Chapter Twenty-five: Trust
Mito tried to stay busy and unattainable, wanting neither to do with either of them. Madara was a constant pain to all of her senses, for she both wanted him and wanted him to die at once, just to make him go away. Never in a million years would she have thought that her love life could get this convoluted with her limited experience. Of all the men in the world, she had landed both of the universe's powerhouses: two strong willed, uniquely powerful, worthy men, who just so happened to be both friends and enemies, depending on the day.
She sighed heavily. She hadn't asked for this.
"Something the matter, Uzumaki-sama?" peeped the rich feminine voice from behind the surgical mask. Mito met the dark, long-lashed doe eyes of Uchiha Kasumi. Kasumi had been Mito's counterpart for the Uchiha army, a courageous field medic who refused to wait in the safety of the camps for the Shinobi to drag their wounded home. In a sense, they had become friends. There was much that they could teach each other, and Mito found a sense of peace when her hands were working. The more Madara tortured her—and the more Hashirama didn't—the more Mito attempted to absorb herself with occupation. She'd been at the medical building all week, working closely with Kasumi to create a written record of all of the techniques they had learned working with the Senju and Uchiha armies to immortalize the skills.
Mito looked away from where she had written the same word several dozen times and shook her head. "No, Kasumi-chan," she lied. She was becoming adept at feeding lies to the masses, for in this she had found that Touka was right. She was continually sacrificing bits and pieces of her honor and morals for the sake of those she held dear. Momoka's secret was of paramount importance. If she had to lie about it every day to Madara's face and the ears of everyone else, she would do so, to preserve the future of her daughter.
Many nights, she worried that Momoka's future involved red eyes and far, far too much death. She didn't want that for her daughter.
She gently snapped the book shut and looked over at Kasumi, wondering how much she could trust the woman that was dissecting a cat and sketching pictures in a notebook. Kasumi believed in understanding the ways of life before trying to fuss with the ways of life. I.e, one should not attempt to heal an organ if one did not know what it even looked like. Mito appreciated her approach very much, actually, and at this moment in time, she thought to use that fact, perhaps, to learn something very important. "Kasumi-chan…"
"Uzumaki-sama?" She never paused in her ministrations; Kasumi, like most women, was a natural multitasker.
She inhaled a deep breath. "Do all Uchiha have the Sharingan?"
Kasumi paused in the process of slicing away a layer of fat from the abdominal cavity of the cat. Mito watched, but her concentration was on the woman with the knife, not the cat. "There's a reason for this question," Kasumi accused. There were times when Mito thought that Kasumi's chatter was born of vapid stupidity, a complete disregard for her surroundings and the people she was with. This time, though, there was a sharp suspicion lurking deep within her black eyes, and she scrutinized Mito so thoroughly that Mito wanted to take a step back.
She had misjudged Kasumi. It was a valuable lesson, and one she would not forget. "Now that our two clans are allied with one another," she began conversationally, "I was wondering what would happen if Senju and Uchiha were ever to marry." She held her breath, hoping that she had dodged the worst of Kasumi's suspicion.
The other woman continued to stare at her, weighing and measuring, determining Mito's worth. "The secrets of a clan's abilities are kept only within the clan," she stated carefully, watching, waiting for the telltale signs of subterfuge.
Mito wasn't dissuaded. "What if someone from outside the clan married into the clan though?" she pressed. "Would they be allowed to know?"
"It would never happen," Kasumi said with the weight of certainty. She tore her eyes away from Mito and refocused her blade upward, slicing through the tough bone of the chest cavity to peel the animal open, exposing lungs and heart.
Mito's curiosity was in full tilt. Just like that, the nature of the interrogation was actually changed. Mito had never had the chance to study kekkai-genkai, and she doubted most people would ever get a chance like this one, to be able to study and understand that enigmatic Sharingan. It was worth the risk. "Why not?" she wondered aloud.
Kasumi shrugged dismissively. "Uchiha don't marry outside the clan," she replied, just as certain as before.
Mito found that interesting. After all, they had only known each other for a couple of days before Madara had asked her to marry him. Wasn't he the clan leader? Maybe he doesn't know, she considered. "When do Uchiha children learn this?" she further inquired.
Kasumi sighed with mild irritation. "They don't 'learn' it. They know. Every Uchiha knows that they are not to look outside the clan. It's forbidden. It's clan law, just as strictly enforced as 'do not steal' and 'do not commit adultery.'" She spoke with patience and condescension, as if she were talking to a child. She paused and sketched a quick picture, her dark, pretty eyes flickering back and forth between her pencil and the exposed chest cavity.
