#like we would be so incompatible in almost every other way. i am alight with lust.
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thaliagrayce · 10 months ago
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upsetting realization on the dating apps today. apparently nothing attracts me more than women who look like sleazy fuckboys.
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kusunogatari-a · 8 years ago
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[ Relent ] [ @masterofwar ] [ Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Izuna, Fubuki, Suigin Ryū ] [ Blood mention ] [ Verse: At The Beginning ]
“You really should -”
“It's fine.”
Izuna gives a curt sigh, walking the path beside his brother. “If not now, then what's the point?”
“It's nothing she needs to bother with.”
“Onīsama, you're wounded. She's a healer. That's why you brought all of this about in the first place! You really think she won't notice?”
“It doesn't matter if she notices.”
The younger Uchiha stares at Madara with a furrowed brow, trying to puzzle out his stubbornness. “...you're avoiding her.”
No reply.
“Why? You've gotten what you wanted! Why not make use of it? Don't tell me you're regretting this, after all the effort you put in.”
“That's not it.”
“Then what?”
“I simply...do not wish to bother her with something so trivial.”
“Funny, usually you'll bother anyone about anything if it suits your mood, no matter how trivial,” Izuna counters. “If I didn't know better, I'd guess she makes you nervous.”
Dark eyes slide to their corners, giving Izuna a silent, warning glance.
“...why on earth...?”
“It is clear she resents me. I asserted power over her – no sane person would be happy with such a turn of events. I wouldn't.”
“You're also the first victim of your pride.”
“Izuna...”
“While it's clear Ry��-san has her share of self-held dignity, I don't think that interferes with her work. At the very least, she's a healer first and foremost – she would want to help you, regardless of anything else. As for your fears of resentment...maybe it's a matter of making it up to her.”
Before Madara can protest, Izuna lengthens his strides, carrying himself up through the squadron as they make their way through the valley spine.
“...brat,” the clan head mutters, hardly any weight to his tone.
Still settled in a temporary encampment, the Uchiha retreat back to the canvas of their tents, yards from the village proper. Though he has his own among them, Madara rarely uses it, spending his time examining as much of his new surroundings as possible...but avoiding the manor at the valley's tail. Despite the weight of their arrangement, he avoids her like the plague for reasons he'll never voice aloud...one of which Izuna has deduced. Surely she feels nothing but detestation for her conqueror, and he may as well ease her of his visage as much as he can help.
And though it was his intention (granted, it began as Izuna's suggestion), the agreement still leaves him...disquieted. He refuses to call it nerves – nothing makes him nervous. It's simply...not what he imagined having at such an age, or under such circumstances. So, for the time being, few would be able to guess the arrangement at all, given how little the pair see of one another.
Lost in his brooding thoughts, Madara eventually glances up as a streak of white blooms in the corner of his gaze. To his irritation, there's a clench of his chest at the assumption of white waves...but they're only feathers.
Alighting upon a branch, Fubuki gives a greeting clack of her beak. “Ryū-sama wishes to see you, Uchiha-sama.”
“What for?”
“An assessment of your wounds.”
Blinking, Madara looks askance from the summon to see his brother pointedly ignoring him.
“...you may tell her there's no need. I'm fine.”
“She was rather insistent, and...predicted your refusal. I was told to make her own intentions rather clear: if you do not come to her, she will come to you.”
“Must she meddle in every little thing?” the Uchiha growls, working at the straps of his gear.
“It is her occupation, Uchiha-sama – as such, she takes issues such as these quite seriously.” Shifting, Fubuki admits, “...she is...stubborn on the subject.”
“Fine,” he snaps, relinquishing his armor with a clatter. Venting his unease through temper, he adds, “Tell her I'll be there shortly.”
Withholding any reply, Fubuki gives a dip of her head before retreating.
Walking past his brother, Madara mutters, “You'll be answering for this in a spar later.”
“Whatever you say.”
Following the well-worn path, the clan head sets his jaw, stride full of purpose and drawing nervous gazes. Ignoring them, he soon finds himself at the manor door, taking a brief moment before entering.
“Almost done...”
Pausing, Madara's gaze is drawn to her voice, spotting her preoccupied by someone else: a boy of no more than six or seven. Clearly biting his lip against tears, he turns to give the man an anxious glance.
Sparing a hand, Ryū turns him back toward her by the cheek. “Pay him no mind.”
The gesture almost sparks his mood again, but he swallows it down, not wanting to interrupt. Instead, he leans against a corner, arms folded to watch.
In the dim belly of the manor, the white of her chakra is clear, seeping into a wound along the child's forearm. Minutes pass in silence, save for the boy's sniffling. And eventually, the gap in the skin disappears.
“There...now, do be more careful with those tools. They have their uses, but they're still sharp.” Ryū gives the boy a warm smile.
“Yes ma'am.”
“Go on, then.”
Skirting Madara nervously, the boy bolts through the door as Ryū straightens.
“...your turn.”
“There's nothing to fuss over.”
“I can smell the blood from here.” Her tone is soft, but not without a firmness that allows for no refusal. “We'll waste far less time if you set your pride aside for the moment and let me work.”
“We'd save more letting time tend it.”
“And risk unnecessary infection? That would take even more time.” Arms loosely cross beneath her bust, expression blank. “I'd rather save myself the work.”
