Chapter 10

I couldn't fight back. That was what killed me the most; it was that I couldn't fight back. I felt more than saw his hand slam in to my cheek one more time. I knew the left side of my face was red and beginning to swell, I knew that bruises would appear in the tell-tale colours of blues, yellows and purples. My top and bottom lips had both split, the rusty, salty copper tasting blood ran down the back of my throat. My blood. I wanted to gag, I wanted to fight back and feel his bones crush and crack beneath my punches – I wanted to show him what real pain was, but I couldn't – I wouldn't allow myself to fail, this was my mission, my revenge and my justice.

I would fight through the pain and let him beat me. I looked up through my dishevelled hair, starring straight into his eyes, they were no longer a deep pool of chocolate brown – they no longer radiated the warmth and care that was shown only hours before.

Not now. Not anymore, now his eyes bore into me, cold, harsh and judging. Those eyes were judging me for crimes I had yet to commit, for the audacity of being able to take his beatings and still stand, for making no noise. No indication of pain would pass my lips, no way would he take the breath from my lungs.

I was being punished for being strong, for what he thought was my forgiveness after every beating. For standing up with broken bones and dislocated limbs, because not a single tear touched my cheek. I was stronger than him, that was why he hated me, and that was why he married me.

I felt him fall to his knees beside me, his breathing was unsteady and fast, I knew he was shaking I could feel it – I could hear it. His cold hand cupped my burning cheek, so, so softly. If someone hadn't seen the beatings before, they would think that this man in front of me had saved me, rescued me from the monster that had broken my arm in three places and smacked my head against the stone wall until I had a concussion. My head swam, my body ached and my arm throbbed in time with my pulse.

"so, so beautiful…" he whispered, his other hand running through my hair, stopping at the nape of my neck, his fingers tangled in my brown waves. "you're so beautiful when you're broken Kiyomi…stay like this love, stay like this forever" he leaned into me, his lips centimetres from mine, I could feel his breath on my face, and at that moment I realised how twisted I had really become. I had feelings for the man kneeling before me, bile rose in my throat at the thought, how could I let myself feel this way? How could I degrade and betray myself to such a level? It didn't matter that he dotted on me, it didn't matter that he could treat me well or that his eyes showed soft kindness to me – and on the rare occasion that they did, I embraced it.

I knew that I could never forgive myself and even if I could, I wouldn't. I was Takeshi's prize, and his ultimate failing, but I was his most prized victim. I had known he had a violent temper when I'd first met him. I'd read and re read his file before accepting the mission, I had taken the beatings and done what I'd had to do, but along the way I had lost myself, I had never felt so weak. So vulnerable.

As his lips pressed forcefully against mine I couldn't bring myself to pull away, as he licked the blood from my lips, as he caused my lips to bleed even more, as the blood swelled and fell between us, a red pool of blood, of pain and anger and shame, I wouldn't pull away, this was the punishment I endured, this was my penance for allowing this monster of a man to break me.

I had withstood the beatings, I had kept silent, but I had left myself raw emotionally I had let him weave his poison into my blood without even knowing it. The only thing that was untouched by the man bleeding me in the most painful and cruel way was my love for Madara and I hated that. I hated that the only thing that had survived the mental torture from Takeshi was the way I felt for man, as awful if not worse than him.

As he pulled away I couldn't tear my eyes from the blood covering his mouth, falling in lines down his chin, staining his shirt. He was a macabre picture of crazy and psychotic, he was a man bred for violence and destruction; he was a man that radiated pain and suffering. And yet I still couldn't deny that the man had given me moments of happiness in my life, they were few and far between but they were there. I had such few memories of times when I could relax, breathe and really laugh. I thought I had been happy, but I was broken.

Madara had given me moments too, they weren't like Takeshi's, they were memories of trust and comradeship, I had laid my life on the line for him and him for me. I grown with him, I was older than him, I was cursed to age at such an impossibly slow rate that I had almost given up several times, but I had become strong, loyal and comfortable in a way that I didn't have to walk looking over my shoulder.

I had taught Madara all I knew and yet he taught me that I could trust him, even if I was just to a point. But trust was trust, and it was really all I could give him.

Takeshi stood and walked out the room, "clean yourself up love, we have guests for dinner." And without a single look over his shoulder he disappeared. I let a small breath escape my lungs, leaning back into the wall for support.

