satsuma-chan: Takada is torn between her responsibilities and her desires. But because of Senbi's limited worldview, she fails to really make sense of this, or sees this clearly. Instead, she sees two different sides of Takada, which comes across rather bipolar or inconsistent. :) And yeah, I think I definitely failed to make Kaminori more compelling (LOL sorry _) but in the prior iteration of this story, he plays a pretty integral role later on. Senbi had to go through her mother's death and Kaminori's disappearance and the incident with Madara, so she's definitely prioritizing her feelings differently, if anything, a bit stupidly. :D

Yerin: Thank you! I definitely did not want Takada to fall into a trope. :P So I tried to make her as complex as possible, within Senbi's worldview, of course. Hehe.

Holly B: In the Uchiha Clan, there is a desperate lack of healthy relationships. At least, that's how I wanted to portray it! Haha. But I'm glad :) I definitely wanted the relationship between Izuna and Senbi to be dynamic, despite their philosophical disagreements. And I can definitely see him as that kind of flower, considering how deceptive it is :D Nice headcanon~


9

The Summit


Our trip to the summit took two days.

Following the suggestions of the elders, I brought thicker clothing for the trip. A long blue cape, along with a thicker onbi for my waist. Although it wasn't my first time seeing snow, I was still astonished by the tranquil blankness of our surroundings. The crunch of the snow underneath my feet felt foreign, at first, but it didn't take me long to adapt to it.

The cold wind might've been cutting, but I felt at ease.

"You'll be attending meetings tomorrow with Mifune," Izuna said, walking up beside me on his horse.

With his hand, he gestured to a balding man up ahead with a thick goatee growing on his chin. Then, he motioned to the moving cart alongside us, where the elders were sitting, "Elder Hana, Kiyo, and me."

I nodded in acknowledgment, sparing a quick glance to the horse Madara was seated on. A black stallion, which seemed almost too cliché and trite to be reality. But somehow, it seemed rather befitting for a man like him.

Next to him was Takada, riding on top of a beautiful white horse. A long red cape draped over her shoulders. She wore a smile on her face like the biting wind didn't even matter. She might've been able to fool anyone with that smile.

"Oi, Senbi. Are you listening?"

Izuna waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my daze.

"Yes," I said.

"Remember to introduce yourself as an advisor," he added, staring solemnly ahead with narrowed eyes, "and not a caretaker."


The summit was grand.

A huge white building sat on the edge of a cliff atop an obscure mountain. And dozen statues led through the gated entrance until we reached the open doors—which were trimmed with gold. I stared up in mild fascination, trying not to slip down the steps.

The hall was ornate, stapled with paintings of dragons and gods against the ceiling walls. Gold linings decorated the beams, and statues of soldiers were settled on either side of the red carpet leading deep into the hall. A dozen or so flags hugged the wall, with an assortment of clan insignias stitched into the cloth. At the centerpiece was the Senju Clan insiginia.

I recognized our clan insignia almost immediately—a picture of a red and white fan stitched into a navy blue cloth. The flag sat at the opposite end of the hall,farther away from the rest.

Hundreds of people flooded the area—some dressed more lavishly than others.

There were probably representatives from every single country and clan here. I tried to keep track of the colorful yukatas and clan insignias floating around the hallway, but instead, I was bumped against the shoulder by a random passerby, snapping me out of my daze.

Instinctively, I apologized under my breath, running towards the group of blue robes that'd walked off in the distance. Unfortunately, I managed to lose track of my clan.

When I caught sight of Izuna, I quickly ran up beside him, slowing down to walk.

"Got lost?" Izuna asked, a small smirk forming on his lips.

"Sorry about that," I said. "Pretty difficult to walk through seas of people."

"The world seems pretty big outside our compound gates, doesn't it?" He said.

"Big doesn't begin to describe it," I admitted with a smile.

It was only then that I realized Madara and Takada were walking in front of us.

Many people seemed to recognize the latter, greeting her briefly before disappearing behind us. Takada bid hello to everyone with a warm smile, and a polite wave. A social butterfly, or some derivative of it. She was good in these kind of settings. I figured years of being a princess could do that to someone.

Madara couldn't be more different, staring ahead indifferently with half-lidded eyes.

