you some water." Without another word, she exited the room, arms full of her sniveling child.

Once the mother and son disappeared, Kakashi forced himself into a sitting position. He visibly winced, flattening a palm over the left side of his ribs. His shredded ensemble was gone, replaced by a thin navy yukata. A wide strip of cloth was fastened over his face, shielding his features. It wasn't a traditional mask, but he appreciated the sentiment. Besides his abdomen, his chest, right shoulder, and head are covered in bandages.

 

[arbus]

Uchiha Compound -- Twelve Hours After Kakashi's Arrival

The crescent moon was waning, the night cloudy and starless. It smelled of rain and heavy spring earth, always spring earth, a scent Madara now deeply associated with the mutt, his mouth covering the skin on his neck, rapid-hot breath against the lope of his ear. Madara's hand came up to touch the spot. The bruises had vanished, the skin almost unblemished once more except for the denture marks. But they were now fading into the tan of his skin and would be entirely gone in a few more weeks.

"I don't understand", he bit out. He was sitting on the same spot of his engawa, before the ceremonial room. Twelve hours had passed since Kakashi's arrival. "If he has not contracted a concussion, and his wounds are not life-threatening, why is he not waking up?"

Uchiha Yuuto was a man in his sixties. He was clad in the clan's traditional high-collared attire. His hands were swift, experienced and strewn with the finest scars. He was bald, his eyebrows greying and bushy, and the gaze beneath from small, slanted eyes milky but intelligent. "It is shock, Madara-sama", he explained, "Hatake-san seems to react to some sort of trauma."

"Because of what happened to him?", Madara asked, brows furrowed. "The attack?"

"It is impossible to say. Though, in my experience, this kind of nightmares often hint to a more ... profound experience."

Madara looked at his hands. Hands that had touched Kakashi's clammy-warm forehead, stroked back strands of wet hair out of his face while the other's body had writhed and trembled, the cotton of the cloth covering his face damp, moving with every intake and exhale of breath. Madara's nails were crusted with dirt. He had spent the best part of the night in the woods. Word from Hikaku and the other troops had it that their search had been, until now, unsuccessful. He despised being this helpless, hated it with every fibre of his being.

"We sedated him", Yuuto said, "he is calm now."

*
​

Uchiha Compound -- Twenty-Four Hours After Kakashi's Arrival

"WHY is he not waking up?", Madara yelled, spinning around on his heels. He all but went for Yuuto, holding himself back by what felt like a hair's breadth. He clenched his fists.

"I told you", Yuuto said, unblinking in the face of his clan head's wrath. He was not afraid of Uchiha Madara. He had known his father, his grand-father, and he had delivered the babe from his mother's womb twenty-one years ago. Madara had always been a temperamental child, but never an evil one, and his rage came from a place of affection, like it had done in the days when Uchiha Izuna had rested on a futon, had contracted a fever, and then had died under Yuuto's care.

The circumstances were eerily similar, now. But the Hatake was not on the brink of death, far from it.

"His mind needs time to recover. Once it does, he will wake."

"Make him wake up!", Madara spat, "With one of your tinctures or jutsu!"

Yuuto pitied the man before him, but he was wise enough not to show it. Underneath the bravado was the obvious, consuming streak of fear. Fear of loss, and even though Yuuto was old, in contrast to Yoshitaka-san he was no traditionalist. He welcomed the idea of change in their midst, and the Hatake with their clan's kekkei genkai represented this exact principle. He doubted Madara's father, Tajima, would have approved of his son's fondness for what he would call a halfbreed. But to Yuuto, it was a sign of a much needed modernization of their clan. He had not thought that Madara would bring them to such new shores, but the boy was full of surprises.

"This is not how it works", Yuuto said patiently. He looked at his clan head steadily. There was not much that could throw him off anymore; he had seen too much in his lifetime. "As you very well know, Madara-sama."

Madara stared at him for the moment it took him to understand that Yuuto was not going to be the one he could blow off his steam on, then he let out a breath. His eyes turned into the Eternal Mangeyko -- an eery, eery sight to behold, because Yuuto had delivered Izuna as well -- and he stepped past him. Yuuto knew where he was headed as he left the study, even though it was the middle of the night, and the compound was quiet and asleep.

