II - Agreement
"All those papers and you're still not tired... I would go mad if i were you, Pein." Madara huffed moving a stack of papers form the leader's desk to the file next to the wall.
"You aren't pretty sane to begin with." The ginger replied without paying the man too much attention; he was concentrated on writing an organizing letter to the former village of Iwagakure.
"Bluntly." the Uchiha laughed. "You entertain me with your unpredictable, firm and utterly cold answers. Such a fine man..."
Pein sighed and drew a fake smile across his lips, meeting the other's sharingans: "Would you mind if you take a break."
"I wouldn't, if you care to accompany me. It'll be shameful to let you alone with all this mess, wouldn't it."
"I'm sorry, but I can't afford that." and he resumed his writing.
"Then good luck dying in your 40's, lad, and the world shall be as it once was."
"Quit trying to sweet talk me out of my business. I took this responsibility upon myself and I will see it done properly, no matter how many days I have to live."
The leader's words were followed by a moment of grave sillence then the Uchiha's full laughter. The masked man whose mimic couldn't be read, came closer to the ginger, placing his hands on his shoulders. "Few men like you, indeed." Then he started massaging the Akatsuki with steady moves. Pein closed his eyes for a brief moment enjoying the treat, but soon realizing who and what was being done and violently pulled away from Madara's grip.
"Don't touch me!"
"Your voice just lacked authority, sama. You sounded like a desperate unmarried girl, wanting to be touched, but at the same time fearing she's wrong in her choice, that the man she's with in this very moment might not be the one. "
"Don't you dare..." Pein gulped, stunned by the comparison. They were nothing alike.
And yet he could not prove it otherwise...
"You're out of words, already. I can't believe I'm beating you at your own game already. Fufu. Meet me in the lounge when you feel like it." and with this the raven haired man left the room.
Pein ran his fingers through his carroty hair, sighing deeply. This man... This man had no level of comparison, had nothing form what he has faced before... and he was intrigued by him... as he was when he met Itachi... The Akatsuki frowned. No one will take Itachi from him, even if they were his own feelings.
Determination grew withing him. He wanted to see his lover, the one that stood beside him no matter what. And he will do that. There were other people that could handle papers, but no one to manage the losses he would let happen. And he could not lose Itachi.
He searched in their bedroom, in Nagato's bedroom, passing Konan's one because there was no reason he'll find the man he was looking for there, his sister had other interests. He searched in the upstairs living, in the bathroom, everywhere except for the lounge, where he'll meet eyes again with Madara. It made him sick... It made his heart pound...
"Pein?" it was the low, hoarse voice of the red-head.
"Where is Itachi?"
"Downstairs, in the lounge, playing chess with Kakuzu – if you can you believe that... What are you doing? You look pale."
"I just need a break." the ginger smiled sadly, in an attempt to deceive his worried friend, but Nagato's stark stare didn't change. "I need a breath of fresh air and a comforting embrace."
The leader's childhood friend didn't let his thought be known, but he has never seen Pein or Yahiko act like that for a long time. Confusion and distrust were written with black all over his mimic and he was denying it. He didn't want to come downstairs for some reason... one reason... Madara... He just got out of Pein's office. What has Madara done to him... What is he still doing to him. Deep down the so called orphan knew he has to face his father again, but not in the manner he did before. And that upset him. He had a choice to make, between protecting his best friend and his lover or try reconciliation with this long lost relative. Long ago the decision was easier, Madara didn't reside in his house, thus not acting like the father he was... and Nagato starved for love and appreciation.
He sighed and patted his friend on the shoulder: "Would you want me to bring him upstairs?"
"No... I don't know..."
***
"Pein wants you to go visit him, Itachi. He feels..."
"Don't let the god fall." Itachi smiled. "Kakuzu, we're finishing this later."
"Or I can finish it in his stead." Hidan grunted, and half of the rooms' eyes turned to him. "You don't think I can finish a damn chess game, or what?"
"Let's see your skills..." Kakuzu sort of laughed as the albino seated on the chair and stared at the black and white squares that formed up the game table and the ornated pieces clad in the same two colors.
"None of the Akatsuki were selected randomly. He'll amaze the old man." Nagato smiled, passing to the side, near Konan, who seemed almost lost in crafting her origami.
"I know. We chose them together, remember." And for a moment the blue haired woman stopped what she was doing and glanced at her orphan brother. "Why are you suddenly so confident in Hidan?"
"Everybody deserves a second chance. Maybe I am wrong. I'm only human in the end and my judgement can't tell good apart from bad."
