#&&. ❛ THOUGHTS ❪ caught in a reverie . ❫ // madara

[seizasa]

V. tag dump 1/18

[seizasa-a]

N. tag dump 1 !!

[raendown]

This follower milestone gift fic is for @nobodysperfect2133 with the prompt word woolage.

Pairing: HashiramaMadara Word count: 1268 Rated: T+ Summary: In which only one man in the whole world has the sense to properly appreciate Madara's hair.

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The Man, The Myth, The Legendary Mane

Madara’s hair did not bother Hashirama. It bothered lots of other people though. 

It bothered his enemies for pretty obvious reasons, the inherent taunt of all that long tangled mass streaming behind him in battle like a vivid declaration. You can’t touch me. The amount of times he’d watched someone try to get a hold of it couldn’t be counted even if Hashirama used all of his fingers and toes but he never really worried. No one ever got close. Madara did always like to say he was dancing and Hashirama often thought that yes, that sounded right. He danced out of reach, danced across the thirsty earth, danced to the tune of battle drums with hair that streamed like ribbons. 

It bothered Izuna for more personal reasons. Mostly because he was far too old to still be crawling in to bed with his brother after a nightmare and certainly far too old to be complaining about waking up with a mouthful of hair the next morning. Also partly just because he was a little brother with all the bratty trappings that came with such a title. Anything Madara liked he was determined to find fault in for no reason other than teasing his most precious person. Their bond was just like that and though Hashirama could never understand it he supposed it was fine as long as they both came away smiling every time. 

It bothered Tobirama because literally everything about Madara bothered Tobirama despite the fact that they had finally managed to settle down in to some form of bickering friendship. As far as Hashirama could tell the only valid reason Tobirama had for disliking Madara’s hair was the way it always seemed to create its own breeze, shifting loose papers with every step and turn, and Tobirama despised the very notion of untidiness. If either one of them had ever so much as considered the option of just tying it up out of the way they’d never said anything. Anyone else watching them could be forgiven for not believing they were actually friends - and honestly Hashirama wondered sometimes. 

It bothered the council of advisors and the elders of the Uchiha clan and just about anyone else that Madara had taken to hiding away from behind the wild bush of his own hair. Creating his own little shadowed alcove was so convenient, he said once, the perfect place to hide his scorn for others’ words. Lectures about his hair were much preferable to even more lectures about how he should respect his elders and supposed betters. Hashirama didn’t really agree with the spirit of it all but he did have to give the man that one.

Sometimes it felt like Hashirama was really the only one in the world who liked Madara’s hair. It was messy and wild, forever tangled in such a way that one wouldn’t be surprised to find sticks or lost pencils hiding within, and when weighted down with water it actually fell longer than Hashirama’s own. Those weren’t really the true reasons he enjoyed it, just qualities, but he’d long been of the opinion that one had to take all of Madara’s qualities as a whole to really understand him rather than picking and choosing pieces to be loyal to. No, the reasons he enjoyed Madara’s hair had a lot less to do with the hair itself and much more to do with the man underneath. Hashirama was an honest person. He could admit those kinds of things. 

“You’re staring again.” Madara’s voice broke him out of his reverie and Hashirama offered one of his infamous smiles. 

“I’m not sorry.”

“S’there another twig or something? Get it out and get back to work.”

“No, no twigs.” 

Shuffling the papers on his desk, Hashirama dropped his eyes back to the work he’d been trying and failing to concentrate on for the past hour or so. He really should get this done. These all needed to be reviewed as soon as possible. Unfortunately his mind was far away from the latest proposal from his sanitation committee, much more interested in the sway of Madara’s hair as a soft summer breeze from the open window gently flirted with a loose bunch of strands. 

“I swear to god if you make one crack about a brush I will stab you with your own paperwork.” 

Hashirama coughed in an effort to clear his throat. “Ah, no, no I wasn’t going to- ahem.”

“The fuck do you keep staring at me for then?” Madara demanded. 

“Was I? Ah, ha ha, I didn’t mean to!”

“Don’t be daft.” His friend scowled, chin tucking down to glare out from behind his messy fringe. “It’s the hair, you’re always staring at the hair. Everyone else’s got something to say about it; you got something to add now too?”

In his defense, Hashirama really meant to say nothing. Or rather he meant to deflect with something meaningless just as he had a thousand times before. That was the flavor, the rhythm, that their friendship had fallen in to over the years. Hashirama watched and yearned until he was caught and then stepped back out of reach with half formed apologies, never asking for things he was sure weren’t on the table anyway. 

His mouth seemed to have other plans today. 

“Just wondering what it feels like,” he heard himself say. Madara visibly startled at the admission. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It just looks really soft.” Hashirama listened with a muted sort of horror as the words kept falling out, powerless to stop himself. “You’re always hiding in there so it must be nice; I was wondering what it would be like to do that myself.”

“To hide in my hair?” Madara demanded.

Hashirama gave a helpless shrug, finally managing to clench his jaw shut. 

The two of them stared at each other for a very long time. Watching the visible parts of Madara’s face cycle through so many different emotions in such a short amount of time would have been wonderfully amusing if not for the fact that Hashirama was terrified of which one would eventually win out. He might be hopelessly in love but he wasn’t blind to the fact that his friend had a temper - or that he wasn’t afraid to use it on anyone. It should probably bother him more but that, like the hair, was just another item on the long list of things that made Madara so Madara and Hashirama couldn’t possibly love him any other way. 

“You have no tact, Senju, you know that?” 

“Huh?”

Pulled from his thoughts, Hashirama was so busy trying to cover them up he almost didn’t see the flash of pink on the tips of pale ears. Madara slouched a little farther down in his seat, eyes firmly on the scroll open before him, and he grumbled, “Wanna shove your face in a man’s hair you should at least ask him out to dinner first.”

“Oh. Oh! Um. Do you...my place?”

“I’m not tidying up for the likes of you so don’t be expecting that.”

“That’s fine, Madara. That’s more than fine. You know I like you just how you are.” Wild messy hair and all, though he refrained from saying as much out loud. 

When Madara retreated just a little deeper behind his own tangles Hashirama bit his lip trying not to laugh for the sheer joy filling his heart. Well how about that, he thought. Maybe he should have shown his appreciation sooner for all the little details that bothered everyone else but him. 

[sennokami]

Parallelism - Ch.2

Summary: Madara is not an easy man to have - or keep. Hashirama fights that in his own way.

In which Madara nearly enters an arranged marriage of his own.

-

In another lifetime, where their lives lined up better and the timing was right, maybe he could have reciprocated the truth of Madara’s secret – to love him as he deserved to be loved. But they’d still been at war when he married Mito. That was how it always went: like their friendship had a leak that couldn’t be fixed and any goodness they had just spilled out. Their relationship was just a series of closing doors. Word count: 3,583 AN: This is available on ao3 in its entirety under the same title under the pseud selwyn. I also have a twitter, selwynsalt.

-

Hashirama didn’t see Madara again after that. He didn’t even get a letter from him again. He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved.

His lips had healed within the night but not before a few drops of blood got on the sleeve of his haori. Instead of washing it or changing, Hashirama continued to wear it. It was in a discreet spot, only visible if the sleeve was straightened out, so no one but he noticed it. And he did. The two little spots of blood always winked at him throughout the day, reminding him of what happened.

Madara wanted him. The abstract had finally become physical. The truth that’d lingered on the outskirts of his awareness had blazed to the forefront and like Madara himself, it refused to be ignored. He thought about it when he walked down the village streets, when he sat at his desk, when he ate, when he breathed. He couldn’t stop himself. Every time he did, he looked down at those two blood spots and wondered.

Had the violence been for him or was that just Madara’s way? He suspected both. Wasn’t that just so typical?

It wasn’t the first time that someone wanted him. But the intensity of this was new.

The knocking on his door interrupted his reverie. “Come in.”

Toka entered and Hashirama immediately perked up. She’d gone out with Tobirama in a mission to court the Hyuuga in the north. If she was here then his brother wasn’t far behind. She knelt. “Hokage-sama.”

“Toka. My brother?”

“Tobirama-sama is on his way back to Konoha. He asked me to go ahead with his message so you can begin preparations immediately. The diplomatic envoy was successful but the Hyuuga have new demands."

“Go on.”

“They want to meet the founders of Konohagakure in person. And they want to be on neutral ground.”

He frowned. That wasn't how he'd imagined it. Konoha was willing to host everyone interested in joining, to let them have a taste of what was possible. Even the skittish Shimura had finally relented once they experienced it. “Their safety is guaranteed."

“We told them that. But bloodline clans have always been jumpy."

Hashirama sighed. Of course. The infamous jealousy of the two doujutsu clans in Fire was the one joke everyone else could agree on. Not that it wasn’t unwarranted. If one knew the right buyer, a single Sharingan eye could easily go for five hundred thousand ryo. God only knew how much a Byakugan went for.

“Is that it then? They want me and Madara to meet them on neutral territory before they’re willing to discuss this further?”

“Essentially.”

Well… it would be a welcome break from the drudgery of the office – an opportunity to go out, stretch his legs, and do what he was actually good at.

With Madara.

God. With Madara.

There it was again - the appearance of dread where there should've been none. Just a few months earlier, Hashirama would've been giddy at the prospect of traveling with Madara to negotiate the involvement of another clan. Now, he couldn't help but feel a brief flare of nervous anticipation. After weeks of complete non-communication and whatever that day was, they’d need to act as one team. He could already hear Tobirama in his ear: get your act together, you’re both leaders and you need to act like it.

Easy for him to say.

“- kage-sama? Are you listening?”

He blinked. “Ah, what?”

“I was saying that this should happen pretty soon,” Toka said. She stood up, grunting. “They’re jittery. They’ve been moving south lately. I think it’s because of that new village that’s supposed to be forming in Cloud. They want the Hyuuga. A lot.”

He gestured for her to elaborate.

“It’s unconfirmed but some of them might have been picked up. For their eyes. We don’t know a lot but when we offered to help, they said they already had it handled and the eyes were safe again.”

It wasn’t a lot of information to go on. The Hyuuga were as tight-lipped as the Uchiha were. At least Madara could offer some additional insight since he and his clan were in the same boat. Maybe they’d even get along - that was a nice thought.

“Then we should begin immediately,” Hashirama said, his mind made up. His inner Tobirama was right. Their duties as leaders came before the heart. He and Madara would just have to adapt.

-

Madara didn’t answer his summons until it was late. He appeared just as Hashirama was on his last candle and considering going home. The only sign of his arrival was the whoosh of hot air and the heaviness that he always carried around with him. Hashirama cupped his candle to protect the flickering flame and looked up.

“You came.” He sounded surprised to his own ears. A part of him had been nervously expecting silence. It would be bad. But it would be Madara.

From the window, Madara unfolded like a bird of prey. His eyes swept over the entire office before settling on Hashirama. It was the strangest thing – a part of him acknowledged him but the rest of him was firmly locked away. It was like being on the other side of a battlefield with him again. Being seen, but not accepted.

Greasy queasiness coiled inside Hashirama. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know. But it felt like he should’ve known. Or that he should’ve handled it better. Or anything other than this.

