一
"You've come a long way, Uchiha Madara."
He inclines his head. "Nekobaa-sama."
"Sit." She gestures at the table, and he sinks to the floor. "What is it that you want?"
His fingers twitch minutely. Such insolence. He is the clan leader. She should be removed from the picture. No. She is a potential ally.
He resists the temptation to shake his head and carefully weighs the words on his tongue instead. "I come with news of Konoha."
The old lady cocks her head to the side. She is not the first to base her appearance on a cat's, nor is she likely to be the last. A tabby comes closer, stretching to sniff his knee. For a moment, it's still, then its hackles rise and it scurries away. Nekobaa narrows her eyes.
"The village is growing," Madara says. A breeze brushes his skin and brings a faint smell of meat with it.
"But?"
"The Senjus. They rule the place and they will crush us." Perhaps not Hashirama, but his brother will. He killed Izuna in cold blood and he will kill them all when the opportunity arises; don't you see how he looks at you?
He feels red bleed into his eyes, and this time, he shakes his head.
"Do you have any proof for that?"
Proof? I know it to be true! If she could only feel what he feels and see his thoughts and the way they all look at the Uchiha …
"Hashirama is the hokage. He rules over the peace we have. The rest of the clan hate us, and his brother…"
He killed Izuna. Kill him. Have your revenge. His existence is the very core of unfairness; that Hashirama is allowed to have a brother while he, Madara, isn't, that Hashirama got to build his dream while Madara's died with Izuna … The Senju clan got the better end of the deal, yet they pretend at equality.
Their peace is a lie. They deserve to die, every last one of them. If this is the path to peace… Let Hashirama play with his village; Madara will have his own dream. Somehow, he will—
"What of your clan? Do they agree?"
Her gaze is piercing, but he holds it. "Some should."
"I see. You came here first. You're afraid they wouldn't share your views."
"They're scared of the Senjus."
"And you of being left alone with your belief."
He clenches his fists. "Hashirama's idea of peace won't endure. He is a fool to think alliances could preserve it. If Konoha can't keep the upper hand, it will fall." Whether the Uchihas will still be alive to witness its destruction is another question.
They'll all get slaughtered. Control, control, you need control.
Nekobaa keeps observing him through slightly narrowed eyes, head tilted to one side. "I'm afraid I can't help you in the way you desire."
He grits his teeth. How unhelpful. She's in the way. Everyone always standing in the way… His hand twitches, reaching for a kunai—
"Madara."
He places his hand back onto his lap.
"If you had the support of your clan, what would you do?"
"Leave Konoha with them."
"You know it would fall apart without the Uchihas. Your alliance with the Senjus is holding it together."
"It was a failed experiment from the start. There can be no peace as long as men desire war." As long as love can turn to hatred and hatred to violence, peace will not endure.
"You imagined it would be different," Nekobaa says, and something constricts in his chest. She's right. Konoha was always meant to be his way of protecting Izuna, except there is no Izuna to protect anymore. The only thing left is the promise to protect their clan...
He tries to swallow the knot that forms in his throat. She does not need to know. Nobody needs to know of the pain, of the nightmares. You're all alone...
"I see." She pauses. "It doesn't bring you happiness.
He lets his gaze fall to his hands. No, his life is not one filled with happiness. Only pain. Only destruction and death. The war has ended, and he still can't quite grasp the sins of the past are to be forgiven. The Senju killed Izuna. How is Madara supposed to let that go? True, Uchihas killed Senjus, too—but your last brother. The last one. They took everything away.
A small white cat appears at Nekobaa's side. She leans down to it, whispering. The words are too soft for Madara to hear, and he can't see her lips well enough to read them. A moment later, the cat makes its way to him, jumps onto his lap and sniffs around his neck. He moves to pull away, but the cat is back at Nekobaa's side as quickly as it came. They look at each other, the woman and the cat. Some kind of silent communication takes place between them, and Madara frowns.
"I assume you will ask your clan to leave with you regardless of whether people of Sora-ku support you or not."
He doesn't say anything; nevertheless, Nekobaa nods. "Before you leave, I would ask for a favour as well."
She doesn't want to help. Why should you assist her? "Ask," is what he says.
"I have a ritual to perform. A protective one, and I need a few extra hands. It would hardly take more than an hour."
His frown deepens. Doesn't she have assistants to hold things for her?
She looks him in the eye. "You are strong, Uchiha Madara. Your chakra would shorten the ritual considerably."
He agrees with a sigh and an inclination of his head.
火火火
She leads him into a room further back and lets him sit on the floor while she draws symbols on the wall and chants in a language even Madara doesn't know. She starts drawing symbols around him until he becomes the centre of a spiral. Strange... The candles come next, lighting up the room. The smell of incense hangs in the air.
"What do I—"
"Feel your chakra. Let me touch it."
