I do not own Naruto.


"Because nothing makes me happier

And nothing makes me sadder

Than you"

-Nicole Kraus, The History of Love


She sits in his room on the floor, looking about.

"Are you convinced that I am not rich now?" Madara asks her, and for the first time, sees his living quarters as an outsider might. It is sparse, with rough walls and a single futon, a rack for his armor and his weapons, a bookshelf against the opposite wall, a writing desk. It's hardly like any room that one would find in Uzu.

She's set her pack by the door, and with his words, rises from the floor. "Madara-sama..." She runs a hand over his gunbai, and then over the wakizashi underneath it. She peers curiously at his kama, and rearranges the chain so that it hangs straight. "Are you always so negative?" She doesn't wait for him to respond. "How does one use a war fan?" Her gaze has returned to the gunbai.

He blinks. "Those are two very different questions."

"I figured you wouldn't want to answer the first one." She picks up the gunbai by its handle. "But I'm sure that the answer to the second is more interesting." She examines the smooth handle, and then the metal edge of his fan. "It is unsealed."

"Hm?" He comes to stand beside her. He does not know what she means, but she seems smart enough. Given that she has already read my truths from my lies, surely she can read a question in a response.

She laughingly turns to him, and he is strangely caught by the light in her eyes, the quirk of her lips. "Would you mind if I did?" She runs a hand down its edge. "It would help with the nicks." And then she frowns. "It would be better if it were forged in, but I'm no good with a hammer and anvil, but I could repaint it for you before every battle you have to face." She means protection seals.

They must use seals for more than I thought in Uzu. He realizes. He'd only seen seals for light, for heat, for communication, but Uzu is famous for its sealing masters who'd mastered the art of using ink to win their battles, and the men and women with the propensity to dabble in poisons.

"You know seals?" He asks. He doesn't know exactly what she's offering to do with his gunbai, but she'd said that she fought. He didn't think that she'd been taught battle seals. There are several famous sealing masters in Uzu, but currently only one master of poisons.

Uzu's Red Viper is one to be feared. Only now does he realize that she is probably related to every warrior to reach acclaim from her watery homeland. Perhaps the viper is a brother of hers, but the city's famous battle sealing squad is certainly in some way related.

She blinks. "Not particularly, they aren't my specialty, but these are the ones that everyone learns." She sighs, and sits back down on the floor. "I wasn't as patient as Neesan, and that's so embarrassing now, but don't worry-" She says, perhaps something of his shocked look forcing her to assure him. "These really are very basic, I wouldn't be hurting anything."

She doesn't seem to fear him particularly, didn't seem to take his shifting expression as one of anger as women often do. She doesn't know a thing about me. The thought makes him squirm. She'd asked to know me, and I refused outright, and then paid no attention to her self introduction.

"Perhaps you could show me what they are." It wouldn't help him much, wouldn't help them much. He doesn't know a thing about sealing, but he doubts that she would lie to him. Not when she asked for his truth. He passes her a brush from his writing desk.

She sets it down beside her, frowning slightly. "Madara-sama..." She says, almost absently. "I don't need-" And she presses her palm to his wooden floor, and when she peels it away, a five ring pentagram with a single character in the center appears. "The five points are reflective of the five meridians in the hand when channeling chakra. They correspond to five vital organs: the heart, the kidney, the liver, the lungs, and the intestines." Her fingers ghost over each of the points. "The central character is the kanji for protection in the Sesho, or grass, style calligraphy which calls for a sense of motion. Each of the rings are written with the repetition of the character for durability."

"How did you-" The sharingan tells him that there are hundreds of interlocking squiggles in each of the rings, they aren't really solid black lines, yet she'd only set a hand against the floorboards.

"Well this one isn't complete, or it would take more effort." She flicks a lock of hair over her shoulder. "There's no extra chakra to power this, since I don't think you want to make your floor particularly durable."

"They move." Upon further study, it would seem that the rings seem solid only because the characters move.

She laughs, leaning over the seal. Her hair brushes his shoulder. "Well, there's just enough chakra in there for that." She smudges one of the rings with her fingers, and the not quite ink picks back up and disappears. "Who else lives in your house besides Izuna-san?" She asks, conversationally, as they sit there together, before the silence between them settles too deeply.

"No one." The rest of the clan lives in the district, but this house is built for more than two.