“The Hyuuga are coming.” Madara slowly stepped closer. Hashirama made no moves. Madara stopped next to the corner of his desk. He looked ready to leave if anything happened. Hashirama could imagine what was going through his head. Probably the same thing he was thinking.

Do we talk about that?

“They are,” he confirmed. The Hyuuga were somewhat safe to talk about. And hey, when they were still fresh from the truce, Hashirama built his friendship with Madara back up using the village as their common goal. Maybe the Hyuuga could be that common goal this time.

“They want us to meet them.”

“They do.”

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Madara said. He slowly settled on the edge of the desk. It was subtle but it was his version of an olive branch. If he was still angry, he would’ve refused to come closer. “They’re not one of ours. We don’t know how they think. They could be planning something, maybe coordinating an attack with another clan.”

“Or maybe they are nervous about meeting us and want to feel more comfortable.”

“They should be nervous.”

“That’s not a good way to set up negotiations.”

“Do we even need the Hyuuga?” Madara questioned. He crossed his arms. “Their doujutsu is the weakest there is. Their clan is fractured. For the trouble we have to go to get them, it’s not worth it.”

“It’s not about worth,” Hashirama reminded him.

Madara’s face turned sour. Then smoothed out. “It’s not,” he begrudgingly agreed. “Alright, say we go to them. Say we agree to their ridiculous demands. What then?”

“We listen to what they have to say. Toka told me that they’re nervous about the clans in Lightning. If we offer them protection from them then they might be more pliant.”

“And who goes?”

The question caught Hashirama off-guard. It’d always been the two of them before. Why ask now? “...us?”

“Not Tobirama?”

He disliked the challenging glint in Madara’s eye. That always spelled trouble for someone. “Tobirama will be handling the village in our absence. Do you want to do that instead?”

“...no.” Madara slid off the desk with a thump. “I’ll come with you.” He headed for the door.

Hashirama had half a mind to call out to him. Ask him to stay. It felt like the right thing to do. They needed to resolve whatever thing they had before they met the Hyuuga, so it wouldn’t get in the way, so they could be a team again –

The look that Madara shot him as he stopped at the door made him freeze. It was a cutting look. A hungry look. It was a look that made Hashirama feel like prey.

With a flash of long black hair, Madara was gone. Hashirama stared after him as the door slammed shut, his thoughts scattered.

That wasn’t a fighting look, he was sure. But that hadn’t been a return to the days of easy friendship either. That… had been a challenge. A gauntlet thrown.

-

Traveling to the neutral location went in silence. With only the two of them, they made good time. That didn’t mean it was any easier to endure the pressing silence from Madara’s end. He was impossible to ignore too – leaves curled up from the heat of his passage and his footsteps left scorch marks on the wood. Hashirama registered every flash of heat with a shudder, like he was next to a fire that could easily catch him.

It was Madara who stopped first. Hashirama caught himself on a tree branch as soon as he did, turning his head in askance, and Madara jerked his head east. “People coming.”

Hashirama immediately got down. He kept his hands visible, his posture relaxed, and his chakra carefully pinched small, and after a moment’s hesitation, Madara followed suit. He was still a hot presence at his shoulder but he wasn’t nearly as searing now.

They didn’t have to wait long. Five white-clothed Hyuuga materialized from the forest, staring uncannily at the two of them, their faces blank and cautious. They were like the Uchiha in the sense that they all resembled each other, all of them dark-haired and white-eyed. Two Hyuuga stepped forward from the five-man squad, visibly older than the rest.

“Senju-sama, Uchiha-sama” one said, taking the lead. When he bowed, his scout followed suit. He was a tall man, maybe even taller than Hashirama, and his brown hair was swept back into a severe ponytail. As he watched, the bulging veins around his eyes relaxed and disappeared back under his skin. “I am Hyuuga Hotaru. Our scouts noticed you were coming and we were sent to escort you to our encampment.”

“Good to meet you, Hotaru-san.” Hashirama smiled. “Is Hitomi-san doing well?”

“Hyuuga-sama is well as can be expected. Will you follow us?”

“Lead the way.”

At Hotaru’s nod, the rest of the his squad went forth. Hashirama and Madara followed them at a more sedate pace, not speaking up when they were led in a few circles before they actually approached the encampment. Considering Madara’s sensory abilities – and the fact that they were in a forest – made this a fairly moot point, but Hashirama didn’t fault them for doing what they could. The Hyuuga were skittish. This was expected.

When they came upon the encampment, however, Hashirama frowned. It was… not what he expected. The Hyuuga were a big clan. An old clan. The Senju had even clashed with them in the long past. Their doujutsu bred strong and they usually had the numbers to keep their territory. What he saw here, however, wasn’t that clan. The encampment was still sizable, sure, but it was smaller than what the Uchiha and Senju encampments had been like in the early days of the village. There were more guards posted than was efficient and there were no children in sight.

This wasn’t a clan that’d traveled out of curiosity. These were people on the run.

Tobirama and Toka’s initial estimates looked to be depressingly accurate. Hotaru led them through the encampment quickly, towards a larger tent that’d been set up on the eastern edge. As they went, Madara suddenly pressed up close to him.

“Something’s off with the chakra in there,” he muttered into his ear, his voice so low that his words were barely there, and then he was gone, walking ahead in a dark flurry of hair and mantle, leaving Hashirama behind with warm, prickling ears. He shook himself a little, reminded himself to focus. This… thing… with Madara, that could be handled later. Right now, this took priority.

Hotaru came to a stop outside the tent. He glanced back at them briefly, bowing his head a little. “Please wait,” then he disappeared inside. Hashirama caught the low murmur of voices before Hotaru reappeared. “Please, come in. Hyuuga-sama is ready to see you.”

His curiosity about why Hitomi didn’t come out to greet them was quickly explained as soon as he entered. The smell of infection hit him like a wave, thick enough that his stomach turned briefly. He resisted the urge to press his sleeve against his nose.

Hyuuga Hitomi sat inside the tent, clothed in the white yukata of the sick and dying. She looked older than he remembered her, with thick lines of gray shot through her brown hair, and her eyes were obscured by a thick band of bandages. 

She briefly dipped her head when they entered. From her side, a young Hyuuga clansman who must have been attending to her carefully edged out of sight. Next to her was another Hyuuga, another woman but much younger than Hitomi. She wasn’t anyone Hashirama recognized but she must’ve been important to be here.

“Senju. Uchiha. It’s been a while since our clans had a chance to meet outside of a battlefield.”

“Hitomi-san. You’re ill.”

“Thieves will be thieves,” she simply said. Hashirama grimaced.

It’s unconfirmed but some of them might have been picked up. For their eyes. We don’t know a lot but when we offered to help, they said they already had it handled and the eyes were safe again.

So this was the secret that the Hyuuga had been so nervous about. Their clan head lost her eyes to bloodline thieves. Who else had also lost their eyes? How many? When? To who? There were so many questions, so little time. Hashirama raised his hands a little. “I can heal you.”

“No need,” Hitomi said. She sat up laboriously. “Even when I had my eyes, I had a sickness of the bones. This is just speeding up the process. No, right now, let’s simply talk. Drink with me.”

The Hyuuga boy who’d been tending to her rose up and went to the corner. He pulled out a low table and sake cups, carefully and quietly arranging them. Once he was done, he retreated back to Hitomi’s side.

They shared a solemn drink first. Only when the last drop in their cups was drained did Madara finally speak.

“The Hyuuga are in danger.” Madara’s face was carefully blank. The lack of emotion made his stern face all the more severe. “I don’t think you would’ve come to us at all if you weren’t. It can’t just be thieves anymore. You know how to deal with those.”

For Hashirama, this was the first time that he saw this side of him. Oh, sure, they shared a few turns on the same side of the negotiating table – impossible not to when Konoha was their shared project. But even then, Madara had never been like this. He was completely expressionless, his chakra reigned in so tightly that the air around him was cold, as still as a hunting cat waiting for the right time to pounce. Seeing him like this, Hashirama could understand why even the allies of the Uchiha tread lightly. It was like looking into a cold fire.

“Blunt as ever, you Uchiha.” Hitomi chuckled. It was a sickly sound. “I assume you know that this isn’t the only village being made.”

“Clearly.”

“The clans in the north are building up. They have someone up there calling himself the Raikage or Kumokage or something similar. He wants to consolidate all the clans in Lightning, build a fighting force like there is in Fire. He also thinks that, since the Uchiha are already taken, his new village should also have a pet bloodline.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Hashirama put his hand on his before he said anything rash. Immediately, Madara went very still.

“We’re not recruiting with force. Every clan who comes to Konohagakure, comes willingly. If the Hyuuga need a place to go, they’re welcome with us.”

“Your first messengers were abundantly clear.” Hitomi gestured and the boy immediately refilled the cups again. “I won’t lie – we need allies. But that’s the word, isn’t it? Allies.”

Distrust was everywhere. Hashirama knew this intimately well. But sometimes, all that was necessary to dispel it was one gesture of good faith. “Not just allies,” he said. “A village. Somewhere where we’re not divided by clan lines anymore, but by common goals, shared beliefs. A place where shinobi don’t have to fight each anymore.”

“A lovely idea,” Hitomi replied. “Good words. Pretty thoughts. But ideas and words and thoughts aren’t good barter. Can’t eat them, can’t use them, and easy to forget. What I want to know is – what is Konoha willing to do for us?”

“There’s food, land, and safety,” Madara said. “What more can you need?”

“A guarantee.” Hitomi tilted her head a little. “Something that tells us you are earnest and this isn’t a trap.”

“What do the Hyuuga want?” Hashirama said baldly.

Hitomi was silent for a few moments. Even though she had no eyes, Hashirama had the peculiar feeling of being seen, something that reminded him of Madara or Tobirama whenever they read his chakra like a book. Was she a sensor too?

“...our clan has always been more traditional than most,” she said. “We believe stability. In solidity. When we want something, it has to be tangible. I understand that you, Senju-san, are married to the Uzumaki. A good clan. Powerful. Old. Good match. But you, Uchiha-san, you’re not.”

Hashirama blinked.

“You want me to marry into your clan?” Disbelief edged into Madara’s tone.

“Not marry in, no. That’d be unreasonable when you’re the clan head. But perhaps a marriage for alliance, where the children can be divided up between our clans – that is something that makes us feel safe.”

There was a long, perilous silence. Hashirama glanced at Madara and suppressed a wince. That stare could’ve squeezed blood from stone.

“...this is new,” Madara finally said. His previous disbelief was wiped clean again, leaving his face as unreadable as the mountainside. “I’ll need time to consider this before I decide.”

“Understandable.”

“Do you already a match in mind?”

“My daughter.” For the first time since they came here, Hitomi acknowledged the other woman in the room. “Hisae. She’s not set to inherit, her older brother, Hiroshige, will. But she’s a good match.”

Madara looked at Hisae. In return, she lifted her bowed head and made eye contact with him. To her credit, she didn’t flinch.

She bore a resemblance to her mother – they shared the same steady eyes, small mouth, and pointed nose – a pretty woman. Or maybe girl. Nothing about her could be divined from her face and Hashirama couldn’t stop himself from examining her in closer detail. What was she thinking, sitting there, looking at the face of the man her mother proposed to become her husband? Was she afraid? Nervous? Or was she eager? Did she maybe like what she saw in Madara? He was a good-looking man, a powerful man. A good man. The kind of man that any kunoichi would be pleased to call her husband.