"Unpack your things, and rest. Take a bath—or a nap," Izuna suggested as we stepped by into a smaller, darker corridor further away from the main hall. "The opening banquet is tonight, so you should get ready for that. Wear something nice."

"I thought the banquet was for select leaders of each clan and country," I said. "Am I even allowed to go?"

"You're going as my guest," Izuna stated simply.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me first?" I said with a mock sigh.

"Care to object?" He shot back, a devilish smirk forming on his lips.

"I just thought that you'd might want to invite your girlfriend or something," I told him.

Although he never disclosed that kind of information to me, I always assumed he had a girlfriend—or at least, some suitors.

Izuna snorted, "If I invited my girlfriend to this kind of function, she'd probably die of boredom."

"Ah, apparently there is an elusive girlfriend," I said.

His cheeks tinged the faintest shade of pink, "I was speaking hypothetically."

"Of course you were," I grinned.

"You have time to talk about such trivial things?" Madara snapped suddenly, still staring ahead.

Takada paused in the midst of a greeting, glancing over at me before shifting her gaze ahead, "Don't be a killjoy, anata."

Anata.

So they were addressing each other informally now. I suppose that was only natural, considering the fact that they were husband and wife. I tried to gauge Madara for some kind of response, but he only stared ahead indifferently.

"Apologies," I muttered softly under my breath. "It won't happen again, Madara-sama."

He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes before looking ahead once again.

Izuna narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze from his elder brother over to me, probably trying to digest the situation. The tension was palpable, and I'm sure that was apparent to him.

I glanced at the wave of people walking in the opposite direction towards the front entrance. Our clan, all dressed in navy blue, walked against the tide, towards the corridors. There were a couple of stares here and there, but it seemed that no one really cared enough to acknowledge our arrival.

Madara and Takada walked at the helm, leading us forward.

The crowd parted in half as they walked through.

"How come everyone is walking the other way?" I asked.

"They're waiting at the entrance to greet the Senju Clan. A representative from every clan and country goes," Izuna replied stiffly. "A pointless tradition, to be honest."

"Oh," I said, still stupefied by the number of people heading towards the front entrance. "Shouldn't we send someone as well?"

Madara snorted.

I arched a brow in confusion, "Am I missing something?"

"Haven't you noticed?" Izuna cocked his head to the side, with a wry smile on his lips. "We're not the kind of clan that follows tradition."


It took five minutes for me to unpack my belongings. I didn't have much to begin with, other than clothing and toiletries.

Although Takada had suggested taking a bath at the hot springs a mile over from the summit, I decided to forgo the relaxation, and prepare myself to head toward the front entrance where the greeting would take place. Since no one else from our clan wanted to go, I decided that I could at least see what all the fuss was about.

I pulled on a traditional navy blue yukata with a Uchiha insignia sewn into the backside. I cinched a white onbi around my waist and pulled my hair into a loose bun.

By the time I arrived, the entrance was already lined up with a number of different clans and countries, each wearing their rightful insignias. Like Izuna mentioned, our clan turned out to be completely absent from the festivities.

Most of the clans and countries huddled together in uniform groups. A cacophony of chatter spilled into the air. Despite the fact that it was near freezing, the atmosphere was warm and inviting—a bubble of excitement against the backdrop of a winter palace.

I felt awkward standing in the company of strangers, but that awkwardness quickly subsided as I found solace in knowing that I'd at least satisfy my curiosity. Maybe I shouldn't have come to greet the Senju Clan. But I figured they probably wouldn't notice me anyway among the cluttered crowd.

They were our archival, after all. To Izuna, they might as well have been mortal enemies. There were many rumors spread throughout our compound about how terrifying Hashirama and Tobirama were on the battlefield. There were even more rumors about Madara's ill-fated rivalry with Hashirama.

I shivered, feeling the cold wind kiss the open neck of my yukata. I hadn't expected to wait this long and I'd severely underestimated the current conditions of the weather. Looking around, I found that almost everyone was huddled in their own selective group, waiting with bated breath.

Although I was bumping shoulders with strangers, I realized I was ultimately alone.


The gates opened with a groan.

