To my readers: I'm sorry I've been away so long, everyone. This story WILL be finished and will smuggle its way into the canon plot. I won't make any excuses, but I'll tell you that I've been riddled no motivation and a hint of writer's block (Not only that, but some personal injuries as well. She's OK folks!). I try my absolute best to use my full potential when writing, so if I'm taking a long time (which I usually do..) it's because I want to put down everything that needs to be told for full immersion and comprehension of the story. Again, I'm sorry; bear with me.
Has anyone else noticed Madara's obsession with relating dancing to fighting? I mean, I get it but.. me thinks he must have just as many snazzy moves on the dance floor as he does off it. He's probably a dance-off king. He would probably be a great drunk dancer too. Madara comes off to me as a guy who would love disco/funk. With his bellbottoms on..
Also, vote in the new poll on my page concerning new story ideas! Who wants some Tobirama? I know I do.
Edit: HE'S DEAD. Oh God, he's dead! Come back to me! I want to go back to the time when Madara was shirtless and murdering everyone, please.
Chapter 11: Tyrant IV
The council had ceased further discussion until the doors had closed and her footsteps had withdrawn from the hall.
Peering down at the apathetic Madara, a main advisor reclined in his seat and enlaced his fingers, "We have stipulated the details from Izuna's proposition, subsequently provided ample time for you to enamour the girl, and all the while you have remained dispassionate."
The raven-maned shinobi stared phlegmatically at the man, drumming his fingers against the upholstery on the armrest.
"We will proceed with the circumstances by our own ruling." The councilman leered, "Surely a debate will not be necessary this time around, will it Madara? Izuna?"
The two siblings were reticent as the older remained aloof, a riposte on the nip of his tongue, while the younger spoke cordially for the both of them, "Ah.. no."
The committee member dipped his head, then gestured loosely to the rear of the room, "May I introduce Uchiha Yanai."
Propping his elbow onto the rest as he situated himself into lounge, Madara braced his lulling head with a thumb to his jaw and finger to his temple, petulance distinct in his face. His slate eyes slid to the woman who had approached the center of the room as the man went on to impart her avocations and assigned efforts within the walls.
Her skin was fair but not the milky porcelain that Kasume's was, he noticed. Her hair shone pure ebon as it flowed down her back, analogous to the inky hue of her eyes.
Surmising his scrutiny, his eyes then trailed elsewhere and sensed the woman's derision from his indifference.
The long haired chairman disregarded the blasé countenance of the clan head, progressing with the colloquy, "As you are all aware, war will be upon us on the morrow- it would be beneficial for the couplet to fraternize, no?"
"Not only fraternize," Juiro offered, directing his line of sight to the less than congenial Madara, "I reckon many of my fellow board members would advocate they copulate this eve."
His brow quirked boldly as he held the unyielding shinobi's withering gaze, "Simply as contingency. Heaven forbid anything were to happen to you, Madara-sama." He claimed, smiling, "Certainly not insinuating that we impugn your abilities."
Premonition struck Izuna of his brother's impending fiery explosion of a retort and hastily rectified, "To my understanding, Kasume-san's possessions are still occupying my brother's chamber." His eyes fell to Madara, who had been watching him attentively.
"The removal could potentially take a full day." Izuna guesstimated.
"Ah, that would be an issue." One of the council members chimed, "Perhaps it would be choice for such affairs to delay until Madara has returned - unscathed, of course."
Juiro gaped with a furrowing brow, "Are you willing to make that gamble?"
"Was it not you who had professed our absolute faith in Madara's aptitude?" A councilman quipped.
He ran a hand through his sheared taupe hair, his lips a firm line. A clap of weathered hands had prompted the outfit back to the prior exchange, "The woman's belongings will be returned to her own chamber, and Yanai will adopt Madara's bed. We will review the fornication for another day. "
Resounding agreement flooded the room, bringing the assembly to a close. The first to erupt through the sturdy walnut wood doors was Madara, disappearing down the corridor with his younger sibling accompanying him shortly after.
"I take it you are upset."
"Not now, Izuna."
The ambient cracking of distant thunder emanating from the north embraced the brothers as they vacated outdoors, a mild vapour of dew and tepid rain dribbling from the nubilous sky as they stepped onto the planked terrace, sheltered beneath the eaves of the clay tiled roof. The foliage within the compound rustled with the occasional crisp breeze, the leaves quivering after each trickling droplet of water.
Leaning against a column, Izuna folded his arms and gazed at the saturated courtyard, "Lamentably, there is little that you and I can do about it."
