and you were the loveliest of all
.
He remembers how Tousan treated Kaasan, how Kaasan would bend her neck at the slightest of things, how she would bow to their father's every whim and wail.
She wasn't an exception, that was just how it was, how all women were.
The husband was in charge, the man was in charge, as he was the strongest. He protects and provides for the family, so they should all show him the respect he deserves.
Madara has always understood that.
Women provide the next generation, they have to be protected.
Always.
They were the way in which the next generation of fighters were born, it was only common sense that they were kept safe in the clan strongholds, away from the enemies whom would otherwise try to harm them.
Men have the most chakra, men don't carry unborn offspring, men are not made of soft curves and sweet scents.
Women have better chakra control leaving them more suitable for medicine and not for frontline fighting, they're practically useless when pregnant, and they never reach the physical and emotional strength that their male superiors do.
Women stay at home, men go out to fight.
Those ideals are the foundations of which all Madara's understanding of the female sex stand upon.
.
Then, Namikaze Naruto comes blitzing into his life and ruins it.
.
The first time they met isn't so much of a meeting as it's a completely knockout.
Madara and his younger brother, Izuna, have both been ordered by their father to retrieve a sealed scroll from a ninja of the Senju clan, who was liberating it from the Hyūga clan libraries.
To have anything on those stuffy bastards is always a plus, but being able to take out a Senju runner in the process? Even better!
Or so Father says.
Madara still feels guilt twanging in his stomach whenever they're pitted against the Senju clan, but he pushes it all down, tries to forget Hashirama's sad face.
He goes after the Senju runner -not Hashirama, thank god for that- ruthlessly, perusing the pest over several miles of forest before they hit a stretch of open fields.
With no trees to hide behind, Madara knows that they've got him now. They've proven faster, they'll easily catch up to him on this final stretch.
Yet, there's a blur of gold out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly, Madara finds himself eating wet grass abe mud, brain whirling as it tries to figure out what in the name of Amaterasu just happened.
It's not until he heaves himself back up, spitting turf out from between his teeth, that he sees the culprit.
Even then, it takes him far too long to click onto to the fact that the new presence has to have been the one who pushed him -and Izuna, he later finds out- into the dirt.
Because the new presence that has kicked Senju ass and already sent him scuttling home for his Mama, is female.
Female.
She was perhaps a year or two his elder, and most certainly into her child bearing years. His cousin Kintaro has just taken a girl to be his wife, a woman who was about her age. Not as pretty; growing up in the Uchiha strongholds, Madara has never see such bright hair colours until he'd been allowed to visit the neighbouring villages for supply runs.
Even then, this particular shade of blonde has never caught his eye before.
What he understands even less than the tanned skin -women didn't have tanned skin, they stayed inside- or the trousers -women don't wear trouser, men do- or even the armour she wears -women don't need armour, they don't fight- is the fact she's armed.
She's armed with kunai and shuriken.
She moves with a lethal grace he's only ever seen in the truly dangerous shinobi, her steps silent and her hard, lithe muscles coiling with every movement.
And it just doesn't fit.
Doesn't add up.
There's a woman before him, and someone pushed both Izuna and he over, but the pieces just aren't fitting in his mind.
And then, as if everything hadn't fallen apart already, the woman turns to look at him with bright blue eyes, and winks.
Then, she's gone in a flash of brilliant gold.
Along with the scroll.
.
It's the first mission he's failed in years.
Hell, it's the first serious mission he's ever failed.
Izuna stood beside him, looking just as shamefaced, even more so when Madara had to go on and say that, it was in fact, a girl who took the scroll.
A woman.
He's still struggling to comprehend it now, sat on the old mountain top where he used to meet Hashirama, looking out over the forest, into the burning sun that sets in the distance.
His gunbai rests beside him on the rocky surface, just the slightest bit dusty from where Izuna had kicked up a load of dirt during their latest spar. A spar he'd once again won over his little brother.
Letting out a low breath, Madara glances down at the vast amount of trees that surrounds him on all sides, and nearly suffers a heart attack.
For reclined not ten feet below him on a rocky overhang of the cliff, is the very same woman that prevented him from completing his mission just a week ago.
She has to have known he was there, because she looks up at the same time he glances down, a cheeky smile on her face as she gives him a wave.
He's still struggling to accept the fact she's there, and shoots to his feet just as she walks up the side of the cliff to meet him in a show of chakra control.