Hashirama entered through, riding on top of a brown horse. A smile formed on his face as the chatter around me erupted into a round of applause. He lifted an arm and waved at the crowd, stepping off his horse and heading towards the steps.

Following behind Hashirama was his younger brother, Tobirama. He dismounted from his horse, brushing the snow off the fur trim lined against his jacket hood. I recognized him almost immediately from the stark white hair and dark red eyes, glazed with indifference as he glanced over the cheering crowd.

A woman wearing an ornate gold crowd stepped off from her own horse. Her bright red hair was pinned up in two buns. She looked stern, but not indignant, as she headed through the crowd behind Hashirama and Tobirama. I recognized her as Mito, Hashirama's wife.

There was some hand-shaking, some laughter, and some gifts exchanged. I suppose their clan was rather revered. It made me wonder why our clan stood at such an opposite end.

Suddenly, Mito's gaze met mine. Her eyes widened slightly and she whispered something to her husband. He shifted his gaze to me, a smile forming on his face.

Before I could process what was happening, Hashirama completely vanished from sight. The crowd simmered down to a complete hush and I glanced around, wondering where exactly he disappeared to.

Suddenly, he manifested in front of me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and lifting me several feet into the air.

I barely managed to catch my breath as he set me back down onto the ground. It took me a moment to process the fact that Senju Hashirama had just hugged me—and then I tried not to meditate on the fact that those same arms had probably crushed and killed other men for lesser offenses.

"Dear member of the Uchiha Clan!" He exclaimed loudly. "Thank you for greeting us at this fine summit!"

He had an eager smile on his face and he placed two hands on my shoulders. Hundreds of gazes fell on us. At this point, the crowd had fallen completely silent.

"H-Hashirama-sama," I managed to utter, bowing slightly. "How did you...how did you-"

"Why, I could see your clan's insignia a mile away!" He stated with a deep laugh, patting me on the shoulder. "What's your name?"

I blinked, still in shock over the strange greeting, "My name is Uchiha Senbi."

"Senbi-chan," he repeated. "It's been years since the Uchiha Clan sent a representative to greet us."

"Oh—" I managed to say, rather dumbly.

"Forgive my husband," Mito said, walking up beside him. "He has a tendency to overreact."

I bowed quickly, "Mito-sama."

She smiled kindly, putting a hand on my shoulder, "Senbi-san. The bowing might be a bit excessive."

I glanced around, noting that no one else was bowing in their presence. I felt the heat rise up on my face as a blush began to form, "Sorry."

"You must be freezing," said Hashirama, gesturing to the thin navy yukata I was wearing.

"I didn't wait outside too long," I lied.

Something heavy collapsed on top of my head, obscuring my vision. When I pulled it off, I realized it was a coat. It was light blue with a white fur trim around the hood. The same jacket I saw Tobirama wearing earlier on.

The younger Senju appeared from behind Hashirama, wearing that same look of complete and utter indifference on his face like a mask, his white hair flowing in the wind. Tobirama was nearly the same height as his elder brother, but the atmosphere around him was cold.

I blinked, finding it difficult to process the random gesture of generosity, "Thank you, Tobirama-sama."

Hesitantly, I pulled the coat over my shoulders. It was still warm on the inside.

"It was nice meeting you Senbi," Mito said. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you soon."

Hashirama gave me a light tap on the shoulder, nodding in acknowledgment before stepping towards the entrance hall.

They departed together after bidding farewell. I watched them disappear into the corridor as the crowd erupted into chatter.


I stared at the cobalt kimono hanging up against the frame of the door. The same kimono that Takada bought me the other day in the marketplace under the guise of a threat.

Madara is the man I have to love now.

I was preparing for the banquet, which was simple enough. I had my hair pulled back in a neat bun, which wasn't a huge change from my usual get-up. I figured it wouldn't really matter anyway.

In the end, I decided against wearing the cobalt kimono, opting for a more casual pink kimono. It was a bit of an outdated design—the shoulders more boxed along with a thicker white onbi. It was a kimono that once belonged to my mother. An older kimono. But desperate times called for desperate measures. I doubted anyone would bother noticing me anyway.

I headed down the main corridor towards Izuna's room, avoiding the passing Hyuga Clan on the way.