"That one. With the awful sandy hair." Madara muttered in reverie, his eyes on the rippling puddle of murky water in the sodden dirt, his hands twitching in anticipation, "He will receive his just deserts."
He brooded a moment longer before he pried himself away from the plaster wall, beads of rain dampening his adumbral hair and clothing as he traversed out into the rain.
.
She rubbed at the soot on her face as she knelt before the stone and clay oven, wedging in several more pieces of lump wood into the igneous blazing pit while the scorching iron pot above hissed temperately, the stew inside boiling over the heat. The stew had been cooked with a variety of vegetables consisting of daikon radishes, potatoes, green onions, finely chopped garlic cloves, a pinch of mirin, and as the bulk of the meal- thinly sliced broiled beef.
It had been one of the handful of times wherein Kasume was stationed over the preparation of the meal. Crops and goods were brought in abundance for stock, fundamentally all produce within the stronghold having been grown and harvested by Uchiha hands.
The brunette stood and brushed the dirt and ash from her smock and dress. The woman beside her smiled as she fluffed the steaming rice in a pot adjacent to the bubbling stew, "Go on. The others and I will see to it that everyone is served."
She straightened, "Are you sure?"
After a nod from the mid-aged woman, the brunette hung her sullied apron on the hook and bid a swift wave to her fellow ladies and retired from the kitchen, proceeding through the lobby to emerge outside. She breathed an even sigh of the serene dusk wind; the sky a hue of flaring orange and crimson that converged into indigo.
The terrain was still dampened from the rain shower earlier that noon, maculating the dirt with sporadic puddles and besmirching water spots. The bucolic street was alight with a warm glow from the small bars and shops, an Uchiha painted lantern or board suspended from every roof; a sparse number of Uchiha members chatting away or imbibing with comrades in the nightlife.
Lifting the beige dividing curtain, Kasume stepped into the bathhouse and removed her sandals. She favored to bathe while the pools were vacant amid dawn or late eve to indulge in a longer soak. Slipping into the women's side, she stripped off her clothing and let it drop to her feet. She freed her hair of the cloth tie, the dark tresses cascading off her shoulder.
She took one of the wood basins stacked in the corner of the room and set it under the perennial rustic spigot, situating herself on the small stool as she waited for the tub to fill. She gingerly poured the scalding water over her skin and hair, flinching under the blunt heat. Dipping the cloth into the tub, she lathered the wax soap in her hands and proceeded to wash her skin and hair.
Pouring the basin over herself, she rinsed the bubbling suds from her bare skin, refined with new-found glow. She ran her hands through her sopping dark hair with just a driblet of rosemary oil. Cleansing her palms under the current of water from faucet, she turned the squeaking valve shut and stood from the stool, wrapping the terrycloth around her midframe.
Immersing a foot into the mineralized water, she released the towel as she entered the steaming hot bath slowly, a breath of a sigh leaving her as she submerged.
She smiled and swept her hands atop the surface of the gently rolling water, the wafting steam rising to the paneled wood roof. Wriggling her toes beneath the water, she embraced the rippling warmth as she glimmered at stone and wood framed bath.
The door had brusquely slid open; a masculine voice heard, "Ah.. Good fortune smiles upon me."
.
The blacksmith meticulously inspected the honed edge of the glinting blade, peering down the salient steel; sharpened with utmost finesse by whetstone. He ran a finger down the smooth temper line, exulted by his immaculate craft. Sheathing the blade, his old smiling face was leathery from the sun and blackened by the embers of the firepit. His weathered hands were marred with the old scars of burn marks from the days long past of his apprenticeship in the craft. He handed the blade to the refined leader, "Here you are, Madara-sama; sharpened with the dexterity to slice a head clear off the neck of your opponent."
"You have my sincerest gratitude, Fusuma." Receiving the sword from the man, he harnessed the weapon to the cloth belt on his waist and tossed a small leather pouch to the man, jingling with coin. The old man caught it to his chest, his mouth agape, "Madara-sama, I cannot accept this.."
The shinobi began his trek down the dirt street, reserving no room for dispute as he spoke over his shoulder, "Purchase a new whetting stone. Your current one is wearing."
The old man undid the tie enclosing the small pouch and glanced inside. About a baker's dozen pieces of gold coin gave weight to the bag. More than enough for a new stone. The weathered man smiled with a sad sense of appreciation before he fastened the bag and got back to work.