*
​

Uchiha Compound -- Thirty-Six Hours After Kakashi's Arrival

"I'm sorry, Madara-sama", Yoshitaka said in the middle of a deep bow. "But we have yet to receive word from the Hatake clan head."

Madara did not falter as he tied up the strap that held together his breast plate with the back protector. The metallic clink of the armor was a dull sound accompanying his every movement. He slipped on the leather gloves and went to retrieve his beloved gunbai, favorite amongst all his weapons, to strap onto his back.

"Do you think a scroll will do, Madara-sama?", Yoshitaka inquired into the silence. He was sitting at the map table, his fingers driving over a freshly sealed scroll. It held an inquiry, written by Madara himself, telling Senju Hashirama about Hatake Kakashi's injuries and asking for any knowledge he might possess about the incident. It was polite enough; no veiled threats nor accusations, but it held the questions of Did you do this? nonetheless. "Perhaps we should retaliate immediately."

"Do you want war so badly, Yoshitaka?" Madara turned around to his oldest advisor. He made for an impressive sight in full armor, a warrior amongst warriors, but his voice was sober. There was no bloodlust in him; only a driving feeling of helplessness.

Yoshitaka sputtered. "I -- of course I don't desire war, Madara-sama! What I want is justice for our clan."

"Hashirama did not do this", Madara said, "If anyone of the Senju attacked Hatake-san, it was his cursed brother. We will give Hashirama a chance to respond, and we will not be the first to break the ceasefire."

It was his final word. Yoshitaka seemed to know that, because he took up the scroll and left. He did not bow again.

*
​

Uchiha Compound -- Forty-Two Hours after Kakashi's Arrival

"We have searched all of Uchiha territory", Hikaku said in-between gulps of water. "Whoever attacked Hatake-san, they're not here anymore."

Yakumi grimaced. They had halted on a clearing in the depth's of the woods, somewhere on the outskirts of Uchiha territory. Their team consisted of five members, three of them scouts. Yakumi himself was fairly good at tracking, and alongside Hikaku, he was one of the quickest members of their clan. They had made a lot of ground in the last two days or so, but they had found nothing, no hair, no blood, not even a shred of clothing. Nothing that pointed to any kind of attacker. They had found and scouted the site on which the fight had taken place, but besides traces of the Hatake's blood and large chunks of his breast plate, there had been nothing there.

"Your cousin is obsessed", he mumbled. They all were hungry, dirty, and exhausted. It was one thing to chase after someone that actually existed, be driven by that need to catch someone and not get outsmarted, but it was a whole other matter to be chasing ghosts.

Hikaku clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "He is right, you know", he informed Yakumi, "to search for Hatake-san's attacker. Hatake-san is half-Uchiha, after all. You would expect him to do the same for any one of our clanspeople."

"Yeah", Yakumi scoffed, "half Uchiha. And Madara-sama looks like he wants to tear apart practically the whole of Fire Country. I doubt he'd do the same even for you."

"What are you implying, Yakumi?", Hikaku said. His voice had grown dangerously low all of a sudden. He had turned to face the other Uchiha head-on, his gaze challenging.

"N-nothing", Yakumi said hastily. "I'm just tired. Can I please get my rations now? Hm?" He made a face at Hikaku, expression sheepish, playing the clown as a sort of peace-offering. Hikaku sighed, but dropped the matter. They all were really tired, after all.

*
​

Uchiha Compound -- Forty-Eight Hours After Kakashi's Arrival

Madara had shed the armor and was submerging his hands in a bowl of warm, soapy water when the shoji slid open.

"Madara-sama", Natsuki said and bowed deeply. "Hatake-san has woken up."

The news produced a long silence, in which the soft splash of water was the only noise. Madara felt a tension leave his shoulders. Because he had his back to Natsuki, it was safe to close his eyes and let the relief wash over him. It was sweet and elevating and felt a tad painful nonetheless, because the depth of the feeling worried him.

"Get him water and soup", he said, "he must be starving."

"I was on my way to fetch some", Natsuki replied. "I come from his chambers. I was looking for Kagami. I found him in his chambers."

"Your son seems to have taken a liking to him."

"Oh, yes", Natsuki said with a chuckle. "He is a very nice man."

Ten minutes later, the shoji doors to Kakashi's sick room opened. Madara stood in the doorway, balancing a tray of tea, water and miso on one hand. His eyes found the mutt and travelled over his frame, but his face remained plain -- no scowl, no smile; carefully devoid of emotion. He entered and closed the sliding door behind him with his free hand. He put the tray on a small side table and delivered the glass of water to the bedside.