"Senbi-san!"

Mito manifested from her room, standing in the frame of the doorway. On top of her head sat her signature gold crown. She was dressed in a beautiful, rather contemporary white kimono with a green trim along the sleeve.

Instinctively, I bowed, "Mito-sama."

She waved me over with a smile, "Ah, let's not address each other so formally. We're around the same age, aren't we?"

"Seven-," I said, suddenly remembering my birthday was not too long ago. "I mean eighteen."

"I'm nineteen," she replied, waving me over. "So that works out."

I walked towards her room, albeit hesitantly, "Mito-san?"

"Senbi-san," she responded happily, opening the door wide and inviting me in. "I assume you're going to the banquet tonight?"

I nodded.

"To be honest, I'm not a huge fan of those kind of functions," Mito admitted, closing the door behind me. "But I suppose we have to eat one way or another. So I figure I'll sit through a few hours of formalities for the sake of a meal."

I laughed genuinely, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

"So are you going as Madara's guest?" Mito asked.

I flinched, biting down on my tongue. I felt the tears well up in my eyes from the pain.

She blinked in rapid succession, "Are you okay, Senbi-san?"

"I'm fine," I replied almost too quickly, feigning a small smile for the sake of keeping the air clear. "Actually, I'm going as Izuna-san's guest. Takada is Madara's wife, so she'll be going as his guest."

"Takada of Kumogakure?" Mito echoed, still seeming a bit confused.

"Yes," I answered.

"So I assume you're Izuna's wife."

I couldn't help but laugh, "Not quite. I'm here as his advisor."

"Ah. Forgive me for being so presumptuous," she said softly. "Usually, the female guests invited are, well…"

"Fiancées or wives," I interjected, nodding in acknowledgment.

I took a quick glance around the room, noting that Hashirama's robes were spilled onto the bed in heaps.

"Excuse the mess," she said. "My husband is a bit sloppy."

"It's fine," I told her.

It was the exact opposite of Madara, who had things organized and trimmed neatly. The thought of it made me smile, considering that that was probably the last thing people expected from him.

"I don't mean to be rude," she said, "but your kimono…it seems a bit—"

"Outdated," I finished for her.

Takada would be heading to the banquet tonight. Anata, she'd said. As if they were already that close. I couldn't shake the uneasiness in my chest, but I figured this would have to be another fact of life I'd learn to accept. After all, the more I dwelled on it, the less likely I'd move on.

"I had another kimono prepared. A gift given to me as a threat. So I had trouble putting it on," I said.

I wasn't sure why I told Mito. It was probably because I had nothing to lose, at that point.

Too many secrets were pent up inside me, and it was difficult to spill my thoughts to the people in my own clan without it turning into the talk of the compound. Rumors had a tendency to blow up like wildfire and the last thing I needed was to put myself in jeopardy. And I figured the answer was vague enough so that I wouldn't divulge any unnecessary details.

"I suppose that's probably for the best," she said, unaffected by the bomb I'd just dropped. "So let's get you changed into something more appropriate, shall we?"


Despite my protests, Mito dressed me in an emerald green kimono—a golden dragon running up the side. She undid my bun, letting my hair fall loose to my lower back. It'd been a while since I had my hair cut, and my hair sat wavy after being tied up in a bun all day. I usually never wore my hair down unless I was relaxing alone in my bedroom.

Then, Mito put some powder on my face, groomed my eyebrows, and colored my lips with a tint of rouge.

"Seems a bit pointless and stupid," she stated blandly, taking out a few hairpins from her dresser. "Dressing up might be a bit vain, I suppose."

"It's not," I told her.

There were no pretenses; there were no guises. We were two simple women with nothing to lose with each other. Despite the barrier between our clans, nothing ever felt off between us. Maybe in another life, we could've even been friends.

Mito clipped a golden dragon into my hair, matching the same dragon lined up against the seam of my kimono. Beads of crystal lined up in my hair.

"I don't mean to be rude," I said, "but why are you being so kind to me?"

A pause. Some hesitation. Mito's fingers brushed a lock of my hair aside.

"To be honest, it'd be good for us to get along, considering the current relationship between our clans," Mito admitted. "Over some silly dispute of the past."