The aligning shops and bars that had thrived with activity were devoid as the hour of the night traversed. The chorus of crickets veiled beneath tall stems of moist grass and the reverberant hoot of a reposed night owl served as the nighttide's chorale in the crisp drafting air; the scuff of his woven straw sandals against the small clods and pellets of soil beneath his feet lulling him into an idle muse as he tread toward the main house with rest in mind.
A woman's scream pierced the night air in a trill of fear, charging him to halt where he stood. Discerning the origin of the cry, Madara took off and impelled over the rooftops of homes and stores before dropping down into the lane. He ran to the bathhouse and threw open the sliding door that lead directly out to the street.
He immediately perceived a distressed and flustered Kasume, a cloth scantily wrapped around her faltering wet figure. His attention then slid to Uchiha Juiro, who stood in the threshold of the women's bath with solely fabric tied around his waist.
"What is this." Madara demanded.
A chortle was heard from the sandy haired man, "A misunderstanding.. I seem to have made the mistake of entering the women's side rather than the men's."
The leader's eyes slimmed, the muscles in his jaw growing taut, "And yet you managed to remove your clothing beforehand."
"My clothing is in the men's side. I must not have been paying attention to where I was headed after visiting the washrooms." A tense smile edged onto Juiro's face.
The council member had constructed his words to appear with the innocence of accident; however the tinge of a quiver in his voice and rigid frame had exposed him.
Madara felt his lip curl into a sneer. Striding toward the shelf where Kasume's robe was piled, he whipped it from the basket and returned to her dithering frame. He laid his free hand against her lower back and guided her to the door he had entered from, giving her a gentle push out of the bathhouse.
Remaining in the doorway, the shinobi's head gradually craned over his shoulder, "...I suggest that you take precaution in the future so such circumstances will not occur again, councilman." His eyes met with Juiro, "For your own sake."
Madara shut the door behind him before the man could retort. He was then left with the sight of a tremulous and dripping wet Kasume - standing out in the dimly lit street with the breezing cloth around her mid.
"Come." He snatched her hand into his own and began pulling her down the street while she struggled to keep up.
Madara stopped outside the doors to a small gathering hall which was square in size. So small, it had never been used as anything other than a storage for crates of various nature and rolls of fabric.
His vigilant eyes scanned the desolate street before sliding the door open and shoving her inside. He stepped in after her and secured the door behind him.
Turning, he gazed at her from head to toe – her dripping dark hair and wriggling bare feet on the tatami mat. The room was lit only by the subdued warm glow of the lanterns outside, the mute light enhancing the lineaments of her form. She was holding the fabric firmly to her body while she scanned the nearly empty room before her eyes met his.
That look of absolute innocence..
He strained a sigh as he raked a hand through his dark mess of hair, then handed her the robe and sash. She looked down at the robe then back at him before she nodded compliantly and turned. As Madara promptly averted his eyes, it came to him that should have left the room.
The sound of the cloth hitting the tatami mat resonated in his ears as he tersely swallowed the build of saliva in his mouth. His gaze languidly slid to her, lingering on the smooth curve of her back and slim waist. The clan leader licked at the corner of his lip as his slimmed eyes caressed her pure milky skin and the entirety of her exposed backside.
He tilted his head ever so slightly as his brow quirked... Even her behind was kind.
With the robe fully covering her body, Madara looked away just as she turned to face him. Acknowledging that she had finished changing, he nodded before their eyes met.
"Thank you..." She murmured, fidgeting slightly with the hem of her sleeve.
The pair endured the silence as the only audible sounds were from the thriving nocturnal creatures in the trees and grass loitering in the late hour.
Her face flushed a gentle pink hue as she observed how closely they stood before their eyes locked. Madara fell bewitched by the soft features of her visage lit by the burning lanterns; her eyelashes creating delicate shadows against her skin.
Madara slowly lifted his arms and gathered her to him, leaning down to inhale the gentle floral scent of her damp hair. He tenderly nuzzled his nose against her neck, leaving soft kisses sparingly along her skin. Her breathing grew arid as Madara continued his passionate ministrations on her. His lips left her neck to graze against her own pink ones, his warm breath caressing her face.
She was mesmerized by his ever so slight ragged intake of breath, by his lips, by the morbidly handsome face that was a mere hairsbreadth away. Kasume threaded her hand into his inky locks, caressing his scalp gently as he purred gruffly. His eyes glazed with enamour as one of his hands went behind her neck, drawing her forward as he kissed her sensually. She leaned into his embrace as her lips moved delicately against his. A growl released from his throat as he held her closer to him, his hands dragging along her back and waist.