The clan had thought it better, given that the clan head is expected to have a family larger than two.

"You don't have any other family?" She asks, an arm wrapped around a knee.

She is used to people. Her own family is large. "N-" The word sticks in his throat. "I used to." He settles for that instead as he rises. "The war took them from me."

She rises with him, more subdued then she'd been before. "Oh." There's a small frown on her lips. She has lost no one in her entire life. She shakes her head. "To think that I would not speak to Chichi for a month because he let Neesan leave the island."

She does not say that she is sorry for asking, that she understands his pain, or other such nonsense filler phrases. She moves forward, and does not offer him her pity. It is strangely comforting.

"Where am I staying?" She strides forward to pick up her pack once more. "You've shown me the front rooms, your room, and the guest rooms. Is there a room for me?"

He considers it, and is ashamed to admit to himself that he had not really expected to bring anyone back from Uzu at all.

He'd thought the whole journey a fool's errand that he'd only complete because Hashirama would be displeased otherwise. Madara, why won't you even try to be happy? The voice in his head is brutally smashed and shoved into a box in the back of his mind. Go to hell. I don't need you in my head too, when you have invaded every other aspect of my life.

Now that he is no longer on an island with the sound of the sea and the cry of the gulls, he needs to stop daydreaming about a daft man who smiled too readily and trusted too easily.

"Niisan?" It's Izuna, making his way down the hall, naturally, because this house does not change, not if Madara can help it, he's memorized every room. Izuna knows exactly where everything is in this house, and he'd be damned if his brother got hurt because he forgot to push in a chair, or switched the places of the tatami mats. "We have guests."

His headache suddenly comes roaring back in full force. "Who?"

He hates guests.


As it turns out, guests means Hashirama, his new wife, and wonders of wonders-Senju Tobirama.

"You." Kanae's stepped out from behind him, and the younger of the Senju brothers freezes in his tracks.

The corners of her mouth pull up in an unholy smile, and she takes a step forward. "Me." Tobirama takes a step back. She takes another step forward. "Did you miss me, Senju-san?"

"As if I would miss-"

"Otouto." It's the red haired woman by Hashirama's side who's spoken, her dark eyes cutting, but her gaze quickly turns fond as soon as it lands on her sister. "Kanae-chan, don't be rude." There's an impish smile on her lips as she turns to Hashirama for a brief moment, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "Anata, I'm afraid I want to monopolise my sister's attention."

Hashirama's gaze turns to him, and for the briefest of moments, Madara is at a loss for words. Luckily, it would seem that Kanae is perfectly capable of distraction even unwittingly.

She's already bouncing forward, her bare feet pattering over the wooden floorboards of the front room. "Neesan." She bows slightly to Hashirama. "Nice Senju-san, your city is quite interesting."

Hashirama laughs, even as Tobirama splutters. "Imouto!" He slings an arm over her shoulder in a brotherly fashion. "We're a family aren't we? Don't call me something so formal! Call me Hashirama-nii." He sends a besotted look over his shoulder to his wife. "I've always wanted a little sister, and now I have one." It's almost as if he has to brag.

The red haired woman smacks his arm with a folding fan, the seals dangling from her buns shaking dangerously. "Stop mobbing my sister, Baka."

Hashirama has the audacity to stick his tongue out at her. "Never!" He slings his other arm over Tobirama's shoulders. "Come on, Tobi, we need to go out into the yard." The three of them are carried forward by sheerly by the force of Hashirama's enthusiasm. "You look happier, Madara!" He calls back.

Happier? Why would I be happier in this new fresh hell? Seeing Hashirama again makes his throat run dry, makes him lose his sense of dignity and every scrap of pride he still possessed.

The woman sighs and throws up her hands. "I hope your journey to my childhood home was not overly dangerous, Madara-san." She's decided to speak to him instead of arguing with Hashirama's wooden-headed ways then.

It is only then that Madara realizes that he doesn't know her name. Surely Kanae used her name just once?

No. Kanae calls her sister Neesan.

He tries his latest attempt at a smile. "It was a perfectly interesting trip, Uzumaki-san."

She covers her smile with her fan, amusement dark in her eyes, and he is unsettled. "You've forgotten my name again, Madara-san." She curtsies slightly. "Uzumaki Mito, but of course you must call me Mito." When she raises her head, her expression is anything but amused. "I hope you still remember my sister's name."