“As I said, I’ll need time.” Madara looked entirely too long at Hisae, his dark eyes unreadable, before he looked back at Hitomi. “And a conversation with Hisae-san. That is all I will say now.”

That wasn’t the answer that Hashirama expected. He’d hoped for a cordial denial but had been prepared for a blunt no but not… not a careful evasion. It wasn’t that he had no faith in Madara’s negotiating skills, or else he wouldn’t have brought him along, but this was just so unlike Madara that his entire skull was left buzzing in the aftermath of that brief, cool exchange, suddenly more awake and upright than he had been this entire time.

In all the years that Hashirama had known him, Madara had never expressed any kind of interest towards a woman. Not even as boys, back when that was something they talked about, had Madara breathed a word about a girl he liked. Or even what kind of girl he liked.

During wartime, there’d been no time to discuss it and, after the peace, Hashirama had privately assumed that marriage wasn’t something Madara would ever do. There were some men like that, men who didn’t get married for any reason. They didn’t like marriage. Or they didn’t like women.

Sometimes, when he was alone and a little into his cups, Hashirama wondered if it was the latter; whether Madara specifically had no taste for women – or for people as a whole, in that way. Before, when they were talking, he could’ve asked. Now, after everything, it felt too fraught to risk.

Now, he would’ve gambled everything he owned just for a glimpse inside Madara’s head. When he looked at her, what was he thinking? Did he see just another shinobi with whom he might have to tie his life to? Or did he see someone he could like, someone he could even want? Someone to invite into his home, his bed, his life… someone who’d be allowed to learn his language.

Someone who would have a claim to him.

I’ll need time to consider this before I decide. That wasn’t a no. An answer like that – it left enough space for a yes.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Fifty-One: Turtle ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Healing Waters and Scorching Flames ] [ AO3 Link ]

She’ll admit...it’s a little strange coming back here now. Hinata’s first visit to the capital of the Fire Nation had been during the Day of Black Sun - the solar eclipse that had been the allies’ hope to finally bring an end to the Hundred Year War. A day when, without the sun, the firebenders were to be completely powerless. But the plan went horribly awry thanks to leaked information...and the Avatar’s group was forced to flee and leave the rest of the invasion behind.

The only successes had been the freedom of Omashu, and the final straw in the change of heart within Sasuke.

Her second (and until now, final) visit to the city had been during the passing of Madara’s Comet. While Naruto faced the Fire Lord, Sasuke went to try and finally bring reason to his older brother. Though there had been the beginnings of a duel, Sasuke’s own revelation had been enough to overcome the last shreds of Itachi’s doubt...and they’d reached a peaceful resolution. With Naruto’s defeat of Fugaku, there had been an end to the war at last.

And from there? Years and years of diplomatic reparations, finding balance, and keeping every member of Team Avatar busy enough that visits between them have been few and far between.

Hinata herself has been using the time since the end of the war attempting to undo the damage done by the Fire Nation against the Southern Water tribes. The scattered remnants had been united, and the stolen waterbenders returned to the south. Reuniting them with family hadn’t been easy...and comforting both sides had taken its toll. Both prisoners and those who remained had to face losses: captives that had died during the war, and vice versa. Many no longer had homes to return to once it was all over.

The port where the prior prisoners were released turned into a makeshift refugee camp in their own territory. Shelters were built, resources stockpiled, and displaced tribesmen kept until new paths could be made. At first unintended, it turned into a hub that eventually grew into a city. Though many tribes, once steady, returned to their various homes...some, especially those without family or homes to return to, remained and helped the new city thrive.

Only now that things have begun to settle has Hinata found any time to leave the south. Given her connections with the Avatar, and the personal growth she obtained during her months fighting, it was she without question who was looked to - and is still looked to - for guidance in the south. But...she’s earned a much-deserved break, and has agreed to meet a few of the others in the Fire Nation to just...see one another.

Kiba decides to remain to handle the mantle in her place. The one nonbender of the group, he now leads the Southern Water tribe army. There’s no one else Hinata would entrust their progress to in her absence. He’ll be missed during their get-together, but he insists she deserves the break more than he. Hinata had been unable to argue otherwise, and so, rides on a ship to the island country alone.

Passing the gates that guard the bay, Hinata can’t help but look to them somberly. Much has changed these past few years...herself among them. And given how little she’s seen of her friends since the war’s end, she can only assume their metamorphoses will be just as apparent.

As the ship docks and she makes her way topside to disembark, Hinata can’t help a pause. Rather than a small escort to take her to the palace, the second prince is here himself to greet her.

Sasuke, flanked only by two guards, looks so...different.

Having been previously weighed by his father’s expectations, his own duality, and the struggles he faced, he now looks so much...lighter. Gone is the constant furrow to his brow, or the shadows in his eyes. True, some linger under them from exhaustion, but none of them are afforded much time to rest, even now. He just seems...more relaxed. Calm.

Happier.

In fact, he affords her a genuine - albeit tired - smile as she makes her way down to the dock. “Hinata,” he greets with a small bow. “It’s good to see you. Were the seas calm for your voyage…?”

Still a bit taken aback, Hinata blinks before smiling in turn. “They were. It was a pleasant trip. But I’m glad to be back on land for the time being.”

“And here I thought a waterbender could never tire of water.”

That earns a light laugh. “Water, no...bobbing and dipping in a ship, maybe. Has anyone else arrived yet…?”

“No, not yet. And Kiba isn’t with you, right?”

“No, he’s keeping an eye on things while I’m gone. Developments in the south are still very...ongoing.”

Sasuke nods, expression tingeing a bit gravely for a moment. “I understand...I’ve heard bits and pieces about what’s been going on down there. You’re doing amazing work.”

Her head ducks, humble at the praise. “It’s what needs to be done. And I’m happy to do it. Seeing my people come back from the hardships they suffered gives me hope. We’ve always been a tough people, but this has been our g-greatest test.”

For a moment, something passes over Sasuke’s face. But before she can question it, he gestures. “Well, for now, I suppose we’ll make our way up to the palace. You haven’t seen it since the repairs, have you?”

“No...this is my first trip back since the end of the war, and Itachi’s coronation.”

Surprise pulls at his features. “...has it really been that long?”

“It has,” she replies with a weary smile. “Time sure has flown, hasn’t it?”

“...yeah. Guess being so caught up will do that to you. One moment you’re just starting a new month...the next, you turn around and three have passed. There’s hardly been a dull moment since the war ended.”

A nod. “All I can hope is that it slows a bit soon. It would be nice to enjoy the labor we’ve been giving for so long. Just for a bit.”

“It would.” With her agreement, Sasuke leads Hinata toward the palace. “I can’t wait to see everyone...Naruto’s efforts in the Earth Kingdom were the last time I saw him, trying to sort out the Fire Nation occupants.”

“Was that ever resolved…?”

“Yes...and we’re working on plans to make it even better. But we can talk about that when he’s here to chime in. I think he’s got a better handle on it than I do, honestly. I’ve been more focused on aiding Itachi here as of late.”

Light small talk fills the air during their trek to the central building, and Hinata can’t help but wonder at the sheer size of it. It and the Earth Palace always make her feel so small. Nothing has ever compared to her little southern village.

“We can wait in the gardens for a while - I’ll have some tea brought out.”

Snapped from her reverie as Sasuke speaks, Hinata reflexively smiles. “That sounds great. I haven’t seen the gardens yet.”

“It’s honestly my favorite part of the entire palace. My mother and I spent a lot of time here before she...left.”

The pause earns a glance, but Hinata doesn’t press the subject.

They pass through only a few hallways before making their way into the gardens...and Hinata can’t help but stare. It’s...beautiful! Green, lush, and filled with ponds and fountains. After a lifetime in the snow and ice, plantlife and even grass still fill her with excitement. “They’re amazing…!”

“Let me show you the best part.” Approaching a pond, Sasuke takes a knee, seeming to...look for something.

Unsure what his intent is, Hinata does the same.

“...there!” Pointing, he gestures to a patch of reeds along the other end. From them...emerge several little creatures Hinata has never seen before.

Her eyes go wide. “They’re so cute…! What are they?”

“Turtleducks.”

“Turtle…?”

“Ducks. See, they have a shell, like the great lion turtles,” Sasuke explains. “Just...a lot smaller, and a lot fluffier.”

“I love them already…” Hinata murmurs, watching as they swim their way a bit closer, quacking softly. A few turtleducklings make their way to the bank, and she gently brushes a finger over one’s head.

Beside her, watching from the corner of his eye, Sasuke can’t help a hint of a smile.

“I wish we had these back home...but I think it’s likely far too cold.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But I guess that gives you a reason to visit, huh?”

Looking up, Hinata simply replies, “I already have a reason.”

Sasuke can’t help a blink of surprise, the bridge of his nose alighting a soft pink just as a courier steps into garden with a bow.

“Prince Sasuke, the Avatar and the earthbender will be here soon - word has been sent ahead with a...lemur of sorts.”

Moment broken, the pair glance up. “Thank you,” the Uchiha replies. “We’ll get ready to meet them.”

“Well, there goes the peace and quiet,” Hinata observes with a light laugh behind a hand.

“True...but it’ll be good to see them.”

“Mhm. But...maybe we’ll avoid showing them the turtleducks. I’m not sure the little things will appreciate the noise.”

Sasuke can’t help a humorous scoff. “...you have a point. We’ll visit them again later, when the others are busy.”

Just the two of us.

                                                            .oOo.

     Hi so this is technically yesterday's entry...I'm sorry it's late but I was gone LITERALLY all day and was pooped when I got home real late, so...this is me finally getting it done ;w; Sorry about the wait, loves~      But anyway! Back to the AtLA crossover...which I'm still not 100% satisfied with. Sasuke just makes so much more sense to fit Azula's role, but...I want him to be Zuko. And Itachi just does NOT fit her role AT ALL, so...hence me not being 100% sure what to do with the epic sibling battle. Whoops, lol - but that's not the focus! Turtleducks are by far (imo) the cutest AtLA fusion animal. Just...I love them. And now Hinata does too.      Anywho, I still need to do today's prompt - that'll be later! For now I've gotta run and get other stuff done, but thanks for reading!

[officerjennie]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara Characters: Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Izuna Additional Tags: Dragon God, Alternate Universe - Fantasy Series: Part 6 of Tobirama in Mythology Summary:

大綿津見神 - Ōwatatsumi no kami, the "great deity of the sea"

Click the link or continue below the line to read!

Ko-fi link in the blog header :)

The woods were deathly quiet. Not a sound greeted him as he walked, even the wind seeming to quiet in some form of reverie. Reverie of what, Madara did not know. He only knew the birds were silent, the rabbits hiding in their holes, the insects still as he pushed past the canopy of weeping willows that bordered the edge of the river.

As much as he hated to admit it, it looked as if this hunting trip would be fruitless. Usually he’d at least have brought down some small game by now. Squirrels would hardly feed a man, let alone his whole family, but they would have been far better than nothing.