No. Get away! You must run! He ignores the voice in the back of his head and nods. Perhaps if he stays, she'll be more inclined to aid him in the future…
Her chanting grows louder, and his senses prickle, a warning flaring up in his mind. Perhaps he really should bolt. Now. He tries to pull his chakra back, but something tugs at him—at his chakra, his body, his mind—and does it again, and then he screams because there is white-hot pain in every corner of his awareness and—
火火火
He wakes to a dull ache behind his eyes and groans. A cat meow reaches his ears.
Has something gone wrong during the ritual?
He makes to sit up, but his body feels all wrong, as if the proportions have been tempered with and his joints taken apart and reset in strange directions. Frowning, he looks down—and sees tiny black paws. What should be a noise of surprise comes out as a high-pitched mew, and he screws his eyes shut.
This can't be real. A genjutsu perhaps? He tries to put his hands together to dispel it, tries to activate his sharingan, and fails.
Impossible. How strong is the jutsu? Was it Nekobaa? What for?
He waits for his mind to use that small voice he's grown so familiar with and give him a clue as to what he really thinks, but it doesn't come. Everything in him is silent, only his breaths fill his ears.
The old lady must have done something. She is an elder; if anyone could trap him in a genjutsu…
No. That's impossible. Nobody is a match for his sharingan... Unless the ritual has somehow weakened him?
The inability to use the sharingan still bothers him, and he can't find a purpose of an illusion such as this. The street he's in is narrow but clean. He sees strangers walk past the street's entrance. There is nothing to cause him anguish, physical or emotional, and nothing to inspire positive emotions in him so as to convince him to stay trapped in here. The only thing out of place is the form of his body.
A cat.
Nekobaa must have done something, though perhaps ... this is not a genjustu? A forced transformation then?
He tries to revert it, but to no avail. His chakra feels sluggish and out of reach. Out of control...
It's not a transformation. He is a cat.
He sucks the air in too fast; in, out, in.
How? What has that witch done? Forget cooperation; he'll find her and then he'll have her blood on his hands and lead the Uchiha away from Konoha and someplace safe from the Senjus on his own.
He pushes down on the anger that would have him running before he could think (how he wants to, wants to push a blade between her ribs and force her to undo this curse while she screams for mercy). Instead, he takes a few seconds to get this body under control. Everything is too big and slightly blurry. With every breath, the smells grow stronger; the place reeks of cooking, and piss, and pheromones. He scrunches his nose.
(Her blood will drip out droplet by droplet, and then spurt like a spring, and she'll bleed like Izuna did.)
However much he wishes to bury his claws in her flesh, it's not a viable option yet. There are probably other ways—no, surely there must be other ways—for him to get out of this predicament on his own, but finding Nekobaa should be the fastest. He'll force her into helping him. This body may not be his own, but he is far from helpless. The claws seem sharp…
At first, his movement is unsteady, but the emptiness of the street spares him the humiliation of having to stagger. By the time he reaches a busier street, he has his limbs under control. He pokes his nose out. Which way…?
Something big appears in the corner of his field of vision—it's wider, he shouldn't be able to see that—and when he scatters out of the way, he realizes it was a human. They've never seemed so tall before…
He shakes his head. Nonsense. Of course they seem bigger now; he is a damned cat!
Focus. He needs to focus.
He hurries down the street, finding his way amid the legs. Movement comes with ease now; his body is agile and quick. The way shouldn't be too long. He walks around a corner and another one, and he's can already feel he's getting closer when a voice stops him in his tracks.
"Oi!"
He turns. A tabby is perched by the wall. Another cat, a black one, is sitting on the pile of boxes next to it, yet another appears from behind them.
He looks at them for another few second, then turns to continue on his way.
Before he can manage more than one step, the tabby blocks his way.
"You can't go down here."
"I need to find Nekobaa."
"Sorry, kid. Can't do that way. That's out territory, ya know?"
Kid?!
"Listen, you. My name is Uchiha Madara, and you will let me pass if you wish to remain unhurt." Or alive.
A moment of silence follows. And then the cats make a strange sound, something that reminds him of huffing and crying, and he realizes they are laughing. Laughing! At him!
His hackles rise, and a hiss tears free of his throat. The tabby in front of him blinks and does it again, and laughs even harder. Its whiskers twitch and its snout is stretched into a grin. The black cat actually rolls onto its back, paws jerking, and flops to the ground; Madara jumps away on instinct. They are bigger than him—why? True, they are nincats, but…
"Oh, this is a good one," the tabby says and chuckles. "Uchiha Madara. Listen kid, you're a tiny kitten, not a shinobi. And while you don't smell particularly sane, you've got nothing on Madara from what I've heard. So be a good boy and scram."
He tries to gather his presence to make them let him pass; even a little usually has people scrambling away. The cats remain where they are, but their grins fade.
"Oi, kid. Trespassing on our territory is one thing, but trying to assert dominance here is a mistake." A pause. "You should run."
Run? He is Madara; he doesn't run!
The next moment, claws carve gashes into his nose and he screams. Fighting in this body is something he hasn't mastered, and he must be small, really small. But he strikes back. For a moment, everything stands still. Then the tabby growls and claws tear at his fur and teeth sink into his flesh, and the pitiful meowing he hears must be coming from elsewhere.