Who does she think I am? "Uzumaki Kanae." His lips pull tight, and he drops the attempt at geniality. "I didn't forget your name, Uzumaki-san." He's gotten used to lying, and confronted by Uzumaki Mito he reverts back to his habits.

"Of course you didn't." Her lips are pursed, but she doesn't hesitate to look him full in the eye. "I will tell you this only once, be kind to my sister, or I will find a way to kill you." The moment passes, and suddenly she is no longer larger than life, throwing shadows over his walls. Uzumaki Mito is just a woman. "I know you don't love her."

"She doesn't love me." It seems only fair. Neither of them have any overt attachment to each other. So much the better. It would be uncomfortable otherwise.

"I don't care." Mito leans forward, the frown on her lips pronounced. "You'll do your best to make sure that she is happy."

Madara is slightly at a loss once more. He has never seen this woman quite so vicious before. He had thought her interaction with Hashirama all that there was of her character, but clearly not.

"Neesan!" Kanae clatters back into the room. "Save me!" And then she's hiding behind her sister, in a fit of childishness.

Hashirama appears in the doorway, gray haori dripping. "Imouto...why must you attempt to run away?"

"It's not anything to do with you, Nice Senju-san." Kanae says, attempting to cling to her sister, even as Mito herself moves toward her husband.

"It's Hashirama-nii!" Hashirama protests in vain. Behind him, Tobirama himself appears, looking more like a drowned cat than anything else.

Madara doesn't keep the smirk from his lips when their eyes meet. Did someone else get the better of you, Senju bastard?

"But I don't want to spend any time with the other Senju-san." Seeing that her sister had abandoned her, Kanae's come to hide behind his form instead, her small hand holding his elbow.

"And that's Tobirama-nii, right Tobi?" Hashirama has not seen his brother's expression.

Tobirama's lips pull back in an inhospitable sneer. "Why I would ever want to be related to some rabid dog, I will never understand." And Madara's blood goes cold. "Actually I'm not sure that a dog would rip out his brother's eyes." It is the worst kept secret between himself and the Senju, but the women in the room didn't know, but this charge he can't deny.

How could he, when it is Izuna's eyes that he sees with?

Kanae's grip on his elbow tightens, for a moment, he thinks she's shaking from fear. "Senju-san." She steps out in front of him, and draws herself up to her full height, which is no taller than his chin, and he sees the icy fury in her eyes. It wasn't fear. "I don't think you're welcome in my house. Get out before I make you."

Tobirama's face mocks him, mocks the fire in his heart, the burning in his veins, but he's made no accusation that is not true. "Make me." The man says, and Kanae's lips draw back exposing teeth, fury carved into every feature.

Uchiha Madara is not made for peace. It confounds him, sets him on edge, and he cannot find himself comfortable in its skin. What is that except an attack dog?

"Tobi!" Hashirama's found his voice again, a little too late. "How could you ever say something like that? Madara's the one who first had this dream with me! I am ecstatic that we'll be related to him soon." Related. The attempt at comfort sinks to the bottom of his gut.

I-You think that is what I want from you?

Mito's hand lands on her brother-in-law's arm. "Threaten my sister again, Tobirama, and I will not be kind."

"Neesan! I do not need you to fight my battles."

"I brought tea?" Izuna steps into the room, a tray balanced in his hands, a small smile on his lips, and immediately, the arguing screeches to a halt. The Uzumaki women withdraw to the porch, and the other three of them find a seat on the tatami mats around the small side table.

"Thank you, Otouto." He doesn't delude himself. Izuna heard at least the tail end of the argument, but if he doesn't mention it, Madara can pretend that it didn't happen.

They could pretend that nothing is wrong, that Senju Tobirama isn't the most uptight bastard, and leave it at that.

"I can't tell you how much I missed you, Madara." Hashirama says without a hint of guile, and his accursed heart skips a beat. "Tobi was so boring. It was paperwork now, and paperwork later."

There's a confession of the same in his throat. "I doubt it." It doesn't make its way out.

And Hashirama sinks into a cloud of oblivious depression. "Why don't you ever believe me?"

"He's incapable of belief, Niisan." Tobirama says.

"You're wrong. Niisan has more faith than anyone in this room." It's Izuna again, setting the teacups on the table before Tobirama just a little too hard. Just enough that some of the liquid splashes onto the Senju. Tobirama hisses, and Izuna smiles. "My apologies, Tobirama, it's a bit hard to see where the table is."