"Oh." Interesting. Very interesting. "Hypothetically speaking…"
"What's this about, Uzumaki-sama?" Kasumi asked, dropping the pencil and drawing herself up to her full height. She was more than a head taller than Mito, and she hadn't needed the height advantage to make Mito nervous anyway. She kept her gloves on, though, and squeezed her hands together to keep from touching anything else. "You're not just thinking out loud. You want to know about the Sharingan. I want to know why. What's your motive?" Those dark eyes demanded, would not have 'no' for an answer.
Mito got the sense that if she gave the wrong answer this time, someone important in the Uchiha clan was going to hear about it. Probably Madara, and that would turn out good for her. She sighed and came up with a better lie. "I've always been interested in clan genetics," she said with a shrug. "Like my red hair… the Uzumaki clan's trademark red hair seems to be a mostly dominant trait, though it's recessive in most others. I'm also curious as to whether or not Momoka will inherit the ability to use Hashirama's Mokuton. Inheritance of abilities fascinates me, is all, and you're the only Uchiha I can talk to about this. It's fine if you don't want to talk about it. I'm used to people shutting down my inquiries." She threw in those last few lines to appeal to Kasumi's kindness, one woman talking to another about how little they were taken seriously by the men of their era.
Kasumi stared, judging her. Several minutes passed. Finally, Kasumi returned to the cat; apparently, Mito's gambit had worked, after all. "What do you want to know?" she asked.
Mito's heart leapt, feeling like she had gained a small victory on her path to being a proper kunoichi. "Does every Uchiha bear the Sharingan?" she repeated her question.
"No. Very few Uchiha inherit the Sharingan, and even the ones that inherit may never awaken it. That's why the Uchiha may not marry outside the clan. We are paired together into marriages that are the most likely to produce a child with the Sharingan. The Uchiha have known the science of genetics for centuries. Our genetics are carefully recorded and tracked. Promising Sharingan users are only allowed to marry a woman that possesses or carries the allele for the Sharingan."
Mito's interest in medicine and science was not feigned. Hearing Kasumi's explanation inflamed her curiosity ever further. "A carrier? So it's recessive?" Carriers were people who contained the recessive gene for a trait. Because it was recessive, though, it was hard to tell who the carriers were without having a complete background on a person's parentage. This was all very exciting for Mito, for she had never had formal training in genetics and had always wondered.
Kasumi nodded. "Of course, it's easy to see which men carry the trait. It's the women that are special in that regard."
Mito knew she was close to the answer she sought, which was: will Momoka manifest the Sharingan? "Why?"
Kasumi smirked and paused, holding in a secret. She cut out the heart of the cat and set it down in a tray for further dissection, then took a second to jot down a note. "The Sharingan is X-linked recessive. Among women, possessing a Sharingan is exceedingly rare. There are few carriers, even, which makes them much sought after as wives. This is also partially why the Uchiha breed so many children. Daughters are next to useless for Uchiha except as future breeding stock, and sons have perhaps a 50% chance at best to be gifted with the Sharingan."
Mito considered all of this new information with rabid interest. X-linked recessive… she recalled the chapter in the book she had read on genetics. An X-linked gene was located on chromosome X. Women had two X chromosomes, where men had one X and one Y. That was what determined gender in a child, which meant that in the case of the daughter, she got one X chromosome from each her father and her mother; and in the case of a son, the boy always got the Y chromosome from his father and the X chromosome from his mother; Now it made sense… if the gene for the Sharingan was located on the X chromosome and recessive, women who possessed this allele were necessary to breed Sharingan users. Which meant… "So, if a woman does not possess this gene at all…"
"Exactly," Kasumi picked up for her. "No Sharingan babies. That's why the Uchiha will never marry outside the clan. It's bloodline suicide."
Which meant Momoka would never have that ability. And… "And you said all Uchiha know this from a young age?" Kasumi nodded. "What about you? Will Kagami have the Sharingan?"
Kasumi paused again, a sly smile creeping slowly across her face. When she turned her face back toward Mito, both of her eyes shone red as brightly as the cat's blood. The red eyes on Kasumi, framed with long, dark lashes, actually looked quite pretty, though they were still just as frightening as Madara's. They seemed to Mito to be unnervingly unnatural, though for some reason Tobirama's red irises never bothered her. "Oh," Kasumi proclaimed smugly, "I have a feeling he'll be alright."