"Your mother has been informed", he said. "My healers will talk to you shortly about your wounds, but they tell me you have not suffered any lasting injuries. You are under bedrest for now, so you are welcome to stay and make yourself comfortable."

Madara had spent many hours on the floor beside this very futon; dirt crusting his hands from his outings into the woods that had produced nothing but a deep sense of frustration in him and the rest of the teams assigned to find the attacker. He had stared at Kakashi intensely, the sharingan taking in every last detail of that masked face, twisted in the claws of nightmarish visions that remained invisible to Madara.

But now he went to stand at the window with his back to the other man. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked out into the garden. "Your opponent must have been powerful to injure you like this."

 

[roxybirdie]

"Your opponent must have been powerful to injure you like this."

Silence washed over the guest quarters. Kakashi picked up his glass of water, lifted the cloth fastened over his face, and took a sip. He drained half of the glass before he placed it on the side table. The half-Hatake leaned to his right and snatched the bowl of miso soup off the side table. He dished a spoonful, raised his cloth once more, and took a bite. Once he took a few more bites, Kakashi placed the bowl on the tray. "The parasite is," he murmured. He gazed at the older man's broad frame. "I intercepted it before it could reach you," he continued. Sulfuric eyes and a derisive snarl flashed inside his mind, but it melted under the might of his team's supporting grins. Kakashi closed his eyes and released a shuddering breath.

You can do it, Kakashi-kun. The war veteran repressed a shiver, latched onto his team's courage, and opened his eyes. Charcoal illuminated a vibrant crimson. The three tomoe spun languidly and morphed into a pinwheel. Kakashi directed his Mangekyō to Madara. "Do you trust me, Madara?" he inquired. His voice was deceptively calm, shielding the apprehension coiled around his heart. The air surrounding the Clan Head and Hatake ambassador distorted, but it didn't twist inward. The pinwheels spun rapidly, awaiting his next command.

Three years ago, Hatake Kakashi died and awakened in the past. Tracking, locating, and destroying Kaguya's will was his main objective. However, ensuring the eventual birth of Konohagakure was a close second. Trespassing on Uchiha land and his inevitable capture wasn't part of the plan, but it reunited him with his clan. The Uchiha and Hatake alliance was unintentional, but a necessity given the circumstances. It was his first direct modification to the timeline and it wouldn't be his last. Hatake Nōka, her wolf summon, Shinra, and Hatake Ginjiro learned the truth, but only because of his uncanny resemblance to his ancestor; and to further cement his cover story. Kakashi had no intention of sharing his monumental secret with another soul.

Until now.

His brutal defeat — even if he wasn't distracted by all-consuming terror, Kakashi knew it wouldn't change the outcome — made him realize he couldn't stop Kaguya's will on his own. Regardless of the divine power coursing through his veins, and the seal imprinted on his arms, the manifested will was stronger, faster, and craftier. The millennium old eldritch parasite witnessed the birth of ninjutsu and single-handedly shaped the world of shinobi from the shadows. It might seem impossible, but the Sage of Six Paths once predicted his students — all three of his human students — had the power to defeat the Rabbit Goddess.

If teamwork could defeat the Mother of Chakra, it can destroy the manipulative shadow.

Despite the deep-seated fear taking root in his heart, his resolve hardened. Uchiha Madara became Black Zetsu's greatest pawn and the key to unlocking the Infinite Tsukuyomi. He cannot predict the parasite's movements and prevent all contact, but he can prepare the Clan Head. Kakashi once vowed to protect Madara and do everything in his power to ensure the older Uchiha never became his future counterpart.

Even if it meant sacrificing himself.

 

[arbus]

Parasite.

Madara's forehead creased at that peculiar choice of words. He waited, patiently, listening to the whispers of fabric and the sounds of cutlery. The day outside promised to be sunny, to be warm, but the air in the small chamber was cool. His heart felt like it could swell and expand over the limits of his ribcage; it was relief, yes, but something else too, a feeling too intense and too terrifying to be contemplated. Kakashi's breath came in a shudder and Madara knew that there would be news that he did not like.

"Do you trust me, Madara?"