Whenever he kissed her, she always melted in his embrace, wanting more. She wondered if such things were healthy.
He stopped kissing her and brushed the wet strands of hair from her face as while caught their breath. The tips of his fingers glided up and down her arm, his voice a low hum, "…We leave for war at dawn."
Kasume couldn't handle his gaze and tone any more than she could handle the pandemonium of thoughts that preceded it. She witnessed an unusual change in his face so subtle she had almost missed it.
"Dawn..?" Her soft whisper, like a butterfly's kiss echoing in his ear. She searched his face, "When will you return?"
"On the fortnight."
Her eyes settled on his chest, watching as it rose and fell with each breath he took. She bit down on her lip as she caressed a tuft of his cascading black hair, trembling just slightly, "I.. "
Madara held her chin between his thumb and forefinger as he forced her chin up to face him, "Worrying is fruitless."
She sniffled mutely, "I cannot help it.."
His ebon eyes ran slowly down her face, his mouth set in a straight line. After a moment he scoffed, "You honestly believe I will return with substantial injuries?"
Kasume looked away, her heart dipping into the icy pool of her stomach.
"I will be fine." He breathed in all seriousness.
She mustered a small smile at him in response, he pulled her tighter into his arms and held her firmly. To his surprise, Kasume rested her head against his chest as she returned his embrace, clutching him tightly.
He straightened from the wall and reached around his chest to clasp the small hand that was bunched against his back, "I will escort you to your room."
"Um.." She voiced he pulled her along toward the door.
The raven haired shinobi glanced over his shoulder, "What?"
"I have no shoes..." Kasume replied miserably
Ahh, that was right. He forgot to pick them up back in the bathhouse. He glimpsed down at her feet – one foot placed on top of the other for warmth. His eyes accessed the room before he released her hand, "Wait here."
Madara approached one of the several crates and pried it open with little effort. Digging around inside, he shut it and searched another. Finally, he retrieved what he sought and returned to her side. A pair of woven straw sandals were dropped on the floor.
"Put those on."
She slipped the shoes onto her feet; they were horribly too big, but they would have to do.
Staring down at her feet, his shoulders began to shake a little, his head beginning to lower.
Kasume tilted her head slightly, "Are you laughing?"
He straightened and latched his hand onto hers, "No. Come on,"
As he began to pull her toward the door, Kasume squeaked.
"What is it now?"
"The cloth!" She swiveled on her heel and bent to pick up the terrycloth from the tatami mat, then linked her fingers with his again.
Madara eyed her hand before returning his gaze to her, "Forgetting anything else?"
The brunette smiled as she shook her head.
His lip gave a slight quirk, "Good."
They left the makeshift storage and ventured into the midst of midnight. Madara strode ahead of her as they began the trek back to the main house while she lagged behind, having to increase her pace to keep up with his long strides; he noticed this and slowed for her.
Kasume felt touched by his minute act of consideration and patience. She enjoyed walking with him and found it comforting with his hand encasing her own as they walked together. She felt safe being with him. She looked down at their laced fingers, a fond smile growing on her lips.
The two meandered down the dully lit hallway of the main building which was permeated with stillness and repose. While they remained side by side, Madara still managed to take the lead and maneuvered them through the winding corridors before they finally halted before one of the many doors.
He scrutinized the door with a nip of distaste, "Your previous room."
She nodded languidly, bidding him another thank you and goodnight, allowing her hand fall from his as she moved to enter the room. Abruptly, she was pulled back, her hands bracing themselves against his chest as she collapsed into his frame. Her eyes trailed up and met his dark gaze, his lips meeting hers in a chaste kiss.
She felt his arms coil gently around her waist, holding her as though she were the most fragile thing in the world while he rested his chin atop her head. After a moment, he pulled back, "Stay away from that council member with the stupid sandy hair."
"Jurio?"
He rolled his eyes, "Whatever his name is."
She smiled and complied with a nod, saying their goodnights before she entered her bedroom and left Madara in the solitude of the hallway. He stood at her door for a moment longer, then decided he had been lingering there long enough and made his way to his own chamber.
-Mirin is alcohol used for cooking.
Please Read: While I love hearing from you all, every author wishes for a review that says little more than "Ohmygod, give more!"
So I suppose, what I'm saying is that we – in our wonderful relationship – should take and give. (You take the chapter, then give a review. I take the review, and give you a chapter.) This is the way to a loving, healthy and blossoming partnership. Now, get over here and gimme some sugar!