Izuna knows exactly where the table is, but the words cut Madara's heart anyway. It's my fault that you can't.

It's my fault.

"And whose fault is that?" Tobirama muses. "I can swear that your eyes are in this room right now, Izuna."

Izuna's smile tightens just a little. "That was a choice, Tobirama. I don't suppose you would understand in the slightest."

"A choice?" Tobirama tosses back his tea in a single gulp. If Izuna got angry enough, he could knock them over, and claim that it's really just so hard to see, sorry Tobirama. "You sure it was a choice? I'd say that you should be glad we agreed to a peace before you died." Unspoken goes the idea that it would be Madara's hand killing his younger brother.

Something in his blood boils, but the damned Senju bastard has not said not in so many words. He has no room to protest. Not when Izuna had come so close to dying.

"I wonder why I or any other member of my clan was in danger to begin with." Izuna says, and his passive aggressive nature serves him well here. "It certainly wasn't because we were at war with anyone." He taps a finger against his chin. "I can't think of anyone we would have been at war with, can you, Hashirama-san?"

Izuna does not like Senju Hashirama much. Madara wishes he could say the same.

Hashirama's protest is weak enough. "Izuna...we didn't mean it so-"

"I should have killed you when I had the chance." Tobirama hisses under his breath, and Madara nearly throttles him right there.

"Threaten my brother one more time, and I kill you, Senju."

"Yeah, you were so good at keeping your brother alive, yourself." Tobirama snaps back, red eyes flashing.

He's on his feet, his hands about to wring Tobirama's neck, and Hashirama's between them, pushing them apart. "Can we ever have one meeting when you two don't try to kill each other?" His voice is plaintive, sad. "Please?"

There's a flash of red in the doorway.

Madara doesn't wait to hear the end of the wreck. He leaves, leaves Hashirama behind to attempt to soothe ruffled feathers.

Running away in your own house. Senju Tobirama's sneer appears in his mind's eye. A coward, a thief. Who do you think you are? The floor before him sways.

He can't shut out the voices. He sets a hand on the wall to steady himself, but it only makes everything worse. His head feels like it's about to split open.

"Madara-sama?" Her voice follows him down the hall, but his mind is slipping. He has no desire to put on a mask for a little girl, no. He hasn't the energy. "Madara-sama?" Her hand is on his arm.

He tears it away, and wheels around to face her. "Get out." His heart is burning. His eyes are on fire. He cannot stop the river rising in his throat.

"I was only going to ask if you-" Her green eyes. They accuse him.

His hands twitch. He wants.

Wants what he shouldn't. Wants to put them out, wants them to stop looking at him.

"Ripped out my brother's eyes?" He slams a hand against the opposite wall, just over her shoulder, and stands there, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. Why can't he catch his breath? Why are her eyes accusing him still?

"Actually-"

"Whose eyes do you think I have?" He roars. It is louder than he expects, and his voice cracks and breaks, but her eyes are still accusing, still-Kami. He shudders. "Whose eyes do you think I have?" He asks again, quieter now, because he'd come so close-so close, and now the only emotion he feels is guilt. His anger flees as quickly as it had come.

Her eyes had not accused him anything more than the truth.

"If you do have Izuna-san's," her hands come up, one against his cheek, the other between his heaving shoulder blades. "I'm sure you have your reasons." Her smile is brittle, but her touch, it drowns. "He loves you so, Madara-sama, as you love him."

He bows forward further, his head coming to a rest on her shoulder. He does not want to see her, doesn't want to look at her eyes. "I-" There's a stinging in his eyes, but these are not his eyes. Izuna's eyes. If he could give them back-

"Breathe." She whispers, arms around him. "It's alright to breathe."

He gasps, air flooding his lungs. Her touch no longer drowns. Taking comfort in a little girl? My you really are-He locks the poisonous Senju Tobirama away in a cage in his head where he firmly belongs.

Her hands are tangled in his thick hair, rubbing circles over his back. "The war has hurt you. Senju Tobirama hurts you more." Her tone is pensive, considering, but still she does not offer any sort of platitude. It is merely a statement. That is all.