Only now did Madara turn around to face his battered guest, his friend, a frown on his face that was all sorrow, and in the depths of his eyes was affection, a glance that held so many things it was impossible to decipher. "I haven't decided yet", he replied, tone somber, because it was the truth. He resisted the urge to touch the fading mark on his neck. Met the pinwheel-gaze head-on, his own eyes remaining black and solemn, and maybe that was another answer to Kakashi's question, that he did not think to retaliate a Mangekyo with his own.

He observed the twist in the atmosphere, the subtle shift that had presented itself before Kakashi had used Kamui on that kamiforsaken day so many weeks ago. Madara remembered that time like a nightmare; he had been walking the grounds of this estate like a dream walker, like some part of him had not been there at all.

Without another word, Madara took a step forward, gave the slightest inclination of his head, and waited to be swallowed by the fabled kekkei genkai technique only the strongest of his ancestors had possessed.

 

[roxybirdie]

"I haven't decided yet,"

In the shinobi world, especially in the Warring States Period, trust was a frangible concept. Something indiscernible in his heart constricted at the declaration, but Kakashi cannot fault Madara for his ambiguity. While his wolf deemed the Clan Head pack, it didn't allocate trust. Truthfully, the half-Hatake hasn't decided if he trusted the ravenette. Madara, more than once, proved himself, but Kakashi was a cautious man. Even more so when a certain sage entrusted him with a terrible, terrible burden. Despite his reservations, the war veteran knew he could not keep the older man in the dark any longer. Black Zetsu attempted its first contact and it won't stop until it sunk its claws into the Clan Head's flesh; figuratively and literally.

Should Madara remain unaware, the ramifications would be inconceivable.

Once the older raven inclined his head, his crimson eyes pulsed. The air surrounding Madara distorted and twisted inward. Since he possessed the full Kamui, Kakashi was capable of shortening his range or extending it. Without another word, the Uchiha Head and Hatake ambassador vanished without a trace. Seconds later, within the bleak dimension, the duo landed in front of the first line of traps leading to his scroll. Kakashi gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand. He stepped forward and started dismantling the first layer. The left side of his ribs throbbed, but he ignored the pain. Layer after layer, the half-Hatake disabled until he removed the last form of defense. "You once asked me what identity means to me," Kakashi began. He lowered himself on the stark white pillar and picked up the large scroll. "I said it boils down to what I'm fighting for," he added. He gazed at the sole link to his original timeline.

"What I didn't say is my identity was stripped from me," Kakashi announced. He lifted his gaze, vermillion fading to charcoal. "Who I am, what I fought for ... everything and everyone I ever loved—" His face was void of his lackadaisical façade. "—it died along with me." His grip on the scroll tightened. "I should of stayed dead, but I didn't." A self-deprecating chuckle rumbled inside his throat. "Instead, I awakened and was forced to create a new identity for myself. A new purpose to fight for." Kakashi raised the scroll and handed it to Madara.

Every fibre of his being screamed to take the scroll back — protect, protect, protect, it screeched — but he swallowed his fear and moved forward. No more running. Kakashi may be worse than scum, but he never abandoned his friends. As he opened his mouth once more, the words tumbled out as if he were delivering a mission report; detached and methodical. "I am Hatake Kakashi, a former jōnin of Konohagakure. The village was founded by Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara. At the age of six, I became the last Hatake. At the age of ten, I gained the left eye of my teammate, Uchiha Obito, as his last dying wish. At the age of thirty-one, I endured two Shinobi World Wars and died protecting my comrades. Three years ago, I awakened approximately eighty-nine years in the past with a mission tasked by the Sage of Six Paths himself to prevent the Fifth Shinobi World War, a war that will irrevocably eradicate the Land of Fire and its neighboring countries. My main objective is destroying the parasite that attacked me." His eyes hardened. "The same parasite that will not stop until you're under its control." He motioned Madara to open the scroll. "The entity is no human, creature or summon, but the physical manifestation of the Mother of Chakra's will. Kaguya's will single-handedly shaped the shinobi world for one purpose: resurrect the Rabbit Goddess and plunge the world into the Infinite Tsukuyomi," he declared.

Demented laughter resonated inside his mind, but his resolve banished it. "I have the power to destroy Kaguya's will, but I am only one man." Empty eye sockets and tears of blood flashed inside his head. "I cannot do it alone." A flicker of insurmountable grief surfaced inside his stormy grey eyes. "Inside the scroll is everything I use to be and everything I became today. Details I learned in the past and events I experienced in the present." Kakashi averted his gaze and lowered his head. "I try to remember everything I can, but—" A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "—time is a fickle thing," he murmured.