She's still wearing a sleeveless orange kimono, black amour covering her torso, forearms and shins. Her leggings are tucked into white bandages, which hide beneath a pair of practical shinobi sandals. Everything about her outfit is geared towards unrestricted movement, in the same way that his own is.
He knows it now, no matter how much his brain struggles to allow it to sink in.
She's a fighter, she's seen war and she's strong for it.
The fact such a thought doesn't fit with his world views means nothing to her as she casually steps atop the flat surface of the mountain, still grinning from ear to ear. There's whisker like birthmarks on her cheeks, giving her an almost animalistic visage. Coupled with that infuriating smile on her face, the first thing the comes to mind is a fox.
A trickster, a vixen.
She cocks her head to a side, raising a single, challenging brow.
"Wanna spar?"
He'd never have agreed normally.
She's a woman. She's female and delicate and everything he's ever learnt, be it from words or observation, insists that it is wrong to agree.
But his pride still stings from the loss of the scroll, so he agrees.
Suddenly, it's like he's fighting Hashirama.
The woman pushes him to his absolute limit, counters every move he makes with a fierce grace, a ruthless energy. She never stops smiling.
And he finds himself slowly getting lost in the dance, in the moves they make, each step they take and the rising tempo. She quick, so quick that he's forcing his Sharingan and his body to the absolute edge in order to keep up.
Unpredictable too, were it not for the Sharingan, every blow she sent his way would have hit. It's still quite the shock that half of them still land on target, they just seem to come out of nowhere, and most of them he's struggling to understand, even given the fact his Dōjutsu is memorizing all of them.
He's failing to pick out the pattern in her fighting style, so well hidden it is.
Maybe there isn't one.
It'd make more sense than the woman being able to hide it.
Still, even taking this into consideration, they're evenly matched.
His body is stronger, though her's is far more flexible. His chakra is under control, while so much of her's blazes around her like a beacon, as wild and strong as a forest fire in the dry season. The sheer amount of it is righteously terrifying, and were it not for the potency of his own chakra, he'd have been overwhelmed already.
He doesn't know how they stop sparing, just that they do, ending with the two of them stood face to face, sweat pooling in the dip of his collarbones and clinging to the back of his neck.
But she's not breathing half as heavy as he is, even if the perspiration makes her tanned brow glisten in the dying sun.
He isn't sure which of them starts it, only that their lips are pressed together, the woman's hands tangled in his hair, his fingers digging tight into the generous swell of her hips.
Her nimble digits are just as capable at removing his armour as they were with forming hand seals.
Her skin is as soft as any woman's he's felt before this day, but her body is decorated with the proof that she's spent her life so far fighting. There's a large, circular scar on her upper chest, resting just above her left breast. An inch or two lower, and whatever blow she'd taken there would have pulverised her heart.
To have even recovered from such an injuring is incredible, and part of Madara's mind nags him to find out what healer helped her do so.
The rest is completely focused on the dusky peaks of her tanned breasts.
They react instantly when his gloved fingers brush over them, and the woman growls under her breath, tugging the material from his fingers.
He had no idea that women could make such a noise, but it sends shockwaves of arousal right through his body.
It only takes him a second to adjust to this new information, but by this point, the woman has successfully stripped him of his trousers, and taken him in her hand.
He knows he shouldn't let her so close, not when she's proven so capable, but he's just as much as a threat, and with all their weapons removed from their person, all that they could use to kill one another is their own bodies, their chakra.
Given how much they both posses, there would be fair warning should either of them begin to mould it, enough to get away.
Reality dictates that shinobi had to grab whatever pleasure, whatever quick love, they could find, and use it ruthlessly while they could. Because their lives were as fickle as the Bijū.
Her fingers dance around his cock, as unpredictable and effective as her fighting style, and Madara's head falls back with a gasp leaving from between his lips.
The woman laughs, husky and she moans when he pinches at her nipples.
Her thumb does an interesting swirl at the head of his cock and Madara finds himself vocalising without much thought, whispering 'damnit' beneath his rapid breaths. Warm lips meet his, tugging at his own as they curve up into a smile, but it isn't until she pulls away that he learns her name.
"Naruto," she whispers, back arching until their hips gyrate against one another, followed by a huskier, "fuck."
"Getting there," Madara insists, determined to find his footing and take control of this situation.