"Call me what I am." He retorts, and now that he is no longer drowning, the grief recedes, though a different sort of guilt creeps in. She had not done anything to deserve his fury. Her eyes had accused him of nothing at all. Their only fault was that they are green. He doesn't move. Somewhere along the line, his hand slipped down to hold her shoulder. "Broken."

Her throat is no more than an inch away from his face. He sees her swallow, sees the muscles contract and relax.

"You are not broken." She says, and it's with enough conviction that he almost believes it.

"Oh?" How interesting. "What am I then?"

"You're heavy." She huffs, and he almost recoils. "And for someone who says he doesn't want me, you're perfectly comfortable draped over me."

"I am not heavy." This is a childish protest. He is still wearing full armor, so of course, he weighs more than a normal man, but her shoulder is hardly as bony as it looks, and he is tired.

So tired.


In the end, he does not find a different room for her.

He had not built the house with a bride in mind, and thus didn't bother to outfit a bedroom next to his own.

Izuna is in the room across the hall.

Lady Uchiha should hardly live in a guest room.

His futon is perfectly capable of holding two people, he would know, given how many times he's shared with Izuna before the war's end.

His room is hardly the worst place to spend the night.

He tells himself all of these things excuses when he wakes up the next morning, and finds that she's fallen asleep leaning against his bookcase.

She looks like a doll, her limbs sprawled in an uncomfortable position, hands loosely curled, hair falling about her face and bunched up in the back.

And she is not beautiful, not the sort of woman that he'd consider spending the night with, and, he realizes very suddenly, quite awake.

She has her eyes half closed, but her hand twitches as he sits up. He doesn't really remember what came after the walk down the hall back to his room, but his armor is hanging on the rack, where it is supposed to be.

He needs someone else to unlace the back.

"You needn't worry." She says. "Izuna-san was waiting for you in your room when we got back." And he is slightly relieved.

"Why did you stay?" Sleeping hasn't entirely refreshed him, and knowing what he has done the day before does not make it easy to look at her. He doesn't look at her.

"Why wouldn't I have stayed?" Oh, so she's back to the uncomfortable questions. At least they are no longer discussing...eyes.

"I didn't scare you?" He climbs to his feet, and considers the idea of crossing the hall to Izuna's room.

She laughs, and runs a hand through her hair, smoothing it down. "You're not really scary, Madara-sama." She breezes past him, and picks up his chest plate. "Niisama is scarier than an entire battalion of Hoshigaki warriors when he's in a rage." She loops the stays around him and knots them as though she's done the same thing a million times.

"What am I?" He asks her.

"You're perhaps two Hoshigakis." She tells him, perfectly mock serious, as she laces his shoulder guards. But she can't keep a straight face. "No really, why would you ever want to know something like that?"

It's at this moment, that he notices how easily she's armored him. "When did you learn this?" Her people don't march to war. Uzu is a place of peace.

"I've helped Niisama armor up ever since I was seven." She pulls his hair out from under the shoulder guards, and unlike when Izuna does it, it doesn't hurt. "He used to be home much more often." She sounds...sad, perhaps. "But it's different now."

Her melancholic tone discomfits him. He finds a subject completely unrelated to the topic at hand. "Why were you sleeping against the bookcase?"

"Mmmm." She looks away. "I thought I was supposed to ask you uncomfortable questions, Madara-sama."

"Madara." He tells her. "My name is Madara." No one ever really calls him Madara-sama and means it.

"Yes," She says, the smallest of smiles on her lips. "I am perfectly well aware that your name is Madara-sama." She doesn't mean it either.

He storms from the room, and she follows behind him, quietly laughing.


The wedding is exactly two days later, attended by a very small gathering-Izuna, Hashirama, and Mito. Tobirama is thankfully absent. I don't want to see him.

Preferably ever. Someone should push him off a cliff.

The various attendants fit him into the hamaka, and then the black haori, the Uchiwa stitched to the sleeves, the chest, and his back.

Hashirama sits by and chatters idly. "So, what do you think of my little sister?"

Madara raises an eyebrow at this. "She is hardly your sister." The men that he'd met in Uzu had better claim that Hashirama to the role, and it is not as if Uzumaki Kanae lacked in brothers.

"But she's my darling Mito's little sister!" Hashirama protests with a lovesick expression on his face that makes Madara want to lose his breakfast. He has yet to see anything of Uzumaki Mito that is particularly attractive, and he doubts he ever will. "She has to be my younger sister. I've always wanted one!"