A deep ache settled inside his chest, but it wasn't his ribs. Kakashi closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

 

[arbus]

The displacement was swift and dizzying. From one second to the next, Uchiha Madara found himself in the depths of what was known to his ancestors as the other realm, Kamui, and his eyes drank in this new world with fascination. It had a familiar feeling to it; perhaps it was the hum of power that ran like an undercurrent through the atmosphere, and so very bizzarly, moving in this space felt the tiniest bit off, as if the forces of gravity had shifted ever so slightly, as if the laws of nature did not quite apply in this other dimension.

When Kakashi moved, Madara's stance shifted as if to help, and he almost touched him, almost wrapped his fingers around his shoulder to steady him. But Kakashi's gaze was intent and distracted, and Madara hesitated, then lowered his arm. A new weariness clung to his bones like an all-too-familiar, tired companion. The first sprigs of distrust shot from the fertile soil that was Madara's inherent skepticism, yet, his curiosity was peaked. The intrinsic ring of seals on the floor made it clear that whatever Kakashi was hiding — guarding — here was of utmost importance to him. Madara wanted to see, wanted to know. He did not know it yet, but he would come to regret that sentiment, and soon.

"... everything and everyone I ever loved — it died along with me."

Then, Kakashi spoke, and time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. Madara's fingers wrapped around a scroll that had been in the center of all those cautionary measures like it was a treasure. It was entirely too much to take in, impossible to dissect all at once, and at some point the words just started to roll over him, overwhelm him. It was impossible to grasp them anymore. Madara felt dull and strangely numb, as if instead of the Kamui dimension, he had been submerged under water. The white-pillar world did nothing to eliviate the sense of surreality that colored Madara’s thoughts a shrill red-yellow-orange, a mood like a screech, on the brink of hysteria.

From all that came out of Kakashi‘s covered mouth, from all the things that Madara knew that mattered, it boiled to one sentence, and it pulsed and throbbed before his eyes as if it had a life of its own, a beating heart and blood rushing through its veins that would spill when pricked and pool all over the floor and soil their feet hot-red.

"I am Hatake Kakashi, a former jōnin of Konohagakure."

Konohagakure.

Konohagakure.

The village hidden in the leaves.

That word had such a strange, such a familiar ring to it, it was like recognition in the very back of Madara's mind, like an idea not yet fully formed or a thing dropped in a dream, precious but not yet his own.

It was dissonance. It was all wrong.

"The village was founded by Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara."

The shrill tone in Madara‘s head intensified. He had to lock his knees to keep them from buckling. The scroll in his hand felt too heavy. Madara eyed the slumped figure standing opposite him, resignation radiating from him. Suddenly, it dawned on him how completely at Kakashi’s mercy he was, that if he chose to do so he could trap Madara in the Kamui dimension.

"You expect me to belief", he said, his tongue finding its way around the words with painful slowness, "that you died, and woke in the past, to kill the ... the will of the Mother of Chakra?"

Madara would curse himself for being such a trusting fool, but he could hardly keep the thoughts rushing through his head straight, and layer upon layer they accumulated, until there was nothing, his mind feeling wiped blank with shock and disbelief.

He turned, because whatever was on his face right now, he did not want Kakashi to see it. His footfall was dull in the weird atmosphere of Kamui, his movements deliberate as he sat down cross-legged on the platform. There was distance between them now, and Madara‘s back was almost turned to Kakashi; almost, because a shinobi knows not to turn their backs on potential enemies, and regardless, Madara had never liked to have someone in his back.

Trust.

Such a fragile concept. Madara could feel it eroding, by no conscious thought of his own, and the disappointment of it all was tangible, but overwritten by weariness and confusion and the underlying threat of impending terror. His fingers slid over the dry parchment. He hesitated for a moment longer, but he could not walk away from this, not with Konohagakure ringing in his head like a long-forgotten lullaby, and with a new determination, Madara opened the scroll, and started to read.

