Characters: Madara, Chiyo
Summary: A passing diversion.
Pairings: Madara x Chiyo
Author's Note: Obviously, this takes place several decades before the start of Naruto; keep that in mind. I hope Madara doesn't come across as OOC; this is him trying to avoid drawing suspicion, after all.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Madara isn't sure, but he thinks he may be naturally attracted to red-haired women. First his wife, then Uzumaki Mito, and in the future, the youthful kunoichi from Kirigakure will catch his eye. For now, the young kunoichi of Sunagakure stationed at the remote port town Madara has taken shelter in is the object of what no doubt will be a passing affection, but for now is enough to occupy him.
Akasuna no Chiyo is not the most beautiful of women to look upon, and she is married, though not happily—this is of small concern to Madara, as she, just one of the shinobi sitting round the campfire outside the city walls, passes the canteen to Madara, an absent and yet not absent gesture.
"Thank you, Chiyo."
The henge is not at all difficult to maintain; neither is the false identity Madara's crafted for himself. A Tokubetsu jonin from Suna named Sanshin, sent to replace Kazehana Roku, and in a way, that's true—the real Sanshin is currently being picked apart by jackals and vultures on the dunes.
There are eight shinobi sitting at the fire tonight, mostly to commune—there's absolutely nothing even remotely resembling decent entertainment in the port town, nothing except for the sound of the waves booming off of the cliffs and rocks in the distance. For Madara, this is nothing but a temporary place to live and commit to a strategy.
When not fulfilling the tasks of a Sand nin, Madara is wondering whether to infiltrate the higher echelons of Sunagakure. It might be… useful to do so. However, tonight he is not so quick to think on that.
"So, Sanshin-san." It's a young chunin who addresses him now, brown eyes open and keen. "I hear you have some interesting theories on how the world should work."
Chiyo strains to catch his eye in her own dark one at this point, and Madara only quirks the sharp half-life of a smile at her, meant to be reassuring. It has the usual affect; Chiyo rolls her eyes and smiles slightly, shakes her head and goes back to standing long and hard into the streams the fire casts.
Madara fixes the chunin in his stare, and passes the canteen along. "Does it not seem odd to you—" He is addressing the crowd as one "—that no one ever seeks to have dominion over the others?"
No one answers.
"There are many realms of thought and existence to this world, as I'm sure you've gathered from the ghost stories that run rampant over our country's soil."
"Sand," Chiyo corrects him, quirking an eyebrow and smirking.
The light in Madara's eyes is lightly mocking as he leans over and kisses the top of her head. "Yes, Chiyo, sand." There's a placatory note in his note that has become naturally exaggerated. "Now, please, no more interruptions.
"All the strife and pain and grief that grips the continent does so because there is no one ruler over any of the nations. If Kaze and Hi, and Kaminari and Tsuchi and Mizu could be brought together under one banner?
"It can be done, I am sure of it." Madara casts a sweeping gaze over the group that no one can look away from, though he can tell that there are some who would like to—he knows full well that he's never been lacking for charisma, and here now is the proof. "And why shouldn't it be done?"
For a few seconds, no one speaks, and they allow the night wind and the ocean crashing against the rocks to fill up the absence of words. Seven pairs of brown eyes fix on Madara, some intent, others incredulous.
Then, another young chunin, this one with a shock of sandy brown hair loosed from its linen veil, blurts out, "You're mental!" This seems to be the general opinion going around the fire.
Madara frowns unappreciatively at him. "Oh, do go on."
Perhaps sensing the danger, Chiyo puts a hand on his arm and smile at the others. "You'll have to forgive Sanshin here. He's prone to unorthodox ideas; you've no idea how often I have to restrain him from doing something stupid and, yes, insane."
Chiyo, with surprising strength for a small woman, pulls Madara to his feet as she herself stands, sweeping sand and dust from her brown pants. "Come on, Sanshin. It's getting cold; we should go back."
As they leave, Madara stops, and frowns down at Chiyo. "You don't think I'm crazy, do you Chiyo?"
She shrugs noncommittally, plainly meaning to keep him in some suspense—a ploy that doesn't really work since Madara knows Chiyo isn't one for patience and wouldn't genuinely do something like this. "I don't think you're crazy, no Sanshin. However, your plan lacks logic." She casts a single eye up at him. "Not to mention that it will never work."
"Oh? And why's that?"
Chiyo smiles mischievously. She never comes closer to looking beautiful, pale skin bleached to blue, red hair turned silver and eyes seeming like black holes, in this sort of lighting. "Because… If you ever think that Suna will join forces with a weak village like Konoha," she whispers, "you're dead wrong."
Madara shoots a sharp bark of laughter skywards. "Well, my dear, that's what genjutsu's for," he remarks, only half-joking, before leaning down to kiss her.
A passing diversion, but not one that has to be unpleasant.
Another realm of thought to occupy him, he supposes.