"But you have the eyes of god."
"I may have the eyes, but I would need the heart and mind of a divinity to actually pretend I'm any different."
"What gotten into you, Nagato?" Konan seemed shocked and rather angry at his words and calm; where did Pein's right hand go?
"Madara. He's my father. And I want to see if I wasn't mistaken into killing him all those years ago... I need to talk to him." And he departed from the place he stood, head bowed.
The paper angel's eyes grew wide, this time in concern. She knew just how damaging the fight gainst that man was. Indeed, neither of them were as young anymore, but the danger of such an encounter still remained. She hoped for best, but wouldn't dare say it. She sighed and fixed her attention on the chess table and the ones around it. Kakuzu's face looked surprised at the tactic skill of his opponent; a slight smile crept on Konan's lips as she returned her gaze to the paper ornament she was working on.
As the red-haired man approached him Madara watched his movements closely, each step was made with firm determination and courage... strange, mad courage he might add, since he hasn't been the role-model father, barely giving him attention since he came here and trying to get his power in the past...but it seemed he grew to resemble the Uchiha much more than he would have expected... but why think he wouln't turn out like this, the pain he went through as well as the resolve he chose should have made him anticipate this outcome. And yet the man before him, his son, was an unexpected surprise... and a rather pleasant one.
"Good evening."
"Do you mind having a chat somewhere private."
"Oh, that's rather interesting." Madara grinned under his mask, but the flexion in his voice didn't hide his excitement. "I would love to."
He stood up, taking the rinnegan eyed man before him by the arm, both heading now towards the garden. It was a wonderful golden afternoon, the sun slipping down the horizon from the clouds, a humid sunset after an early spring shower in the city that always had rain as a companion.
"What is the purpose of this sudden talk?" the Uchiha spoke.
"Family. Our family to be more precise. ... I never knew my mother. Who was she? How was she?"
Madara grunted in a slightly melancholic tone hearing the bitter-sweet voice of a son begging to know about his mother. He didn't even knew her name... What an unfortunate soul not to be able to see that woman: beautiful, intelligent, strong willed, always mannered and too kind for one like him. Mito has always been suited for Hashirama and the title of hokage's wife, not him, not the disgrace he brought her, and yet, here he was walking along the child the two had. It was unreal. Their love was a forbidden fruit, and like in the great stories, it tasted to great to be refused. Look where it brought them: she died because of-
"Madara." Nagato's voice stiffened as he demanded the information he was not yet given.
"Your mother was a perfect woman from all aspects, but I rather not say her name."
"How then can I pay homage to the one that gave me life."
"Uzumaki..." the long raven hair of the man speaking was swiftly taken by the wind along with the whisper of that prestigious name. It was all he could give by. He could not shame her.
"Uzumaki..." the red haired sighed, only now taking notice of his hair color. Uzumaki Nagato... He was finally given a full name. "Is there nothing more you want to tell me."
Madara sighed heavily. What else was there to be said. Their love was a tragic fairy-tale. One that he would not have repeated... his heart still ached when he heard her name... He could see her face... In her last moments... She still had hope, she still loved worth a burning desire, her passion was not extinguished from those eyes, although it left her skin.
"This is our legacy, my darling. This is our long lasting flame. Our sacrifice and our hopes. This is us..." Mito Uzumaki laughed for one last time, before finally fading away.
Madara's body was caught by a freezing shiver and for a moment the man trembled, clenching his fists. Tears fell down his cheeks. Luckly no one could see his hidden complexion. This is us... He looked at Nagato, whose name he has given, long lasting gate it meant. He has been a fool.
After the long moment of silence, the Uchiha spoke with graveness: "You killed her and let her die in my arms and then you killed me... I couldn't have expected less from a son of mine..."
The rinnegans opened wide, letting the purple ripple pastern clearly visible, but he said nothing further. The red-head nodded, bid him a good afternoon and left.
Madara was now left alone. He took off his mask and touched his complexion: a face not his and far too young for his years, a scarred face he took from a young Uchiha, all thanks to the power of his rinnegan. He wiped away his tears. If he would ever love again, he would never love a woman. Women are fragile and wither too quick, their beauty is just a flicker, just like flowers... and they're far too good for a devil like him. If he would ever love again it would have to be a demon, that will not die at the touch of his hands.
"Mito... This is the fault of the rotten society we live in... This will change. THIS WILL CHANGE!... and no one should have to sacrifice their beloved ever again..."