Jaw tensing, it takes him a moment to respond. “...very well.”
“Bare the wounds.”
After a pause, Madara stands and removes his top, half-revealing a wound along his side. Several smaller breaks in the skin litter his chest.
Looking to the largest, Ryū carefully pulls at the waistband of his trousers, showing its trail down his hip. “...cause?”
“Mokuton.”
Silvers flicker to his face. “Hashirama...?”
“Hn.”
Replacing her gaze, she orders, “Sit. I need to clean it – there's debris in the muscle.”
Gingerly taking a seat, Madara favors his injured side, watching her work. Picking through herbs, she quickly filters them into water, boiling it with a spark of chakra. Every motion is done without hesitation, obviously made habit from years of practice.
Drawing the substance to the palm of her hand, she takes a knee at his side, guiding the formula into the tissue and drawing out traces of the Senju's technique.
Beyond a tensing of his jaw, Madara gives no reaction.
Once the water is soiled with blood and slivers, Ryū discards it into a nearby bucket before beginning to weave the wound closed.
“...you've been avoiding me.”
Though he gives no outward sign, the Uchiha mentally curses. “I've had no need of you.”
“And yet even when you did, you resisted. Which means it's not that simple.”
Another clench of his jaw. Damn her. “...I assumed...it would be easier this way.”
“There were other ways you could have gone about this. I'm assuming you chose this path out of some kind of civility. But if all avenues are not what you wanted...why bother? Why not choose one that would have led to less of...this?”
“I wished to avoid force.”
“I was still left mostly choiceless. Kinder in some ways, harsher in others.” Giving him a glance, she lets that settle for a moment. “...I'm not angry.”
Silence.
“...nor am I abhorrent. Uchiha-sama, I am not so caught up in myself that I cannot accept the circumstances. As of yet, I have no reason to dislike you. As...one-sided as this agreement may be, I still have yet to come to harm. Nor have my people. That, in the end, is all I truly care for amid the changes. So long as you keep your word, I am not ill at ease.” A pause. “...nor should you be.”
Still no reply.
Slightly, she softens. “...I want this to work. If I am to be at your side as you've willed it...then I will do my best to fill that role as expected. It may yet come to pass that we find ourselves...incompatible, to a point. But an agreement is still an agreement. Such things have been done solely out of duty before. But until I have absolute certainty...I will still give it an honest try.”
Dark brows raise ever so slightly. That was...unexpected. “...you have quite the open mind.”
“...I have my reasons to be.” When he offers no response, she goes on. “...little can be said to sully the name of a man who cries so openly as his brother dies in his arms.” Silvers lift again, managing to catch obsidian orbs. “I told you...I read people well. There was little left hidden in your heart that day. I still have hope that what I saw within it can yet find peace with what I hide within my own.”
With the wound stabilized, she brings a hand to his chest, making quick work of a mark amid aged scars, and then another, watching the skin rise and fall with his breath.
“...arrangements do not always have to be met with presumed disdain. I will not make the mistake of making my own assumptions regarding the man you are. I will let you prove your own impressions. That said...I will be watching.” One by one, she makes her way up the plane of his torso, until a palm cups a scrape along his jaw. Watching her work, Ryū eventually meets his eyes, her own flickering between them before she withdraws.
“...what I've done so far needs to stabilize. I'll wrap it to keep it clean. You will return this evening, and we will finish.”
Watching her retreat, Madara unabashedly continues as she returns, gesturing for him to stand. Reaching around and around his frame, she ignores his gaze until it's finished. “No bending, no twisting, no lifting. Not until I complete the structure, and the tissue is given time to adjust. If you tear the new muscle fibers, I will be...annoyed. We'll then have to start all over.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he replies lowly with a hint of flat humor, echoing the boy.
The corner of her lips twitch. “Then you're free to go for about...eight hours.”
“Understood.”
“And try not to avoid me this time...?”
Mood far flung from its beginnings, he manages a subtle smirk. We'll see how open-minded she is, then. A hand takes chin for a moment. “I think we've reached an...understanding.”
Expression momentarily shifted, Ryū manages a nod. “...good.”
He holds her just a little too long before releasing his hold, lingering for another moment before taking his leave, moving to take up his cloak.
“Leave it.”
A glance over his shoulder.
“It's bloodstained – I'll wash it.”
Something akin to surprise tinges his gaze for a moment. “...very well.”
Once back amidst the camp, Madara seeks his brother. “You're off the hook until morning.”
“Doctor's orders?”
“Hn.”
Tilting his head, Izuna dares to note, “...you seem...not quite so dour.”
“My mood has been tempered for the time being.”
Izuna's brow raises. “...oh really? I suppose it would be too much for me to ask for some admittance that my interference was for the better...?”
Madara gives his brother a cool look, lips ever so slightly upturned. “...I suppose I can relent.”
      ...oops I did more xD
      I am very quickly becoming too attached to this AU. I like the shift in dynamic compared to the threads we’ve had, so...I’ll indulge myself, haha~
     Izuna is best peacekeeper. Also best wingman x’’D
     The tension is TANGIBLE and I love it. Just...gahhhhhhhh.
     ...anyway, that’s all for now. But I’m sure there will be more soon :3c
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