*
​

He did not know how long it took. How much time passed in the utter silence, this dead silence that was a universe devoid of all life but theirs. If it was hours or maybe half a day, maybe even more. But Madara would not have cared either way; he was completely, fully immersed in the scripture, and Kakashi's handwriting became his companion as he delved into a story about a silver-haired boy that was by all accounts a genius in his own right, a boy that became a man with a stolen (gifted) (stolen) sharingan, that became a leader with children under his care to prepare them for the way of shinobi life, that was a war hero and became one once more.

(Speared by a dark festering pole, madness. Madness.)

He read about a village hidden in the leaves, of Hashirama and Tobirama and did not see his own name until it was there, and the dawning understanding was a horrible thing, like an oni's flower blossoming in his stomach. Like poison.

Madara read of the discrimination against his clan, ever-lasting as he had always feared it, of its annihilation and of himself, a man that was shunned and went away and went mad and tried to destroy the world, destroyed -- kami help him -- his own clan in the process.

He read of the blade in his back, inflicted by his childhood friend, and of a plan seeped with madness, of Infinite Tsukuyomi, and that word had the same dreamily familiar ring to it like Konohagakure, as if he should have known it or had once known it or would once come to know it.

He read many, many more things, of the boy called Obito, of people he had never heard of. The details all blended together, at some point, and when he finally reached the last paragraph, he could hardly decipher the words through the veil of tears that clouded his vision.

The terror was silent. It clung to him like a wet blanket, submerged him, and his hands shook so violently that the scroll slipped out of his grip and onto the floor. He could not speak. Not move. He could hardly breathe as he grabbled for a straw of familiarity with which he would be able to pull himself together and up, but he was overwhelmed, and he hunched, crumbling under the weight of this knowledge, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes hard.

 

[roxybirdie]

"That you died, and woke in the past, to kill the ... the will of the Mother of Chakra?"

Kakashi flinched, but remained silent. He considered a different approach. Perhaps, something less intensive and verbose. More practical, less overwhelming. Instead of turning the Clan Head's world upside down, he could of gradually distribute the information. Give Madara time to process. However, he was out of time. Black Zetsu made its first move. While he, albeit unintentionally, intercepted it, the parasite will be back. It won't stop until it has the older Uchiha under its control. Uchiha Madara became the key to unlocking the Infinite Tsukuyomi. If he left out anything, the parasite will use it to its advantage. Kakashi didn't want to overwhelm Madara, but nothing about his predicament was simple. Nothing regarding his mission was straightforward.

He could only hope the older man didn't hate him after this.

The war veteran lost track of time. What felt like seconds could be minutes or maybe, hours. Eyes closed and head lowered, Kakashi resigned himself to rejection. Perhaps, a fit of anger or a tirade of hatred, but ultimately, abandonment. However, silence washed over the platform. The half-Hatake didn't open his eyes. It was cowardly and if Obito were here, his old teammate would taunt him. On the other hand, Kakashi didn't want to see the anger or disgust or hatred in the Clan Head's eyes. He didn't want to witness the inevitable scowl carving on the older man's face, akin to the expression in his nightmares.

"Liar," a voice snarled.

His heart constricted. Why did it hurt so much if Madara turned his back on him?

You aren't alone, dattebane! A ragged huff escaped his lips. Without a word, Kakashi opened his eyes. His gaze immediately landed on a particular curtain of unruly black. His chest tightened at the sight of the Clan Head's trembling. He opened his mouth, but overwhelming guilt clogged his throat. "You did this," a voice hissed. He eyed the scroll discarded on the pillar. "This is all your fault," it sneered. Kakashi struggled to breath, but the tremendous weight crushing Madara's shoulders was so irrefutably familiar, it ripped the oxygen from his lungs.

"Running away again, Bakashi?"

Kakashi gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand. His ribs positively throbbed, but he ignored it. He approached the older Uchiha. "I-I don't expect you to trust me," he rasped. Or forgiveness, not after this. It made his heart ache, but he disregarded it. "B-but—" The war veteran maneuvered around Madara and dropped to his knees. He picked up the scroll and closed it. "—you're not alone," he declared. Kakashi placed the scroll on the platform and grasped the older man's wrists. He tugged gently until he peered inside glossy obsidian eyes. "You're not him." The madman was left unsaid.

In retrospect, approaching the Clan Head in such a state was unmistakably precarious. If Madara lashed out, Kakashi didn't have enough strength to defend himself. Even if he did, the half-Hatake wouldn't stop the older Uchiha.