Naruto doesn't give him a chance though, sinking down onto him, not with the trained expertise of a whore but the hard won grace of an expert ninja and like nothing he's ever really felt before.
.
It was the most passionate sex he's ever had.
While he did wake in the morning sprawled out in the soft grass beneath the mountain they'd climbed down at some point in the night, the only thing he regretted was the possible outcome.
Until he noticed the half eaten herbs beside her, the ones that women ingest to stop pregnancy. Not an attempt to steal his genetic material; he could smell the herbs on her breath as she gave him a short kiss in the morning, which turned out to be her version of goodbye, given the fact she disappear in a golden flash as soon as he broke contact.
It'd been wonderful, though he'd only told Izuna about it.
It's just that, now, nothing else compares.
There's nowhere near the level of danger with the whores, it doesn't get his blood pumping as much, doesn't leave him teetering between the adrenaline to fight or fuck like the woman -Naruto- did.
The whores don't excite him anymore, and part of him burns to repeat the experience of that night.
The fragile trust that'd bloomed in the night and withered in the day.
The way Naruto's lips had so sinfully moaned his name as she sat atop him.
None of the others did what she did, none of them took control like she did.
Everything he's ever believed in has been challenged by that woman; the sex hadn't just been about reaching completion, it'd been a battle.
A battle he'd been completely inexperienced in, given that he's only ever fought against civilians, never a fellow ninja.
She'd bested him.
And Madara really didn't like leaving someone to run away the victor without getting at least even with them.
He and Hashirama were always even in their battles, and now, faced with this new war front, Madara is determined to not be beaten.
.
So he listens for the whispers that carry through the population, of a blonde woman running about saving lives, defending the innocent, protecting children.
He only gets the briefest flash of gold the day Izuna almost dies, when a streak of aurous shoots across the valley and knocks Senju Tobirama ever so slightly off course.
But it's enough to save Izuna's life, leaving Madara longing to see the woman once again, this time to offer his sincere thanks before he brings them back to an even score on their battlefield.
.
She doesn't fully surface until he accepts Hashirama's second offer to stop the war and unite their clans beneath a single ideal. He still counts that time as children, because even though they were young and full of dreams, they were still honest enough to create a fragile trust between one another.
And now he can return to his tired clan and tell them there will be no more fighting with the Senju, that they won't be anymore deaths because few will dare to even think about standing up to the night of both clans combined, even fewer who will actually attempt such madness.
"Hey they stranger."
He stops at the sound of that voice, because even though it's been two years, and even though last he heard it the vocals were saturated in desire, he recognises it.
Tilting his head slightly to a side, reveals Naruto, who's leaning against the thick trunk of a tree with a truly pleased smile on her face, which verges ever so slightly on the side of smug.
Given how he crumbled before her last time, perhaps she has a right to it, but she shan't for long.
He'd be the one walking away, the one wearing that expression this time.
He doesn't know where this is going to lead, has only heard stories and seen relationships in which men are unquestionably the dominant ones, females the submissive.
He's never heard of a pair who could be as equal as he and Naruto seem to be.
But he knows he wants her.
He wants her at this new village he'll make, wants her by his side to keep challenging him in ways Hashirama does and yet never could.
He wants her in his bed and on the sparring grounds.
Would they even be equals, or would they constantly be flipping, fighting a different kind of battle to see who would win in the end, who would out-stubborn the other for that one day, only to start the dance against as soon as the moon died and the sun was reborn?
At this point, Madara really doesn't care, he'll figure it out. And he'll have fun exploring and experimenting as he does so.
What he does know though, is that Naruto is proof that females could make excellent ninja, and that they'd clearly been going about it all wrong.
The Uchiha clan must have missed out on so many potentially excellent shinobi by keeping the women at home, and he won't allow the village to make that mistake.
"Naruto," he voices, watching as the woman makes her way over, footsteps silent, long legs eating up the distance between the two of them.
A mere second later, she stands before him, big blue eyes and that suggestive tilt to her smile.
And he crashes his lips to hers, feels her start the battle once again and he knows he'll never get this high with another woman.
Naruto is it for him.
Somehow, some way, he's going to make her his.
.
Though, if she makes him hers, he can imagine his pride won't be too hurt by such a thing.
A quick Oneshot; I don't know, I just needed to write some Naruto and Madara, and I think this is the first time I've posted something so mature on here.
Tsume
xxx