"No." Madara snaps. "I refuse to be your younger brother."

Because of course, in Hashirama's fool head, that is how this all works. The Senju and the Uchiha will be one collective family, he'd have his friends under his care as the eternal big brother, and the entire village will be his family.

The very thought makes Madara ill.

"But Madara..."

"I will not be compared to your lovely blood kin." I will have nothing to do with Tobirama. He takes care to not actually look at the depressed cloud that is Senju Hashirama. It is easier to stare at some fixed point on the wall, and count quietly in his head.

If he were to look, he'd want to comfort the man. If he were to comfort Hashirama-He kills that thought quickly and precisely with a well aimed mental kunai.

He'd signed the damned paper with Uzumaki Ashina. Signed in his blood, and he still had his pride.

"Mada..." Hashirama is the only one to call him Mada, and only when he wants something.

"What?" He asks, almost shortly. The interjection has made him lose count.

"Please be happy." Hashirama rises with a sigh. "I know that Tobi likes to bait you, and I can't get him to stop, and that you don't like it when we mention your-" A glare stops Hashirama from completing the sentence. "And you don't act like you've been happy ever since even before I made the decision to go to Uzu for Mito, and I just want you to be as happy as I am."

"Are you done?" Given enough time, Hashirama would go on, launching into a speech extolling the virtues of happiness, and the necessity of smiling and he'd really rather not listen. Not today.

Hashirama slumps. "You haven't listened to a single word I've said, have you?" I've memorized your every word and expression.

Madara strides past him, out onto the walkway. "You're an idiot."

Kanae is not yet finished, and Hashirama simply follows him out. "Mada, I mean it. I want your happiness."

Madara is tempted to turn around and tell him exactly what he thinks of Hashirama's plan, and how Hashirama could contribute to his happiness, but the other door slides open, and Kanae steps out, with shoes and socks for the first time, followed by her sister, and Hashirama falls silent.

Her face has been painted rounder, her lips dark purple. Her red hair is mostly covered by the white hood. There are white cranes stitched to the outer layer of her kimono.

And this one reaches her feet, the hem trailing behind her. Mito passes her a fan, and she takes it silently, spreading it over the lower half of her face.

Madara takes a breath, and steps forward. She sets a hand on his arm, in the crook of his elbow, and they make the walk up to the main building of the Naka Shrine together, Hashirama and Mito falling in step behind.


The priest offers him the smallest sake cup first, and pours three times. The first cup is for the heavens.

He takes the required three sips, and passes the cup to Kanae. He is here, taking a bride before every ancestor he dares to claim as his own.

He doubts that a single one of them would approve. She is not Uchiha. His children are less likely to have the sharingan, and that makes all the difference, but more than that, it is the underlying emotion in his heart. If his father disapproves of his wife, he would disapprove of his love even more.

Kanae is offered the second cup, the cup of earth, first. She takes the required three sips, and passes him the cup.

The sake burns his throat.

It is a pledge for the woman beside him. Love. He thinks. What is love? Has this cup ever meant something? There is no marriage for love.

The third cup. Fertility.

And then they rise, clapping twice in perfect unison, though he is as wooden as ever. The cups have been exchanged.

It is time for the vow before the gods.

He wets his lips and begins. "On this day, before kami, we are thankful for this ceremony. Going forward, we will love each other, trust one another, share the good times and the bad, and swear that this will stay unchanged until our bones are dust." He pauses for a brief moment. "Uchiha Madara."

"Uzumaki Kanae." Her voice is clear. He does not turn his head.

The priest offers them each a sprig of evergreen, which ought to carry their prayers to the gods.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and prays that he learn to accept peace even if he doesn't deserve it.

The evergreen is set before the altar.

It is done.


A.N. In which Madara has a mental breakdown, and there is a (traditional as I could understand it) wedding. It always feels like Madara is one good push away from a mental breakdown, and Tobirama is quite ready and willing to push him.

Thank you so much to LittleMissSugarLess, Wyteeth (Don't worry, the youkai and such come back later. Along with a certain elder brother of Kanae's.) Caeleste, and Fey (And yes, because it's Madara, complicated is in fact, an understatement. He's not good with the whole, understanding his own feelings thing.) for reviewing!

And everyone who favorited and followed!

~Tavina.