A small but sudden pop caused me to look up from inspecting my broken arm. Madara stood before me as tall and powerful as ever, he was looking down at a scroll and began to walk towards me, stopping stark still as he saw the pool of blood not five feet from me.

Looking up, his eyes raked over me, taking in the blood, the bruises that were starting to show on my cheeks, the small line of blood trickling down from my hair line towards the column of my throat. His eyes flickered to the arm I had been inspecting; he took me in from head to toe and suddenly surged to life.

In two strides he was inches away, his thumb and forefinger gently taking my chin and tilting my face till I looked into his eyes. Turning my face from side to side he inspected the damage without a single word, his face a mask of stone. He gave nothing away.

He gently released my chin to take my left arm, his other hand began to glow green, he hadn't looked me in the eyes yet, he simply concentrated on his task. The sensation of bones clicking back into place and knitting themselves back together was odd and slightly painful but I didn't care.

I felt the strength returning to the newly healed limb as I flexed my fingers. I watched as he moved onto my face next, starting with the injury at my hairline, my vision became sharper and I didn't feel lightheaded, he moved on, still not meeting my eyes, still not speaking a word. Once he had finished his thumb ran gently over my bottom lip, pausing there he finally met my eyes.

He looked at me softly; there was no pity there, no judgement or misunderstanding. He knew, he knew why I hadn't fought back, he knew that I had to take the pain, but he didn't like it. It warmed me slightly to know that he cared about my wellbeing, to know that his first reaction before speech was to fix me and heal me.

Looking into his eyes I saw the part of Madara that was revealed so rarely I sometimes believed I only imagined it. I took a breath and suddenly his hand dropped to his side, although he didn't move back, his eyes hardened and he became the plotting man I knew once more.

"You were right; Takeshi wants the nine tails and the scrolls. Kisame and Itachi are heading to his hideout as we speak, they're going to search the place and bring back any valuable information they can. Takeshi has a meeting with his Konoha contact this evening, I would advise you to steer clear of that meeting at all costs, the contact is coming to dinner tonight. He intends to hand him a scroll of information on the Akatsuki and the supplies that we have acquired from Daisuke." He handed me the scroll that he had been looking at after he'd teleported into the room. "here is the scroll you need to switch it with, they look exactly the same, the information is a few months older and doctored slightly so it's still believable, but it shields us from any more unwanted identity discoveries."

I nodded and took the scroll, "do you know who the contact is?" he shook his head,

"No but I'm willing to bet that it's an elite Jonin and at least a few ANBU to shadow them as they make it back to Konoha, if it was me I wouldn't take any risks with such important information."

My lips turned up and a small smile, "if it was you – you'd already have the information you needed." His answering smirk confirmed my statement; the man was a meticulous planner and knew how to get what he wanted.

"I have to go to the dinner with the contact and Takeshi, there's no way I can get out of it and keep up this cover and I do not intend on blowing it after that beating."

His eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Takeshi's earlier form of stress relief. "He will die soon," it wasn't a promise; it wasn't a speculation it was a fact. Takeshi would fall and fall hard. I nodded again.

"I need to go to the medical wing and alter the medic ninja's memories to think that he healed me. I will see you for the next report." I pushed myself from the damp wall and began to walk past him, my lungs and heart froze for only a second as he reached out and pulled me back towards him, his hand wrapped easily around my upper arm, pulling me so my shoulder was against his chest.

"Be careful Ki, we have no idea who his contact is and this could get messy, if it gets to dangerous, grab Takeshi and we'll torture the information from him." I nodded once more looking up into the inky pools that were his eyes, "I will, you have my word." His eyes bore into mine for a few seconds more, as if trying to see if I was lying or not, but eventually and ever so slowly his hand slipped from my bicep and I walked past him, inhaling the scent that was unique to the Uchiha ninja. I could never quite place it, I was never quite sure what it was that he smelt of, all I knew was that it was his smell and I would know it anywhere.

As I left the room, walking towards the medical wing I was deep in thought, the whole time trying to place that one smell I could never identify, he smelt like cinnamon and man, like smouldering embers and something I couldn't quite place. after adjusting the medics memory I walked back to the room I shared with Takeshi, I walked to the bathroom and proceeded to strip and shower, getting out I wrapped a soft and large fluffy towel around me and went to pick out an appropriate kimono to wear to Takeshi's possible discovery of my real identity.

While I was pulling my hair into a top knot I suddenly realised what he smelt like, "Pine wood." I whispered to myself "He smells like pine wood."