Mito's breath caught as her brain quickly generated the genetic distribution of Kasumi's children. If her husband wielded the Sharingan-and if what Kasumi said was true about tracking Uchiha genetics, she was reasonably certain that Kasumi had married herself to a Sharingan-then there was a 100% chance that all of Kasumi's children would possess that gene. "Good for you, Kasumi-chan," she said honestly. Kasumi, being an Uchiha married to an Uchiha, would be thrilled to produce children with the Sharingan.
Kasumi grinned with pure happiness. Mito, for her part, was glad for her inferior genetics, but one thing about their conversation had troubled her.
Madara had lied.
Madara walked the streets of the village as if he were the sole leader, and not just a counterpart of Hashirama. Ever since he had learned of Momoka, he had found a new lust for life. She was something worth living for, something to look forward to, a reason to be a better person. That kind of knowledge made him feel stronger than ever before, and from that strength was born an odd and wholly unfamiliar brand of compassion and understanding.
Everywhere he looked, he suddenly saw hope and promise. He greeted people he had never met before with a smile and a wave, stopped to help people who were attempting to carry burdens that were too great, and lent his strength where several men were trying to raise up a new storage shed for curing meats. Not long ago, Madara simply wouldn't have cared whether or not anyone knew who he was, but now… as he lent his assistance and generally made himself involved, people thanked him and called him by his name, and Madara felt… good.
Thank you gods, he sent up a silent prayer. He understood, now, that he was being tested. When he was on his back beneath Tobirama's sword and at Hashirama's mercy, and yet demanded a life for a life, the gods had sent him a test. When he had stopped Hashirama from spilling his guts on the rock, the gods had seen fit to reward him. They had brought him back Mito, and given him Momoka, and all he needed to do was prove that he was worthy of them. For the time being, Mito was loath to leave Hashirama's side because Hashirama was… well, Hashirama. He was kind, and good, a true leader.
Madara had never been able to hate him, and so it would follow logically that Mito would not be able to hate him either. The only way that Madara would earn her devotion back was to outshine Senju Hashirama. That was entirely in the realm of possibility, though, and so he would try. They had grown up competing against each other anyway. One more contest wouldn't hurt, to show them once and for all who was the better man, and this time for certain, Madara was not about to lose.
"Evening, prick!" Madara greeted Tobirama with a grin.
Tobirama's only response to the insult was a slight narrowing of the eyes. "You're… early," he observed. "You're never early."
"We have plans to make," he declared simply, sliding past Hashirama's younger brother—Izuna's killer—to find his chair at the planning table.
Hashirama was already there—he was always early. He smiled and waved. Momoka was there, too, and followed suit. It gladdened Madara's heart to see her there. "Konichiwa, Uchiha-sama!" Momoka called to him, waving gleefully.
"Konichiwa, Momo-chan," he said to his daughter, reaching out to ruffle the blood red of her hair. He loved the color on her. It was too bad she wouldn't have the Sharingan; as a kunoichi she'd have made a terrifying sight. She grinned, her night-dark eyes watching his every move. That bright curiosity reminded him so much of Izuna that his chest ached.
Hashirama watched their interaction with a measure of happiness, then said, "You seem to have really taken a shine to my daughter."
If only you knew, Madara thought with twisted amusement. He flashed him a smile laden with secret meanings, then kicked back in his chair, relaxing, fully prepared for whatever important lords' business they were about today. "She's a sweetheart," he replied honestly.
Hashirama, fully at ease himself, came back with, "It's good to see you smiling again. I've been worried about you." He leaned over the table, resting his chin on steepled hands. He made it sound as if a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe it had.
"I was grieving," he responded. It was true, and it was a believable sentiment that they both understood well. "You have so much still to keep you going, with Tobirama and your family and the village. I just needed to find something that worked for me."
"Ah!" Hashirama proclaimed, laughing, his merriment filling the room as always. "Sounds like a woman!" Madara chuckled with him, laughing at his own private joke, though he doubted Hashirama would have found it funny. "She must be a fine woman, to have gained your attention!" Hashirama continued, unaware of the hole he was digging himself, entertained by the kind of normal conversation two men their age should have.
The longer this dragged on, the more entertained Madara was. In fact, it might serve to disappoint him if he was unable to enjoy it for as long as he wanted. When he answered, his smile was wry, and he felt smugly satisfied. "My friend, you have no idea."