Surely, it must be coming from elsewhere…
火火火
He only opens one eye when he wakes up this time; the other eyelid won't move. The aches he feels now are deep and sharp, and his body too heavy to move. He can smell people nearby and hear their footsteps as they pass him, but no cats. Nobody stops. It's a small blessing; at last no one is trying to hurt him.
His ears twitch before he knows why. A voice coming closer. It's familiar. A groan escapes him, sounding like a wounded meow, and he closes his mouth shut, resigned to cursing internally.
This day could hardly get any worse. He is a bloody cat, quite literally, and now, somehow, the Senju is there, approaching and talking to somebody, and what has he done to deserve this?!
"... sure they meant this way?"
"I'm sure."
Oh, no. Hashirama's voice. Both Senju brothers are here. Getting closer. Today is truly Madara's lucky day.
The Senju sighs. "I do so hope—"
"Tobirama, look."
No. No, no, no. Hashirama is standing right next to Madara and pointing at him. If only the earth could open and swallow him.
(Unlikely, since he can't even use ninjutsu.)
"A cat."
"A wounded kitten. Tobirama…"
"Anija, no."
"But I haven't even—"
"No. We're not stopping for the cat."
"It's a kitten! It's suffering! We can't just leave him here!"
If only he had the energy to scratch Hashirama's leg… He is not a kitten, Senjus be damned, and he certainly doesn't need Hashirama to pick him up and attempt to nurse him back to health. He would sooner die than let that—
"Aww, poor kitten."
Except Hashirama is right there, squatting and leaning over him, and talking in that high-pitched, sunshine-spurting voice.
"Anija." The Senju grabs Hashirama's arm and hauls him back to his feet. Very, very briefly, Madara feels something that could be compared to gratitude in some alternative dimension. Hashirama is too loud, and it's getting harder for Madara to keep his eye open. He can't afford to close it, though, not in front of them.
"You can't take the cat. You want to find Madara, do you not?"
They're looking for him? It's true he hasn't told anyone he'd be leaving, but it's only been a couple of days. Were they suspicious? Trying to spy, perhaps?
Hashirama sighs. "I do. If anything has happened to him…"
For all the gods sake, he is a shinobi! Things can't just happen to him, and why is Hashirama even worried? A couple of days is nothing. Sometimes, he spends weeks in the forest to train, and while he usually lets somebody know he wouldn't be home, it isn't so very strange for him to be unavailable.
"He's fine, anija. Madara can handle himself."
Yes, indeed. Except this time, something really has happened to him.
Hashirama frowns. "You can't trace him. Something's not right."
A nod. "We should keep looking. If we take the cat back to Konoha, we'll lose even more time. The best we can do is end the cat's suffering."
He can't mean to kill him. But he is the Senju and he does. It's surprising there isn't already a weapon in sight.
(Sinking his claws into the Senju's ankles would be most satisfying.)
Hashirama looks at Madara, then at his brother. Then back at him. Slowly, he shakes his head.
"I want to take him with us."
The Senju crosses his arms. "Madara."
"You said Madara can handle himself. He's a fine shinobi."
"It's not his safety that worries me."
Madara huffs. Trusting as always… It hardly matters that he was about to win the Uchihas over to his side and leave Konoha behind. The Senju has no proof. Hmf.
"I'm not leaving the kitten." Hashirama straightens, squaring his shoulders. "He's suffering. I'm taking him to Konoha."
Tobirama keeps his mouth shut. His eyes narrow at Madara, who does his best to glare back. "It would be much faster if we take him to Nekobaa. Or better yet—"
"We're taking him with us," Hashirama says, and this time the Senju doesn't object. The silence is nice; Madara's hearing is too sharp and his head throbs. Keeping his eye open takes too much energy. If he could, he would scramble away when Hashirama leans over him again and hands gently lift him from the ground.
He's never thought Hashirama had such large hands before.
The movement jars his wounds, forcing the smallest of sounds to escape him.
"Aww, poor kitten." Hashirama leans even closer. "We'll take care of you, you'll see. It'll be better soon."
His eyelid slides closed. It's hard to believe Hashirama's words when the darkness is stretching its claws towards him, but it's hard to distrust them too.
He hears the Senju say something else, and it sounds as if Hashirama agrees. Fingers turn him and brush over him, and there is more pain and more darkness.
(He should have learnt to love those by now.)
Something wet touches him, and he tries to twist his body away, but it's not his to control anymore.
(Darkness is there, lurking around the corner).
He drifts away.
火火火
Nothing makes sense for a while. He's jostled this way and that, and through it all, the pain eats at him. Sometimes, he hears a voice that reminds him of something he can't quite place, but it soothes the burn and eases the fight: it is hard to keep demons away.
A touch comes, gentle and warm, and his vision turns blissfully black.
A/N: So I had this thing lying around for a while ... I hope you enjoyed it. If anyone would like to beta it, I'd be very happy.