It was the fear of returning empty handed that had driven him so far north, a full day’s walk further than he’d ever been before. The youngest of his brothers were being weened - a little later than was typical, perhaps, but the break in social customs wasn’t what worried him.

He crouched down at the river bank, cupping his hands in the cool water to scrub the sweat and grime from his face and neck. His water-skin was still mostly full, but he untied it from his waist anyway and filled it before fastening it back in place.

Two more mouths to feed, and he’d found nothing. Worse, Tajima’s illness seemed to be ready to take him, meaning only Madara could afford to go hunting. Izuna had been restless the past few weeks, having to stay and watch the little ones, which had made the few days Madara spent at home nearly unbearable. Honestly, the brat’s moaning and complaining made even the market seem like a haven.

If he’d had any experience with it, Madara would’ve considered taking some fish from the river. It seemed to be deep enough here for it, unlike the upriver shallows that flowed near the village. He’d never had much skill with spearing though, and the string he’d brought with him wouldn’t do for fishing wire.

It was when he was pushing himself up that something across the river caught his eye. Grooves in the soft earth on the other side of the river, unnatural markings that framed a large dip that led to the water. Or, more correctly, out of the water.

Crossing the river was unwise. Madara was a competent enough swimmer, but there was no telling what had fallen into the river over the years. One reaching branch snagging his clothes could spell the end for him, and without him only a miracle would see his family to winter.

He tried to logic himself out of it. Even as he slid on a jutting rock halfway across, cursing as he caught himself and felt his palm scrape from the impact even through his glove, he tried to tell himself it wasn’t worth checking out. But curiosity had always been his greatest weakness, and he soon found himself crouching down next to the disturbed earth, digging up a handful that looked suspiciously darker than the rest.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the grooves were claw marks. They had the right shape, similar to the torn bark on the oaks in grizzly territory. And whatever had colored the dirt here wasn’t just water.

Madara might not be an expert on river creatures, but he’d been hunting in these woods since he’d grown out of diapers. He stepped carefully around the markings, following them towards the treeline. The deeper groove in the middle had tapered off, though it was still at least as thick as his thigh at its smallest, and the claw marks had morphed as well. It looked more like steps, though the paw shape was none he recognized, and less like desperate scrambling to drag itself away from the water.

Whatever it was easily dwarfed him. He paused to study a bent tree, running a mental checklist of all he knew about grizzly bears as he bit the tip of one glove to take it off, running his hand over the stained bark. It was mostly dry, but his palm still came back tinted red. An injured bear then? It could explain the ruined brush nearby, the cracked wood caused by the stumbling weight crashing into it.

At least following the path of destruction was easy, if entirely inadvisable. Even an injured grizzly would make a fearsome opponent, one that would no doubt shake off his throwing knives as mosquito bites and maul him to a bloody pulp. What kept him moving onward then, other than the burning curiosity to see the great beast with his own eyes, was the dwindling jerky stores they kept as a last resort for when their food ran low.

Not that he could manage to do anything with a whole bear, which, to his understanding, could weigh several hundred pounds. But he could certainly lug enough home to make the extended trip worth it.

He’d only been following the trail for a few minutes when he heard it. Some deep rumbling sound that brought him to a stand-still, ears straining to understand what he’d just heard and heart picking up with the edges of fear. A monk had once stopped by their village, clothes worn from travel and a plethora of stories to tell those willing to listen. But of all the dozens of stories he’d listened to over the years, only one came to mind now. Of the monstrous felines deep in the mangrove swamps, striped in black and orange, their roars loud and terrifying enough to freeze a man in his tracks.

What he’d just heard had been far from a roar, but it was enough to know the potential of whatever lay waiting for him at the end of this trail.

But there was one other creature he’d heard of like that. One that could instill fear and awe in someone with little more than a sound, tales and legends alike whispered to the children of his family for generations, the history of their fealty to the sky gods passed down in their blood and bedtime stories.

They were long gone from this world, whether by man-made extinction or a loss of interest in mankind no one knew. Most in his village would call him a fool for ever believing in them, and even his own brothers were starting to show disinterest in their family’s history.

Madara had never much cared for other’s opinions of him, and he wouldn’t be starting now. Worst comes to worst, he’d find nothing but an angry and deadly bear with an extra large lung capacity and a thirst for man-flesh. Best case scenario, some food for his family.

And if he happened to stumble across a mythical creature his family had long ago sworn their allegiance and service to? No doubt he’d go to hell in a handbasket, but he’d deal with that improbable outcome when he came to it. For now, he had mouths to feed, and standing around in needless fear wouldn’t accomplish a thing.

It seemed Madara had forgotten to take his bad fortune into account when calculating that potential. A rather gnarled tree root sent him scrambling to regain his footing, and it wasn’t until after he’d scraped his knees catching himself on the ground that the snarling started.

His first thought was teeth. Fangs. Fangs the size of large daggers, in a maw that could easily bite a man in half. Fangs on prominent display from curled lip, both stained pink and red from what his sinking gut knew was blood.

His second thought was that of course it wasn’t a bear. A bear would’ve been too easy. Something twice his size was too much to ask for apparently, and there was no telling just how massive this creature was before him. Even coiled in on itself it dwarfed any mental image he’d ever constructed of the grizzlies in the far eastern territories.

Any other thoughts were cut short once he realized just what he was staring at. His forehead touched the earth with little consideration of pride, the breath stolen from his lungs and his arms shaking from both awe and fear.

They were real.

He couldn’t help but take another peek, the dragon mostly obscured by his hair but he didn’t dare move further from his bowed position. Its coloring was certainly off from the legends though he found he cared little in that regard. The absence of wings certainly made the title of sky god less believable. But what else could it be laying before him, warning growls still shaking through his body, fangs and claws large enough to rend him, scales glistening in the sunlight that peeked through the canopy, the blood seeping from its side-

The blood. His head snapped up as he finally focused on the source, what looked to be a broken off spear jammed straight into the dragon’s side. The scales around the wound had either fallen off or been ripped away, leaving an irritate and potentially infected mess behind. And now that his awed stupor had been broken, he noticed that wasn’t the only signs of injury. One horn had been cracked and broken off, leaving a jagged stump on the crown of its head, and even some of its teeth seemed to be missing.

Someone had attacked this dragon. What possibly could be the last dragon, since they’d been left to myths and child’s tales. He sat back on his knees, doing his best not to flinch away when it snarled further at him for the movement, meeting its red eyes as steady and calm as he could.

It wasn’t wise to be here. Staying any longer would be borderline suicidal, if that narrowed gaze was anything to go by. But leaving now, with it as injured as it was, would mean abandoning it to death or worse.

His family had vowed their loyalty to the dragons of lore. That might have been too many generations back to count, but that promise still ran in his veins, and Madara would be damned before he’d break it. Renewing that vow might mean little in the long run, but he would see it back to health no matter the personal cost.

[theroyalweisme]

Duties of a Prince - Chapter 9 - Leo x Liam x MC

A little AU of what would have happened at Leo’s fling before the social season to determine his bride kicks off.

Rating: For mature audiences… language and themes as the story continues.

A/N - Duties may or may not (depending on how quickly I can get more written) be on a slight hiatus... At the minimum, there will be a chapter up next Saturday.

(A RoE and TRR Crossover)

Summary:

Two brothers who couldn’t be more different if they tried. One out to be the life of the party. The other understanding both of they’re roles and determined to fulfill them all. But what happens when they fall for the same girl?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Tagging: @youwontlikewherewewillgo @captainkingliam @chrstbll @pens-girl-87 @mfackenthal @xxrainbowprincessxx @queencatherynerhys @syltti78 @boneandfur @ranishajay @decisso @blackcatkita @trianiasti @bobasheebaby @pbchoicesobsessed @madaraism

The world around her was too hot as she blinked her eyes open. The colours were wrong for her bedroom. Too many soft pastels and ornate gold accents everywhere. A strong arm draped around her waist causing a soft smile to play on her lips. Liam.

Slowly she moved to slide out of the bed, trying not to jostle the figure beside her, resting the arm on the bed where she was lying before. She snagged his starch white button down shirt off the floor and pulled her arms through the overly long sleeves, pausing as the sleeping man snuggled deeper into the plush bedding.

Sabrina smiled softly, chewing on her lower lip as she finished fastening the buttons on the shirt and headed out in search of coffee and food.

“Ahhh… the princess emerges from the confines of her capture.” Leo’s voice called from the kitchen table as he flipped a page of the newspaper in his hands.

“Is it really capture if I was enjoying it?” Her lips curled into a soft smile, memories of the previous night bringing heat to her cheeks.

“I don’t want to know, Beautiful…” Leo groaned, dropping the paper to cover his ears.

“I’m not the kind of girl to kiss and tell, Pretty Boy. Your virgin ears are safe.” She laughed, sliding a coffee mug under the machine and starting the brewing process. She pulled the full mug out from under the machine, breathing in the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Leo watched her over the newspaper as the blond brought the mug to her pretty soft pink lips. His throat cleared as he went back to focusing on page 6 of the paper. Trying to ignore the content sigh exiting the gorgeous woman’s lips as he read the same line in the same article for the ninth time. His traitorous eyes continued to glance up at the woman who seemed to have taken up real estate across the table from him. Her bare leg curled up into her chest, her coffee mug perched on the top of her knee. Those same traitorous eyes traveled across her bare skin and up her arms, draped by his younger brother’s shirt. Of course, she had to pick Liam. His mind seethed as his gaze paused on her long, lean neck, working as she took a long drink of her coffee. His mind filled with the thought of his lips against her delicate skin, sucking at the spot that her neck met her jaw, or that sensitive skin just below her ear, or the swell of her breasts peeking through the open neck of the dress shirt.

“Mind passing me World News?” Her voice cut through his salacious thoughts. Shifting surreptitiously, he cleared his throat passing the requested section to her.

The pair sat in comfortable silence, Sabrina focused deeply on the paper in front of her, Leo stealing small glances at the woman across from him. A heavy sigh accidentally escaped his lips as a pair of arms snaked their way around her.

“Good morning,” Liam’s voice, still husky from sleep, filled the dining room as he placed a soft kiss on the side of Sabrina’s neck, just below her ear. Damn him… Leo thought, trying to pull himself back to the article in front of him.

“Morning,” she smiled back at him, leaning in for a quick kiss. “How’d you sleep?”

“Best sleep in a long time,” he whispered against her lips. “Must have had something to do with the beautiful woman sleeping next to me.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she grinned, his arms tightening around her.

“Well!” Leo’s voice broke through the couple’s reverie, their eyes shifting to the other brother. “I don’t know about you love birds, but I’m starving.”

“Food would be good,” Sabrina grinned. “Pancakes maybe?”

A shared smile passed between the couple across from him, making him contain a heavy eye roll.

“Sound delicious,” Liam grinned into the side of her neck. “You smell good enough to eat… Maybe I’ll just have you for breakfast.”

Sabrina’s laughter felt like a punch to Leo’s gut as she playfully gave the younger man’s arm a swat. Having enough of their playful banter, Leo pushed his chair away from the table.

“Ok… Well… the restaurant downstairs is holding a table for me. I’ll catch you two later. Dinner tonight, Liam?” Liam’s eyebrows knit together in confusion at his brother. “It is our last night after all.”