Ah, the sweet ache of disappointment.

So it had been a slight charade, in some aspect. But I wasn't angry, knowing that if I were in her position, I'd probably do the exact same thing.

The truth is, there was no allegiance between the Senju and Uchiha Clan. Although we'd been at a standstill for some time, the tensions between our clans were still strong.

"But I can tell you're kind," she continued, brushing through a lock of my hair with her delicate fingers, "after all, you weren't sent by your clan to greet us at the entrance today, were you?"

I paused, remaining silent.

"I thought so," Mito continued with a soft smile. "Anyway, we were grateful you showed up. Even if we did only meet for a short while."

We. She was talking about her and Hashirama.

It occurred to me, at some point, that she managed to see right through me. See right through our clan. Hashirama probably assumed the Uchiha Clan went out of their way to send a representative to greet him, but Mito seemed to understand the severity of the situation. Hashirama probably thought it was an act of goodwill, but Mito seemed to know better.

"Are you angry with me?" She asked.

"I'm not angry," I replied. "But still, this is too much. I can't accept this all."

"Nonsense," Mito replied, waving off my suggestion. "You'll accept it, and that's that."

Her act of goodwill. A free kimono because of the pretense she'd put on. A sort of apology for attempting to bridge a connection between our clans. After all, this was a political summit.

Mito patted down the slight wrinkle in the seam of the kimono.

I brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the notion of being lavished with presents with a political agenda behind the gesture. I suppose the politics ran deeper than just formal meetings, and there were probably deals made behind closed doors.

I was unable to soothe the unease in my stomach. Even though the Senju Clan was trying to work towards some kind of peace and unity, it was still a difficult pill to swallow. In the end, I was just being used as a pawn.

"For the record, this doesn't mean anything," Mito said, as if she were reading my mind. "Don't think of this as a gift, or a favor. I don't need you to return me anything."

Still, I was hesitant. Rarely did free things come without strings. And if they did, they usually came under some kind of guise or pretense. I'd learned that lesson with Takada.

"I find that difficult to believe," I replied carefully.

"That's fair," she replied. "Action is character, after all. I suppose you don't know me well enough, yet."

Exactly. Action is character. I spared a small smile, "I hope you don't take offense."

"Of course not," Mito said with a small smile, gesturing to the mirror by the doorway. "By the way, you look beautiful."

I spared a measured gaze at my reflection, digesting how different I looked.

The emerald kimono accentuated my figure quite nicely, and the dragon running up the side was definitely eye-catching, but not distracting or gaudy. My hair was let loose, and the thin dragon headpiece pinned on the side of my hair reflected in the pale light. The look was simple enough, yet elegant.

"Shall we?" Mito motioned to the door.

I paused, thinking about the implications of wearing this kimono to the banquet.

"It's a new kimono," she said. "If it helps, think of it as a gift for greeting us today at the entrance. The debt has been repaid. Now, we owe each other nothing."

The thought made me feel a little better, and it managed to sway my initial apprehensions, if only temporarily.

I took a deep breath, following behind her into the corridor. We walked alongside each other in relative silence until we reached the main hall, which was filled with people.

"Perhaps we should separate," she said, as clumps of people began to fill the hall.

Nodding slightly in acknowledgment and putting on a forced smile out of habit, I headed towards the banquet hall alone.


The banquet hall was huge, a long table lined up from one end of the room to the other. It was brightly light with candles nearly everywhere. Almost everyone was dressed in formal wear, which made me utterly grateful that Mito had given me the emerald kimono I was wearing.

From the distance, I spotted my clan, all clad in navy. Except Takada. Who was wearing an extravagant purple kimono, gold feathers stitched into the seams. She was currently conversing with someone from the Hyuga Clan.

Next to her, Madara met my gaze, and I quickly looked away.

I headed down the stairs, where Izuna met me. He looked rather handsome in his formal robes, lifting a hand up for me to take. For the sake of formality, I took his hand graciously, heading down the final steps of the staircase.

"How gentlemanly of you," I said, linking arms with him.

We headed towards the banquet table, which was lined with small appetizers, and pots of red carnations.

"I try," Izuna stated. "Nice dress."

