Fragments

Fragments.

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He held her trembling body close to his, gave her a soft kiss on her chest before he pulled back out of her slowly. "Huh, where are you going so soon?" The female voice asked coyly, but he could sense the fear in it too, of course it wouldn't be all right for him to just go without paying. He closed his eyes, this dark room was perfect. "I'm satisfied. My wallet is with my clothes."

The female moved a little. "I'll get it for you, master." The female voice answered like she'd been asked to for the night and went to the pile next to the bed to retrieve the wallet to the owner, if she'd known who the owner of said wallet were, or looked like, she'd probably ran head over heels by now. The owner of the wallet smirked. Fools, women were always so plain, especially this kind, he agreed with himself, and they only lasted for so long... he'd make sure of that.

As the woman bent down to pull out the wallet a pair of red eyes suddenly lit up in the dark room, a quick move, the sound of a muffled groan and it was all over.

Too bad for her; but he considered he made her a favour. What a trashy life to live. And she hadn't satisfied him that much after all, it seemed women just wasn't his thing, they only worked as a temporarily relief for him.

He let go of the iron grip around her throat and let her slide down slowly, lifeless to the floor.

A smirk spread on his lips. And he quickly pulled his clothes back on and got out of there.

Just another life blew out that night.

An old man lied trembling under the blankets, not because it was cold, but the memories that appeared in his dreams made him wake up crying and in despair. The mask covering his face hid the silent tears that trailed down his cheeks as he quickly tried to regain his senses. He took a deep breath.

This was how his life had become, killing people had been a natural part of it, and he had to do it to get what he wanted. Yet, the memories stained him every time he stayed long enough to let them take a grasp of him, that's why he was always plotting, always moving forward, he had a scheme to follow.

Madara sat up wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, taking a quick look around to see if his partner was still asleep. He could see trough the dark that the body of the other wasn't moving except for the regular movements one creates when inhaling and exhaling, the shape of the other wasn't one of a regular human, to be precise it was more the one of a monster, and that thanks to the huge flytrap that engulfed the head of the other, in the night all that you could see was the shadow of it;

A frightening look to the weak of heart.

Madara wasn't weak of heart, anyone who'd seen him would never consider him to be that, but on nights like this, when he woke up from these dreams, he felt less fearless then he thought that he should be, but he'd still been trying to deny it, that he felt alone and vulnerable, he, the one who was going to take over the world, the invincible man?

But even if he had his partner not far of, at a moment like this, he felt it, the darkness scared him. It seemed to creep closer by every second, He rubbed his hands together, maybe it was a bit cold after all.

Konohagakure. He remembered how he grew up there; he remembered when he created it. Senju; Since long dead of course. He remembered a kiss under a setting sun; he remembered being left heart broken.

He remembered taking revenge and nearly getting killed by the man who broke his heart.

Madara breathed in, the cool night air filled up his lungs, and it tasted a little bit like dew, like it'd always done.

The forest was much more calming in daytime, at night time it always looked suspicious, Madara remembered learning at a very young age that darkness could be both protecting and condemning, but as a ninja, you were never completely safe, you had to rely on your own to survive.

Especially when it comes to love, he wished he could kill that word. Love for your family, love for a friend love for...

He closed his eyes.

No, he didn't want to kill that word, not anymore, maybe.

A pair of red eyes gazed trough the night, sometimes they stayed for awhile on the bulge that was the blanket covering the other sleeping ninjas body, the eyes would trace slowly over the barely visible shape of the man, almost as if they worked as hands, caressing the forms, this would go on for hours until it got lighter and the eyes of the old man finally closed and he dosed of for awhile until it was time to start the new day.

They couldn't explain it, but sometimes in the middle of the night when they couldn't sleep, they thought they could hear the rustling of their partner when he sat up, they'd wondered to themselves if the other man had problems sleeping or perhaps invisible men didn't need sleep?

There were a lot of things they'd wanted to ask the other man, the pain they sometimes could see in those eyes, were it just their imagination?

Zetsu couldn't explain why, they'd always been independent; they had never needed anyone, cared for anyone. Why did this man puzzle them so? Why did they need to know?

They'd just lie there still, trying to rest, the nights when they could hear the other, why was he shaking? They didn't dare asking, or show him that they were awake, so they just lied there still. They'd wait for the other to fall asleep again, feeling a pair of eyes watching them the whole night until early dawn. For some reason that they couldn't explain, they didn't mind.

Maybe the reason they stayed awake was because they felt that they needed to watch over the other man, but in the end that was just ridiculous, they'd argued this over so many times now, but the debate just never got a winner.