“Of course, Leo,” Liam’s voice carried a hidden note of annoyance at his brother for tipping his hand with Sabrina. “I’ll make sure Drake and Bertrand are available.”

Leo nodded curtly at the duo before making his hasty exit, the door closing loudly behind him.

“You’re going home tomorrow?” Her face fell momentarily before she placed a winning smile on her lips. But Liam could see the smile no longer reached her eyes.

“Unfortunately, we have to,” he brushed the blond curls from her forehead. “Leo’s social season starts shortly and I have obligations that have been neglected.”

“I get it…” her smile faltered as his thumb traced her cheekbone. “Hey, it was fun while it lasted, right?”

Her shoulders shrugged softly, his heart aching at the sadness in her eyes.

“Well... you could always join us...” his suggestion was tentative at best. His deep blue eyes hopeful as he watched her ice blue ones for a reaction.

“As much as I’d love to, my Mickey Blue Eyes... I have a life here,” her palm rested gently on his stubble covered cheek. “A job I tolerate... friends... a pitty that needs me... a dad I barely talk to.”

He chuckled softly, nuzzling into her palm.

“I can’t imagine leaving you here, Sabrina,” his voice barely above a whisper as he planted a soft kiss on her palm. “Please, consider it?”

“I can’t, Liam... my life is here.” A tear escaped her eye, caught by his thumb before it fell from her chin. “I’m sorry...”

He cleared his throat roughly, pulling away from pretty blond made even prettier by wearing his shirt.

“I know...” he sighed. “We should get you back... you work tonight right?”

“Yup,” she smiled, pulling her fingers under her eyes to rid herself of any remaining tears. “And Killer will be looking for her morning walk. Gimme two minutes... I’ll just change quickly.”

Putting on a brave face she hopped off of the chair, planted a soft kiss on his full, ripe lips and disappeared into the bedroom.

Fuck... his mind wandered to the woman on the other side of the closed door. He had to fucking go there. He had to force my fucking hand.

What was he going to do? There was no way he could let this woman go now.

—

The lighter flicked on in front of the cigarette sitting between his lips. Cold blue eyes stared out from the hardened face at the nervous young man in front of him.

“You were supposed to protect her, Joshua,” the gravelly voice broke the silence of the room as the young man shifted uncomfortably. “And yet she appeared with an injury.”

“It’s not my fault, boss, honestly!” Josh pleaded, leaning towards the intimating figure behind the large oak desk. The man held his hand up to silence the weak attempt at an apology.

“My daughter has a strong will, I’m aware.” His eyes grew even colder as he watched his employee closely. “I chose you for your relationship with her. You were her friend, Joshua. She trusted you once. I need to know I can trust you with her.”

“You can, boss! You know you can,” Josh’s head nodded emphatically at his statement. “She’s working tonight... it’s Saturday... I’ll make sure the creeps are kept in place. No one will touch her.”

“See that that’s the case,” the man nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette as the young man stood from his chair to go. He was most of the way out of the room before the last point was driven home. “I’m being generous here, Joshua. Do not disappoint me again.”

Josh’s throat worked harshly, suddenly bone dry as he swallowed. He nodded slightly before dipping back out the door.

The man behind the desk sighed deeply, pushing the cigarette out in the ashtray in front of him before picking up the phone and dialing a number he had numerous times over the last year.

“Coilin,” the voice on the other end answered quickly. “I wasn’t expecting this call. Did things not go well with Liam?”

“No, Constantine, the meeting with your son was fine,” Coilin pushed back in his chair, turning to look out of the window at the harbour. “However, we seem to have an issue beginning on our hands. Your son and my daughter have become quite close.”

Laughter filled the line causing a scowl to form on Coilin’s mouth.

“Leo has always had a way with women, Coilin,” Constantine chuckled, brushing off the other man’s concern. “He’ll do what’s expected of him when he comes home.”

“I’d have less issues if the culprit were Leo, Constantine,” Coilin’s voice bit through the line. “It’s your younger boy. Liam. This is not working within my plans for her.”

“Coilin, you worry too much. The boys are coming home tomorrow,” Constantine’s reassurance did little to reassure the Irishman. “Liam will be out of her life soon enough.”

“I hope you’re right, my friend,” he sighed deeply, turning back to the ledger on his desk. “Now, shall we discuss this export tax legislation you’re trying to work around?”

“Of course, as you know the Italians are struggling with the proposed changes,” Coilin’s lips turned up in a smile as he lit a new cigarette.

“They won’t be a problem for long,” he promised as he took a long drag.

[kusunogatari-a]

[ Spy ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū ] [ Blood mention ] [ Verse: White Hands of Healing ]

Though she’s been a little concerned since hearing a stranger’s voice in her house, Ryū has - for the most part - let the worry slip from her mind. The worry being that whoever Tobi’s partner is might pop up looking for him again when he’s not around, and...well, give her another fright.

But so far, she’s not noticed anything. No voices, no strange faces...just the usual emptiness in her little house in Konoha. But though she laments being alone, she’s still not eager to have it broken by anyone but Tobi.

Little does she know, she’s not always as alone as she thinks.

He doesn’t understand. Everything was going perfectly until Obito went to find the traitor. Though Zetsu doesn’t know exactly what happened that night...something about the Uchiha changed. Then there was the scouting mission in Cha no Kuni. He never did find the rogue before he was captured by Konoha shinobi. And then, more and more often, Obito had started simply...going off the radar. It took a few of these little escapades, but eventually Zetsu managed to track him down.

Konoha, of all places? What, was he feeling sentimental? A dangerous possibility. But no...it was something even more base than that.

A woman.

Very...unexpected. Zetsu had assumed, given Obito’s lingering melancholy from that Rin girl’s death, that he had been numbed enough that such a possibility was impossible. Sure, humans have their urges. But as far as the mokuton creature knows, they can be handled alone. And surely if Obito had so seamlessly handled being alone for sixteen years now, nothing could tempt him to seek out company now after so long?

...but apparently he was wrong.

The first ‘encounter’ had told him little. Just that Obito had been fornicating with a human woman. But given his defensiveness, there was something about the situation he didn’t want Zetsu to see. Fine. Humans can be so prudish. But at the same time, he got the feeling Obito was being more than embarrassed, but perhaps...protective?

...a pattern had been established. He wasn’t just relieving urges, was he? No...the thing Madara has worked to eliminate in Obito - ties to others - had apparently not worked completely. Apparently, the Uchiha has gone and found himself attached to this one.

Obito assured him it wouldn’t halt his work, and in truth they’re still making progress. So far, she’s not enough of a distraction to truly worry over, especially since killing a Konoha villager within the village itself would draw unwanted attention.

But that doesn’t stop Zetsu from wondering why Obito would risk so much for something so...base!

So...when not assigned to scout out one thing or another...the mokuton being takes to following her. To learn what’s so special about this human that might undo over a decade of hard work.

Humans are so...fallible.

For the most part, her existence seems rather inconsequential. She’s a medic, as the Rin girl had been. Is that why? A similarity? But no, surely there’s more to it than that. Hi no Kuni is full of medics, thanks to the Senju woman’s efforts. None of them have caught Obito’s attention.

She works in the hospital, and though such a busy place is risky to navigate, Zetsu does so anyway...carefully. From what he can tell, she does her job well. A healing human must have the demeanor for the job, and she seems to have it in spades. Always smiling, careful in her speech, tender in her manner. Judging by other humans’ reactions, she’s rather easy to like, flocking to her kindness.

...is that why?

At home she’s...rather boring. Studying, tending medicinal plants (he can admit, that gains her a bit of favor), making food as humans need...but she rarely leaves the place beyond her work. Rarer still has any visitors.

Strange. Humans are supposed to be social creatures, and yet…

Perhaps that’s why. Two lonely, admittedly pathetic humans running into each other. Compatible temperaments...and her nature is surely comforting to a hurt soul like Obito’s.

Zetsu stares at her from the ceiling of her kitchen, squinting. Could it be they love each other? Such a strange thing humans do, forming attachments. Especially given how easy it is for many of them to die. Obito already knows well the pain of losing someone. And from what Zetsu can tell, she’s hardly strong enough to survive.

Is he really stupid enough to do the same thing twice? Become so dependent on someone so soft, so easy to kill?

...is that why he was so defensive before? Does he know how foolish he’s being? Is so, why continue? Why allow himself to garner such a weakness?

...but for now, Zetsu can’t interfere. Killing her would rid Obito of his little distraction...but might also cast his partner into doubt. And they can’t afford to have him suspecting the being guiding him along the path to the end game.

So, she’ll live. Until he can figure out a way to make it look...random.

But so intent is Zetsu in his thoughts, it takes him a moment too long to notice the avian’s gaze snapping to his as the bird enters the room, giving an alarm screech.

Ryū jumps before looking up, eyes going wide before giving a cry of her own.

...damn it.

As though summoned, it’s then Obito decides to make an appearance, teleporting in and only shocking her all the further. Clearly confused at her and the owl’s joint ruckus, dark eyes find Zetsu, the Uchiha bristling in what is clearly contempt.

Cover more than blown, the spy simply sinks back out of sight, taking his leave. No point in it, now.

Shaken, Ryū leans against a countertop with heaving breath, heart hammering as Obito tries to calm her (and fights off a battle-ready Fubuki).

“I’m not - ow! - I’m not going to hurt her, you feather duster!”

“Fubuki, s-stop.” Holding out an arm, Ryū winces as the summon latches on harsher than intended in her distress, talons breaking through cloth and skin alike. “It’s just Tobi. He’s...he’s a friend.”

Still riled from the appearance of both strangers, she flaps wings in agitation before eventually settling, feathers still standing on end.

“Why don’t...why don’t you head outside, and...make sure that thing is gone, ne?” Opening a kitchen window, Ryū urges her companion out with a sigh. Drawing the pane shut, she finally glances to Obito, form still shaking. “Uh...h-hi.”

There’s worry in his eyes, seeing her residual panic. “...maybe you should sit down.”

“I’m fine, I -”

Obito insists, taking her other arm (gods, is she bleeding?) before leading her into the next room where a couch catches them. Hovering beside her, he asks, “Do you need a bandage…?”

“Huh? Oh…” Just now noticing Fubuki’s punctures, she strips off her sleeve and stares at the wounds for a moment, as though not quite comprehending. “...no, I can just…” A hand hovers over the breaks in the skin, working to close them.

Brow still furrowed, Obito watches. “...I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t -”

“I should have realized he’d...check up on you.”

That draws her gaze. “Is...is that the one that…?” In spite of herself, her cheeks flush pink.

“...yeah.”

“Was he just...watching me?!”

There’s a flinch. “...it won’t happen again.”

“How long -?!”

“I don’t know. But I’m sorry. I’ll make sure he won’t do it again. Ryū, I…” He trails off, not sure what else to say. Part of him is angry - furious! - but for now the subject of his temper isn’t here, so...there’s little need to show it. He’ll deal with Zetsu later. He half-reaches for her arm. “...are you all right?”

“I...yeah. It’s not that bad. See? Not even bleeding anymore.” She holds up the limb, hesitating as Obito stares, brushing fingers near the marks. “...I’m fine.”