"Thanks," I replied.

He pulled out a seat and I sat down, sparing a small smile up at him before he took a seat next to me, "You look different."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I told him calmly.

"Don't," Izuna smirked. "Although I suppose my brother would beg to differ."

He gestured towards Madara with a cock of his head, "He hasn't taken his eyes off you've arrived."

"I get it," I said. "The kimono is a little much."

"Maybe. The color just seems unlike you," Izuna said, shrugging.

I opened my mouth to say something, but decided to clamp it shut at the last minute, focusing on the delicious appetizers in front of me instead. The last thing I wanted to do was divulge the origin of the gift.

I decided to go with the small bowl of pickled radish first.

Just as I reached forward with my chopsticks to pick it up, I was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"A word, Senbi."

Looking up, I met Madara's dark gaze.

I shifted my gaze to Izuna, who shrugged indifferently. He took a deep sip of his sake, turning back to the appetizers sitting on the tabletop.

So much for being my date I thought to myself.

Slowly, I stood up, following Madara out of the banquet hall into a secluded corridor.

He was wearing a formal navy yukata, an imprint of our clan insignia on the back. It seemed a bit tight on him—a bit more form-fitting than his usual robes. I watched his muscles ripple in the backside.

"I heard you went to greet them at the summit entrance," he said, turning around suddenly.

A far cry away from the banquet hall, the corridor was completely and utterly vacant. It was quiet here, which made the tension all the more palpable. This was the first time Madara acknowledged me since the incident.

"You haven't forgotten your allegiances, have you?" He said.

Narrowing my eyes, I said, "Of course not."

"Then why did you go?" Madara looked stern and unmoving.

It seemed like we were back at base one. All that time stripping the walls he built up seemed to be in vain since we were back to the basic foundation we started out with. He'd say something, I'd reply, he'd snap at me.

"I was curious," I admitted. "I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Not a big deal? You're at a political summit," Madara snapped. "Please don't tell me you're as imbecilic as you seem."

I frowned. Under any other circumstance, I would've shot back something snarky or sarcastic. But it seemed like the relationship between us had shifted, and I couldn't rely on jokes without reverting back to the same kind of awkward intimacy between us.

"And this kimono?" He said, motioning to the dress. "When you receive a gift, you should know that the giver usually expects something back."

It was true. I should've been smarter about my dealings with Mito. But she'd managed to convince me it didn't mean anything. And the truth is, I believed her.

So, with my tail between my legs, I said softly, "I'm sorry."

I stared down at the ground, afraid of what I'd see in his eyes. The sharingan, or some derivative of it.

Madara headed away down the long corridor, his footsteps echoing behind him.

The truth is, I just wanted to touch him to convince myself he was still real. To hold him. It wasn't even because of the intimacy, or the sexual tension. I just wanted to be near him.

"Did you get me those flowers for my birthday?" I asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

A pause. Madara hesitated mid-step, pausing only briefly before heading on his way again.

"What flowers?" He replied.


"Senbi-chan,"

A deep voice called out my name from the distance. By the time I entered the banquet hall, I watched as Hashirama approached the stairwell with Tobirama following from behind. The former offered me an arm.

I bowed slightly before pulling back.

Hashirama seemed surprised by the rejection, but the smile didn't disappear from his face. Meanwhile, Tobirama acknowledged me with a curt nod, and I reflected the gesture, figuring that that was probably his form of a greeting.

Hashirama was dressed in a white robe, a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck His undershirt was gray, imbued with a yellow Senju Clan insignia. Tobirama was dressed much more formally, wearing a blue robe with a simple fur trim around the neck.

"We're on the other end of the table," Hashirama stated, gesturing to the far end of the room, "so we probably won't see much of each other tonight."

"Nii-san figured he could at least escort you to your seat," Tobirama added, unable to mask the sarcasm dripping from his lips.

"Oh," I managed to utter. "That's not necessary. I-"

"-nonsense," Hashirama interjected, grabbing me by the elbow, pulling me ahead.

As we entered into Uchiha territory at the opposite end of the dining table, all eyes turned to stare at Hashirama and Tobirama. Hashirama seemed blissfully ignorant of the dark eyes watching him, leading me to my seat next to Izuna.