The first difference in Zetsu's relation to the masked man was one day when the other suddenly after sitting in silence like usual, started speaking.

"Zetsu, what do you think of the world?"

Zetsu had first just sat there without saying anything until he realised that his partner had just asked him a question, it wasn't often anyone asked him anything.

"The world?" Zetsu answered and looked up at the setting sky. "It's an ugly and beautiful place."

"Why is that?" Madara asked again instantly and Zetsu suddenly got a red eye on him, seemingly glowing from inside the curly mask in the beautiful rays that the setting sun cast upon them.

Zetsu hesitated a bit. "Just as there is life, there's death, life is beautiful, and death is ugly."

"Why is death ugly?"

Madara seemed to move a bit closer, his eye still so bright. Almost a bit intimidating, but Zetsu has gotten used to his partners weird ways.

"It's ugly because... it hurts, and you lose something you can't replace."

Madara just stared at Zetsu for a moment.

"Then, is love ugly because when someone leaves you it's something you can't replace?" He asked, this time not looking at Zetsu but at the sunset.

Zetsu was surprised at that question; he didn't think his partner would think of such things.

"Love, we don't know much about it, but, we know it can hurt, but..." They hesitated again. "Maybe it has to or else how would we know what love feels?"

Madara sat still for a while, before he sighed and nodded.

"So you're saying that, just like love, then, life could not exist without death? Without death we couldn't know what life is like?"

Zetsu thought about that.

"Yes, that makes sense." They nodded.

That was also the day he revealed his full identity to us, Zetsu remembered.

Zetsu also remembered that conversation so well, for a reason they felt, just like back then, that the questions Madara had asked had a much deeper meaning, but they didn't dare asking what that could be, they pondered about it thought, but they knew too little about the other man to figure anything out.

Madara's eyes widened as he got slapped up against the tree, he gasped for air at the sudden shock of being manhandled like this, the vines around his wrists and legs were to strong to fight against in this state, when his eyesight adapted he stared into the pair of yellow eyes of his partner Zetsu.

"Wh-why..?" He answered hearing his voice croak a bit.

"Do you know how long you've kept us waiting?" He could hear the dark side of Zetsu mumble. "Why won't you let us in?"

Madara felt weak, he hadn't felt like this since...

A white hand stroked his cheek.

"Madara-sama..."

Madara focused his sight again and Zetsu's face got closer to his.

"Have I kept you waiting?" Madara asked almost sounding apologetic. "Not let you in?"

A pair of black and white lips crashed into his, sucked. He gave in.

"Tell us all your secrets." Both of Zetsu's voices mumbled as they pulled back.

Madara felt flustered. He'd avoided this for so long, contact, anything, he'd closed himself in.

Now that he was forced open. He couldn't stop it, there was someone who wanted to get in, and should he give away the key?

"Secrets?" Madara asked back once he got control over his own voice again, his body felt limp being hold up against the tree like this.

"What we don't know." Zetsu's white side stated while stroking at the old mans short black hair. "Why does an old man wake up crying and trebling in the middle of the night?" The black side murmurs into his ear.

Madara's eyes widened as he looked over the other's shoulder... "..What? Why would I..." He started but couldn't finish the sentence as his throat seemed to snare itself together.

"Madara-sama, please tell us why a pair of beautiful eyes like yours are so filled with pain?" Zetsu's white side continued soothingly. "Or will you lie your heart out, telling us our eyes lie to us, imagination something's wrong?" The dark raspy voice finished.

"...Wrong? Why would anything be… wrong...?" Madara answered, biting his lip as his voice faded away, just like his eyesight, which got blurry by the warm salty tears that burst out from his eyes and silently went down his cheeks.

Zetsu held the shivering old man tightly to himself as he poured his heart out, in the end they'd been the one who had to do something to make anything happen between them.

They'd gotten tired with the secrets Madara had kept away from them, the look in his eyes, he needed to know if the other man could feel anything at all but hate, he believed so, he wanted to reach in and grab a hold of the others soul and never let go. He needed the truth. He finally got it.

The truth is never simple.

And how it goes...

An old man wearing a curly orange mask walks over a bridge, leading to the next one, it's daybreak, on the next bridge stands a tall figure, they both wear black coats with red clouds on them. The tall figure has a green flytrap engulfing his head. As the other masked man approaches they start speaking, the tall figure opens up its flytrap to reveal his black and white skin, green hair and yellow eyes.

They talk about how far they've come towards their goal, they're making progress, maybe now it isn't far...

End.

By: Farelle (Zora)