It’s the first time he’s seen her bleed.

The sight of her blood begets a kind of chill. A reminder that she’s not untouchable. Even if this wasn’t garnered by an enemy, she can still…

Noticing how lost in thought he seems, Ryū stays quiet for a long moment. “...really, Tobi. I’m fine. It’s just a few scratches. She does that all the time, really…”

Concern still apparent in his eyes, Obito half-leans against her, jostling her slightly.

She manages a shaking smile, still a bit unsettled. “...well, I...wasn’t expecting today to be so...rowdy. But...I’m glad to see you.”

Tearing his eyes from her arm, Obito glances instead to her face. “...you sure you’re okay?”

“I told you, they’re just -”

“I mean besides the arm.”

“Oh...well…” She wilts a bit, looking almost guilty. “I...just wasn’t, ah...prepared for that, is all. I just...need a minute.” In truth there’s still a bit of a flutter in her chest, and she tries not to imagine how long that thing - person? - has been watching her.

Seeing she’s still distressed, Obito makes a decision. Shifting, he turns and tugs her closer, earning a confused glance before she acquiesces. The pair of them shuffle until they’re both prone atop the cushions: Obito on his back with Ryū nestled atop him. Arms pin her in place. “...better?”

In spite of herself, Ryū goes pink, shyly tucking under his chin. “...better.”

Huffing slightly, he gives her a squeeze, still irritated by Zetsu’s surveillance. Apparently his concern over Obito’s little habit is more serious than he’d wanted to believe. Hopefully he’ll have the means to convince the spy to leave her alone.

Absentmindedly as he thinks, a hand strokes along her spine, and it’s not long before he feels her relax atop him, muscles going slack from their worried tension. Still, the peaked urge to protect her lingers, and he can’t help but scowl out at nothing as he keeps his hold.

Watching her was one thing...but Obito can’t help but wonder if Zetsu would do anything desperate if he thinks she’s in any way a threat to their plan. The thought stokes coals of anger in his chest. No matter what else he has to do to reach his end goal, the one thing he won’t allow is any harm coming to her.

He never wants to see her bleed again.

“...do you need to get going…?”

Reverie broken, he glances down to see her watching him, apparently having caught his heavy expression. “...soon. But not right this moment.”

Ryū softens slightly. “...okay.” There’s a pause, and then she adds, “...because I’m very comfortable…”

That earns a light chuckle, some of his foul mood abating. “Good.” Eyes close, allowing himself to doze. Perhaps for now, he’ll just...rest his eyes for a while. Besides, he wants to make sure she’s all right.

So he’ll stay just a little longer.

     WELP, I’ve procrastinated this one long enough! It’s a wee bit short, but...hopefully still enjoyable? Maybe whatever’s next will be longer :3c      Zetsu be CREEPIN’.

[vamprefaggot]

technically its called The World bc i’m revising an assignment but i’m calling it Watching The Stars Fall

eeeee i’m proud of myself

warnings: uhhh guns? someone gets kidnapped? idk its gay and i love it

Aatami had been planning the little outing for weeks, managing to convince the colony leader to lend them one of the light skimmers used to travel between cities. They chose a spot, a few decas outside of the large city they and Madara lived in, a lone hill covered in the pastel red grass that covered the Beta planet.

The picnic basket was filled with Madara’s favourite foods, all of which Aatami knew from their three years together. Imported fruits and chocolates, some of which were horrendously expensive, as well as a few home-grown plants that had been bred from the original seeds the settlers had brought, were all paid for out of Aatami’s pocket.

Good thing being a sentry was a high paying job. There wasn’t really anything to guard against, not that far out into the void, but the colony still wanted protection and not many would apply for the position. It required too many hours, that could be better spent in the many recreational centres spread around the globe. Aatami liked it, however, seeing as it required immense physical fitness and working out was a good way to come up with ideas for the architecture project they had in mind.

---

Aatami giggled as they lead their grinning(and blindfolded) lover out of the small craft.

“Don’t trip yourself, you spatula,” Aatami teased, pulling Madara in for a quick kiss and untying her blindfold. “We’re here.”

Madara gazed around the wide space with wide eyes. A grin tugged at her lips, and she eventually refocused on her grinning companion.

“This is absolutely lovely, Tami,” Madara’s warm caramel eyes sparkled in the filtered sunlight, and Aatami wanted to melt.

“I thought we could have a little picnic up here, seeing as it’s your day off and I need to protect you.”

“Protect me, my ass.” Madara wrinkled her nose. “Just because the colony leader is my father…”

“Well, you never know. And you never know if the picnic basket I brought is deadly, or just delicious.”

Madara groaned, but there was a twinkle in her eye that gave her away.

“You sap.”

Aatami grinned before hauling the basket out of the small ship and grabbing their lover’s hand.

“Come on, we don’t have all day.”

“Technically, we do,” Madara protested, blowing a strand of her fluffy black hair out of her face.

“Shush, you.”

Madara allowed herself to be lead up the hill and under the vibrantly coloured tree, laughing and settling herself on the blanket Aatami spread for the two of them. She reacted with delight at the feast of delicacies in the basket, and Aatami couldn’t stop smiling.

The sun was past its zenith when Aatami finally pulled in a breath and rolled onto their stomach.

“Madara, I have a question for you.”

Madara responded with a noncommittal noise from under her arms, which were crossed over her face.

“It’s important.”

Madara lifted one arm to peer at the serious face beside her, and upon seeing that Aatami did indeed look serious, lifted her arms off her face and boosted herself up on her elbows.

“Yeah?”

“Will you marry me?”

Madara pretended to ponder for a second, before grinning broadly.

“Of course, my love.” Aatami’s face split open with a smile, and they pulled a small blue box out of the bottom of the picnic basket. They snapped it open to reveal two thin silver bands, and Madara gasped. “They’re gorgeous, oh my goodness.”

“Just like you,” Aatami said with a wink, and Madara looked like she was considering taking back her agreement before starting to giggle.

“You’re so cheesy, it’s…”

Madara bit her lips to hide her smile.

“Grate.”

Aatami groaned loudly, flopping over onto their back and flinging an arm over their eyes.

“That was so bad, Madara.”

“I know,” Madara said, and settled back down into her former position, but keeping her hand up for Aatami to slide the ring on. They grinned when at the silver band, sparkling next to their  sweethearts dark skin.

“It looks wonderful.”

“Thank you, love.” Madara smiled and placed her arm back over her face with a happy sigh and Aatami settled down next to her

“You’re-”

They were interrupted by the distant scream of a broken crystal engine, and Aatami sat up abruptly to stare into the darkening sky for the source. The ship, a silver and blue Baudouin ship, was trailing smoke and plummeting towards the ground rapidly.

Madara had joined Aatami in peering up into the sky, worry causing her brow to furrow. The ship’s outer appearance flickered, briefly turning into a black and jagged war-ship.

Aatami scrambled to their feet when it became apparent that the ship was heading towards the couple.

“Madara, we should run now.” Aatami’s voice was urgent, but Madara seemed to be frozen where she stood. “Madara, Madara please-” Aatami started tugging at her sleeve, but Madara couldn’t seem to look away from the rapidly falling ship.

It flickered once more, for longer, and Aatami paled at the sight of the ominous and deadly looking machinery. A massive photon cannon was balanced on the top, and smaller blasters were fastened along the bottom. Fire danced along the harsh edges, making it seem all the more nightmarish, and the deep red light lit up Madara’s face.

Madara was finally shaken from her reverie when it crashed into the massive field in front of them, skidding to a halt close to the bottom of the hill and smashing the small cruiser they brought.

The doors on the hull of the now un-flickered ship slid open and a Baudouin sentry stumbled out, the long tail characteristic of the species twitching around his ankles. Smoke poured from the door and drifted off his leather-esque armour,  dark grey and poisonous looking.

Madara screamed, and the tall beast looked directly at them before dragging the massive gun in his hand up to face them. He shouted something back into the ship, and turned back to Madara and Aatami before pulling the trigger.

Time slowed for Aatami as a large grappling hook, trailing a heavy metal cord, closed the distance between the sentry and Madara. Aatami watched in horror as the metal smashed through Madaras arm and caught, dragging her fiance forward and down.

Screams filled the air, and bullets rained down towards Aatami as the dropped to their knees. Burning pain filled their arm as one of the bullets found its mark, but they didn’t even notice as the sentry shouted something in Galra and ran back into the ship. Madaras screams cut off abruptly when the door shut, and tears started to stream down Aatami’s face, just before full sobs shook them.

Twilight fell, and it was late into the night when the leader of the colony found them, still alone on top of the hill, tears dried on their face and blood clotted around the bullet wound on their arm. The colony leader didn’t say anything, simply lead the poor sentry to the ship and, eventually, into the infirmary.

Aatami could only stare at the silver band on their finger, dully reflecting their tear-streaked face. It was supposed to be a symbol of love, not loss, and yet there they were.

Madara was probably dead, but the sentry didn’t kill her immediately, so there was a possibility she was still alive. And Aatami would take any possibility if it meant that Madara was still alive, even if it was the slimmest possible bit of hope.

Aatami looked up from the ring and stared dead into the eyes of the colony leader, who was sat across from them.

“I’m going to get her back.”

[gigiree]

Finders Keepers, Losers...would really like their umbrella back

Day 2 Day 3 and 4 please note that these are all a continuous story!:) for Day 5/6 kleptomaniac and library! Another one that combines two prompts :0

The only one he has to blame is himself. He had a choice. Community service, after that grand rallying of forces from so many different countries and villages, meant he could have performed his civic duty anywhere the alliance had slipped its grabby little hands into.

But Naruto was here and so was Sakura, and his countersuit was still underway. He could have asked Hiromi Hyuuga to handle proceedings without him, but Sasuke has always been a stubborn brute. He likes keeping his business close, likes being able to oversee things with those sharp eyes of his.

He had been the one to choose working at Konoha library as his community service. He had been the one who’d written his prideful, pretty name on that sign up sheet.

And now he could kill his past self from sheer boredom.

He’s spent that last three weeks buried under tomes. Mountains and mountains of books ranging from interesting topics like experimental genjutsu to dumb things like the history of the daikon radish.

It’s all blurred in his mind. Open book, stamp date, check in. Oh, a visitor. welcome them, tell them to shut up but in a polite way, and check out their books while giving them false well wishes.

(He won’t admit it, but the decrepit old woman who oversees him from behind shining spectacles gives him the shivers.)

He tries to renew his mind by learning a bit more, reading a historical novel that paints the relationship between Hashirama and Madara as a bit more than friends turned enemies…cough…lovers…cough.

He hadn’t known it would be like this, but he’s already ten chapters in, and he can’t stop reading. He’s already on the breakaway chapter, the one where Madara abandons the village and betrays the first Hokage.

He’s in the grips of the emotions, the last bits of a bond fraying into an eons long fight. Despite the romantic undertones, the writing is so evocative, that it leaves him intrigued.

He’s interrupted from his reverie by a soft cough.

“Umm…that’s a great book…although I think it’s lacking in accuracy.”

Her voice startles him more than her comment. He’d been picturing her, in the two or three moments he did think about her, sweating away under some house built into a tree, teaching kids with clammy hands and running noses about the chakra system.