"Oi, Madara!" Hashirama called out, waving at the dark eyed man across the table sitting next to Takada. "It's been years since we last saw each other! Aren't you going to introduce me to your lovely wife?"

Madara narrowed his gaze while Izuna stood up from his seat. The tension in the air was thick.

Takada's gaze shifted from Hashirama to Madara—and there and back again.

"Hashirama," Madara stated darkly.

Izuna and Tobirama glanced at each other with narrowed eyes. I tried to swallow the lump stuck in my throat, but found it difficult as all eyes turned to me.

Hashirama broke the silence, laughing heartily, "Have a good dinner, everyone."

With that, he walked off next to Tobirama, heading towards the brightly lit section of the dinner table.

"Seems you've made some friends," Izuna commented casually, pulling out my seat for me.

"I don't know if friends is the right word," I told him, sitting down.

"Friends or not," he said, "you should probably watch how you act, especially in front of the elders. You're lucky they're not here tonight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It means," Izuna met my gaze, "the Senju Clan isn't our ally and you should be careful people don't get the wrong idea."


The banquet went by in relative silence. Takada had her fair share of sake, and I considered telling her to slow down, but I was torn between my former role as her caretaker and my current role as an advisor to say anything.

"Really? I find that hard to believe," Takada leaned forward, leaning her cheek against the shoulder of the representative from Kirigakure sitting next to her. "There can't actually be a secret to a perfect marriage. Nothing is perfect."

Her words were slurred and sloppy, and there was a glaze in her eyes that seemed to border between melancholy and disinterest. She probably wasn't aware of the conversation she was having.

I'd never been drunk, and I wasn't planning on getting drunk the night before our political meetings, so I could only speculate from afar what was going through her mind.

Meanwhile, Madara looked rather irritated, staring indifferently at his own plate of food that he'd barely touched.

"You'll be meeting with the Hyuga Clan, the Sound Country, and the Waterfall Country tomorrow morning at 9am," Izuna stated, playing with his bowl of sweet congee, "so don't be late."

"You underestimate my penchant for punctuality," I said.

"—but my husband won't even consummate our marriage!" Takada exclaimed loudly.

Madara nearly spat out his sake.

I blushed, shifting my gaze to the dinner setting.

"Perhaps I'm being a bit too romantic," she continued, "expecting my husband to give up all his hidden mistresses—"

"—that's enough, Takada," Izuna stated, interjecting her stream of consciousness.

She blinked, a lock of hair still stuck to the side of her cheek. Slow realization dawned on her face and a slight blush rose on her cheeks.

Despite the tension, Madara stood up from his seat, his chair screeching back with a groan. He departed the banquet hall without another word. I considered following after him, but Izuna put a hand on my shoulder, forcing me down in my seat.


I escorted Takada to her room quietly. She seemed rather self-aware after the random outburst earlier on, and it seemed like she didn't want to overstep her boundaries again. Although I wasn't her caretaker this time around, I still treated her with respect and courtesy out of habit.

Once I led her to her room, she undid the onbi tied around her waist, stripping herself from the confined purple kimono. She crawled into bed naked, leaning her cheek against a cushioned pillowcase.

Takada stared into blank space, "I'm sorry for what I said."

I shrugged, shaking off the terrible feeing in my stomach, "You should probably apologize to Madara-sama."

She remained silent for only a brief moment before continuing, "I'm not stupid, you know. I see the way he looks at you, Senbi-chan."

After all this time, it was still Senbi-chan.

"I'm really trying to make this work," she said softly, the tears welling up in her eyes.

I sighed, taking a seat on the bed, "He's the kind of person that requires time and patience. Relationships are hardly ever that easy."

"Have you been in a relationship before?" Takada asked.

I paused.

"I know you don't love him," I told her, deciding to turn the conversation instead of indulging the details of my personal life to someone I didn't really trust. "Not yet, anyway. He has a lot of walls, and layers, but he's not as difficult to break as you think."

Takada laughed coldly, smudging the glittery powder on her eyelid.

"What is it?" I asked.

"From the sound of it," she said, still staring off into the distance, "I might've mistaken you for someone who's in love with him."