He’d pictured her, her hair up in a loose bun, in her jounin vest, hands dancing with her excited explanations.

Look, it’s not like he had spent a lot of time at all thinking about her. It’s just that the sharingan makes sure that all his thoughts are realistic and accurate…it’s not like he’s consciously memorized the slope of her neck and the curve of her smile, or that odd little freckle on her temple.

Regardless, her smile is here and her neck is rising out of a cream colored sweater that looks too big for her. Her hair is in a loose braid, not a bun, and her smile is strained, not soft at all.

He’s not sure if it’s his surprise or his latent embarrassment at being caught reading a historical romance that makes him speak.

“It’s terrible.”

Her smile softens then.

“But the emotions are written well, it’s almost believable, right? I mean, if we hadn’t seen them both ourselves…I could have almost believed it.”

He pauses, and feels a pang of fear when he notices the old librarian staring at him skeptically from her desk across the hall. He closes the book with a businesslike mien, and plasters the most awkward smile Hinata has ever seen.

“Good evening Hyuuga-san, how may I help you?”

She coughs once. Coughs again before bringing up her hands to hide her face. He can hear her quiet snickers, and he feels his wounded pride prick in his chest for revenge.

“If you’re looking for the erotic novels, they’re towards the back, call numbers starting with XXX.” He says plainly and a little too loudly.

The old librarian shoots him a dirty look, but Hinata’s coughing fit makes it all worthwhile. —

Turns out, she hadn’t been looking for the erotic novels. She’d wanted heavily guarded scrolls that detailed the anatomy of the Hyuuga seal.

He pulls out a heavy ring of ancient keys, some of them very ornate and inlaid with gemstones. The rest are rusty and jangle with a hollow ring.

He lays them down on his desk, still replaying the horrified look on her face when he’d accused her of looking up erotica. His satisfaction carries him through the boring transaction. It keeps his questions from resurfacing. He doesn’t care.

He shouldn’t care.

It’s just…

“Do you have your permission form? From the Hokage or the Hyuuga clan head, whoever that is-” He seems to realize that their positions have been flipped. He remembers a few details about her family…she’s the eldest of the former clan head. “Never mind. You can just give yourself permission, right?”

He wants to say more, but the question seems to bring a look of bitter sadness, and her eyes turn flinty. She hastily pulls out a slip emblazoned with the Hyuuga flame and the characters that spell out the name of the clan head.

‘Hanabi Hyuuga’

She looks askance, her fingers fiddling with the hem of sweater.

He doesn’t remark on it, even if his expectations have been dashed. He’s not disappointed in her. He barely knows her enough to make any sorts of judgement, but she’s taking it all so quietly, he feels a sense of irritation for her that takes him by surprise again.

Perhaps it’s because she had been given a chance of birth and she hadn’t taken it? Perhaps it’s because she seems like she’s just bounding through life, uncontrolled and without direction?

Regardless, he feels a sense of vindication in giving her detailed instructions. As if he’s scolding an errant child.

“You can’t take these documents outside of the holding room. Any notes you make are yours to keep, but the originals have to return to storage as soon as you’re done.”

She seems startled by his specific and slightly condescending instructions. She’d expected from him the same sorts of pity and questions she had received from everyone else. It’s a relief and also a puzzling response.

“You’re talking a lot more.” She observes quietly.

He merely shrugs, tilting his head towards the book stacks to show her where to follow and probably to disprove her statement. Somehow, this makes her feel like smiling again. She follows him down five rows of book stacks to the an old wooden door set in the back.

It’s non-descript, save for the keyhole circled by an array of precious stones and a set of kanji. Sasuke efficiently finds the key he’s looking for, rubs his thumb over its handle to input some chakra, and then shoves itinto its slot with practiced ease.

She sees the characters flare blue and then hears the long winded metallic clicking as the door unlocks itself and swings inwards.

The room inside is also very unimpressive, given the elegant security system. At its center is a long, low table ringed by plush red chairs. The walls are hung with glass cases housing precious scrolls of all kinds.

Sasuke doesn’t wait, merely walks over to the nearest case and uses another key to open it up. His hands are are skilled, careful as he picks up a frayed scroll and unfurls it on the table in front of her.

“Hyuuga Seal Scroll. Read it. Return it. That’s it.” He says quietly and then leaves her by herself to go back to his post at the welcome desk.

She stops him with a request.

“Speaking of returning things, my umbrella?”

He pauses for a bit, looks over his shoulder at her and smirks.

“It’s mine now.” —

She doesn’t stay for very long. Half an hour at most, and then she’s pressed the call button under the table to get his attention.

He sees the notification seal flare blue on his desk, and without a word, heads over to help her lock up the scroll again.

She looks a little dissatisfied when she leaves, and he’s not surprised to see her come back a few days later.

“I didn’t get all the information I needed.” She says dispassionately, and hands him her freshly signed permission form.

He nods and repeats the whole process again.

This time she stays for an hour or so, and when she leaves, she looks a little more energized. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are shining under the dark lighting of the room.

He wants to ask why exactly she’s so happy, but she merely thanks him and hugs her notes closer to her chest.

She doesn’t come back that week, but when Sasuke takes his cursory inventory of the room, his Sharingan catches an inaccuracy in the Hyuuga scrolls’ case.

The Caged Bird Sealed Scroll is there, furled up and protected. But the edges of it seem too perfect. They are frayed, and had he been anyone else, he may not have noticed.

He pulls out it carefully to examine it, and inside lies a blank scroll save for a silly smiley face with its tongue sticking out and a cheerful message-

“This is mine…just for now. I promise I’ll return it, but I need to study it at home for reasons. Please don’t tell anyone…or else I’ll tell Naruto that you read romance novels about Madara and Hashirama…also, if you want more historically accurate romances, I would look at the story of the second Daimyo and his secret lover. It’s a sweet story and has lots of political intrigue.”

-H.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3793 Summary: Searching for a brother kidnapped by slavers, Madara certainly never expected to accidentally summon what appears to be a water spirit. And he certainly never expected the spirit to help him.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

To The Sea, To The Sea

Summoning a water entity hadn’t exactly been Madara’s intention. In fact, it hadn’t been at all his intention. What he’d really wanted was to test a locator spell to see if it would work over water. The men who had taken his brother were last seen leaving this port and if he could only see which way they had set off he would have a better guess where to follow.

Getting soaked by the arrival of a sudden water spirit – or what he assumed to be a sprit – was not on the list of things he had expected that particular spell to accomplish. Madara couldn’t seem to move from where he was kneeling on the edge of the quay, stunned into immobilization by the figure floating in the water before him. If he was reading the being’s expression properly, the one he had accidentally summoned was just as surprised to be here as Madara was to see him. At least, that was what he assumed from the wide eyes, slightly cocked head, and full lips just barely parted in disbelief.

He looked like a man, if men’s hands and feet were meant to be covered in silvery scales. His flesh was so pale it was nearly translucent and the white of his hair was reminiscent of crashing sea foam, pale blue where it met his scalp. His eyes were a brilliant coral red to match the three sharp lines which decorated his face. He wore nothing but what appeared to be strips of blue and red plant life of some sort, woven together in to what resembled a kilt. Madara absently noted that, were he human, he would have been the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth.

“What need have you of the sea?” the creature asked him finally. The pleasant baritone of his voice was nearly enough to distract from the way he seemed to float with no effort on his part to do so. Neither his arms nor his legs moved to tread water yet he stayed perfectly in place, not even bobbing with the waves.

“I didn’t mean to call you, oh spirit.” Madara fumbled about for the right words to say. “I was only looking for a way to find my brother.”

“Has he been taken by the water?”

“By men who crossed the water. Slavers.”

The creature pulled back his lips and hissed, revealing a mouthful of sharp fangs. Madara was fairly sure they were supposed to be frightening, not attractive, and he wondered what was wrong with him that he was more inclined towards the second.

“I shall find you your brother,” the spirit declared. “The sea does not take kindly to those who trail misery in their wake. They are as cruel to my children as they are to yours.”

“You’re going to help me?” Baffled he might be by such a kind act, Madara was hardly the type to refuse such a boon. Any help was good help at this point. He recovered quickly enough to declare his intention to procure a boat and hurried down the quay to do just that.

His spirit followed along besides him in the water, insisting that it would be much faster if they didn’t bother with such clumsy human contraptions. Madara pointed out with a touch of annoyance that he was human himself and therefore needed it. He couldn’t exactly float effortlessly like the other could. The spirit didn’t seem entirely convinced but he also did nothing to impede Madara as he snuck off with the first craft he found that might survive the ocean waters and could also be piloted by one man.

Four days they travelled across the open ocean together, days during which Madara ate fish that the spirit brought to him and drank water that rightfully should not have existed. The first night he had gone to bed after worrying aloud that the single barrel of water on this craft would not last very long. When he awoke the next morning, and every morning after that, the barrel had replenished itself as though by magic. He very carefully neither mentioned this odd happenstance nor wasted even a single drop, not wanting to risk offending the other and having this phenomenon taken away.

Madara had more than just magic water to hold his attention, however. During those four days at sea he learned many things about the water spirit which guided him. He learned that the being’s name was Tobirama and that he was ostensibly as old as the sea itself. The creatures of the sea spoke with him and the waters of the oceans answered his bidding. With but the wave of one hand he created waves to propel Madara’s schooner at speeds that shouldn’t have been possible without a much heavier wind.

No matter how many times he asked, Tobirama refused to say why he was helping Madara to find his brother. It became more and more clear that the summoning had been accidental on both their parts, that Madara’s spell didn’t have the power to call him here and Tobirama had not meant to appear where he did. They were not bound together in any manner yet still the spirit led him onwards. It made little sense but now was not the time to force answers and so he let the matter drop.

On the fourth night Tobirama quieted the waves as they crept up behind a large ship that Madara recognized as the one which had taken his brother captive, the one he’d been following for two weeks now. He stood on the bow of his schooner and glared up at the black sails above him, vowing that if his brother did not still live, every pirate on board that ship would lose their lives as well.

“Do we go to war?” Tobirama asked him in a solemn voice. Madara blinked, startled out of his blood-thirsty reverie.

“What would a water spirit know of war?” he asked. In answer he received a grin full of sharp teeth.

Getting on board the ship was easy. A swell of water rose at a twitch of Tobirama’s finger and deposited them on the deck, out of sight of whatever watch had been set up. For a being of water Tobirama was incredibly graceful as he walked, the whole of his body rolling like the seas that made his home. Strangely, he did not drip.

They crept through the quiet darkness of the ship’s underbelly until at last they came to the lowest floor where each footstep sloshed through several inches of waste and brine. Bodies filled the room, each of them chained to the wall and to each other, and several heads turned at the sound of their approach, flinching as though expecting some sort of blow or attack. Madara passed them by and continued to examine faces in search of his brother. Oddly, though they had never met before, if was Tobirama who spotted him first.

“Izuna of the line Uchiha,” Tobirama’s musical voice rang throughout the underdeck. “We have come for you.”

“Who the fuck–”

“Brother!” The moment he heard his brother’s voice Madara hurried forward to greet the younger man. Izuna gaped at him, standing next to such an otherworldly looking creature without even blinking an eye, both of them seeming to appear as though from nowhere in the middle of the night.

“How did you get here?” Izuna demanded. Madara shook his head.

“Explanations later. We have to get you out of here.”

He reached down to pick the lock on the manacle around his brother’s ankle, stopping when he was down on one knee as a voice spoke up from across the room.

“And what about the rest of us, eh?”

“Yeah, you can’t just leave us here!”

Madara looked around helplessly. There was only so much room on his schooner; he could hardly fit them all on there. He wanted to, of course. Leaving any of them to the hands of slavers was terrible. But he had come for his brother and he wasn’t about to let any of these people stop him from freeing his sibling, even if it meant he had to abandon every last one of them to their fate.

Before any fights could start, however, the decision was taken out of his hands. A hand landed on his shoulder and Madara looked up to see Tobirama grinning down at him with too many teeth again, each of them sharply pointed. In his peripheral vision he could see the way others in the room drew back from the intimidating figure as best they could but Madara found himself full of a strange desire to get closer to that grin.

“Remain here. None above deserve to continue travelling my seas. All will be freed.”

Without waiting for an answer, Tobirama turned and walked away. His footsteps did not slosh the way Madara’s had and a quick glance downward revealed that it was because he was somehow walking along the surface of the water rather than through it. Swallowing thickly, Madara turned back to the manacles on his brother’s leg and hoped no one else had noticed.

Four minutes later when the screams began, it was hard to hope no one noticed those.

Tobirama’s weapon of choice wasn’t hard to guess, even without the sound of crashing waves or the water dripping down through the planks above their heads. Thick streams sloshed down the stairway to the lowers levels. When the only lamp in the room swayed over in that direction they could plainly see the stains of red which clouded the water and those who could stumbled away from it.

Under the slightly panicked eyes of his now freed brother, Madara stood up and tossed the pin he’d used to a woman crouched nearby. She caught it with a feverish grin and set to work on her own chains as Izuna kicked out of his.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on now?” The young man demanded. “What is that…thing? He isn’t human, that’s for sure!”  Madara scowled.

“He’s a water spirit, to my knowledge, and it was only thanks to his help that I was able to find you so quit complaining.”

“What did he ask for in return? Spirits always ask for something in return.”

Madara shifted uncomfortably. Tobirama had not, in fact, asked for anything. He had noticed of course and thought it was odd but at the time he’d been more focused on finding his brother. Any ill that befell him on his journey was more than worth it if he knew Izuna was somewhere safe once more. He had no idea what the spirit would want or why he hadn’t asked for something yet but that would have to be dealt with when it came.

For now he only shook his head and pulled another small pin out from his jacket to pass around so more of the others could work on their shackles. In the far corner a mother was holding her son, weeping on his shoulder, and Madara was glad that he hadn’t had to leave any of these people behind. He would have done it in an instant, he could freely admit that, but he was certain he would have heard their cries in his nightmares for years afterward.

By the time Tobirama returned nearly half the almost-slaves had managed to free themselves and Izuna had filled his big brother in on what their journey had been like. Madara was in the middle of promising him a large meal of whatever food he wished when the frightened gasps drew his attention to the stairway.

Somewhere along the line Tobirama appeared to have picked up a torch of his own, carrying it with delicate fingers far away from his body. The light of it illuminated his otherworldly features for all to see, the sharp teeth, the too-white flesh and dual-toned hair, the silvery scales that covered his hands and feet. As the initial shock of him passed, Madara also noticed some of the others eyeing the kilt of seaweed that only barely covered certain interesting bits, leaving perfectly sculpted thighs on display.

He said nothing as he paced across the water swirling around their ankles to come to a stop at Madara’s side, looking utterly pleased with himself. Although it wasn’t really necessary at this point, Izuna evidently felt compelled to ask, “Are they all, er, dead?”

“None survived, Izuna of the line Uchiha.”

“Please stop saying my name like that…”

“The sea belongs to those who would treat her kindly.”

Raising his eyebrows up so high they threatened to merge with his hairline, Izuna turned to give his brother a look that questioned his sanity. Madara bristled. Alright, so Tobirama was a bit weird. He was a spirit, one could hardly expect him to behave by human standards. Not to mention, he had helped hadn’t he? Without him Madara may never have been able to find his brother and he very well may have been sold in to slavery.

“Your help has been invaluable,” Madara told the water spirit pointedly, giving his little brother a look of his own. Being rude at this point would help neither of them. Tobirama’s expression turned smug, as though he knew something that Madara did not, but made no reply.

As it turned out, several of the people taken captive had been sailors on other ships that this one had taken over, just enough to crew the vessel to the closest friendly port. The younger ones stayed below until the adults could clear the deck and hallways of all the dead bodies lying about, some drowned, some crushed, some impaled upon whatever sharp objects they had been crashed in to. Tobirama did not assist with the cleanup and not a single person had the courage to ask him to. He stood on the bow and looked out over the ink black waters, face turned unerringly towards the north as he described in a strangely convoluted way to an adolescent girl how to navigate only by the stars.

With his stolen schooner having drifted off, Madara had no choice but to stay with the rest of them for the next few days at sea. He could not explain, however, why Tobirama chose to stay with them as well. As far as he could tell the spirit did not sleep and he spent his days watching over the endless waves, never venturing below unless Madara asked him to come look at something. No mention was ever made of leaving and Madara refrained from bringing up the topic.

Oddly – or perhaps not so oddly – he dreaded the time when they would part ways. It wasn’t every day that a man received the help of the Other Folk, after all, although in the privacy of his own thoughts he was honest enough to admit that he had other reasons for not wanting Tobirama to go. Each moment they spent together was filled with a magnetic kind of pull. He found everything about the spirit fascinating, from his looks to the way his mind worked, from the sound of his voice to the incredible tales he had to tell. Madara found himself wishing the other were human more often than was likely proper – and for reasons that were definitely improper.

Five days after being reunited with his brother their designated lookout spotted land. Madara stared out at the smudge slowly appearing on the horizon and felt something heavy settled in his chest. It seemed their time together had too soon come to an end.

“You are not happy to see land approach,” Tobirama noted, appearing soundlessly at his side. Madara shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m grateful for all that you’ve done for me,” he murmured. “I’m just…a little disappointed that I could not spend more time in your company.”

“Have you a reason you cannot spend more time in my company?” Honestly, the mischievous tone of his voice really should have sent up some red flags. Madara’s only excuse was that he was too distracted to notice.

“You’re a spirit of the sea. Land isn’t where you belong.”

“Are you saying I am less adaptable than a human? Humans could not live among the sea until you built such creations as the one upon which you stand.”

Madara brightened momentarily at the thought of Tobirama coming ashore, then the brightness faded as quickly as it had come. “But you couldn’t stay.”

“Do you wish for me to stay at your side, Madara?”

The simple use of his name, so informal compared to the way the spirit addressed any other person, sent shivers down his spine. It was that which gave him the courage to look up at the being next to him and give an honest answer.

“Yes.”

“And if it is not possible for me to stay at your side upon the land would you be agreeable to living among the sea to be at mine?”

“I…” Madara swallowed thickly. “Yes. I’d sail the sea from end to end if you would promise to visit sometimes.” He blinked in surprise when Tobirama laughed softly.

“You misunderstand me. I do not ask you to sail the sea but to live among her as I do.”

Madara frowned. “You do know that humans can’t breathe underwater, right? That’s why we built boats in the first place.”

When Tobirama took a step closer to him, so close he could feel a surprising amount of heat coming off the other’s body, his breath caught in his throat and his heart began to pound. Madara didn’t dare to move as a silvery hand came up to caress his cheek, surprising him with the softness of the scales that decorated those thin fingers.

“Has it not come to you yet?” Tobirama asked him in a quiet voice. “Would a simple incantation such as the one you attempted have summoned a being of the Other Folk? It would not. I was curious to know who was using such powers within my waters and came to investigate – and when I saw you I knew that I could not allow you from my sight so soon.”

“What are you?” Madara whispered.

“I am the sea.”

Gaping, trying hard to wrap his mind around that, Madara blurted, “Like a god?”

“I believe that is the human term for my status, yes. You would perhaps call me the god of the sea.”

“Oh holy crap…holy crap…I…wow.”

“I am the sea, Madara, and if I wish you to have the ability to breathe within the waters as I do then the power is mine to grant you that. So I ask again: will you stay at my side? There are many things that are mine to give; long life, riches beyond your wildest imagining, powers of which you have only dreamed. All of them I would give to you.”

Finally drawing one good, deep breath, Madara asked the only question that mattered to him. “Would I still be able to visit my brother?” In return he was graced with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“Your love of family speaks well of you and I would not dream of asking you to sacrifice that which you have worked so diligently to protect. Of course you shall see you brother again, as often as you wish.”

“So…you helped me and the only thing you ask in return is for me to live in the sea for the rest of eternity?” Giddy with feelings he could barely describe, Madara grinned wildly even as he leaned forward and crossed that tiny distance between them, pressing his body against Tobirama’s. “Maybe Izuna was right about you; you are after my soul.”

“Is that a yes?” Tobirama asked him, raising one eyebrow. The smirk forming on his lips said he already knew the answer.

“Oh yes,” Madara breathed, tilting his head up.

The god before him wasted no time bending down to capture his mouth in a kiss. Probably not a lot of people could say that they had kissed a god and Madara wondered instantly if it was because none of them had survived the experience. His heart was surely about to beat out of his chest, his lungs collapse from lack of breathing, his brain implode from the inability to process the incredible sensations rippling through him. His entire body tingled from head to toe and there was the strangest sensation of heat crawling down his throat.

When they pulled apart Madara was panting and only Tobirama’s arms around his waist kept him on his feet, knees weak and legs shaking. He opened his mouth to say something and then stopped when the other shook his head sharply.

“Let the magic settle first.” At Madara’s panicked expression he only chuckled. “You wanted to be able to breathe under the waters and now you shall do so.” It took a few minutes for the heat in his throat to fade and he hummed a few times experimentally before speaking again.

“I don’t feel any different.”

“Nor do I and yet I have been changed by our meeting in many ways. From the moment I saw you I was changed.”

“Are you always going to be this sappy?” Madara grumbled, not displeased in the slightest but embarrassed by such open affection.

Tobirama hummed, not answering either way, and pulled him up for another kiss that rattled his knees once more.

Later he would have to find a way to tell Izuna of his decision. He would need to find his brother a way home as well and of course he had every intention of accompanying him on that journey. If he had eternity at Tobirama’s side to look forward to then the god of the sea could be patiently for a couple more weeks. After that he would need to find a way to say goodbye to the very few friends he had made back home. He wasn’t close enough to any of them to make him regret his decision but they did deserved a farewell, he supposed.

All of that, however, could wait at least until they made port. Which wouldn’t be hours yet, thereby leaving them with plenty of time to bask in the beginning of the rest of their lives. Madara grinned as he took hold of Tobirama’s arms and gently began to pull him back towards the cabins. A little privacy never hurt anyone and after spending the last week watching Tobirama prance about in nothing but a tiny kilt he was more than eager to see where else kissing might lead them.

Probably somewhere wonderful.